In all, let Nature never be forgot…Consult the “genius of the place”
The Latin term genius loci translates to “spirit of place”. In ancient times, the Romans believed that genius loci was a guardian spirit or a deity of specific place. These spirits were often protective and in religious artwork were portrayed as individuals holding symbols such as a cornucopia, a snake, or a libation bowl. The concept extended beyond the Roman Empire. Even today, there are many countries in Asia, for example, that build small shrines, or spirit houses, for the protective spirits of the village or region. And in Scottish folklore, there are spirits tied to specific places, like lochs and islands.
In contemporary context, genius loci is used figuratively to refer to the distinctive atmosphere or mood of a place rather than a spirit. It is like the feeling you get when you enter a place. The senses work to take in all the sights, sounds, and smells of the place. You get an impression of the mood. Is the place tranquil and quiet or loud and busy? Sometimes in daydreaming, we may picture ourselves “on a beach” or “by a gentle stream.” Our mind is able to conjure up the “spirit” the place and it feels like we have been transported. If it seems like I am rambling, it’s because I have trouble describing what is essentially invisible and unique to each person. You just know it when you feel it.
Lady Bird Johnson Wildflower Center, Austin, Texas- Morning in Mid-September
Credit: Elizabeth Wingfield 2019
The concept of genius loci is also prevalent in garden and landscape design. It is about first understanding what the space has to offer. And about working with what you have instead of trying to create something completely different. When I am starting a new garden project I first make note of the location. What are the light levels, the soil composition, and the water levels? Does rainwater pool in certain areas or runoff quickly? Are the mature trees providing shelter and shade or is it a blank slate? Where does the sun hit in the morning and afternoon? All this and much more can be learned through observation and sitting in the space. I want to feel the genius loci because that is the context I will use in the design. After many failed attempts to bend nature to my will, I have learned that a space will tell you exactly what it needs to thrive.
When it comes to selecting what to plant in my garden, there is no better option than using native plants. These plants are not just adapted to the place, they are intimately connected to it. When you walk into a garden that is full of Texas native plants you instantly feel the spirit of that part of Texas. I love to visit the Lady Bird Johnson Wildflower Center in Austin because it is completely different from my garden in Houston. But I am inspired and drawn to the spirit of the Hill Country and Central Texas landscape. If I go to the Galveston Island State Park, I see the native sand dune plants that have been there for longer than we have. It’s grounding and deeply satisfying to know where you are because the landscape mirrors the genius loci.
This is true across other states and countries. I adore traditional English cottage gardens like the kind outside a chocolate box thatched roof house. It doesn’t get more romantic than that. But to try and recreate that in Houston is nearly impossible. And I have tried with great effort for many years. Even if I could get the same plants and flowers to grow, it just doesn’t fit. It doesn’t feel like it belongs in a Texas backyard. It doesn’t trick me into thinking I’m in England. I’d rather go and see the real thing in it’s own genius loci. I’m sure it will be an incredibly moving experience!
When planning your next garden project, take some time to observe and notice the genius loci. Listen to the figurative “spirits” telling you what is there and how it can enhance that with your choices of hardscapes and plantings. The result will be a unique and personal space where you can feel grounded and protected from the busy world around us.
Lady Bird Johnson Wildflower Center, Austin, Texas- Morning in Mid-September
Credit: Elizabeth Wingfield 2019
Excerpt from “Epistles to Several Persons: Epistle IV, To Richard Boyle, Earl of Burlington”
by Alexander Pope (1688-1744)
To build, to plant, whatever you intend,
To rear the column, or the arch to bend,
To swell the terrace, or to sink the grot;
In all, let Nature never be forgo
In all, let Nature never be forgot.
But treat the goddess like a modest fair,
Nor overdress, nor leave her wholly bare;
Let not each beauty ev’rywhere be spied,
Where half the skill is decently to hide.
He gains all points, who pleasingly confounds,
Surprises, varies, and conceals the bounds.
Consult the genius of the place in all;
That tells the waters or to rise, or fall;
Or helps th’ ambitious hill the heav’ns to scale,
Or scoops in circling theatres the vale;
Calls in the country, catches opening glades,
Joins willing woods, and varies shades from shades,
Now breaks, or now directs, th’ intending lines;
Paints as you plant, and, as you work, designs.
