
every spring I think that this is the year that my garden will be more organized. we take walks throughout town and I look at gardens that seem straight out of Beatrix Potter--rows of plump cabbages, barrels of shiny strawberry plants, twisted minimalist and pollarded apple trees. I think this is what I want but then the queen anne's lace shows up next to the kale and the arugula goes to seed around the blueberries and I am incapable of ending such incredibly varied and curious states of being for the purpose of imposing order. don't get me wrong, I definitely weed and plant starts and scatter seeds and move seedlings. I felt vindicated this spring when the NYTimes had an article about how one should encourage native species (weeds some might call them) in your garden in order to better attract pollinators. it got me thinking that gardening philosophies have been totally outdated, today when such a large percentage of the globe has human order or impact imposed upon it, what we need to be cultivating are actually these spaces of harmonious disorder. so this is what I am doing. think of it like the Chicago Art Ensemble for horticulture.
this is a strong connection between our work I think, what you call the organized disorder (is that what you called it? no wait, maybe you said disorganization in space. I said disorder). also as I commented below, the post apocalyptic aesthetic of handmade garden props and constructions. this is totally off-topic but it reminds me of a guy we saw in Berlin who was walking down the street with a hand truck he had fabricated out of a skateboard sawed in half and an old cane. and lots of duct tape and twine.



















