Enlarging the Garden Through Design

by Keith Davitt

"Is there enough room for this?" Is the question that usually follows the expressions of appreciation and wonder when I deliver the conceptual landscape plan to a client. What I have designed usually looks too elaborate, as if it contains too much and leaves more room than is there already. They love it(usually and not always), but How can it possibly fit? They want to know.

Certainly, looking out on these little Brooklyn brownstone backyards. You are not struck by a sense of spaciousness. Indeed, small urban plots often seem so confined, many owners doubt if anything can be done at all. The areas are badly organized, they are filled with objectionable elements and views, and it simply doesn't seem possible that anything really beautiful and enjoyable could occupy such an unpromising space. Are my plans illusion then? Will this all fit? Is there room on these little urban lots for what I have designed? After 20 years of building gardens for small city properties and restricted suburban sites, of knowing my clients through time and living with the results, I can emphatically say, Yes.

The illusion is not in the spaciousness my plans seem to imply but in the restrictions the undeveloped, undesigned properties impose. They were actually made that way and they can actually be made very differently. They can offer an astonishing variety of visual delights and experiential pleasures. Over the years, I have come to understand some of the principles involved in creating spaciousness where space is limited. Here I would like to share some of what I have gained in that wonderfully challenging and intriguing pursuit. Because if you own a small city yard or tiny plot of ground or have a client that does and you would like to see it become a beautiful garden, chances are you are only a few simple principles away from fulfilling that wish.

Division of Space
The commonest flaw giving rise to the greatest degree of spatial restrictions, perceived and experienced, is in the division of space. I won't say the poor division of space, because it often happens that an area was laid out for some particular function which it serves faithfully but is no longer applicable. For instance, the greater number of undeveloped rear yards in my brownstone community were originally laid out for vegetable gardening. In these, there is a paved walkway around a central growing area with raised, narrow beds up the sides and along the back. This arrangement, while permitting the cultivation of a great many plants in a small area, makes the entire plot seem about half its actual size and allows for no activities other than gardening.

These areas seem so restricting because the accessible areas -- those places into which one, if not exactly invited, is at least permitted to occupy -- are so small. We do not feel welcome. We perceive, though the space may be 40 ft. x 20 ft., there is no accommodation made for normal human activities other than tending plants. There is no outdoor living to be had here, and so we don't want to be here.

This first garden (Project I) is a case in point. Originally laid out as just defined, paving had subsequently been placed in the center garden area, permitting at least some access and use. But the side and particularly rear beds encroached on the usable area. They were made too small to invite use, and the area they left in the middle also seemed cramped. Restrictive and uninviting was the result of this division of space.

Quality of Line
As the division of space is critical, so too is the line those divisions define. The shortest distance between two points is a straight line-- visually as well as physically. When, in a small space, all is linear, as in this example, we see everything at once. Our eye doesn't traverse the entire length of a line but goes immediately to its termination and takes no joy in the journey. In fact, it doesn't even seem to have made one. The environment is static and the space seems dimensionless. To alleviate these misfortunes, and to get deeper into the garden and away from the building, I carved out a curving terrace retained by a low, mortarless stone wall. In so doing, I actually took more living area from the middle than was previously the case, but by opening and extending into the back, by terracing and thus providing another horizontal plane, and by providing a curving line the eye will invariably follow, the area now conveys a greater sense and experience of space. But still more was possible.

Elements of Interest
The more elements of interest a garden contains (provided they are harmonious), the more variety of satisfying experiences the garden visitor is provided, thus abolishing an apprehension of limits. It is, however, important that these elements all relate well to each other. Too much unrelated diversity strikes the eye as clutter --and is constricting; so is too much openness with no elements to which the visitor can relate. You can stand in a desert and feel very restricted, whereas well integrated, interesting elements stimulate, expand the experience, and enlarge the sense of space. You can stand in a small, well-made garden and feel it to be unending, so long as there is a rich tapestry of plants in appealing combination, rocks in pleasing groupings, a variety of planes the eye can traverse, or other elements which attract and please.

Water gardens are superb for this and many of my gardens contain them. They don't merely add additional dimensions, they add another world. They provide wonderful textural elements, the motion and sound of water, the grace of swimming fish. They can add tremendously to the enjoyment and interest of a garden, making it feel larger by its contributions. The little pool here is an integral component of the landscape, bringing to it a quality of life and even -- with its little waterfall, flora, and beautiful Koi -- a sense of adventure.

Providing Experience through Plant Combinations
Plants can also be used to enlarge the garden, and this aspect of garden making I feel should be given more attention. Too often, plants are combined with no perceptible relationship to one another. Any two given plants either visibly relate to one another, through harmony or contrast or both, or they do not. If they do not -- if there is no obvious relationship of form, color, or texture -- then they should not be placed together.

In my gardens I try for combinations in which the plants provide both subtle and strong harmonies and contrasts. For example, Hydrangea macrophylla Mariesi, with its bold rounded shape and large variegated leaf, contrasts wonderfully with the blades of variegated Iris while harmonizing in leaf color. This sets up a dynamic relationship -- an interaction between the plants which is palpable. It is no longer a still-life; it is an event, ever ongoing. This theme of a particular sort of harmony/ contrast relationship can be carried several dimensions further and into smaller and larger scales, with, for example, a variegated Berberis and variegated Liriope, even down into very small-leaved ground covers, such as variegated Euonymus and Thyme.

I might segue such a grouping into a dark, glossy leaved Ilex, creating a wonderful foliar contrast, then pick up the variegation theme with a Cornus sericia, while echoing the Ilex in the low-growing glossy dark-leaved Gaultheria procumbens. The repetition of an element or of a harmony or contrast throughout a garden gives it that all-important quality, unity, and this too, helps create a sense of extended space, while meaningful combinations enrich and enliven.

Creating Rooms Creates Room
This next garden area (Project II) was absolutely devoid of anything: an empty, linear and completely static rectangle that looked small and suggested little to the owners.

Very often a small rectangle can be enlarged through division. In this case, I intercepted the long axis just past the midpoint. I further enhanced the sense of separation by dropping the rear garden several inches below the front garden. This created two distinct garden rooms, greatly enhancing the sense of space and of possibilities.

It is interesting to note that a structure which separates, such as an arbor, a bridge, even a door, also joins. Thus this arbor both divides the two areas and unites them, creating a sense of separation and of continuance, and contributes to the apprehension of variety and opportunity. It partially closes off from view areas of the rear garden, thus inviting visitors onward and allowing them to explore and discover. (This quality will be considerably enhanced as the yellow and white roses cover the arbor.) The garden is revealed only as they move through it and nothing does more to generate a sense of endless possibilities --and consequently a sense of spaciousness -- than the gradual unfolding of a garden.

The Beauty of Discovery
In my own 32-ft.-x-22-ft. garden (Project III), I achieved this effect by diverting the path out to the patio around a just-glimpsed pond and between two planting areas. Thus, when a visitor first steps out the door, he can catch a glimpse of water and areas beyond the pond and dogwood, but only as he follows the path out does the garden open up to him. Once out on the patio, he is enveloped in the garden and is provided with a variety of views and outdoor-living possibilities. There is a stone barbeque, a table and chairs, a clearly visible pond, rich and luxurious plantings, and neighboring trees that become part of the garden experience, expanding it beyond its limits. All this completely removes any sense of confinement. Indeed, many a suburban sprawl is less inviting and holds fewer possibilities than this small garden.

The Value of Motion
This next garden area (Project IV) was a violation of nearly every principle for spacious design. It was overhung and encroached on by neighboring plants. The space was poorly divided, with three unusable terraces. It was linear, uninteresting, cluttered, closed, and completely static. It invited one to leave.

To remedy this I leveled the area and removed all objectionable items that I could. To get away from the boxiness of the place and to create motion, softness, fun, and interest (and to bring pleasure to the two little girls living there), I laid out serpentine walls, inlaid with shells and handmade tiles bearing various animals in bas relief, and I gave the walls a rolling top.

Proportion
Proper proportion is a very important principle in design, especially in small spaces, which are very unforgiving of spatial errors. Vertical elements, in this case, the serpentine brick walls, placed too far from the outer boundary, encroach too much on the interior spaces and dominate them. Placed too near the boundary, the surface area is too large in proportion to the garden area. Not only does the entire space become too hard, but the garden area is also seen as small and confined, and we feel that confinement. At the same time, practicality must be served. I might have made the terraced planting areas a little larger but for want of usable space. However, the vertical and horizontal undulation of the walls as they rise, fall, and wind around does much to enlarge, soften, and relax the space. Once grown, the plants will obliterate the fence lines and the whole environment will be curvy, soft, and completely inviting.

Space Within Space
Slightly separated spaces within a small garden area also contribute to a sense of expansion. The extreme curve of the wall in the upper right of the garden and the seating area behind the fountain make the entire garden seem much roomier by providing somewhat remote yet accessible areas within the main site. Even with no further elaboration, this garden now seems larger than it ever did before. The overall impact is that it is a large (by our urban standards), usable, and inviting environment. But it doesn't stop here.

Details Add Dimension
As mentioned, experiences in the garden contribute to the sense of limitlessness and expansion. When the visitor's eye first follows these curvy walls, something reaches out to him, catches his attention. It is the handmade animal tiles and the tiles bearing in relief the names of the family members. Placed randomly along the wall at different elevations, the eye is invited to explore, discover, and enjoy these one-of-a-kind works of art. How many are there? Where is the next one? Which animal will it be? Being exquisitely made and thoroughly charming, these tiles retain their interest over time. This quality of attention elicited from the viewer defeats the threat of ennui often associated with small areas.

A Garden of Many Principles
This 84-ft.-x-24-ft. garden (Project V) occupies a huge area by urban standards. But it certainly didn't seem large before being redesigned. The division of space was particularly unfortunate. Two cedar trees segmented the long axis, creating a cramped patio area near the house and a larger area beyond. The larger open area was of reasonable length but a poorly erected retaining wall encroached on both the house on one side and an unclipped hemlock hedge on the other. For years this remained an undeveloped, fairly unusable, and altogether unattractive garden environment.

The cedars, simply because of their placement, had to go. This opened up the long axis, but to widen the garden, I removed the stacked wall and rebuilt it closer to the house, thereby gaining two feet of width. Not wanting to get into the expense of removing the hemlock hedge (as the roots would all have to be dug out as well), I removed several small groups and clipped the rest back. This created open areas into which I later built stone-faced planters. Already the area seemed considerably larger, but much more was still possible. I wanted to divide the long axis into three separate-but-joined areas all of their own purpose and composition, yet all combining to form a unified whole. This combination of separation and unification is of great importance in creating a sense of expansion in limited spaces.

Creating another horizontal plane within an area (by terracing) lifts the eye and carries it further toward some remote point, especially if the termination of the vista is not completely apparent. The proportion of the vertical plane to the horizontal planes created is important. If too tall, it stops the eye, and thus the motion, creating a barrier rather than a transition and makes the horizontal plane seem smaller. If too low, it simply looks unnecessary and foolish. Likewise, the proportions of the two horizontal planes is important. Each area should be large enough to invite use, appear functional, and support the necessary aesthetic elements to render it beautiful (sufficient planting, for example). Further, one area should not be so large as to make the other look small.

To begin this division into separate rooms I built a (low) 18-in. wall in an arc, creating an upper platform. I made the upper plane about 20 ft. deep, giving it ample room to allow for a thicket of planting (to help screen traffic noise) and a fountain which would serve to catch the eye from the garden entrance, creating a very definite sense of extension upon entry from the deck or street. The falling water also serves to hide unwanted noise. The curve of the fountain wall harmonizes with the curve of the retaining wall, contributing to the sense of unity of place, an important consideration, especially when intentionally creating divisions. I could have made this plane a little larger without harm, but had I made it any smaller it would then have seemed too small and confined in comparison to its lower mate.

I further divided the lower patio created by this retaining wall with an arbor (soon to be covered in roses) creating an intimate sitting area near the deck which flows into the larger, more formal area allowing for the circulation of guests or simply inviting the visitor onward. These three separate-yet-joined spaces give the sense that the garden just goes on and on. Detailed with water gardens, flowing lines created by random placement of bluestone, and rich planting groups (as previously discussed), furthers this sense of expanding space, infinitely detailed. Here one is invited to enjoy the vista from the redwood deck, sit quietly in the intimate patio by the lower pool, throw a party with 40 guests, sit on the lawn in the upper terrace and dangle one's feet in the pond, pick flowers, dine, or tend to the garden. Limits to what one can do here have been lessened through design.

Go Down To Get Out
This next landscape (Project VI) doesn't appear to ever have had a size limitation, but it was, in fact, completely unusable. There was a somewhat level area off the deck, about 12 ft. wide and running the length of the house. This slightly sloping surface dropped suddenly in a slope that ran down to the rear property line about 40 ft. beyond. The edict from the owner to me was, "find a way to put a pool in here or I'm moving."

There are two ways to enlarge the living area of a slope. Build a wall at the bottom of the slope and fill with soil (thereby eliminating it) or terrace. Though others favored the first solution, proposing a $100,000 concrete wall, I felt a more aesthetic (and less expensive) approach appropriate. Cutting deeply into the slope with a nearly vertical slice and retaining the subsequent bank with large boulders allowed me to level out the grade at the base of the slope. This generated about 30 ft. of level area, which is where we put the pool, spa, cabana, gardens, water garden, and walkways.

These after images were taken eleven years after construction. The owner told me recently that he floats out on the water, looks around, and still cannot believe it. All the result of a little site planning with the purpose of enlarging through design.

© Keith Davitt 1998