IB, I can't see your picture, but I looked it up. What is it about this plant that sneers at the color wheel? It may or may not, but I think that lilac colored flowers and mint green leaves (the picture I saw) are a common color scheme for a plant.

Tony my faith in your insightful ability to objectively critique has been restored!

Thanks for the heads-up on the photo not being visible, Maro. I'll have to admit that without the accompanying photo; the comments come across as rather vapid. :-(

I was trying a new web photo hosting service and my computer must have been reading the file out of its own cache. I even tried it on the Test Forum before I posted  back to the drawing board.

IÂll repost this topic and photo when I get the bugs sorted out. Sorry Â

IronBelly

I can see the picture, and while I don't obsess, I've seen plenty of gardens that would benefit from some study of basic color theory, including mine, which tends to drift away from my original intentions when impulse purchases or shared divisions are included.

That said, one of the techniques used in indoor landscaping :o) is to take something from nature, like your lovely Geranium, and use the colors to plan a scheme around. It looks like a split complementary, or perhaps even a triadic color scheme, with the green complemented by the orange-y and purple-y tones.

Ironbelly's photo came in fine for me. I also find my thoughts on the color wheel to parallel his. Not to say that hue is unimportant in design, but that it is over empathized.

Consider where color occurs in the landscape. It would be unusual for a major clash between foliage types. Flowers are a much more likely culprit, and perhaps the house color.

But flower color is ephemeral. Unless the color clashes with a permanent element of the landscape, such as the house, then hue only becomes important if bloom times overlap each other. Most of the other principles of design operate every day of the year. So from a practical standpoint where should one focus his attention?

I also think that incompatible color is a bit more complicated than where those colors call home on a color wheel. Mere hue is not the whole story. Where contrast and shade dominate the scene, even incompatible hues can be used. One should consider the background and field of view
along with the colors.

Though to me the colors of Ironbelly's photo are not that much of a color clash, I will try to use it to illustrate my point. In the graphic below I have altered the contrast and shade, but left the hue the same. Considering the concept of the color wheel, do you find the left or right more palatable, and why?

{{gwi:53186}}

I find the unaltered photo more to my taste...the colors seem richer. Perhaps it's my monitor...but those are reading red and green for me...which is an acceptable combination in color theory. (Complimentary colors)

Oh, and I couldn't see the photo until I right clicked and chose show image...and then left the thread and brought it up again.

Let's assume that colour is a necessary component of design, any design not just landscape design so understanding colour will probably help. I agree that following anything that appears to be formulaic is lazy and can lead to unintentional results. An obsession with the colour wheel without considering what else besides colour makes a garden successful is neurotic. I suggest that the aim of any arrangement of colours is to create harmony, or to purposely create disharmony for some reason and if the colour wheel helps to achieve this then so be it. The attached link briefly explains colour and may bring us on to the same page.

It is hard to fault color combinations that are found in nature, as they always seem to manage to mix colors in the right proportions to make it work. I have always found it impossible to pay any creed to color theories as espoused by the proponents of english perennial borders, as the seasonality of such compositions always seems rather pointless to me. I prefer to be more casual about how to combine colors, and take my cues from nature, or a local trip to the nursery to get ideas for color combos. I am probably much more influenced in my use of color by what is colorful at the time I am designing/installing the garden. As well, I have my favorites that tend to be colorful all year long, or for months at a time, at the very least. Color theory as it pertains to flower color combinations alone is rather limited when dealing with an all year gardening climate, and sunny winter skies that are enlivened by the fresh new growth and deeper greens of a revived winter native landscape here in California, where the winter rains are the initiation of the growing season, not of dormancy.

One of the special joys of gardening in a mediterranean climate is the intense winter colors of many of the Mexican succulents such as Echeverias, which reach their peak with abit of colder weather in winter, or the intense reds, yellows or oranges of the glowing bracts of flowering Leucadendrons from South Africa. Of course, we also have the advantage of all winter color from the brilliant florist Cyclamens or the various Sasanqua Camellias, or the staid yet elegant whites and pinks of winter blooming Calla lilies or Jasminum polyanthum. Another example of a flowering color combination that shouldn't work, but does, is the purple/orange flowers of the Flaming Peas, Chorizema cordatum or C. ilicifolium. I especially like the fact that these tend to bloom in winter, when the brilliant colors really pop.

Perhaps the one color combination that I just can't abide is the classic municipal plantings of strident red, yellow and orange, when planted out with annual bedding plants of Salvia splendens, and orange and yellow marigolds, or similar plantings of red, white and blue annuals. Perhaps I am simply showing my biases, but too often what might work if the proportions of each color were more asymmetrical rather than equally balanced, it might appeal to me. As well, I have never liked the mixed color plantings of annual impatiens or Zinnias, they just don't meld together for me.

There have been a number of worthy contributions to this thread. I knew that my chosen title would act as a lightning rod to some. I was hoping that by coming at a well rehearsed story from a divergent direction, a little more insight than normal could be garnered. In my estimation, this "tool", as some call it, has far more importance placed upon it than it has ever deserved. Oftentimes, it consumes the entire first chapter of landscape design books and classes. I feel that this unwarranted inference of importance is simply mindless regurgitation of institutional education. Extrapolating from some of the professional responses, it is as if my words were sacrilege as if I had spat on the old alma matter. Thats the way I learned it and, by golly, that is the way I am going to teach it. In retrospect, I have no reasonable explanation.

In large degree, Im certain that my friend Tonys indignation is that I am recycling an old topic. In addition, Tony and his fellow professionals already have a pretty good grip on where to place their design priorities. Under their collective breath, I can hear them saying; "Boring!" and "Oh God Here we go again!"

If some have success utilizing this tool, I celebrate their success. However, I see disappointment after disappointment by struggling amateur designers who place disproportionate reliance upon this "tool". Why shouldnt they rely upon it? After all, the entire first chapter of the design book they bought was about color theory. Should it not also be their first design priority?

Out in my garage, I have a large tool box, full of tools. While I certainly agree with Laags inference of the more tools the better; there are a few tools in the drawers that never get used. The reason is that they just dont work very well. I will occasionally see some of these discards catching my young nephews attention only because he doesnt yet have enough experience to know other tools are a better choice.

On the whole, I think a pretty poor job has been done educating the general public about landscape design basics. (Perhaps Pam could more effectively speak to this.) We see public confusion about prioritizing basics displayed on this forum all the time. In Bahias posting, he even gives a couple of examples, repeated endlessly across this land, where "color wheel thinking" controls planting designs which ultimately achieve poor results.
ie: " English perennial borders, as the seasonality of such compositions always seems rather pointless to me" and "the classic plantings of strident red, yellow and orange, when planted out with annual bedding plants of Salvia splendens, and orange and yellow marigolds, or similar plantings of red, white and blue annuals." Can anyone argue with Davids municipal observations? On the other hand, strictly limited to the confines of classroom color theory, these should look wonderful.

IronBelly

The difference between the use of the "wheel" for landscaping and other designs (architecture, interior decorating, and ...) is that few plants are actually one solid mass of color. A few like a PJM or "mum in bloom can be a solid mass of color, but most are a colored speck surrounding by greenery. The abundance of greenery isolates the color "dots" effectively enough that colors can be mixed against the "wheel" doctrine.

For example, a house has a broad expanses of solid color, so the color wheel doctrine is applicable for a pleasant experience. There is no underlying/unifying green connection of disparate color blobs.

There is an extremely popular color-in-the-garden book available in bookstores (and also in the book department at my nursery) titled The Garden Color Book by Paul Williams. One of the reasons I believe this book is so popular is it features gorgeous color photographs - hard to resist eye-candy - but also has pages sliced into thirds horizontally so that you can mix and/or match colors in contrasting or complimentary tones, depending on your preference. A bit like playing with the color chips at paint stores :-) However - almost without exception - those appealing eye-candy photos are of flowers only.

Therein, at least to me, lies the problem with introducing color wheels and color theory in the garden. I do not dispute that color does play a significant role in landscape design, but I think we go about it all wrong. Color is in everything we use in the garden, from hardscaping materials to tree bark to the color of our houses, tinted (or non-tinted) mulches and all the various permutations of green, grey-green, yellow-green, blue-green and bronze-green of leaf, needle or blade. So what is this focus on flowers, as if they offer the only source of color to a landscape?

I think that understanding color and the emotions it evokes and the perceptions it can induce is paramount. But I agree that a reliance on the color wheel/color theory practice of applying color to the landscape misses the point entirely. Again, I think it is a matter of education, acquired or self-provided, and how one prioritizes one's landscape requirements. And at the risk of being termed snobbish, I also think it is a factor of both design and horticultural sophistication.

The color wheel and color theory warranted just a single session in my two years of design classes - a mere 3 hours out of nearly 600 devoted to the idea, process and practice of landscape design. Does it justify any more? Does it justify entire books being devoted to it?

I think that the importance of studying the color wheel as part of the education process is much like studying texture, light, shade, shadow, form, .... I believe that this is much more to do with teaching us to look at detail and understanding what it is we are seeing than it has to do with magic formulas to design by.

As someone who went through all of that stuff that seemed like educator mumbo-jumbo at the time, I know that 90% of the excercises they put me through in school were more about teaching a way of thinking and a lot less to do directly with the "media" that got us thinking that way.

I was required to take a class in GIS that used a program developed by our professor that only existed in his classroom. That really ticked me off at first. But it has to be one of the most important classes that I ever took. Not because it taught us about GIS or how to use this guy's program but learning all about the thought processes, layering, querying, quantifiable data vs. subjective data, weighing values, assessing values,... it goes on and on. It really was the most influential class I ever had in teaching the thought processes that a designer should have in anything (s)he does.

Knowing about the color wheel and dismissing it if you wish, is a lot stronger position to be in than not knowing whether you are missing something or not.

Maybe you prefer blondes, but it is nice to be aware of the brunettes, redheads, and black haired folks too. Sometimes knowing what you don't prefer makes you understand why you prefer what you do. And sometimes you may find that being introduced to something new can be much more enjoyable.

The more you know, the more you know 'you don't know (some funk song I was listening to earlier today).

Understanding a color wheel and how colors mix and play off each other is very elementary stuff and doesn't get you very far along in a landscape design. For one thing, a color wheel is a simplified explanation of color to be easily understood. This cannot prepare anyone for the profusion and complexity of color in the plant kingdom. For another thing, it doesn't begin to approach other visual elements such as moving sunlight and shadow, pattern, texture, mass, form, negative space, reflection, etc.

I wouldn't suggest ditching it altogether, but it's just a tiny part of understanding what makes a great garden.

This is a hobby horse of yours Dan to be sure but I didn't post to remind you of that. Firstly I was asking you to use simpler/plainer language and then I was wondering if this is indeed a problem or something that only bothers you. I don't read gardening magazines or garden design books anymore but I suspect nothing much has changed.
Given that the perception of colour is a personal thing and the fact that photographs, at least those in catalogues, represent colour different from any human eye, how would you go about designing and combining plants in a flower bed. What would you see as the starting point, your favourite colour, your favourite colour combination, the colour of the shutters on the house?
This is a tiny part but it does seem to be an important part for people who post here so we turn the colour wheel into a frisbie and then what?

looks to me like red and green. look that up on your color wheel. I have taught landscape architecture at the college level and have always used the color wheel as a tool, not as a bible for selection of color. The color wheel is the natural prism that the human brain considers soothing, etc. Thus "complimentary colors." Landart, ASLA

"The color wheel is the natural prism that the human brain considers soothing, etc." did you really say that? And with this knowledge you say that IB's picture "looks like red and green" (or at least that is what I think you are referring too). I think this makes IB's point brilliantly. Chuck it

Sorry, Laag. Having, myself, borne the brunt of this type of college course to which you refer; I can only suggest taking off the rose-colored glasses. This type of educational conduct is not only unnecessary; it amounts to little more than institutionalized hazing. It gets even worse when a professor requires students to purchase his books and materials at exorbitant prices changed every semester so each student must buy only new books and former students are stuck with the old one they cant resell. Students should not be forced into the role of personal "cash cows".

The reason we seek out higher education in the first place is that it is so much more efficient than the schools of trial and error and/or hard knocks. Higher education is supposed to expedite, as much as possible, attainment of a working body of knowledge. I can only surmise that continuance of these abusive practices, while not unusual, continue to exist largely due to long-held traditions of elitist academia. Powerless students are compelled to endure this nonsense in order to obtain requisite credits. What a waste of educational opportunity. What an affront to true intellectual pursuits. We must endure artificial hardships so that a professor can grind home but a singular point? I refuse to buy into that notion. It is time to progress beyond the dark ages.

So what does the above rant have to do with the color wheel? As I see it, it is a parallel example of the entrenched, unquestioning stodginess of academia clinging to arcane practices. To be certain, a well-rounded education should include a considerable amount of background information. However, where educational institutions have long displayed a proclivity for failure is in establishing an accurate context. The importance of color theory in the landscape has faded in direct proportion to the prevalence of Victorian English bedding gardens. Even though overhead viewing, high above geometric, heavily planted beds of annual plants has transitioned into small perennial beds viewed at ground level; the educational design clock stopped ticking while the queen was still perched on her throne.

The consensus of the active, professional designers responding on this forum seems to say that color theory typically resides at a secondary, or perhaps even tertiary, level of priority consideration in their day-to-day work. My question is: What perpetuates the present day myth which places color theory as a primary (sometimes only) consideration in the minds of Joe & Jolene Average?

There is no denying the acumen of British horticultural practices. However, apparent academic reverence of an obsolete British model is not only unwarranted; it is intellectually lazy. It becomes especially troublesome when climatic conditions are not even remotely similar. Yes, basic design principals remain rather static it is the consideration of selecting and applying those principals that requires progression. We neednt make blind attempts at replicating the English paradigm as our default while remaining far removed from that paradigm.

Tony asked if this whole color issue was "indeed a problem or something that only bothers you." Although I am apparently singular in my annoyance, I feel that it is indeed a bona fide problem. I believe it is the singular, root cause of many a nefarious journey to design disappointment. Color theory has mistakenly taken on the role of a pied piper; leading unwitting followers to either unintended consequences or that ubiquitous conundrum: Hmmm Something is still missing.

I have long considered myself a student of human behavior. It is through years of observation that I come to these conclusions. I have read what the book says about color. However, that is not what I see happening. In addition, after all of the color theory has been espoused, I can skew any predicted results simply by altering but one variable the light under which any of the chosen colors are viewed. Change the light and you have changed the colors. Since outdoor light is ALWAYS changing; what have you really accomplished?

Much like our other Canadian friend, Mr. Red Green, I have come to realize that color selection is much-to-do-about-nothing when you are picking out flannel shirts. Just call the color theme of my garden designs, flannel shirt. My garden wears whatever color the season dictates and herein lays the strength of the flannel concept.

David (Bahia) noted something very important that seems to have escaped notice by most. Quoting David, "I have always found it impossible to pay any creed to color theories as espoused by the proponents of English perennial borders, as the seasonality of such compositions always seems rather pointless to me. Ahhh Grasshopper seasonality! Herein is a major shortcoming of design by color. I design a landscape for a continual progression through all of seasons. When you ask what color combinations I feature, my response must be: When are you talking about?

More than color selection, I rely on plant selection. Certainly I plant and enjoy a number of spring ephemerals. However, the bulk of my plant selections feature robust selections with multi-season interest; often (as in the example of the perennial geranium Karmina) the predominant color is not one but rather a series of progression covering most of the color spectrum flannel, if you will.

As David has also said, " It is hard to fault color combinations that are found in nature, as they always seem to manage to mix colors in the right proportions to make it work." I tend to let nature figure out what the color combinations will be because I have more important concerns during the plant selection process. Quite frankly, I buy quite differently than most folks do. As but one example: Instead of selecting peonies for their spring bloom color, I buy peonies in late summer (long after the blooms are gone) based upon how the foliage looks. What is the sense in buying a plant with a stunning bloom that lasts only two weeks in the spring and then has anthracnose-ridden foliage to look at the rest of the year? In addition, properly selected peonies have superb foliage that makes a grand addition to any garden.

I have always admired the approach to garden color encouraged by newspaper columnist Janet Macunovich of the Detroit News. Quoting from her book, Designing Your Gardens and Landscapes 12 Simple steps for Successful Planning: "Most of the people who ask me about color are already aware of what colors look good together. They are dressed in harmonious clothing of their own choosing. This is what they are really asking me: "Is there a special method of manipulating color in a garden?" This is my answer: "The same guidelines you use to dress yourself can serve you in the garden." I find that a refreshing perspective.

IronBelly

*** See link to BoTann's "color philosophy".

The importance of color theory in the landscape has faded in direct proportion to the prevalence of Victorian English bedding gardens. Even though overhead viewing, high above geometric, heavily planted beds of annual plants has transitioned into small perennial beds viewed at ground level

Have you ever actually dealt with one of these things? IMHO, the weirdest part of them, the part that really makes them worth doing as historical artifacts, is their almost total ignorance of modern color theory. It's usually color theory as practiced by a three-year old. The brighter the better, the more dischordant the better. *Original* 19th century planting plans almost invariably bring out a major discussion of the merits of historical accuracy vs. plantings tolerable to the modern American.

We start with bright orange marigolds, as an outer ring to a round bed of pink petunias, with a center planting of scarlet canna. When the Smithsonian Institution was recreating the Centennial Exhibition in 1976, they almost decided to not replant the original bedding designs in front of the castle because the color clashes were so horrible.

...an example which bolsters the point I am striving to make:

When color selection (historical or otherwise) is the driving force of a design, you often find yourself on a "nefarious journey to design disappointment.".

IronBelly

Hmm, so a design whose point is that our ancestors has no taste is a disappointment if it proves our ancestors had no taste?

Doesn't this sort of depend on what the goal of the design turns out to be?

IB - Iâm sorry your higher educational experience was so sour! I enjoyed mine greatly - and extended it for as long as possible :-) Color theory, however, was not part of the curriculum in either agriculture, economics, business or accounting⦠It was something I picked up later in hobby art classes.

You say 'My garden wears whatever color the season dictatesâ. Does that mean you do not plan the color at all, relying on choosing foliage that interests you/is healthy and just accept the mix of flower color that happens to come with it? Iâm picturing a garden that ends up as a âriot of colorâ in that case, and living in a riot could be a tad uncomfortable :-) (It obviously appealed to the Victorians of courseâ¦.) My first garden was very âpolychromeâ and I was very dissatisfied with it by the time we sold that house. Here, my garden changes color through the growing season but all the color changes are planned and fall within a more limited and quieter palette. Foliage is important too and anything disease prone is not invited in or is rapidly evicted if it finds its way in. I think planning for color is of greater importance that you - and others - seem willing to concede. As bboy noted above, there are certainly lots of unhappy examples around where planning for color seems to have been neglected.

Iâm a bit puzzled by Bahiaâs comment ââ¦English perennial borders, as the seasonality of such compositions always seems rather pointless to me.â that you repeat. The seasonality of perennial borders is a key part of the point itself I think! While the border does tend to have a crescendo point that only lasts a few weeks, it is rarely completely out of flower from early spring until frost. The anticipation begins with the earliest spring blooms and builds as the weeks and months pass until the bloom climax happens, and then late summer blooms carry the garden to its winter rest period. The garden is a ghost of itself during the winter, under its blanket of snow (or its brown blanket of frost-killed foliage in fall - and early spring). And in spring, life begins anew. In the winter interest thread you said âignoring the transitional patterns of our landscapes is to deprive oneselfâ. I agree absolutely and one of the reasons I take such pleasure in my perennial beds is that they produce a continuous stream of transitional patterns. From spring until fall, those transitional patterns are a duet of foliage and flowers. Color matters greatly for both of those and, in my opinion, is deserving of as much planning/design attention as any other aspect of the garden.

First an historical note: the Victorian carpet bedding phenomenon so despised by Iron Belly was rarely seen in the private gardens of ordinary people at that time. Mostly they were in pleasure gardens open to the public, the purpose (or goal) of these gardens was to stimulate, so the arrangement of plants was to deliberately assail the senses. There were two opposing schools, one that used nature as its guide that strangely chose pampas grass, crambe and rhubarb as its mainstays presumably because they didn't have to deal with the inconvenience of colour. Gertrude Jekyll lead the other school and with her artists training she advocated using the colour wheel and it was there that the obsession began.

The mistake I believe is missing out all other considerations (principles) and going straight for the colour. Even when colour is the entire purpose, as in carpet bedding you still have to prepare the ground, choose plants for their suitability for the conditions and then arrange them into geometric patterns, paying attention to size and spacing and perhaps using the colour wheel.

Woodyoak opens up a whole other area of colour perception, or perhaps it's garden appreciation and may be where she is at odds with bahia, I am talking about where we live. In a four season region each season has its ups and downs that don't exist in less temperate zones. Does this give the four season person an understanding of the ephemeral qualities that someone living in California takes for granted will always be there? You tell me.

Just for fun have a look at the Wiki pages on shades of colour, I have put a link down below.
I still can't get the paragraph spaces I type in to appear on the forum, anyone know why?

Bizarre. Whichever geni fixed it for me >> merci.

I need a genii to fix all the weird symbols that appeared instead of ' ' or - ...

Victorian bedding dates from early days of industrial success, with artifice being showcased and admired. Houses had cookie cutter detailing because it was something you could do with machines. Also there was a major influx of exotic plants from parts of the empire, that hadn't necessarily been skillfully integrated into garden design yet.

Color wheel-level seriousness about use of color in planting design I associate with sequenced color borders like those of Gertrude Jekyll, the gardens (and books) made by Penelope Hobhouse, and so on.

Victorian bedding is thriving here in USA, as shown by countless childish color spot arrangements at business entrances and in public parks. In college I asked one of my instructors why parks were still doing this, he replied the people in charge didn't know any better.

Woody,
Well, I certainly would not say that I had a sour experience in higher education. In fact, I reveled in it. I had some wonderfully engaging professors and (thankfully) only a few intellectual idiots. However, the educational institution as a whole certainly has areas and practices that largely waste students time. Classes that promote hardship simply for the sake of hardship, with instructors wrapping themselves in a self-righteous cloak of higher education, excel at students wasting time. The class that I can remember particularly well was an entomology class where we were unequivocally told in the first lecture: "This class is hard because we are making it hard!" Yes, the class certainly was hard and demanding. However, we all learned damned little due to the enormous effort required to perform essentially, meticulous busywork.

I have put my college years behind me and my focus for a number of years now has been adult education an entirely different bailiwick. *** (I believe Pam could elaborate on this topic.) *** This group is hungry for quality educational experiences. Wasting of their time will not be tolerated and those classes (and instructors) quickly disappear.

Ink,
I dont revile the carpet bedding practices of English aristocrats. Neither do I detest other styles of garden design. They all have their place with the emphasis on their. Problems arise when one attempts to transplant distant horticultural practices whole-cloth into dissimilar regions; both culturally and climatically. While the Brits have certainly excelled at certain types of gardens, it would be a foolish mistake for me to attempt an exact copy. Certainly, there are things to be learned from distant locations and certainly elements of those designs could be the basis for modified incorporation. Unfortunately, most plebian attempts strive for exact duplication.

If you will recall some time ago, I posted a photo of Brenda Burnside, the female professional boxer with the tiger stripes tattooed across her back. I used it as an example of capturing the essence of a tiger. There was little doubt that the photo was of a woman and not of a tiger. However, there was also little doubt as to the message she was trying to convey. Capturing the essence not exact duplication.

I too, caught Woodys interesting venture into the disparities of temperate zones. Certainly, this is a factor deserving design consideration. However, I am initially leaning in the direction that we have unwittingly allowed ourselves to place on it a higher priority than deserved. (Still mulling that one over.) However, I feel that Davids observation about the shortcomings of English perennial gardens are valid across the board with the exception of the English climate in which they were both developed in and for.

Where I begin to part company with Woody is when she says: " From spring until fall, those transitional patterns are a duet of foliage and flowers." For the last ten years or so, I have chosen to enable the transition period to include all twelve months in my zone 5 landscape. I do not acquiesce to the default norm of "putting the garden to bed for the winter." To be certain, the landscape activity slows but it never stops its continuous progression.

IronBelly

Sabuco, The Best of the Hardiest also promoted year-round effect in cold climates. Wrote that his garden was furnished with broadleaf evergreens, to the surprise of visitors, in an area (Illinois) where it was generally thought junipers etc. were all that was possible.

My garden is also a 12 month one but I've yet to find a way to continue the flower part of the duet past mid-November here. Background evergreens (both broad leafed and coniferous), deciduous tree and shrub skeletons and the ghost patterns of the perennial gardens and the paths have to do a solo in the absence of flowers until sometime in March.

I don't think I made a very clear point about my dislike for the British emphasis on color theory and in particular the use of perennials for shifting seasonal color effects. The emphasis on rigid theories on what colors to combine, and the seeming importance of having gradations in color across a border seems rather anal retentive to me, and ultimately a labor intensive effort that has seen its time come and go, as the cost of hired labor and modern work schedules have made it less possible to replicate. Maybe I am spoiled by gardening in a climate where winter is also a season of growth and flowers, and the rest of the year allows the use of plants that have months of predictable color in both flowers and foliage, and therefore disparage the ephemeral two week long blooms of so many perennials promoted for english gardens.

I do use color theory myself when setting the theme for a new garden design, but spend alot more time trying to have plants that echo some portion of color found in the rest of the garden, and use this to lead the eye around the garden, and give it all a visual color link. I find it alot more satisfying to get my ideas from seeing the live plants and placing them side by side to see how they might combine. Certainly color is one important consideration, but so is form, texture and season of interest. I also find it very entertaining to consider how changing seasonal lighting, and early morning/late afternoon backlighting can emphasize color and interest in ways that mid day light conditions mask.

Maybe I am not giving authors/gardeners such as Rosemary Verey and Penelope Hobhouse enough respect, but I don't find their writing and explanation of approaches to designing with color resonate with me. Perhaps mostly because I prefer to have strong color combinations year round, rather than emphasized in early spring to mid summer. I also will willingly admit to my bias for very long seasons of bloom, and much prefer something that will bloom for months in the garden over something that lasts mere days. Perhaps that merely reflects my own experiences so strongly influenced by tropical gardening and travels in Brazil and southeast Asia, and gardens where things remain predominantly the same year round. Year round foliage and greenery is something that comforts me in the garden, and seasons are more the difference between a wet and dry period. Although California is not at all tropical, our mediterranean climate also has affinities with the tropics in that the larger landscape does not have the great seasonal changes of colder, less temperate climates. I suspect that even if I were to design gardens in less kind regions, my designs would still try to tame the winter with year round greenery, and I know I would be a sucker for all the hardiest winter blooming/seasonal interest plants it would be possible to use.

There is no one model for good garden design, use of color, emphasis on seasonal fleeting effects or year round continuity, and each person will necessarily need to find what appeals and/or works for them and their conditions. I find it fascinating to be able to use trees and shrubs in our mediterranean climate that mirror the fall color of the east coast USA, but incorporate these into a summer garden setting. Fairly easy to do in a literal way with many mediterranean plants that will naturally want to go dormant or change foliage color as they dry out and enter dormancy in mid summer here. The brilliant red foliage on the summer deciduous Euphorbia denroides from Greece, or the smooth sinuous silver branches of a naked Aesculus californica in an August garden is more appealing to me than seeing similar bare things in winter. As winter is the season of rebirth of the surrounding wild landscape, it is fun to play off all those winter greens with the exuberance of winter blooming subtropicals from Mexico cloud forests, with the shrubby Salvias such as S. involucrata, S. wagneriana, S. chiapas, or even larger growers such as the winter blooming Dahlia imperialis or Tree Daisies/Montanoa grandiflora, or the vivid yellows of the Mexican Marigold, Tagetes lemmonii, or the Bougainvilleas and winter blooming Bird of Paradise, or Tibouchina urvilleana. Any one of these plants could be the key plant for designing a whole garden around those seasonal colors. I personally find it much easier to visit nurseries or botanic gardens at each season and take note of what plants are good in combination at each season, as my personal aid to designing around color. It is usually the case that I will run into something unknown to me previously, that I wouldn't have considered using if I hadn't seen it outdoors in the flesh. No doubt we are spoiled here locally in Berkeley/San Francisco with all the great retail/wholesale nurseries and abundance of local botanic gardens, and a year round gardening season. But I suspect if more people made the effort to visit their local botanic gardens outside the primary spring/early summer flower period, they would also find similar inspiration, and get ideas on combinations to extend year round interest, even where it snows...

The same thing that makes the landscape fun is the same thing that makes it a challenge. It is the same thing that causes disagreement between those working in it. It is Diversity.

That diversity occurs in so many different aspects that it is mind numbing. There is diversity in what you could within a certain climate, within effective local practices, within existing recognizable style, how one wants to prioritize the seasons, curves vs. straight, contour vs. flat, isolation vs. joining together, ....

Anything you mention in the landscape, whether a large concept or the most minute detail, has a number of ways that you can handle it from a practical matter, from a point of style, from a personal aesthetic, ....

It is a bit like the Russian dolls that you open up and find a smaller one inside a smaller one inside ..... Except that every time you open one it has many smaller ones inside at every stage. Some people will be aware of more of those dolls than others will. You can only choose one doll to open at each stage each time. That does not mean that the other dolls are not good. They were just not good for you, or just not good for you at that moment, or you were not aware of all of them.

We all have tendencies to which dolls we'll open and which ones do not interest us. We all tend to project our values on others. If I like to use highly contrasting foliage to add excitement, it does not make it wrong if someone else likes to blend greens evenly across the garden. I can like it even if I don't like to do it. I may also not like it.

Things we generally like can be done well or they can be done poorly. Some things are more often done well, so we tend to generally like the general concept. Some things are generally done poorly, so we tend to dislike that general concept.

A case in point for me is that I hate the concept of lawnless residential front yards. I like the ones that are done well, but they are far fewer than those done well (at least in my neck of the woods). It makes me always try to stear people away from doing this. Now someone who has done this and believes that it looks great will encourage anyone to follow suit. Neither of us is wrong, but either of us is going to hold to our own values.

It is the same with the color wheel or anything else.

This is the kind of garden discussion I enjoy. It gives me a greater understanding of how local garden/climate conditions impact ones preferences, style and the implicit context of comments made by the person on these threads that may sound off to me because my context is different. This kind of discussion also makes me stop and sort out more clearly why I like what I like in the garden and why I do things the way I do, and sometimes leads me to investigate unfamiliar things.

bahia s comments set me off on a long series of musings. Pardon me, but I will now proceed to natter on Its snowy out there this morning and Im housebound with too much time on my hands :-)

I have never gardened anywhere where there is not a prolonged white season. (Southern Ontario, near the lake, where I am now is positively balmy compared to New Brunswick and Quebec where I spent my younger years!) I think one has to embrace ones local climate to fully enjoy gardening in it. For me that means reveling in the contrast between winter and summer and the rapid changes of the spring and fall transition seasons. The flowers of spring, summer and fall, fleeting as they may be individually, are the necessary and beloved counterpoint to the white that is everywhere at the moment (6" of snow overnight) When winter descends, beauty in the landscape is about that blanket of white; shadows on the snow; snow caps on structures and plants; patterns in the snow from paths, rabbit (grrr), dog, human and bird footprints; dripping icicles after a thaw, and so on There are lots of things about winter I dont like but there is much beauty in it too. One of the reasons I dont use many smaller evergreens in my landscape is that when winter comes, they seem lost and uncomfortable; a vain attempt to hang onto the greener seasons and pretend that winter hasnt taken control. The larger evergreens, like the white pines and the mature cedar clump, on the other hand seem to embrace winter, look like partners with it and enhance its beauty. Deciduous trees and shrubs also seem comfortable with winter. They trace their patterns on the snow and provide a framework for the snow and ice to dress in new clothes.

I can see that bahias climate, on the other hand, would lead to a very different approach to many things in the garden, including selection and use of color. Many of the plants that bahia refers to are not ones that I recognize. In the unlikely event that I found myself living in California, clearly Id need to throw out most of what I know about plants and my preferences and start from scratch! One of the big differences that strikes me when I read bahias comments is time in the context of color. Color(with respect to individual plants) here is something fleeting and dynamic, changing day to day; week to week. Foliage color lasts a bit longer than flowers but also changes rapidly come late summer and fall. Color in bahias area sounds more static and long-lasting. Annuals here are probably the closest approximation to that. I plant very few annuals because I greatly enjoy watching the flow of color in the garden and planning that flow. In a climate where flowers or foliage color last longer, I can see that you would plan for color effects somewhat differently and youd want to be more sure you really like a particular combination when you know its going to stick around longer! The warmer, stronger quality of southern light would also lead one to prefer stronger color too I think.

With respect to English gardens and garden writers, I really like Gertrude Jekylls stuff. Rosemary Verey too. Penelope Hobhouse Ive heard of but dont remember reading any of her stuff. Since some of the plants grown in England are not hardy here, I tend to read/look for general concepts and ideas. When I look at pictures (or English gardens themselves when I saw them in person on our travels) I try to figure out what it is that I like and why. I think about how to adapt what I see/read to plants that will grow well for me and whether the idea can be adapted to fit my little ¼ acre rather than an expansive estate garden! A small garden to Jekyll was 10 acres or more, with a few full-time hired gardeners. Im sure she would have thought any attempt to apply her style to my tiny suburban lot to be utterly ridiculous! From her biography, while she was unusual for her time and class in that she earned a living from her work, she also appeared to be quite a snob! Heres a quote from her that seems applicable to the topic of color: And when one hears the common chatter about artistic colors, one receives an unpleasant impression about the education and good taste of the speaker.

:-)

I will retreat to my contemplation of my winter garden because today, and probably for the next 3 months or so,

Mon payscest lhiver

Boy, you were doing good, Laag ... until you threw in that last sentence: "It is the same with the color wheel or anything else."

My beef is that that the color wheel is NOT the same as anything else. It is the singular, most abused, poorly implemented and poorly understood tool in the box. For some reason (which hopefully we can explore), there is this universally held "knowledge" that design is all about color. Ask the average Joe on the street to explain landscape design and the answer will most assuredly be something along the lines of: "Umm it is about pretty color combinations of plants."

How in the world did this gross misunderstanding come about? I realize that the general population has often held false beliefs such as: 'The world is flat.' Segments of society have also believed silly notions of bigotry against (insert your favorite race, creed or nationality). The common thread with all of these forms of misinformation is that they were learned from some authority figure. To be sure, academia has played a central role in the dissemination of untruths. I will quickly add that most of these mistakes were made in good faith. However, there is also an obligation (mostly unanswered) to right the wrong. It has taken a long time to finally dispel the notion of a flat world. It is time we begin dispelling the misconceived notions about the role of color selection.

I seem to be beating a singular drum.

IronBelly

Some very good points being made here about the regional differences, geography, climate and practices/traditions as they affect landscape design. It certainly doesn't hurt for me to hear the praises for a season of rest and cold, but for me, personally, that dog don't hunt! I think many Californians have a hard time imagining how the rest of the country gets through winter without growing crazy. I think we presume that everyone that can escapes for a winter get away to south Florida or the Caribbean before the winter is over.

I think it is absolutely the case that stronger colors and combinations are a given when dealing with stronger sun and less clouds/humidity, and Laag's point about regional context coloring our perceptions about landscape concepts such as the no-lawn approach are valid. Here in California lawns may still be the default tradition inherited from the east coast, but they make no sense when it comes to husbanding our ever more limited water supplies locally. I feel that lawns make even less sense in commercial/industrial settings, but get installed because they are simpler to install and maintain, if more costly in water and fertilizer use as well as maintenance over the long term.

Dan's laments about the over emphasis on color as a landscape design determinant only goes so far. Slavish following of color combinations as predicated by color wheel theory may seem trite or passe, but an intuitive or learned understanding of how colors affect moods and impart an overall image can not be denied. We are visual creatures, and our visual color perception is hardwired into our brains, in ways that we may not always understand intellectually, but respond to emotionally. People who are really good at marketing and advertising do understand how color can subconsciously affect our decisions and comfort in settings, and there is plenty of research and studies that can document just how color does affect us.

I would reframe Dan't arguments against the emphasis on color combinations to one of giving color theory its due, but not making it any more important than all the other components of good garden design. Just as I tend to place more weight on plant selection and value interesting combinations of unusual plants as part of my design credo; I can understand how others might devalue the actual selection of plants as compared to the color effects desired. As Laag stated, the differences are what makes our field so interesting, and individual perceptions as impacted by culture, traditions, geography and climate keep garden design from becoming the same bland amalgamation of trends that commercial american architecture so often is, especially with the chain businesses repeated in every town and freeway exit across the country.

Ironbelly says: "For some reason (which hopefully we can explore), there is this universally held "knowledge" that design is all about color. it is about pretty color combinations of plants."

Marketing marketing marketing. Sells more plants, flats of annuals each year if you have everyone conviced that color is the be all end all. Color is affordable. Fixable. I tried pink and yellow last year and I just didn't like it. This year I am going for a patriotic theme. All those plants to buy at the big box store.

I don't think your drum is all that singular, Dan........I beat a very similar one myself :-)) Much (not all) of the discussion this thread has generated is coming from professional designers and for the most part, we all tend to place color theory and its importance (or lack of, depending on perspective) in an appropriate position. But this forum draws as many, if not more, novice designers and/or homeowners wanting to design their own landscapes who may not have the same degree of understanding or focus. And for them, I'd venture to say color does play an overly prominent role in the construction of a landscape. By the same token, my own experience in presenting landscape design education to the masses has shown that plant selection also plays a very major role and perhaps prematurely. While I am not for a second dismissing the value of plantings in a landscape design - how could I? - I think that this topic as well is given entirely too much weight compared to other, less sexy, landscape design elements. No one seems to want to start at the logical beginning and follow the process through its natural development but rather to jump to the good stuff first. How many posts have we seen that dismiss out of hand any advice to take time to analyze the site properly and objectively consider the requirements for the landscape but want to know immediately "what plant to put where"?

To all too many, landscape design IS just plant selection and it follows somewhat naturally that also for many, plants=flowers=color.

I don't discount the regional and seasonal variations that landscapes around the country must experience but neither do I think that these regional/seasonal variations should dictate, to the exclusion of all other landscape design elements. Winter interest plantings or seasonal attributes are just one part of a landscape to be considered or not, depending on the inclinations of the designer/client but they do not, nor should they, make or break a well-planned, well-constructed landscape design.

It is the sum of all the parts that makes a landscape zing or fall flat and I think we should all be cautious about overemphasizing any single element.

Of late, the native plant people are all a-twitter with the release of a new book, Bringing Nature Home by Douglas W. Tallamy, chairperson of the Department of Entomology and Wildlife Ecology at the University of Delaware. One of the quotes they like to cite is:
"All of the information I needed to realize that covering the land with alien plant species might not be such a good idea had been neatly placed in my lap in grad school, but it was 20 years before I made the connection: our native insects, and therefore our wildlife, will not be able to survive on alien plant species."

The buzz has been heightened even more since Ketzel Levine of NPR (National Public Radio) recently wrote a column about the book on the 21st of November. (See link below.)

Although a bit tangential to our chosen subject of color, I cant help but take note in her article the fact that even the "Doyenne of Dirt" is unable to wrest herself from the tentacles of the color wheel. "As a gardener, I'm the first to admit it's not always easy to work with the color of Rudbeckia, black-eyed Susan. " *** YIKES! ***

On the other hand she goes on to cite a quote from the book that she finds persuasive. Is she predicting a coming trend which is about to leave the color wheel in the dust?

Quoting the "Doyenne of Dirt":
"I found this passage particularly compelling as an argument against my own kind of shape and leaf-centric garden:

For the past century we have created our gardens with one thing in mind: aesthetics. We have selected plants for landscaping based only on their beauty and their fit within our artistic designs. Yet if we designed our buildings the way we design our gardens, with only aesthetics in mind, they would fall down. Just as buildings need support structures...to hold the graceful arches and beautiful lines of fine architecture in place, our gardens need native plants to support a diverse and balanced food web essential to all sustainable ecosystems."

Things to think about
IronBelly

My personal take is that the native fauna is alot more adaptable, and while it is certainly true that some insects and animals are highly dependent on specific plants, most others are generalists, and adapt to exotics in the garden with ease. Plus, with birds in particular, which often migrate north/south for thousands of miles, some of our exotics are seasonal habitat plants for them in their winter habitats, so are not completely foreign.

I think it makes alot more sense to preserve existing habitat intact, than slavishly promote native plants to the exclusion of exotics. Especially since most native plants are not really native to the environments where they will be planted, and different ecotypes of the same species can and will infact infect the gene pool with characteristics that may not be beneficial to the larger gene pool which developed in sync with the local conditions. Introduced exotics which are incapable of self sowing outside the garden will never crowd out the local natives, nor contaminate the gene pool. This topic is seldom addressed by native plant enthusiasts, and if it were, then native plantings would emphasize planting from locally collected wild seed, rather than cutting propagated cultivars from outside the local habitat. Do I need to say that this isn't standard practice anywhere except where mandated by law for specific projects?

Hmmm ... could the book be yet another example of misinformation (or selective silence) from the academic community?

What David (and Tibbs, from a posting above) is really pointing out is that we must be aware that an agenda is sometimes being promoted more than an objective presentation of facts.

IronBelly

We seem to be talking about half a dozen different topics here all of which would make for interesting nattering on a separate thread but can we roll the colour wheel back into the garden please?
In the beginning we were told that, in design efforts too much emphasis is put on colour combinations that using or "adherence" to colour theory especially where the colour wheel is concerned was largely a waste of time. I have yet to see this statement proved.
If one sets out to design a garden using only indigenous plants then this is the criterion. All the usual design principles still apply but using indigenous plants will cover any complaints about the lack of seasonal interest or colour. If, on the other hand one sets out to design a garden for a Las Vegas casino the brief is different, if one is asked to design a garden for the headquarters of the company that manufactures colour wheels then what do you do?
Form follows function or different strokes for different folks? To me it is equally as stultifying to say that you should always use the colour wheel as to say you should never use it.

I'm not a color wheel kind of guy anymore than I am going to make a "Bagel Garden" like Martha Swartz. However, I can understand that if someone wanted to isolate or fixate on using the color wheel in some way in a garden as some kind of artistic expression, they might have something that is adored or admired by a heck of a lot of people. I'm not likely going to like it any more than I like the bagel thing, but it does not negate the fact that it can be something more to someone else.

We should be able to accept that there may be relevence to things that we don't embrace or things we don't like. The color wheel theory exists and some people use it a little, some use it a lot, some use it not at all, and some people obsess over it. Is that not true?

Color theory analyzes only the relationships of pure colors; it doesn't take color lightness and saturation into account. While a color scheme can use any tints, shades, and tones, the color wheel theory still pays attention only to the hue component.

I'm thinking even with a basic understanding of color and an acceptable level of being able to "see" companions, compliments, contrasts, and clashes, the possibility of erring with blooming plant material (or in color coordinating furniture, drapes, and paint, etc.) can be high. A tone or two off and you've cracked a spoke in the wheel. And if everything in a garden erupted into bloom at the same moment, you'd be aware of unintended consequences. But it doesn't often happen that way and an overriding backdrop of green tends to be the coordinating element. To us amateurs, anyway.

For the average garden club member in an English channel side resort town, putting together the floral display beside the pavillion is not so much a study in color theory (in the same way that Jackson Pollack had to understand color in order to drip and splatter it in the right place) as it is to get a showy design done - and Crayola reds, blues, yellows, whites, and greens do the job.

We've all been treated to less than stellar plantings around our civic buildings, casinos, office buildings; been amused at the one pink Wave Petunia ruining the flow of the purple ones. Or the never fail circle of Canna Lilies. But these temporary displays are created for impact out of what the city budget allows and the local suppliers are pushing. I would expect more thoughtful displays in the city's perennial and rose gardens because those, aside from being something to simply enjoy or to aspire to in our own spaces, are often teaching tools.

>For the average garden club member in an English channel side resort town, putting together the floral display beside the pavillion is not so much a study in color theory (in the same way that Jackson Pollack had to understand color in order to drip and splatter it in the right place) as it is to get a showy design done - and Crayola reds, blues, yellows, whites, and greens do the jobHere Parks once tried doing the hanging baskets in one section in pastels and there was an outcry.

Perhaps I have painted a mental image to some that I prefer a black and white garden with only shades of gray. Not at all true. Numerous gardens and many years of experience temper my attitudes. However, I have found over the years that the less importance I place on color selection, the better the color impact of those gardens.

I enjoy a lot of garden visitors and groups who tour my garden landscape. I am always being told how they are amazed at the abundance of color in a small yard. Predictably, the question; "How did you come up with that color combination?" is soon to be asked. Truth be told many of them are delightful accidents. but then, are there truly ever any accidents?

Even though I keep borrowing quotes from Bahia (or should that be David? ;-)size>), I have also long noticed: "It is hard to fault color combinations that are found in nature, as they always seem to manage to mix colors in the right proportions to make it work." I have found that as my use of native plants has increased, the colors have gotten better. A lot of that has to do with the comparatively late bloom season of many prairie natives. The "June Bride Syndrome" has ceased to be a factor. In fact, some of my beds dont reach their crescendo until late fall; although, they have pleasantly been scampering along all year long with various transitions of color. I let nature sort the colors out. I tend to concentrate on texture and various other elements, including hardscape, that create interest and appeal.

I am sure that my laissez-faire attitude has a lot to do with thinking of my home and landscape as a unit; as opposed to individual beds. Another technique that seems to subconsciously impart a heightened feeling to guests of being immersed in color is that most pathways have beds on both sides. Guests dont walk past garden beds; they walk through them. In addition, I tend to utilize bolder, taller plants than most of the pissy little bedding plants that you see all-too-often. Rarely will you hear me say at the garden center, "Oh ... I don't want anything too tall."

To take advantage of the spectacle of garden progression (as Woody so astutely takes note of), I interplant a broad mixture of early spring bulbs. I want to emphasize "early" because bulbs can be selected for early, mid and late spring boom times. For the most part, I want the bulb foliage to be senescing early enough for the other stuff to cover up the spent foliage. For me, late spring bulbs retain their dying foliage well into June far too late not to cause a distraction (most alliums would be an exception). In addition, I prefer spring bulbs that are small in stature but are planted thickly for maximum impact. For example: I tend to select short, early blooming daffodils such as Jack Snipe or Jetfire; as opposed to the more traditional and later blooming King Alfred, which comes in at 18" to 20".

For tulips, whose major, post-bloom drawback has always been ratty looking foliage, I choose the smaller species tulips which seem to hug the ground. On the other hand, for a more traditional tulip look, I select Greigii tulips like Red Riding Hood. The foliage is truly superior and features a purple mottling that looks stunning from the time the leaves break ground until they finally collapse rather quickly, after providing an extended, post-bloom show lasting a number of weeks.

Late-maturing, fall boomers provide a perfect, supporting foil for the progression of mid-season shrubs, trees, grasses and bloomers.

IronBelly

It's already been said, but I'll try to propound further on the notion that color and its "theories" are very much tied up in knots by culture and fashion. Tibbs has already mentioned the marketing aspect: consumers are coached in their purchase of plants just as much as they are persuaded that this season's clothing collection will date and supercede anything that has gone before.

When we are not being manipulated by fashion, we are being coerced by cultural norms. In the midwest, at least, certain colors, combinations, and even bloom sizes and shapes are instantly pegged as gawdy, flamboyant, unsophisticated, or cheap. If someone manages to use these colors and shapes effectively, the result might be labelled surprising, daring, or avant garde.

Use the same colors and shapes in another part of the world, and you'll find yourself fitting comfortably into the regional norm.

My own response to color and color theory is weird. I find myself caught between pride and memory. I am loathe to admit it, but I hate the thought of people thinking to themselves, "Poor thing. She tries, but she's blind, you know, so how could she possibly get the color thing right" I guess I'm also admitting my ego-centricity, as well, as the number of people who pay any attention to my garden are probably few to none.

To make my point a bit more general, people tend--sometimes for very personal reasons--to choose the Russian doll labeled "I'm one of the herd" or the one labeled "I break the rules" or the one that says "I'm a trend setter." Sometimes there are clues in a thread about which "doll" the poster prefers. The ones that puzzle me are those wanting "something different". I mean, if you want your garden, home, life to reflect "something different" then it doesn't make a lot of sense to ask for a group opinion to determine your unique, creative touch.

My point, which I seem to be making quite tangentially, is that color is a seductive, but rather misleading mistress. In fact, she probably isn't as important as a mistress might be, unless that's your thing. She really ought to be viewed as just one of the high kickers in the chorus line. She's always there, and if she's out of step, you'll notice. She may even be the featured dancer in a particular landscape, but her allure won't work if you're trying to put on Swan Lake and the musicians are playing bump-n-grind, or, worse, if the musicianship is just plain bad.

(Sorry for the extended metaphorI'm feeling frisky after getting out of the hospital!)

But, then there's memory. I could see normally until I was 24, partial vision until 26, now totally blind. I am still very much a visual learner. I dream in color. I visualize, or try to visualize, the landscapes described here or in other sources. I remember places I've been on vacation--Vienna, the Lake district, California, Colorado--in visual pictures although I've never seen them.

What I discovered with plants was that, for some reason, they trigger some of my strongest inner pictures. For another blind person I imagine that the same effect might be triggered by fabrics. If someone tells me that they like the beautiful sea-green shade of my sweater, I'll get a mental flash of that color. Someone who is more passionate about clothing than I am might have a stronger response. For me, it comes from direct engagement with growing things. I'll touch the dicentra eximia with its fern-like foliage and its little pink flower locketsor a particular tulip poking up bunny ears, or holding up a fattening bud, or open like a star. Something goes up my fingertips to my brain and I get an immediate picture in my mind of the form, foliage, flower and, of course, all the colors. I constantly ask people to describe the colors of different plants, leaves, flowers. I add their input to what I read from catalogs and other sources, which is usually somewhat contradictory and therefore interesting.

I could probably do a Ph.D. dissertation on the beneficial effect of stimulating the brain's color imaging in persons with visual impairment. For me, at least, playing with color is an extremely pleasurable part of playing in the garden, both when I'm out there in reality and when I'm installing mental landscapes over the winter.

I guess you could say that I'm easily seduced, although my preference would be a dancer of the very male persuasion.

Wellspring / Charlotte

This has been an interesting, wide ranging discussion, one which has conjured up a lot of memories. I have never paid attention to the color wheel preferring to brush a landscape with color suitable for the site, always experimenting with new tones, searching for the 'end of the rainbow'.

Must admit that I had an OMG moment this morning walking into Lowe's to be confronted by manipulated poinsettias colored shocking pinks and bright blues sprayed with glitter. It looks as though the interior decorators are more and more influencing plant color.

Recent reading about plant genetics leads me to predict the future of plant color. Are you ready for this, IB? In the back room of some obscure lab a scientist will insert a gene into a flowering plant. Then into other plant types. Coming soon...flowering gardens which may change color according to light strength. Cool, muted tones in the early morning will become blazing hot colors beneath the noon day sun. Far fetched? Maybe not!

Charlotte,
Thanks so much for adding this last bit about your personal perceptions of color, in particular in the context of not actually being able to "see" anything except in your imagination. I know I could learn a lot from you if we were neighbors, and the fact that you still are able to garden and even design your garden while not seeing is very moving and impressive to me. In the back of my mind, losing my sight has always been one of my greatest unspoken fears, and I can't quite imagine how it is actually possible to garden and design gardens without the benefit of sight.

Having admitted my personal fears around blindness, I must add that being so near sighted and astigmatic that I can't function without my glasses 24/7, can actually be an advantage when composing with color. The blurring and softening that comes with removing my glasses is actually a very useful tool when I need to "step back" from a garden design, and see it with less detail. Blurry vision definitely helps when trying to do water color paintings, and one wants to get the overall context of masses, shapes and predominant colors down without getting distracted by the details.

I wonder how you imagine spatial aspects of gardens when you can't actually see? This would seem to be a big stumbling block in gardening if one can't see? I also imagine that the other qualities of the garden such as texture and scent would become much more important in your situation. I know that in my own case I have a poorly developed sense of smell, and tend to downplay scent as a criteria for selecting plants for a garden.

I am sure that climate and culture do make a huge difference in how color is used and perceived, and I am no doubt influenced by its effects in our California light and growing climate. There is just something about subtropical/mediterranean climates and the special quality of our sun that does play up the importance of color. I especially enjoy the possibilities of getting lost in a sea of color from something so simple as a deep red bougainvillea seen against a blindingly white wall in the depth of winter, or the equally intense yellow/orange brilliance of the shrubby Mexican Marigold, Tagetes lemmonii also blooming so brightly this time of year. Even more traditional temperate plants such as Gingko biloba or Liquidamabar trees take on special qualities against our vividly deep blue cloud free skies this time of year. Color may not be the primary design consideration of a garden, but it is the first element to get noticed by us and the pollinators, and we have evolved in sync with the plants in ways that we don't always understand on a conscious level.

David,

Thank you for the compliment. My ability to design in my head is very rudimentary. The cool thing is that there's no way to confirm that I'm really any good at it because, well, it is all in my head! You asked about thinking spatially and that is hard for me. I remember my first winter here planning one bed in my head. I had that dang thing so full of plants it was terrifying. I also couldn't yet really think beyond ground level. As I've become more and more familiar with my particular environment, I find that I am slowly comprehending more about space and the connections between one part of my garden and another. When I respond here, I try to stay very close to what the pros talk aboutI occasionally do get a pretty clear picture in my head of what might work, but for the most part I stick to helping out by taking my turn at stating the basics.

And I have a bad habit of storing away crumbs of visual information. I get vague, foggy pictures of people as I begin to catch some ideas about what they might look like. SoI sort of get a fuzzy mental picture of the regulars here when I read posts. Now I'll have to give yours some glasses. Neat trick about using your natural eyesight to view things in a different way.

To make an extremely awkward leap, so as not to be entirely off-topic, it does occur to me that most people can't get away from color. The moment your eyes open in the morning, it's there. It's also the easiest thing in our environment to manipulate with the least amount of risk. If I plant pink petunias and they look awful, it's cheap and easy to change. If I attempt to fix a drainage problem or install a stone patio or even hire a professional to do the work, I'm risking far more. Much easier to leave the real issues alone and replace the pink petunias with purple ones.

Wellspring

One of the reasons that I start controversial threads like this one is to massage inner thoughts from others minds. Each of us does it all the time with friends and especially life mates. However, my motives are more along the lines of an adult educator than anything self-serving. Most often for me, it is not some earth shattering revelation that I savor but rather clever or unique wording which casts new light on the overlooked and mundane.

I do think that academia has shirked responsibility to the common man by not actively bettering the perception of color priority in the design process. How much blame to allocate to institutions of higher learning is open for debate. On the other hand, Tibbs was squarely on track noting what damaging role greens-industry advertising plays. There are even business school theories about how to maximize income by focusing on signage using emotional language to promote and sell color. However, that marketing concept is taken a step further. They are not promoting colorful plants in your landscape they are promoting colorful plants in a colorful pot. The thrust of the concept is to minimize gardening and turn attention to decorating. Decorating requires that you purchase more "stuff".

There is something poetic about relying upon a blind lady to achieve clarity of vision. Wellspring stated the obvious in such an unusually perceptive manner when she notes that color is: " the easiest thing in our environment to manipulate with the least amount of risk." and I might also add, the least amount of effort. Surely these considerations play, at least, a subconscious role.

IronBelly

I think form, texture, balance, unity (I suppose unity could include using a certain color over and over to unite the landscape), interesting foliage, and using plants that are suited for the environment are all much more important in garden design than color theory, unless you are planning a garden with a certain color theme in mind. For example, I have a pink rose garden. I use soft pinks, blues and white in this garden (in addition to green of course). I wouldn't add a bright yellow or loud red to this particular garden.

I don't pull out a color wheel when designing my garden, but I think this tool might come in handy for someone (like my two brothers) who are color blind. I think pleasing color combinations come naturally to most. I also would not hesitate to break a color "rule" if I found a certain combination of plants pleasing.

Wow . . . . lots of discussion. I think these art concepts were an attempt to codify what most people think looks good. I wouldn't be a slave to it. After all, your garden is YOURS. Garden for yourself. It's not like Fine Gardening is showing up tomorrow to do a spread on your landscape.

If some concept doesn't work for you, throw it out. Do what looks good to your eye.

That's my two cents.

Wow - the threads I miss...looks like a fun one. :)

Color theory - probably the biggest problem for me is that the standard color wheel doesn't have browns and greys. And in nature, while you have some pure hues, you also can't get away from browns and/or greys. So, you are deluding yourself if you think you are including all colors by looking at a color wheel.

Personally, without shades and ranges of colors, I find almost any color scheme too strident or pastel or well, simply missing something. The original photo has complimentary colors - but with brown tones mixed in with the red.

Btw, in our office (architecture, not LA), we have made it a policy never to show a client a color rendering the 1st time we show them an elevation. Because, invariably, they focus in on the color, and completely ignore anything else regarding massing, function, etc.