EMM A TEN NANT Plants with Provenance
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emma tennant · plants with provenance 2–10 december 2015
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EMM A TEN NA NT
Plants with Provenance
The Fine Art Society london · 2015
Foreword
emma tennant’s botanical watercolours look deceptively straightforward, confident and direct, their simply drawn outlines tinted with watercolour that occasionally spreads beyond them as if the drawing itself had gone on growing on the paper. Such images look as if they had been seductively easy to draw, which of course they can’t have been. Others just seem magically solid and glistening. Her pictures are also beautifully composed or arranged, with an instinctive flair for their arrangement or design. There are many intriguing juxtapositions, for example in Midsummer Annuals [33] where peas burst out of their pod alongside flowers and the vacant space in between is filled by a leaf. Her interest in structure, colour and character is revealed in the delicately swirling stems of her Four Species of Tropaeolum [48] whereas each of her Four Fungi [52] assumes a personality ranging from fragility to clownish dumpiness. Emma Tennant’s scholarship is revealed in her interest in provenances either romantically exotic or earthily homely, and her sensuous sense of colour in the heraldic red, white and blue of Three Annuals [32], the delicate pinks and greens of her Calanthe vestita from Chatsworth [1], the comfortingly domestic Suffolk apples and pears of Fruit at Helmingham [57, detail opposite], and the greyish bloom adding its subtle muting to the skins of Three Bunches of Grapes [62]. David Gentleman
Introduction
the great english plant-hunter, frank kingdon ward, said that in Britain we do not have a climate, only weather. This weather, combined with a great variety of landscapes and soil types, enables us to grow an extraordinary range of plants from all over the world. The cooler parts of South America and of the Himalayas; the coasts of California, Western Australia, and the Mediterranean; the European Alps and the mountains of China, Tibet and the Caucasus have all provided treasures for our gardens. The more one knows about the original habitats of these plants, the more interesting they become. They were introduced to Britain by an heroic band of explorers and plant-hunters. To know something of their adventures is to add greatly to the romance of gardening. For me, plants are strongly associated with the sense not just of the place where they grow wild (or, if a hybrid, where they were bred), but with the place where I painted them. Though most of the flowers, fruit and vegetables for this exhibition were grown in my own Scottish garden, I love travelling and finding new subjects both at home and abroad. The wonderful walled gardens at Helmingham and Glemham in Suffolk provided fruit which I cannot grow in cold, wet Roxburghshire; I found superb orchids in the greenhouse at Chatsworth and the high point of a recent visit to Chile was seeing Philesia magellanica [65, detail opposite] growing wild in the Patagonian rainforest. However, rose hips and crab apples from a hedgerow on the farm where we live are just as beautiful as flowers from the other side of the world and their provenance, too, means everything to me. Emma Tennant
1 · Calanthe vestita
Calanthe vestita was introduced by Thomas Lobb (1817–1894) who was sent out to the Far East by the well known firm of nurserymen, Veitch of Exeter, in 1843. Sir Joseph Paxton (1803–1865) featured this treasure in the sixteenth and last volume of his Magazine of Botany in 1849. He tells us that Lobb found it near Moulmein in Burma, and that it had already won a large silver medal at an exhibition in the Horticultural Rooms in Regent Street in 1847. Paxton described Calanthe vestita thus: ‘A more beautiful species of Calanthe could perhaps be scarcely conceived: the flower spike is slender and clothed with flowers of the most delicate white: the centre is stained with deep and rich crimson, which renders the plant when in bloom extremely interesting’. Chatsworth still maintains a fine collection of these wonderful orchids, which are all the more valuable as they flower in mid-winter. I painted these examples last winter. The left-hand flower spike was labelled Baron Schroder, which is a cross between two forms of C. vestita, and is very similar to Paxton’s description of the original introduction. The spray on the right is var. oculata rubra. The single flowers are, on the left, var. regnieri, and, on the right, var. bella.
2 · Rhododendron chrysodoron and Chimonanthus praecox
Rhododendron chrysodoron has an interesting history. It was raised at Lochinch, near Stranraer in south west Scotland by Lord Stair from seeds collected by George Forrest (1873–1932), the Scottish botanist, in north west Yunnan. The yellow flowers did not match Forrest’s herbarium specimen, and turned out to be a new species. Rhododendron chrysodoron has also been grown from seeds collected by Frank Kingdon Ward (1885–1958), the English botanist, explorer and plant hunter, in Upper Burma, where it grows as an epiphyte on forest trees. My specimen is happy in a pot in the cool greenhouse. George Forrest was born in Falkirk and trained in the herbarium at the Royal Botanic Garden, Edinburgh, under the great Professor Isaac Bayley Balfour (1853–1922). Balfour recommended Forrest to Arthur Kilpin Bulley (1861–1942), a rich Liverpool cotton-broker who was making a garden on the Dee, and founded the well-known firm of Bees Seeds. Bulley was keen to finance his own collector, and sent Forrest to China in 1904. The following year Forrest had a terrifying experience on the border between China and Tibet. The Tibetans felt threatened by the British (after Colonel Younghusband’s invasion the previous year), by the Chinese, and by the French missionaries, who were supported by the Chinese. Forrest with his 17 servants and local plant
collectors, two old French missionaries and their converts was attacked by a party of Tibetans and most of them, including the priests, were slowly tortured to death. Forrest miraculously escaped with his life although he subsequently contracted the severe Salween malaria. In spite of these experiences, Forrest returned to China several times, often in the employ of J.C. Williams of Caerhays Castle in Cornwall, whose collection of rhododendrons and other Chinese plants is still one of the best in Britain. Williams paid Forrest a bonus for every new species of rhododendron he found. There were so many that Bayley Balfour, the botanist responsible for naming Forrest’s introductions, had to revise the whole genus. Forrest also introduced the wonderful Gentiana sino-ornata, many primulas, meconopsis and lilies. He died suddenly in China in 1932, having just finished packing the seeds and bulbs collected on his sixth expedition. Chimonanthus praecox is a native of China, where is it also a prized garden plant, flowering as it does in mid-winter, with a delicious fragrance. To the Chinese, Chimonanthus symbolises purity, renewal, endurance and the idea that spring is just around the corner. So, although the flowers are not beautiful, it is often given a favoured south-facing spot. It is called Dangling Bell Flower in China. My twig came from a plant at Chatsworth which was probably planted by Sir Joseph Paxton (1803–1865) himself.
3 · Leeks, Aconites, and Hamamelis at Edrom House
Leeks are a staple vegetable in Scotland, where they feature in traditional dishes such as cock-aleekie soup. They stand through the winter in a remarkable way. These ones were grown by Bert Kinghorn in my daughter Stella’s garden. They were being pulled as the first aconites flowered, along with Hamamelis mollis var. pallida, the paleflowered witch-hazel. It is so-called because the twigs work well for dowsers and water-diviners.
4 · Narcissus and Violets from the Scilly Isles
Narcissus are still grown as a crop on some of the Scilly Isles. These two were naturalised on the little island of Bryher, where I painted them. The yellow variety, known to gardeners as Soleil d’Or, is a vigorous form of Narcissus tazetta ssp. aureus, which grows wild in parts of the Mediterranean. I painted it with a smaller N. tazetta ssp. italicus from the north east Mediterranean. The yellow violet is
Viola brevistipulata hidakana from the Japanese island of Hokkaido. The purple one is a garden form of Viola hirta called Pamela Zambra. During World War II, the acreage devoted to flowergrowing was much reduced by law. Narcissus were nonessential crops compared to food. In November 1942 the Transport of Flowers Act came into force. It banned flowers from the railways and restricted road transport. The Act was severely enforced, with hauliers being given prison sentences of six or twelve months for transporting daffodils, violets and anemones from Cornwall. A group of Scillonian growers who faced bankruptcy sent some narcissus to Churchill. Characteristically, he was impressed, and said that ‘These people must be enabled to grow their flowers and send them to London – they cheer us up so much in these dark days’. The rail ban was lifted on 18 March 1943 and the very next day 7. 5 tons of boxes of flowers were shipped from the Scillies. The varieties I painted would almost certainly have been in those boxes.
5 · Spring Bulbs: Hermodactylus, Bellevalia, Fritillary and Narcissus
The Widow, or Snake’s Head Iris, grows wild from the south of France east to Greece, Turkey and Israel. I have seen it in Sicily, flowering en masse below apricot trees in full blossom, an unforgettable sight. The form I painted was collected in Italy under the number MS964. Hermodactylus is a mono-specific genus. The name comes from the Greek hermes, the messenger of the gods, and dactylos, a finger, and refers to the shape of the tuber. It was given to the genus by Carl Linnaeus (1707– 1778), the Swedish botanist. The blue flower is not a Grape Hyacinth, but the similar Bellevalia dubia. The generic name commemorates Pierre Richer de Belleval (1564–1632), the French botanist who founded the botanic garden at Montpellier in 1593. Bellevalia dubia grows wild round the northern coast of the Mediterranean. The little yellow fritillary is Fritillaria collina from the Caucasus. The specific epithet means ‘pertaining to hills’, and is most appropriate, as this little treasure grows in alpine meadows at 2,000–4,500 metres. The narcissus is the sweetly scented N. fernandesii, which comes from Portugal and southern Spain.
Image 1242
6 · Freesia xanthospila
The genus Freesia is named after a German doctor, Friedrich Heinrich Theodor Freese of Kiel, who died in 1876. He was a friend of Christian Ecklon (1795–1868), the Danish botanical collector and apothecary, who named the genus. Freesias, like so
many valuable winter-flowering bulbs, grow wild in South Africa, and belong to the iris family. The specific epithet comes from the Greek xanthos, yellow, and spilos, a spot, and refers to the yellow marks on the petals.
7 · Camellia rosthorniana
Camellia rosthorniana is a recent introduction from south west China. It was named after Dr A. von Rosthorn, who was the Austrian Ambassador in Peking during World War I. Von Rosthorn had previously served in the Chinese Maritime Customs. In 1891 he was the first European to travel from Kwanhsien in Tibet to Tatsienlu in China. My plant came from Cotswold Garden Plants, Bob Brown’s marvellous nursery near Evesham.
8 · Primula malacoides
In 1884 the great French missionary-botanist Père Delavay found Primula malacoides in Dali, south west China. It was then a common sight, growing in ditches round the cultivated fields. Primula malacoides was not introduced to Britain until George Forrest (1873–1932), the Scottish botanist, sent home seeds from the same area in 1908. Later still, in 1913, Frank Kingdon Ward (1885–1958), the great plant hunter, described finding this lovely annual in Yunnan, on his way home from Tibet. ‘Primula malacoides was in flower by the wayside. The whorls of rose-pink flowers are charming, and the plant is as beautiful in fruit when tier on tier of silver-dusted fairy cups replace the fragrant flowers. It grows in the fields like speedwell at home … ’. P. malacoides was named by Adrien-René Franchet (1834–1900), the botanist at the Musée d’Histoire Naturelle in Paris, from dried specimens sent home by Delavay. The specific epithet means resembling a mallow, soft, and mucilaginous, and refers to the leaves. I was given a plant by Caroline Cranbrook. It sows itself in nooks and crannies in the greenhouse, and is specially valuable because it flowers for months on end, from January until May.
9 · Sophora microphylla
10 · Nicotiana mutabilis and Radishes
Sophora microphylla grows wild on both islands of New Zealand. It was discovered and introduced by Sir Joseph Banks (1743–1820), the English botanist who accompanied Captain Cook on his first voyage in 1772. The plant of S. microphylla that still grows on a wall in the Chelsea Physic Garden is probably a descendent of the original specimen planted there by Banks in 1774. It produces plenty of self-sown seedlings.
Nicotiana mutabilis is an interesting tobacco plant from South America. The flowers emerge white, then turn pink, and finally purple. I was given seeds by Ro Fitzgerald, a great botanist. What she did not tell me was that the flowers open successively for several months. I painted them in May, when we were pulling the first radishes in the kitchen garden. They are the variety known, mysteriously, as French Breakfast – though in France they are called Radis demi-long à bout blanc.
11 · Convallaria majalis
There is just the one species in the genus Convallaria, the much-loved Lily-of-the-Valley. The generic name comes from the Latin convallis, a valley, and the specific epithet means ‘May-flowering’. In Paris bunches of Lily-of-theValley are sold on May Day, the bank holiday – Les Muguets du Premier Mai – and in the Scottish Borders they are worn as favours at Hawick
12 · Fritillaria meleagris
Common Riding, a great local celebration. I was given my first plants of Lily-of-the-Valley by the late Brenda Johnson, who had a wonderful garden near Jedburgh. She told me to ignore conventional advice, to plant them in full sun, give them lots of farmyard muck, and weed them as little as possible, as they hate disturbance. They have flourished in my garden for forty years.
The latest Flora of the British Isles describes this fascinating fritillary as ‘doubtfully native’. It is, nonetheless, locally abundant, and a meadow in East Anglia or the Thames valley full of fritillaries in flower is a wonderful sight. The name comes from the Latin fritillus, a dicebox, and meleagris, which means ‘spotted like a guinea-fowl’. I painted two flowers in my garden in May.
13 · Primula x auricula I
14 · Primula x auricula II
Auriculas are hybrids between two species of Primula which grow wild in the European Alps: Primula auricula, with clear yellow flowers, and P. hirsuta. They have been popular garden flowers since the end of the 16th century, and breeders continue to produce new varieties which are very similar to those painted to perfection by Georg Dionysius Ehret (1708–1770) in the 18th century. The purple and green variety is an 18th-century sort called Osborne Green, and the yellow and green flower is Hetty Woolf.
This superb auricula was growing in a pot at Kilmaronaig, near Oban. It has no known name, but an interesting history. A few years ago, my friend Lorne Nelson was fishing on the river Naver in Sutherland. As he drove down the strath he noticed, in a cottage garden, a striking clump of auriculas about 3 metres square. Lorne’s ghillie, who knew the owner of the garden, said that he would probably be happy to give a little piece away. Emboldened by this, Lorne asked if he could possibly have a bit and the owner, generous as most gardeners are, gave him a spadeful. The auricula has thrived in Lorne’s green-fingered care ever since, and he has, in turn, propagated the plant and distributed it among his friends. There is a telling sequel to the story. When Lorne returned to the Naver the following year, the owner of the auricula had died and his garden had been bulldozed. So the moral is, if you see a good plant in an unusual place, do not be shy about asking for propagating material. In the corner of this picture is the tip of of a sketch of Kalmia latifolia which was also growing at Kilmaronaig.
15 · Cyclamen repandum
16 · Meconopsis baileyi
Carl Linnaeus (1707–1778), the Swedish botanist, called the genus Cyclamen, using the Greek name, from kyklos, a circle, referring to the rounded tubers. The specific epithet means ‘with slightly wavy margins’. This little beauty grows wild in the central and eastern Mediterranean regions. I painted it at Woodfield House in Gloucestershire, where it is naturalised under a hedge.
Meconopsis baileyi is named after the extraordinary soldier, spy and linguist Lieutenant Colonel Frederick Bailey (1882–1967). In 1913 Bailey was exploring on the border between India and Tibet. He found a beautiful blue flower which he pressed in his pocket-book. Back in England he showed it to Sir David Prain (1857–1944), the then Director of the Royal Botanic Gardens, Kew. Prain named it after Bailey. It was subsequently thought to be identical to a similar species which had been found, but not introduced, by the French priest-naturalist Père Delavay in 1886, and named M. betonicifolia. However, recent research has shown that the two species are distinct, and M. baileyi now stands alone as a separate species. This superb plant caused a sensation when it was first shown in London in the 1920s, having been introduced by the great plant-hunter Frank Kingdon Ward (1885– 1958). It does well in Scotland, with its cold winters and summer monsoon, and usually frustrates those who try to grow it in the south of England.
17 · Eucryphia lucida Ballerina
The genus Eucryphia has an interesting distribution, with species native to Chile, New Zealand and Tasmania, where E. lucida grows as a forest tree to the height of 100 feet on river banks. This pink variety was discovered by the contemporary Australian nurseryman Ken
18 · Rhododendron neriiflorum and Rhododendron cinnabarinum ssp. xanthocodon Gillanders in a part of the forest which was being felled by loggers. He arrived in the nick of time, and collected propagating material. I think that the pink Eucryphia is one of the most exciting recent introductions. I painted a twig at Achnacloich in Argyll.
Rhododendron neriiflorum grows wild in midYunnan, in western China, westwards through upper Burma to the Himalayas. It was discovered by the great French missionary-botanist Père Delavay (1838–1895) in the Dali range, Yunnan, and named by Adrien-René Franchet (1834–1900), the botanist at the Paris Musée d’Histoire Naturelle. The specific epithet means ‘with flowers like an oleander’. Like many of the plants discovered by the French ‘Fathers of Botany’ in China, this lovely rhododendron was introduced by the Scottish plant-hunter George Forrest (1873–1932) much later in 1910.
The yellow-flowered form of R. cinnabarinum was grown from seed collected ‘blind’ by Frank Kingdon Ward (1885–1958), the English explorer and naturalist, on his momentous 1924 expedition. He found it growing on the Nam Ha, a pass in south east Tibet under Namcha Barwa, the great bend in the Tsangpo river. The plants flowered at Bodnant in Wales ten years later. Xanthocodon means ‘yellow bell’ in Greek. I found these unusual rhododendrons in the marvellous garden at Achnacloich near Oban.
19 · Three Greenhouse Climbers: Hoya carnosa, Jasminum azoricum and Tweedia caerulea The beautiful Hoya carnosa comes from India and south east China, where it climbs over rocks and up trees like ivy. It is named after Thomas Hoy (fl. 1788–1809), head gardener to the Duke of Northumberland at Syon, opposite Kew on the Thames. The jasmine is J. azoricum from the Azores. The blue Tweedia is a native of the Argentine. It is named after the extra ordinary James Tweedie (1775–1862). He was born in Lanarkshire, and ended his career in Scotland as head gardener at the Royal Botanic Garden, Edinburgh. Then, at the age of 50, he emigrated to the Argentine where he owned a shop in Buenos Aires as well as a landscape gardening practice. He undertook several long plant-hunting expeditions. As well as this treasure, Tweedie also introduced Pampas grass, several verbena species, and Petunia violacea, the ancestor of the ubiquitous bedding out and hanging basket varieties.
21 · Paeonia potaninii
20 · Two Radishes
These two radishes are French Breakfast, on the left, which was introduced in 1885, and Scarlet Globe, introduced in 1896. They may be old varieties, but they have never been surpassed for flavour. I grow radishes in succession throughout the summer in the kitchen garden.
Paeonia potaninii grows wild in western China. It was introduced by the great plant-hunter E. H. ‘Chinese’ Wilson (1876–1930) in 1904 and first flowered in Britain in 1911. The specific epithet commemorates Grigori Nikolaevich Potanin (1835–1920), a Russian explorer who made large botanical collections in China. Potanin had what is conventionally described as a ‘stormy youth’ and at one time was sent to forced labour in Siberia. By 1884 he was a well-established explorer, financed by the Imperial Russian Geographical Society.
He and his wife Alexandra Victorovna, who was also a botanist, sailed to Peking in a Russian man-of-war. They then travelled westwards through the wildest parts of China, crossed the Gobi desert, and arrived back in Russia in 1886 with a vast number of species. Poor Madame Potanin died on a subsequent journey through China and Tibet. P. potaninii grows in my garden, where it flourishes, but it is still uncommon.
23 · Paeonia rockii
I grew Paeonia rockii from seed, and was surprised when the flowers were pink, not white. This superb plant was introduced by the American plant-hunter Joseph Rock (1884– 1962). In 1925 Rock spent a year in the famous Choni Lamasery in western China. He found
22 · Paeonia cambessedesii
Paeonia cambessedesii is one of the less wellknown species in the genus. It needs a warm corner, or, in Scotland, the shelter of a greenhouse, as it comes from Majorca and Menorca. The specific epithet commemorates Jacques Cambessedes (1799–1863), a French botanist who wrote a Flora of the Balearics.
the tree paeony growing in the monks’ garden, and sent seeds to the Arnold Arboretum at Harvard University. Rock’s tree paeony is probably a variety of Paeonia suffruticosa, the famous Moutan or Mudan, which was so highly prized by the Emperors of China.
24 · Codonopsis grey-wilsonii
25 · Rose Ferdinand Pichard
Members of the genus Codonopsis grow wild from the Himalayas east to Japan, and include some beautiful species. This one is a recent introduction by the well-known botanist and alpine specialist, Christopher Grey-Wilson (born 1944). I grew it in the cold greenhouse.
The Bourbon roses have a romantic history. They are so named because they are descended from a chance seedling found on the Ile de Bourbon in the Indian Ocean in 1817. The Ile de Bourbon is now called Réunion. The seedling was a cross between the Old Blush China,
which carried the repeat-flowering gene, and one of the Damask roses which had been taken to the island, which was then a French colony, from France. Ferdinand Pichard was raised in France in 1921.
26 · Three Species of Philadelphus Everyone knows Philadelphus coronarius, the Mock Orange, which grows wild in southern Austria and Italy, and was an early introduction to Britain. I painted three less familiar species. The branch in the centre of the picture is P. argyrocalyx from Mexico, which I grow in a cold greenhouse. The single flower at top left is a form of P. mexicanus called Rose Syringa. In the wild it climbs into trees to a height of 10 metres, which must be an amazing sight. The twig at bottom left is P. purpurascens, a native of China, which was introduced early in the 20th century by E.H. ‘Chinese’ Wilson (1876–1930), the English plant collector. Although this species is bone hardy and easy to grow, it is not often seen. These three kinds of Philadelphus are all sweetly scented, which makes them even more desirable.
27 · Lilium parryi I
28 · Lilium parryi II
The Lemon Lily of California is described by Woodcock and Coutts as ‘a noble and most lovely plant, distinctive and full of grace, but it cannot be regarded as an easy plant … It flourishes on the banks of mountain streams, in rich alluvial soil, covered with snow and ice for half the year, 6,000–10,000 feet up in southern California’. The story of this lily’s introduction is much more prosaic. Dr Charles Parry (1823–1890) of Davenport, Iowa, discovered it growing in a potato patch on a ranch in the San Bernardino mountains in 1876. At the time, Lilium
parryi was fairly common in the area, but as C.F. Saunders (1859–1941) wrote, ‘so outrageously have campers, motorists and commercial bulb-growers rifled its haunts that it now seems to be on the high road to extinction’. Parry was born in Gloucestershire, but his family emigrated to America in 1832. He spent most of his life in botanical exploration as an American Government botanist. I painted Lilium parryi at home in Scotland. It sulked in its pot for several years, then suddenly, last year, produced a magnificent spike of flowers.
29 · Cypripedium reginae
This beautiful Lady’s Slipper orchid grows wild in the United States and was introduced to Britain in 1731. As Graham Stuart Thomas (1903–2003), the well-known English gardener and writer says, ‘it is a wonderful plant, worth all one’s pocket money’. I spent quite a bit of mine on these specimens, and reckon that they were well worth it. The generic name comes from the Greek kypris for Venus and pedilon, a slipper, which describes the extraordinary shape of the flower. Carl Linnaeus (1707–1778), the Swedish botanist, latinised these words as cypria and pedium. The specific epithet, reginae, means ‘of the Queen’, and is a tribute to Charlotte, wife of George III. The species was named in her honour by the British botanist, Thomas Walter (c.1740–1789), who worked in America and wrote the Flora of Carolina. Cypripedium reginae was grown at Chatsworth by Sir Joseph Paxton (1803–1865), who said it was ‘rather difficult to keep’.
30 · Three Easy Orchids
31 · Calanthe sieboldii
I grew these orchids in my cool greenhouse. The tall flower is Bletilla striata from Japan, China and Tibet. The genus is named after Don Luis Blet, a Spanish apothecary who had a botanic garden in Algeciras towards the end of the 18th century. At top right is Cypripedium reginae which grows wild in damp places in north eastern North America. This treasure was named by the British botanist, Thomas Walter (1740–1789), in honour of Queen Charlotte, the wife of George III. At the bottom is a form of Pleione formosana called Shantung. I was given a plant by my old friend Alice Boyd, who is a brilliant gardener. It has done well in my cool greenhouse. Pleione formosana comes from eastern China including, as the specific epithet indicates, Taiwan, which was formerly know as Formosa.
Calanthe sieboldii is a native of Japan. It is named after Dr Philipp von Siebold (1796–1866), a German doctor who worked for the Dutch East India Company at their trading station in Japan from 1823 to 1830. He returned to the Far East from 1859 to 1863, and was responsible for introducing many Japanese plants to Europe. Calanthe sieboldii is now being sold as a hardy orchid, but I am sceptical. In Scotland it certainly needs the protection of a greenhouse.
32 ¡ Three Annuals: Rhodanthe manglesii, Omphalodes linifolia and Nemophila menziesii One of the things I most admire about Sir Joseph Paxton (1803–1865) is his lack of horticultural snobbishness. Backed, as he was, by the vast wealth of the 6th Duke of Devonshire, he could, and did, grow the most demanding tropical rarities. But he gave equal attention to humble annuals like these. Rhodanthe manglesii from Western Australia and Nemophila insignis from California were recent introductions when he illustrated them in his Botanical Magazine in 1837. Omphalodes linifolia is a delightful native of southern Europe.
33 · Midsummer Annuals
These annuals were giving of their best in my garden in July 2013. They come from three different continents. The tall yellow and green plant is Bupleurum rotundifolium. It is much loved by flower arrangers, and is a native of Europe. The familiar tobacco plant, Nicotiana affinis, and its less familiar congener, N. suavolens, both come from South America. The genus is named after Jean Nicot (1530–1600), the French Ambassador to Lisbon, who introduced tobacco, Nicotiana tabacum, to France. The sweet pea, Lathyrus odorata, is native to Sicily. I painted an old kind called Matucana, which is similar to the wild species. The peas are a pod of my favourite variety Green Shaft. The two blue flowers are Nemophila menziesii, on the left, and Centaurea cyanea. Nemophila was introduced from California in 1832 by David Douglas, of Douglas Fir fame. Sir Joseph Paxton (1803–1865) liked this little annual so much that he grew it in pots in the greenhouses at Chatsworth. The cornflower, Centaurea cyanus, was once a common cornfield weed all over Europe, but is now more often seen in gardens.
34 · Phacelia campanularia
Phacelia campanularia is one of many lovely annuals which come from southern California, where it grows in the desert. The blue of its bell-shaped flowers is as pure and deep as that of any gentian. It is one of several favourite annuals that I grow from seed every year. Phacelia campanularia was found by David Douglas (1799–1834), the Scottish naturalist, on his third trip to America in 1829–32. On this journey he travelled widely. The Colonial Office supplied him with instruments to enable him to make a survey of the Columbia Valley. His map of the river is still considered to be one of the best. He then turned south to California, which at that time belonged to Mexico. Douglas stayed at the Roman Catholic Missions, which were the only outposts of civilisation in what was then a wilderness. He found the missionaries hospitable and well educated and was able to converse with them in Latin, which he had learnt by attending Dr Hooker’s lectures when he was a student gardener at the Glasgow Botanic Garden. His stay in America produced a rich haul of annuals including Phacelia and Nemophila, two of my favourites, as well as Godetia, Limnanthes and the red delphinium, Delphinium cardinale.
35 · Poppy and Cornflower
Poppies and cornflowers were once familiar cornfield weeds. Modern farming practices have put paid to that, so now they are grown in the garden. My poppy is a garden cultivar of Papaver rhoeas, the European Field Poppy, which John Constable (1776–1837), the English Romantic painter, used to add a coup de rouge to his landscapes. The cornflower, Centaurea cyanus, is a beautiful wild flower. The genus is named after the centaur, the half-man, half-horse of Greek mythology, and cyanus means ‘blue’.
36 · Lilium duchartrei, Delphinium grandiflorum and Borago pygmaea This interesting lily was discovered by the great French naturalist Père Armand David, who went to China as a missionary priest in 1862. He found it growing abundantly in the mountains of north west Sichuan in 1869 at altitudes of 8,000–11,000 feet. E.H. ‘Chinese’ Wilson (1876–1930) introduced Lilium duchartrei to cultivation in Britain in 1903, but it has proved difficult to keep going in gardens. Reginald Farrer (1880–1920), the plant-hunter and writer, discovered the same species in south west Kansu in 1915. He called it the Marble Martagon and said that ‘it haunts cool mountain slopes and river banks amid the coppice’. Adrien-René Franchet (1834–1900), of the Musée d’Histoire Naturelle in Paris, named this lily from a specimen sent to Paris by David. The specific epithet commemorates the French professor of botany Pierre Etienne Simon Duchartre (1811–94) whose Observations on Lilies has become a classic. Duchartre’s own collection was destroyed by German cannon in the Franco-Prussian War. Père David was one of a number of remarkable French priests who studied the natural history of the remote mountains of western China. They were sent there after the Treaty of Tientsin (1860) which ended the Opium Wars, and forced the Chinese to give the French and British access to the interior of the country. David joined the Congregation of the Mission at the age of 22, and arrived in China
in 1862. The French Missionaries have been described as ‘self-effacing men who lived isolated lives deep in the Chinese countryside’ and were passionately interested in the natural history of the region, though not in botanical fame or fortune. David himself was probably the best all-round naturalist ever to have worked in western China. After a few years, the Director of the Musée d’Histoire Naturelle in Paris persuaded the Minister for Public Instruction that it would be in the national interest for David to work full time on his natural history collections. The Superior General of his order released him from his missionary duties, though he remained a priest. Unlike his colleagues, he was now free to travel and explore. David found Lilium duchartrei on his first journey into the mountains of Sichuan in 1869. Earlier on the same expedition, he had been the first Western scientist to find the Giant Panda. He sent the skin back to Paris, where it was named Ailuropoda melanoleuca. In his published diaries, David, like a true scientist, played down the dangers and discomforts of his work in China. He survived several serious illnesses and on one occasion was given the last rites. One of his camps was threatened by wolves and his donkey had to be taken into the tent. Food was often scarce and the local people hostile. His fellow Frenchman Blanchard wrote in 1871, ‘Père David has ventured into unexplored regions, exposed
himself to every danger, endured exhaustion and the vicissitudes of the seasons, and overcome immense difficulties to transport his fragile collection through the wildest country in order to advance our knowledge of creation. How can we fail to be touched by such commitment to the cause of science?’ It is good to know that David retired to Paris, where he had his own museum, and gave lectures to young missionaries. He died in 1900, aged 76. E. H. ‘Chinese’ Wilson was, unlike Père David, a professional plant collector. He worked for the well-known firm of nurserymen, Veitch of Exeter, on whose behalf he made several expeditions to China. Later he moved to America, where he continued to collect plants for the Arnold Arboretum at Boston. I painted Lilium duchartrei in my own garden, with a wild rose, Delphinium grandiflorum and an uncommon borage, Borago pygmaea.
37 · Two Unusual Campanulas
Campanula makaschvilii is a rare species from the Caucasus. I grew it from seed, having fallen for the catalogue description of the flowers as pale pink lined with a deeper pink. To my surprise, I found the description to be accurate. In the centre of this collection I painted Campanula versicolor which I grew from seed collected when I was on holiday in Epirus, north west Greece. On the left is Delphinium grandiflorum next to pansy Pickering Blue. The blue annual between the two campanulas is Nemophila menziesii.
38 · Delphinium Cliveden Beauty
39 · Delphinium Cliveden Beauty and Tweedia caerulea
I love true blue flowers. There are not that many: delphiniums, gentians and meconopsis are the perennials that come to mind. These delphiniums belong to the Belladonna group. They are smaller and more elegant than the familiar giants at the back of the border. Gertrude Jekyll loved these varieties. As she wrote: ‘Though weak in growth the old Delphinium Belladonna has so lovely a quality of colour that it is quite indispensable’. She said its blue was ‘incomparable’. Tweedia is a lovely little twiner from the
Argentine and Uruguay. It is named after James Tweedie (1775–1862). After a distinguished career in Scotland, where he was head gardener at the Royal Botanic Garden, Edinburgh, he took off, at the age of 50, for South America. He established a landscape gardening practice, and opened a shop in Buenos Aires. His plant-hunting expeditions discovered the now-familiar Pampas grass and several species of verbena and petunia, whose descendants adorn many a window box and hanging basket.
40 · Pelargonium echinatum, Sweet Pea and Spring Onions
Pelargonium echinatum is one of many interesting species from western South Africa. It was named by William Curtis (1746–1799), the nurseryman who launched Curtis’s Botanical Magazine in 1787. He chose the specific epithet echinatum, which means covered with prickles like a hedgehog, to describe the odd spines on the stem of this plant. I am glad to say that Curtis’s Botanical Magazine is still going strong, and is published by Kew, as it has been since 1845. My friend Dr Martyn Rix, a most distinguished botanist, is the editor. The sweet pea is one of the old-fashioned, strongly scented varieties which are now popular again. The spring onions are a variety called Apache.
41 · Dianthus chinensis
Dianthus chinensis is a short-lived perennial pink from north west China. It was introduced to the Jardin des Plantes in Paris in 1705. Hundreds of cultivars of Dianthus chinensis were grown in Japan and China in the 18th and 19th centuries, and the charming fringed flowers were often illustrated in paintings and on porcelain. My green-fingered daughter Isabel grew these specimens in her garden near Hawick.
42 · Pelargonium x ardens
Pelargoniums are natives of South Africa, where a huge number of species grow wild. Many were introduced by the English collector Francis Masson (1741–1806). He was sent out to the Cape, which was then a Dutch colony, in 1772 by Sir Joseph Banks (1743–1820) who ran Kew, which was then George III’s private garden on the Thames. Pelargonium x ardens is a cross between P. fulgidum, which was introduced to Holland from South Africa in the early 18th century, and P. lobatum, one of Masson’s treasures.
43 ¡ Strawberry Royal Sovereign
44 ¡ Raspberry
Garden strawberries are not derived from the European wild strawberry, Fragaria vesca, but from two New World species; Fragaria virginiana, from New England, and Fragaria chiloensis, which was introduced to France from Chile in the early 18th century. These species were crossed by English market gardeners in the 19th century to produce strawberries which are similar to those we grow today. Royal Sovereign was bred by the famous nurseryman Thomas Laxton of Bedford. When Tommy Neillans left Glen, in Peebleshire, where he had been head gardener for many years, he gave me a box of runners. I have now been growing Royal Sovereign for nearly 40 years. It was introduced in 1892, but still reigns supreme for flavour.
Raspberries grow wild and fruit well in Scotland, as in other parts of northern Europe, so it is surprising to find that the Latin name is Rubus idaea meaning Rubus of Mount Ida in Crete. In fact, raspberries grow all over Europe. In the 4th century the Roman agricultural writer Palladius mentioned the raspberry as one of the cultivated fruits of his
time. Those would have been the wild species. I painted a luscious modern variety in the walled garden at Petworth, where fruit has been grown to perfection for centuries.
45 · Red Currants Laxton’s No.1 46 · Plum, Peas and Fungi
The garden varieties of red currants are derived from three wild European species: Ribes rubrum, R. vulgare, and R. petraeum. R. rubrum is native to Britain. The earliest reference to red currants in English literature is in William Turner’s Names of Herbs of 1548. In a later edition Turner wrote: ‘Ribes is a little bushe and hath leaves like a vyne / and in the toppes of the bushe are red burries in clusters / in taste at the first something sour / but pleasant enough when they are fully ripe’. Turner was right. It is a mistake to pick the berries as soon as they turn red. If left on the bush for a week or two – even into September – they become sweeter and sweeter, and the colour deepens. My currants are the variety Laxton’s No.1, bred in the early 20th century by the wellknown firm Laxton Brothers of Bedford.
This delicious plum is Victoria. It was found as a chance seedling at Alderton in Sussex in 1840 and named after the young Queen. I grow Victoria on the wall outside my studio, where she usually ripens, even in cold, wet Roxburghshire. The peas are Hurst Green Shaft, a superb modern variety, and the pink mushrooms are a form of Russula.
47 ¡ Rhodophiala montana
Rhodophiala montana comes, as the name indicates, from the mountains, in this case the Andes. It is one of a group of South American bulbs which are not often seen. I grow mine in the cold greenhouse. The mushrooms are chanterelles, which I found growing on the edge of a wood near my studio.
48 · Four Species of Tropaeolum
Carl Linnaeus (1707–1778), the Swedish botanist, physician and zoologist, named the genus Tropaeolum after the Greek word for trophy, tropaion. A classical trophy was erected after a battle, when the victors hung the round shields and shining, sometimes blood-stained, helmets of the vanquished on a tree-trunk. The helmet-shaped flowers and round leaves of Tropaeolum majus, a native of Peru, which was the first of the genus to be introduced, reminded Linnaeus of such a trophy. I painted four less common species in my garden. Tropaeolum speciosum, the single flower top right, grows so well in Scotland that is is known as the Scottish Flame Flower. It is a native of Chile and was introduced by William Lobb (1809–1863), the professional plant collector employed by the famous firm of Veitch, on his second trip there. On the left is T. polyphyllum, another Chilean perennial. T. tricolorum, with black-tipped scarlet flowers, comes from Bolivia and Chile, while the single orange flower at the bottom is T. smithii from tropical South America.
49 · Two Gentians
50 · Rhododendron dalhousiae var. rhabdotum
Autumn-flowering gentians, which come from the mountains of China and Tibet, are among the most exciting introductions of the early 20th century. The genus is named after King Gentia of Illyria, circa 500 BC, who was said to have discovered the medicinal use of the root of the large yellow Gentiana lutea, a native of the Alps. The roots are still used to flavour tonic water. I painted two species at home in Scotland. Above is Gentiana ternifolia and below is a form of G. sino-ornata.
Rhododendron dalhousiae was one of the many rhododendrons discovered and introduced by Joseph Dalton Hooker (1817–1911), co-author of the Handbook of the British Flora, on his ground-breaking expedition to Sikkim in 1848. The expedition changed the face of British gardening. Hooker named R. dalhousiae after his hostess at Government House, Calcutta, Lady Dalhousie, the wife of the Governor General of India. This extraordinary striped variety was not known until the 20th century. In 1925
the great plant hunter Frank Kingdon Ward (1885–1958) collected seeds of an unknown species ‘blind’ on the Bhutan-Assam border. He did not see the flowers at the time, and must have been very surprised when they appeared with their bright red stripes. Rhododendron dalhousiae var. rhabdotum grows at an altitude of 5,000–9,000 feet, often as an epiphyte. It is the last of the tender rhododendrons to flower, often as late as July, in my garden. I keep it in a pot in the greenhouse during the winter.
51 · Gladiolus carneus
52 · Four Fungi
Gladiolus carneus is one of the many beautiful species which come from South Africa, but are not often seen here. The genus was named by Carl Linnaeus (1707–1778), the Swedish botanist. Gladiolus is the Latin diminutive of gladius, a sword, and describes the leaves. Carneus means pink, from the Latin for flesh. My plant came from Micheal Wickenden’s treasure house of a nursery at Gatehouse of Fleet on the Solway Firth.
These fungi were all growing within a few hundred yards of my studio. From left to right they are a pink russula, a field mushroom, two chanterelles and a spectacular boletus. Of this collection, the field mushroom and the chanterelles are delicious to eat.
53 · Fig Brown Turkey
54 · Black Mulberry
The fig, Ficus carica, is a native of the eastern Mediterranean and Asia Minor. It is now naturalised all over the region. Figs were cultivated by the Egyptians as far back as 2700 BC and feature, with pomegranates and grapes, in Biblical imagery. The Romans loved figs and their seeds have been excavated from Roman sites in Britain. Philip Miller (1691–1771), who was head gardener at the Chelsea Physic Garden, played a large part in popularising the cultivation of figs in England. He imported a collection of varieties from Venice, including Brown Turkey, which is now the most commonly grown sort in this country. I painted a fine specimen from the greenhouse at Fallod0n in Northumberland.
The Black Mulberry, Morus nigra, is grown for its delicious fruit, whereas the leaves of another species, M. alba, provide the food for silk worms. Morus nigra is thought to have originated either in Nepal, or in the southern Caucasus. Seeds of the fruit have been found in excavations of Roman sites at Silchester and elsewhere, so mulberries have been grown here for a very long time.
I painted a twig from an old tree in the wonderful walled garden at Petworth in Sussex.
55 · Aubergine
56 · Gage Count D’Althann
The aubergine, Solanum melongena, is a native of tropical Asia, but has been grown in the Mediterranean region for so long that it has become a key ingredient in southern European cooking. This fine specimen ripened in the greenhouse at the Old Rectory, Ham, in Wiltshire.
Gages are a kind of plum, round in shape and sweet in flavour. Green Gages were originally named Reine Claude after the wife of King François I of France (1494–1547). Sometime before 1724 plants were sent to Sir Thomas Gage of Hengrave Hall, Suffolk, by his brother John Gage, a Roman Catholic priest near Paris. The labels were lost, and the gardener called them Green Gage. The variety Count D’Althann was found in Bohemia in the 1850s, and named by the gardener after his employer. It was introduced to Britain before
1867. I painted three fruit which ripened on the magnificent walls in the kitchen garden at Bowood in Wiltshire; these trees are 150 years old, so must be among the earliest introductions to Britain of this superb variety.
57 · Fruit at Helmingham
In the Roxburghshire climate I cannot grow fruit like these marvellous specimens from the orchard at Helmingham in Suffolk. The small green pear top left is Winter Nelis, developed by N. Nelis in Belgium in 1818. The pair of little yellow apples is Pitmaston Pine; below is King of the Pippins next to two large and knobbly quinces. I do not know the name of
58 · Damsons, Malus, Pears, Figs and Tulip Tree Leaves
the russet-brown pear in the middle, which came from an old tree so laden with fruit that it looked as if it might break under the weight. Domestic apples are descended from Malus sieversii, not from crab apples as is often thought, and were brought to the West from the Chinese and Russian border along the Silk Road.
Damsons, top left, make the most delicious jam and jelly, though they are too sour to eat raw. They are derived from Prunus institia, the wild plum or bullace, which is native to Britain and other parts of Europe. The name damson comes from Damascus, where this fruit was grown before the Christian Era. The red fruit in the centre of the picture look like cherries, but are actually a type of Malus or crab-apple. The leaves came from a young sapling at Chwarelau in south Wales. The tulip tree, Liriodendron tulipifera, is native to North America, where its range extends from Nova
Scotia south to Florida. It reaches a height of almost 200 feet in the wild, and the timber is used for joinery. The tulip tree was grown by Bishop Compton at Fulham Palace by 1688. As William Jackson Bean (1863–1947) says, in his authoritative Trees and Shrubs Hardy in the British Isles, ‘it is for its noble trunk and stately dimensions, its fine and unique foliage, that it is so much prized in gardens’. The beautiful autumn colour is an added bonus. The fig is Brown Turkey, the variety most often seen in Britain, and the pears are two unknown varieties growing in a friend’s garden.
59 ¡ Crab Apples, Rose Hips and Figs
These spectacular crab apples came from a hedgerow near our farm in Roxburghshire. I do not know whether they are the true wild apple of Europe, Malus silvestris, or whether they grew from a discarded core. If so, they are descended from Malus sieversii, which DNA testing has recently shown to be the ancestor of sweet orchard apples. The rose hips are two wild species which grow in southern Scotland: Rosa tomentosa at the top, and the less common Rosa micrantha. The greenish-yellow fig is White Marseilles, a very sweet variety. According to Philip Miller (1691–1771), the long-serving and very influential head gardener at the Chelsea Physic Garden, White Marseilles figs were planted in the garden at Lambeth Palace by Cardinal Pole before 1525. In 1834 John Claudius Loudon, in his Encyclopedia of Gardening, said that the trees were still growing and fruiting well. The two purple figs are Brown Turkey. I painted these three fruit, and a leaf, in the walled garden at Hawarden Castle in North Wales.
60 · Citron
The citron or esrog is a species of citrus of unknown origin. It is said to have been brought to the Mediterranean by the returning armies of Alexander the Great in 300 BC. I found this fine specimen at the wonderful Citrus Centre near Pulborough in Sussex. It is run by Amanda and Chris Dennis, who grow all manner of citrus fruit with great skill.
61 · Grapes Muscat of Alexandria
In the 19th century British head gardeners achieved extraordinary skill in growing tender – even tropical – fruit under glass. The pineapple was regarded as the King of Fruit, but the grape was the Queen. Of the many varieties grown, Muscat of Alexandria was the best. In 1861 William Thomson, head gardener to the Duke of Buccleuch at Dalkeith Palace, visited France. He wrote tha he was ‘so struck by the inferior quality of the grapes in the hot houses I saw, that I wrote home for three bunches of Muscats to be sent to me in Paris, where I exhibited them at the first great exhibition of the Societé Impériale et Centrale d’Horticulture on 17th September. Though the three bunches only weighed 10 lbs, they created as great a sensation as if the seaserpent, or some other semi-fabulous monster, had made his appearance’. Thomson’s grapes won the Emperor’s Gold Medal, and the French were amazed that such superb fruit could be grown in Scotland. Muscat of Alexandria grapes are still grown to William Thomson’s standards at Chatsworth, where the vinery is a magnificent sight when the fruit is ripe in autumn.
62 ¡ Three Bunches of Grapes
The grapes on the left are Black Hamburg, also known as Schiara Grossa, with a bunch of strawberry grapes in the centre. Both of these were growing in the vinery at Great Glemham in Suffolk. On the right is a bunch of an unknown variety which does well at Harden, near Hawick in Roxburghshire.
63 · Alstroemeria ligtu
64 · Regal Pelargonium, Chile
In 2014 friends lent us a house by the sea in Chile. The nearby village, Buchupurea, achieved unwelcome fame a few years ago when it was devastated by an earthquake. The house had a wonderful garden, where South African genera such as pelargoniums, freesias and agapanthus flourished in the Mediterranean climate. I was even more interested in the native plants, but, of course, the gardener regarded them as weeds, and pulled them up. I found these alstroemerias in a corner, where they had escaped his eagle eye. Alstroemeria ligtu was introduced to Britain in 1838, but is not often seen in gardens here. Crosses between this species and A. haemantha, known as ligtu hybrids, are more commonly grown, as are a whole range of new varieties developed for the cut flower trade. The genus was named by Carl Linnaeus (1707–1778), the Swedish botanist, after his pupil Baron Claus von Alstroemer (1736–1794). Regal pelargoniums were raised in the Royal gardens at Sandringham in the mid-19th century. They still conjure up the atmosphere of an opulent Victorian conservatory. I painted this unknown variety in a garden near Buchupurea, a small fishing village a couple of hundred miles south of Santiago. The wild species from which Regal pelargoniums are derived grow in South Africa which has, like much of Chile, a Mediterranean climate.
65 · Philesia magellanica I
66 · Philesia magellanica II
Philesia magellanica is a botanical curiosity. Not only is there just the one species in the genus: there is only the one genus in the family Philesiaceae. Philesia magellanica was discovered in Patagonia by the French naturalist Philibert Commerson (1727–1773) during Louis Antoine de Bougainville’s circumnavigation of the globe (1767–1769). He named it Philesia, from the Greek verb philein, to love. The specific epithet refers to the region of the Magellan Straits where it was found. This lovely plant was introduced to Britain by William Lobb in 1847. Lobb (1809–1863) was a Cornish gardener who was described as having ‘an ardent desire for travel and adventure’. The success of his two trips to Chile, undertaken for the famous firm of Veitch of Exeter, shows that this was an understatement. Among many other introductions,
his second visit from 1845 to 1848 included Lapageria rosea, the national flower of Chile. It is so closely related to Philesia that a rare bi-generic hybrid, x philageria, exists. I was thrilled to find Philesia growing in the temperate rainforest of southern Chile on a visit last winter. We travelled by boat, the Noctiluna, which is the only way to explore the coast opposite the Chonos Archipelago in Patagonia as there are no roads. We saw the red bells of Philesia hanging from the trunk of a tree up which the plant was climbing. One of our party rowed ashore, climbed the tree, and picked a sprig for me to paint. A couple of days later, my grandchildren were playing in a hot spring further down the coast. They saw the pink-flowered form growing on the edge of a waterfall above the spring, and clambered up to pick it for me. Philesia is known in Chile as coicopihué.
67 · Lapageria rosea I
This beautiful climber, like Philesia, was introduced to Britain by the plant hunter William Lobb (1809–1863), who was sent to South America by the famous firm of Veitch. He found it on his second journey, 1845–1848, when he explored Chile as far south as Valdivia. Lapageria, which is the national flower of Chile, and is known there by its Indian name, copihué, quickly became a favourite in Victorian conservatories. It was named by the Spanish botanists Ruiz and Pavón after Napoleon’s Josephine, née de la Pagerie, who grew up at La Pagerie in Martinique. There is only the one species in the genus. The colour varies from the usual red, via pink to white. I was excited to find Lapageria growing wild a few years ago. It happened by chance. We had been on a long ride through the Argentine Andes and crossed the Chilean border on our way home. We stopped for a picnic en route to the airport, and luckily chose a shady wood, part of the temperate rainforest. There, hanging in the dark canopy above us, were the glowing red bells of the copihué. I found these two specimens in the Derbyshire equivalent of the Chilean rainforest – the Camellia House at Chatsworth.
68 · Lapageria rosea II
A note on materials
Acknowledgements
I use two types of paper; an off-white Nepalese paper and naturally uneven Japanese papers (some flecked with gold) that are made from the bark of Broussonetia papyrifera, the bark fibres of which give the paper an interesting texture. Both papers are absorbent, unlike conventional watercolour paper, which means that great depth of colour can be achieved when paint is applied with a wet brush. This technique can cause the paper to wrinkle. I use either antique frames sourced for me by Jean Elliot, or gilded frames made by my daughter Isabel Tennant, who studied at City & Guilds, London, and is now a leading light in her specialist craft. The antique frames are usually veneered using either rosewood or bird’s eye maple. Being old, they are sometimes imperfect, but signs of past use add character and interest. Isabel’s gilded frames use traditional techniques in a modern way and can age and shrink with time. Changes in environment may cause movement to the structure of the frame resulting in cracking on the surface of the gold, but this is not a cause for concern.
I am most grateful to David Gentleman for his perceptive words. I have been a great admirer of his work since my stamp-collecting days many decades ago. It is a real thrill for me to show my work at the Fine Art Society, to my mind the most interesting and original gallery in London. Gordon Cooke has been immensely supportive, and I very much appreciate his confidence in my work, and also Cheska Hill-Wood’s help with the exhibition. Although I have grown most of the plants which are illustrated in this exhibition in my own garden, many of the most interesting and exotic flowers and fruit were grown by friends. I would particularly like to thank my brother and sister-in-law, Stoker and Amanda Devonshire, and their head gardener, Steve Porter and his staff, who grow Calanthes, grapes and Lapageria to perfection at Chatsworth. Thanks are also due to Nicholas and Diana Baring, Alice Boyd, Mark and Lucia Bridgeman, Graham and Bubbles Cooper, Gathorne and Caroline Cranbrook, Max and Caroline Egremont, Ro FitzGerald, Stephen and Freddie Freer, Francis and Jo Gladstone, Charlie and Fiona Lansdowne, Lorne and Georgie Nelson, Andrew and Anna Polwarth, Tim and Xa Tollemache; and my daughters Isabel and Stella. Thanks to my son Eddie I had to paint Paeonia rockii twice. Tommy Neillans, a great head gardener, gave me my original plants of Strawberry Royal
Sovereign nearly 40 years ago. In December 2014 Robin Westcott arranged our trip to Patagonia on his boat, the Noctiluna, which enabled me to realise the ambition of a lifetime, and find Philesia in the wild. I have also obtained unusual plants from three exceptional nurseries: Cally Gardens, run by Michael Wickenden; the Citrus Centre, where Amanda and Chris Dennis grow a remarkable collection; and Bob Brown’s treasure-house at Cotswold Garden Plants. Dex Forster has looked after my own kitchen garden with great skill. I would also like to thank Jean Elliot of Newcastleton who found most of my antique frames; Kim Roberts of Hawick who restored many of them and Rosy Marshall who fitted them up; my daughter Isabel for her gilded frames and Kate Tempest and James Caverhill for more restoration work. Caroline Cranbrook cast her professional eye over the proof of this catalogue, as did Jo Gladstone, and both made some vital additions. Ben Wood took the photographs with his usual efficiency and skill. Robert Dalrymple, with his exceptional eye, designed the catalogue and was, as ever, a joy to work with. I thank Toby for his encouragement, Charlie Yorke for his patience, and finally, as ever, I am enormously grateful to Katie Pertwee, without whom I could not have done it. This exhibition is dedicated to the memory of Edward Adeane (1939–2015).
Published for the exhibition Emma Tennant: Plants with Provenance held at The Fine Art Society, 148 New Bond Street, London w1, from 2 to 10 December 2015 Text and images © Emma Tennant 2015 ISBN 978 1 907052 60 6 Photography by Ben Wood Designed and typeset in Jenson by Dalrymple Printed in Belgium by Albe De Coker Front cover: Four Species of Tropaeoleum [48] Frontispiece: Three Greenhouse Climbers: Hoya carnosa, Jasminum azoricum and Tweedia caerulea [19] Back cover: Two Radishes [20]
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The Fine Art Society dealers since 1876