Reading Landscapes Through Colour - Part 1

Prelude:
The most familiar ideas of “colour” in relation to landscapes are those associated with paintings, vegetation and materials. Colours in the landscape can be understood in various means, and can generate some vital insights, which can inform the design process and our attitude towards the planet we inhabit. “Reading Landscapes through Colour” attempts to engage with some such insights.

1.0 The Represented Landscape

“What is it to be a colour? Colour is the touch of the eye, music to the deaf, a word out of darkness”. (Ch XIV; My Name is Red)

Mankind’s conscious reading of landscapes first appear in pre-historic cave paintings; long before geometry and perspective was known. Man used the undulations of the cavern, generating a kind of immersive experience of landscape. The bas-relief of a temple with artificial hill and groves (Khorsadbad, 715 BCE) and the painting of a garden in the tomb of Tuthmosis III (Thebes, 260BCE) rank as one of the earliest picturesque landscape depictions of the ancient world. Using natural dyes from earth, stone, plants and animals, these works of art venerate and celebrated natural as well as manmade landscapes using colour made in an instinctive and imaginative manner .

Much later on, in Europe, Landscape painting by Dutch artists became a cornerstone in the depiction of landscapes- natural as well as imagined- leading to the development of notions of “picturesque”, “wilderness” and “scenic”. Some high points of these perceptions are also found elsewhere in the 19th century in the works of John Constable, Caspar David Fredrich, Manet and Vincent van Gogh. These artists used colours effectively to express a sense of awe, wonder, fear, significance and temporality embedded in the landscape. Within a relatively short time span landscape painting aided by landscape poetry, became a catalyst for experiencing native landscapes.

In a different milieu, the art of Hiroshige (early 19th c, Japan) and that of his peers show a silent veneration of Mt. Fuji and the sea- the two largest visible landscapes of Japan. In most of these works the theme of the paintings generally celebrate the seasons, mist, moonlight, snow and natural landscape vistas. Noticeably, white- a non-colour- plays a significant role adding to the depth of visual field as well as depth of spiritual meaning that these masters embedded in their art.

In comparison to such above mentioned epochs, landscape representation in Ancient India has no remnant physical evidences or drawings perhaps due to the fact that a landscape was more about experiential attributes rather than designed space. However, some clues exist in ancient texts and poems such as the Ramayana, the Mahabharata, Banabhatta’s Kadambari, Kalidasa’s Abhignyanashakuntalam, Meghadutam and Ritusamharam and even the Kamasutra all of which describe gardens and natural landscapes in an evocative manner. Colours of flowers and foliage and seasonal changes are particularly elaborated in many such narratives. The attentive reader’s attention is drawn towards how colour rendering of the landscape affects perceptions and mood in settings such as moonlight, mist, rain and go-dhuli – the sunset seen through the scattered dust caused cattle returning from grazing. In present times our search for inspirations and evocative imagery could learn and apply much from such poetics.

2.0 Historic Standpoints- City, Open space and Garden

“I have been everywhere. I am everywhere…” (ChXXXI; My Name is Red.)

The traditional city underscores some vital links with the landscape in which it exists. The quality of the landscape is itself determined by the availability of water, vegetation and amount of sunlight. The traditional city is a landscape of colour be it the buildings or the garb worn by its people. Even a colonial city like Panjim comes with its Fontainhas – a joyful play of colours, that nonetheless lends itself to an air of constant festivity. Therefore, a question of beguiling child-like innocence - “why do people in green Kerala predominantly wear white while those in the brown arid regions wear bright colours?”- is a potent trigger towards exploring the links between people and the landscapes they inhabit. Is there an Invisible sense of Design? Is it some attempt at Unity even if it is by nature, that of opposites?

The value of open space can be paraphrased through the words of Prof. KT Ravindran as ''the glue that binds the city form together'' (KT Ravindran 2007). This 'glue' in the traditional city was the arena of changing play of colours, colonized during celebrations and festivals. As cities aspire to newer models of modernity with alarming ubiquity, the idea of making buildings, and ergo the architect, "visible" with colour has become a point of colour-blindness. We could look back into the past and see what is that we are missing as a point.

In India- the Mughal garden (CE 1527onward) utilized nature’s changing colour palette while being contained within an unchanging and permanent man-made enclosure. At places the garden design related to the larger landscape in the form of an extended view and celebrated geographic distinctiveness. One of the most noteworthy experiential spaces in this regard are gardens of Kashmir such as the Shalamar Bagh (Jahangir 1619,Shahjahan 1630) where the chenar trees with their stately foliage and immense size continue to indicate the passing of both seasonal and historic time. Even today, the simplicity of organization, the visual link with the Dal lake and the response of the garden to the slopes of the hill become more intense experiences when foliage colour changes usher a visibly different perception of the garden. These gardens are also noteworthy for their somber use of colour in the buildings as well in the garden, generating a deep sense of Unity. At Shalamar bagh, it is therefore no surprise to discover the Persian poet Jami’s words “Gar Firdaus ruh-e-zameen ast, hamin asto... hamin asto... hamin asto”.(If there is a paradise on earth, it is here...it is here...it is here.)

Likewise, the historic gardens of China and Japan too rely on the advent of seasons in order to indicate passage of time and a sense of life in the garden. The change of colour and form due to autumn and the whiteness of winter are celebrated as a time for impending rejuvenation and revival of life. Seemingly insignificant events like the fading colour of the last leaf in autumn and the first bright flush in spring have inspired Haiku and other philosophical musings.

In the Western hemisphere, the 18th century “Natural” style of landscape composition brought about many innovations in the conceptulizaion of outdoor space. Hereon, landscape rhetoric relied on words like “picturesque’, ‘sublime’, ‘prospect’, ‘scenic’, ‘distance’ and Genius loci (i.e. ‘of the place’). Here too, Landscape Design articulated the rhetoric with an nuanced colour scheme relying on seasonal effects on foliage within a primarily evergreen framework. Castle Howard, Yorkshire (1700-1712) is a notable example in this regard.

From the Industrial Age, Fredrick Law Olmsted and Calvert Vaux‘s Greensward plan- the hugely popular Central Park, New York (1873), forms a leading example of balancing urban development by introducing open space as a measure of healthy lifestyle. Largely comprising of hardwood trees such as Maples (Acer spp), Birch (Betula spp), Oak (Quercus spp) and Elm (Ulmus), the verdant landscape responds actively to change of seasons, generating colorful landscape settings for year-round usage and for large scale outdoor art. The most recent of these was the installation “The Gates, Central Park, New York City, 1979-2005” by Christo as an allusion to the original gates planned by Olmsted and Vaux.

In the artists’ words ‘…the geometric grid pattern of the hundreds city blocks surrounding Central Park was reflected in the rectangular structure of the commanding and sculptural saffron colored vinyl poles, while the serpentine design of the walkways and the organic shape of the bare branches of the trees was mirrored in the continuously changing rounded and sensual movements of the free-flowing nylon panels moving in the wind’. (The Gates, Central Park, New York City, 1979-2005. http://www.christojeanneclaude.net/tg.shtml).
(wirednewyork.com/parks/central_park/gapstow_bridge/)

References:

Matthi Forrer: Hiroshige-Prints and Drawings. (2001). Prestel, London.

Orhan Pamuk: My Name is Red (2001). Faber and Faber (trans.) London.

Websites:

The Gates, Central Park, New York City, 1979-2005. http://www.christojeanneclaude.net/tg.shtml (10-09-2010)