commodity fetishism gone right \/\/ plantworks, noho
Nature obviously isn’t the sort to ask us if it’s okay before making a decision that might alter the course of our lives. We don’t call it “mother” nature for nothing: when was the last time your other mom asked permission before pulling one of those beloved maternal stunts showing that she never quite gave up on the idea of you as tugging at her skirt and asking for a baby bottle? Just like the lady who gave birth to you, nature can be awfully good at setting the agenda in terms of your daily existence and reminding you of how small you actually are in the grand scheme of things, so it’s probably a good idea to make peace with her.
Just looking at the images of devastation from natural disasters and all of the harbinger-of-doom rhetoric on climate change can really leave a bad taste in our mouths (didn’t those screaming matches of adolescence also measure on another sort of Richter scale that our therapists hear about incessantly?), but maybe we can take the high road for a moment and consider the happy memories. Close your eyes, and think of every perfect sunset you witnessed, the taste of a fresh-picked strawberry while hiking, or sand turning to lapping waves on a beach under bare feet.
Clifftop View of the Mekong River, from the author's mind-blowing trip to Laos in 2006
It may sound like such a cliché, but all of us have had moments of awe that manage to eclipse everything from the perpetual hassles of commuting in unpredictably lousy weather to the trauma of loss during a catastrophic instance of nature’s wrath. Somehow, the natural world still never fails to inspire us, which is probably why the most desirable homes or functional spaces are located in close proximity to it. Obviously, that cottage in the woods or house on white sandy beach simply isn’t available to everyone, but we can certainly do our best to bring a little bit of nature to the areas we inhabit.
While gardens for the utilitarian aim of foodstuffs cultivation predate history, the practice of ornamental gardening is also one of the earliest recorded human traditions, well-developed in ancient civilizations all throughout the world. From the strictly maintained, millennia-old craft of bonsai in the Far East to the contemporary affinity for conservation of American natural parks, the preservation of plants for the sake of beauty has been a rather irresistible theme for quite a long time.
Plants for plants' sake: a modern-day depiction of the Hanging Gardens of Babylon from 600 BC, one of the Seven Wonders of the Ancient World
Plants have both provided us with the oxygen we breathe and nourished us with the fruits they produce, but as our human needs have evolved past basic physiological requirement, they have also served as our sanctuary once we realized their pivotal role in our survival. As if to address this very phenomenon in his 1943 essay A Theory of Human Motivation, American psychologist Abraham Maslow introduced the concept of a “hierarchy of needs:” proposing a theoretical pyramid structure to explain the relative value of one particular human need more than another.
The simple creation of a garden is a perfect example of how we choose to bring ourselves back to where all of life took root; in essence, to surround ourselves with a state of life that we can accept to be much more primordial than any of the bank accounts, roads, or buildings that our species has created. Plants are of course essential to our survival on the most basic level, but our desire to seek their presence in our surroundings suggests an incredibly sophisticated realization of our role in the broader picture on earth. Every time we water that beloved ivy hanging in our kitchen we move just another step closer to self-actualization.
Established in 1974 in lower Manhattan by Neil Mendeloff after he noticed the interest in the small bonsai store his wife had opened a few years earlier, Plantworks is the sort of business that recognizes plants for everything they can and should be. This isn’t an ubiquitous Home Depot or one of the many florist shops that proliferate on street corners, but a vendor willing to provide a genuine assessment of what it takes to care for the living beings plants are.
Neil reminisces that “plants just started to grow on me more and more each day” after he spent two years documenting park events for the New York City Cultural Affairs Department in the early 70s. The Bronx native never lets his finger stray from the pulse of what it takes to make a plant thrive in urban environment, and makes an effort to address the dichotomy between provision and awareness: “We just care, so we take the time to ask about how much light you have or where you want to place the plant or tree.”
Some of the greenery on offer at Plantworks.
Even though you’re in America’s ultimate urban jungle, stepping inside of Plantworks feels like a journey into the the great green open of a forest: the enormous premises encompass 8,000 square feet — equally divided between outdoors and indoors — of lush foliage showcasing everything from a collection of neatly potted cacti and bonsai to an extensive collection of variegated English Holly that grow in their patio during the warmer months.
While the vast array of vegetation remains year-round, Plantworks definitely isn’t making any promises to provide any plant your heart desires when the climate isn’t right. “There’s no question that we take a hit during the winter,” admits Neil.”But a big part of what we do is try to make people understand that a plant isn’t just something that can survive in any given environment.” Even if you love petunias, it’s always good to know that they’re simply not built to endure a Northeastern winter on your balcony, no matter how much you water them.
Celosia: a "tender" annual that requires plenty of direct sunlight (Photo Courtesy of www.icangarden.com)
35 years in business has proven revelatory for Plantworks, given the “Green” revolution. The steadily growing popularity of all things natural has certainly been a boon to business, but has also sparked the interest of countless small vendors eager to cash in on the craze. “Everyone wants to sell plants nowadays, but I feel like we’re still here because we are the first to know what will die and what won’t, regardless of wherever you want to place it” Neil points out.
Plantworks dwarfs the competition because they have an dedicated team of experts willing to do everything from choose the plant sources to the particular plant, to create infrastructure to support irrigation, drainage, electrical, and lighting systems, to bring their team over to provide maintenance to your garden if you happen to be a big-whig commercial buyer to give you on-site detailed analysis of how any particular plant will survive on the windowsill of your matchbox-sized Manhattan studio. Whatever your budget, Neils and his people are always going to grill you about every area of light exposure and how much time or resources you can dedicate to caring for that plant.
Ferns: Water as heavily as possible and keep in the shade, as if they were under a tree in a moist forest
Utterly devoid of any sort of green thumb, I happen to be one of those people who kills plants: plenty a gorgeous flower has perished under my tenure. Most recently, I under-watered my partner’s beloved baby fern while he was out of town a few weeks ago, only realizing there was a problem when it was brown from desiccation. I’ll be the first to admit that I have a hard time thinking of anything outside the bounds of language, so I was deaf to the cries begging for more water. Our fern simply couldn’t muster up the words to tell me she was thirsty.
I’ve often considered how awesome it would be to have a talking plant that could engage with me, but since that’s not possible, the expertise and hands-on service at Plantworks is probably the next best thing. The staff can certainly put you on the path of enlightenment, but attaining it is probably going to come from the experience of being present to the needs of your plant. Shouldn’t self-actualization be about the Zen of quiet, meaningful observation of previously overlooked signals? A plant won’t ask permission, but the process of learning to care for one just might broaden your scope of perception.
PLANTWORKS: 28 East 4th Street | New York, NY| (212) 674-8111| www.plantworksnyc.com
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