An afternoon at The Garden Museum
P.S I do flowers.
I haven’t been to the Garden Museum for donkeys years. The first and only time I visited was with my Mum as a teenager where we marvelled at the streams of dried flowers hanging from the gothic arched ceiling. I’d never seen a church reinterpreted as an artistic space, and because gardening is my Mum’s form of religion (like so many others), the museum had a long lasting effect on us. Thinking back on that visit now feels like a hazy dream. Unfortunately neither of us remember what the exhibition was in honour of but it doesn’t matter for it was a happy day and a memory we’ve both clung onto.
As a flower fanatic (I’m my mothers daughter after all) and general culture vulture, I feel like the Garden Museum doesn’t have the hype it so deserves. It’s arguably the perfect outing — small, green, cool (perfect during a heatwave), kiddy friendly, mostly free, with a darling shop and an extremely chic restaurant, the Garden Café, led by ex St John and Noble Rot chef, Myles Donaldson. Two restaurants I am dying to try. Need I say more?
Perhaps it’s the building that throws people off? A church doesn’t exactly scream come one and all (oh the irony) but thanks to Rosemary and John Nicholson who rescued the abandoned church of St Mary’s from demolition in 1977 there’s a serene spot of nature in the heart of historic London. You can’t avoid the cliché, it really is London’s hidden gem. On a particularly quiet evening or traffic-free day, you might hear the slapping shore of the Thames a mere stones throw away from the museum; a gentle soundtrack to usher you through the museum.
Recently I returned for the Cecil Beaton’s Garden Party exhibition curated by Emma House and designed by Luke Edward Hall. When entering I was thrilled to discover that Nancy Cadogan was also showing The Lost Trees, an urgent collection of her paintings that depict the trees felled to HS2 in her local neighbourhood and beyond. I have long been a fan of Nancy’s haunting and contemplative work. Her familiar scenes are elevated to a vibrant dream like status. I first interviewed her in 2021 and later in 2022 on exhibitions that celebrated interior life.
At the Garden Museum, we find Cadogan’s brush unleashed en plein air — trickling fiery yellow leaves down a scorching hot blue summers sky, clementine orange melts down the canvas and sage green branches bleed tears onto shadowy tufts of grasses below.
Her paintings feel laden with emotion and regret, with a longing to keep the trees rooted in the ground. Through Cadogan’s vivid palette and weighty brushstrokes we see natures visceral fight with industrialisation, the power struggle between whats manmade and natural.
One of the first shapes you learn to draw as a child is a tree. They’re lifelong silhouettes that cast a spell on us all. We want to climb them, sleep propped up against them, eat underneath them, gather and collect their fallen treasures. Whether you live deep in the city or countryside, there’s a tree you can still picture with your eyes closed. The Lost Trees transports you to that special place. I urge you to go before the show ends on the 20th of July.
I took a deep breath and made my way to the Cecil Beaton show (on until the 21st of September), a more fanciful depiction of nature that immediately lifts the spirits. The exhibition charts Beaton’s prolific and glittering career as a photographer, illustrator, costume and set designer. Whilst Beaton explored various creative pursuits throughout his life, it was the magic and marvel of flowers that stayed with him forever. Arguably flowers were his real muse, for we don’t find a royal, Hollywood actress, canvas or dress that he depicts without flowers. They add a sense of modernity and fragility to subjects that might at first seem lofty or out of reach. You can’t help but gasp at the romance and beauty of it all.
Highlights of the show have to be the two dresses of dreams. The shoddy picture I took of the black dress adorned with camellias was designed by Beaton for the Marguerite and Armand ballet at the Royal Ballet in 1963. It’s giving Chanel ft. Simone Rocha, phwoar. The other is the dress (or is it a two piece? I can’t tell) worn by Princess Margaret. Even a Princess needs pockets! Pleated of course. The exhibition sprinkles some much needed Hollywood stardust on a horticultural haven. I was positively charmed.
I adore this picture of Beaton beavering away in the My Fair Lady costume department, for which he one two Oscars in colour costume design and art direction-set decoration. Fabulous and fun—what fashion should be!
It’s rare for a museum to display a variety of exhibitions that converse and compliment each other so well. My brain enjoyed shifting gears between the historical (permanent collection), to the frivolous (Beaton), to the political (Cadogan).
After making a small purchase in the gift shop I ambled to meet a friend nearby. En route I stumbled across the Garden Museum’s community garden and immediately envisioned sipping on a paper cup of rosé atop one of the wooden picnic tables on a summers evening. Told you this place was a hidden gem.
I’m in my National Trust members card era here, taking snaps of gardens and I’m not mad about it. I hasten to add I was not in the padded sensible shoe camp but a precious birthday gift, a pair of tabis (more on those another time.) Comfortable? Yes. Gardening shoes, non. IMAGINE mud protruding through the toe gap? Someones ASMR, my hell.
And whilst I’m on the topic of flowers I thought I’d flog my own horse and tell you that I dabble in floristry myself. I completed an online floristry course at the beginning of last year so naturally dived head first into doing two weddings, my sister-in-laws in August and my own in December.
The brief for my sister-in-laws was relaxed, country wedding with a dash of pink. We sourced entirely local flowers from the brilliant Flower and Farmer as well as pinching armfuls from generous family and friends. Shout out to my Mum for her tireless help.
For our wedding in London I wanted a slightly more stripped back and structured approach to the flowers, in tones of pale and deep pinks and almost-chocolate reds. I really tested my family and friends patience with this job. There was quite literally hundreds of bouncy blooms bursting from every crevice of our teeny weeny flat (see bathroom) in the lead up to our big day. It was total carnage but I wouldn’t have had it any other way.
If you’re in need of a florist for an event, wedding, birthday, dinner, launch or lunch just holler. I’m your overly-enthusiastic flower pal.