That Time I Entered a Garden Design Contest

Last year, on a lark, my friend Caleb Melchior suggested that I turn in an application for the Design Futurist Award—so I did.

Initially, we both had a good laugh about the idea. Italian Futurism was one of my research topics along with French Surrealism as an undergrad. Neither of us ever thought I’d win, but we both knew it’d be a learning experience. I’m a horticulturist who loves to write, with a degree in art and design history and criticism, so we knew I could respond to the essay questions. Ever the teacher, writer, landscape architect and friend, Caleb was only trying to help spark some creativity in me during an at-that-time life transition.

And of course, the process ended up being great fun with a good friend.

So, I decided to trust the process and learn what I could from it. This was in an effort to look at what I’d done here in a new way, and it showed me where I could redesign things in the future to better fit goals I want to reach. (More about that in future posts. I want to break the garden up into sections.) While the winners ended up being professional firms and designers, it didn’t say that a home garden couldn’t be added, and since at the time I was preparing my space for its inclusion in a book coming out in 2025, it helped me to better understand why I had a place in that book.

My entry also fed into a prose poetry project that I’ve been working on this year, so all of this was a jumping off point for other things. Suturing up who I was before my many medical maladies, with who I’ve become, has become an act of self-love. Gardening helped to bridge the gap between who I was at my core, and who I became in order to survive. It also helped me to build a career in horticulture. But how does design figure into this? In my case, it’s through stories, but you’ll have to wait for that book of prose poetry I guess.

Pacific Horticulture, a group that “envision(s) a resilient world dependent on the thoughtful cultivation of plants” is the sponsor of the contest. Last year was the inaugural year of the contest so there were no previous winners, and knowing so many people who’d written for their now defunct journal, I felt like I could give it a shot. It was a drop in the bucket to support their efforts.

The Design Futurist Contest says it’s looking for gardens created with design solutions for climate resilience, preserving biodiversity, and connecting people with nature. I’ve lived in my home now for nearly 20 years and I can assure you that I’ve been working on all of these things—especially while trialing many plants for promotion in the world of commerce. I think I’ve come to embrace the design techniques that I do use, but many don’t see them right away—if at all.

As a matter of fact I didn’t either until I started to journal regularly about my process—but again, I digress.

As a writing challenge, the assignment was more about my learning to see and write about my garden from a different perspective. I enjoyed the essay questions. They included: describe the site, how the garden was designed for biodiversity, drought, fire resilience, how you’ve included nature being good for you, how it embodies garden futurist ideas, sustainable gardening, and lastly its inspirations. Constraints were asked about as well and how I executed design solutions.

I think that all gardeners who are deeply involved in what they do should journal through these topics, and it made me think a lot about our relationships with plants. Without nurseries that provide quality materials, many can’t fulfill their design pursuits. And while some designers blur the lines and grow their own plants (which I applaud them for since it’s a lot of work), many do not. It is interesting to me how our relationships with plants are altered so much by where we stand professionally (or otherwise) in this business. Garden design still stands solidly to me as a craft, with much mimicry and observation of nature, as well as the work of others, but I applaud this contest for wanting more out of design.

The contest is truly seeking out designs with the needs and requirements of plants in mind. That is great. I applaud that too.

This is where horticulture gets stuck though and where I’m disappointed with Pacific Horticulture. In the current era, the professional areas of horticulture, botany, and ecology, are all currently being ridden roughshod.

Imagine my surprise when I attended a lecture at the NWFGF to hear a famous landscape architect talking about how insular nurseries (horticulturists) and botanists and ecologists (yes, scientists) are and how they as designers could use tools from these other fields to basically do better. Humphf.

This call to action amused me in its assuredness. It was a lesson in the Steve Jobs approach to public speaking. Months after the results had been announced, it had me sitting in my chair in that audience, thinking back to the results of the contest, and to the rebranding and reimagining that PacHort has gone through. (Yes, I’m happily insulated I guess in horticulture—too happily maybe lol.)

It reminded me of the patterns I see in social media of individuals touting expertise repeatedly and boldly. Parroting really. Yet somehow it keeps happening. I will state it and thus make it so.

While I have no complaints at all about the winners of the contest, I was expecting something fun and interesting from them. I wanted to see a hint of myself and my friends in the winners. I was hoping for something more inspiring, more connected to people than clients. Instead, it felt like the Pacific Garden Design Contest for APLD (aka Association of American Landscape Design) sponsored by the publication formerly known as Pacific Horticulture.

And doesn’t APLD already have design awards?

But PacHort is a group in search of a new audience, and funding, after having to re-scramble thanks to changes in how we take in and share information. How they choose to communicate their message with the world, and who listens to it, it up to them to reformulate. They have a professional board and advisors to work on their own design solution.

I of course should never have really entered, but I’m glad I did. I definitely won’t do it again. The results simply felt too much like an industry contest for a professional industry magazine. I am not their audience, but you’d hope that I would be. It felt far too lofty to me, and I’m confused by what they mean by being inclusive.

I’ve listened to many of the podcasts too, and while they’re interesting, I already listen to the original source materials on Audible. When I’m commuting to work, I want to be entertained, and again, I want to be inspired. I think the saviorism is simply too much for me. It makes me physically uncomfortable.

So yes, I’d much rather have seen gardeners’ homes mixed in to the winners—and maybe they could add more categories for “others”—since the contest again, left me feeling “othered”.

It was a fun and social process for me, and I’m glad to have had the conversations I’ve had since with landscape architects, garden designers, horticulturists, gardeners, garden writers, and at least two scientists. I wasn’t the only one who felt this way about the contest. The Pacific Horticulture journal had helped so many of us to learn and grow when we were younger. It was approachable, familiar, and we felt like family. I think we now feel a bit more like the step-family.

We’d like to see our struggling selves better represented, but for now, we have our underground community and I’m glad to be surrounded by them and we speak often of our projects, and of sustainability, and of conservation.

If you’re a budding or seasoned professional designer though, and you have a client project, then enter your design and show your talent.