The Gardens of Versailles...

Gardens have been evolving for centuries both in significance and intention through changing aesthetic values and cultural shifts. Take the classic French garden for example. The gardens of Villandry (pictured below) and Versailles are staples of what a French Garden is. Its high hedges, symmetrical layout, and geometric shapes create mosaics which, when viewed from atop, form beautiful geometric abstractions. Walking through the garden of

Gardens of Villandry

Versailles instills a sense of awe - a sense of grandeur and marvel. Years ago, when I visited the gardens of Versailles my neck was constantly strained from looking up, trying to see if I could get a peek at the top of the hedges. Everything about the garden, from its construction, layout, and place relative to the chateau feels as if it is made to dwarf you.

The pathways are large and sprawling. I was convinced that if I didn't stay with my group I would get lost. As I walked through the seemingly endless rows and near identical pathways, I found that I had stopped engaging with the garden itself. I neglected to walk down branching paths in favor of moving towards the central fountain before eventually making my way to the exit. In hindsight, for someone who adores gardens, this was out of character.

Now, years later, I find myself disconnected from this style of garden. There may be several reasons for this. Firstly, we should consider the context under which Versailles was built. While it was originally a lodge, its transformation into its current form as a palace is what matters. It was not built to indulge in art and culture, but rather to act as a symbol of authority and power. You feel dwarfed in Versailles because that is the intention and reason for its erection. Considering the garden's purpose, there is no denying that the will of King Louis XIV was properly conveyed.

However, this removes what I believe the significance of a garden is. Think of when you go to an art gallery. The paintings that capture my attention and admiration are not the ones that superimpose a feeling onto me. If a painting tells me to feel sad because the subject is sad, I have no real motivating reason to be persuaded by the painting to feel sad, other than sadness being the proclaimed proper response. However, a painting that forces me to decipher its meaning and intention will likely garner some appropriate response without telling me directly. This is the difference between my experience in Versailles versus, say, the French countryside of Giverny. As soon as you enter Versailles you are told how to feel, a true demonstration of power and authority.

Gardens of Versailles

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This is a group journal entry. See here for the other post in its group.