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Welcome to The Editors’ Cut, our monthly column dedicated to beautiful and useful finds for all over the house. In this installment: sweet nothings to give to someone you love (or treat yourself). — The R/G Editors Italian Socks Sexy Soap Love Notes, Two Ways A Toast for Two Flowers That Last Forever Also On […]
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Recently spotted, admired, and pinned: Little Greene’s new “In the Garden” wallpapers. The eight botanical designs that comprise the collection were all inspired by the landscapes, individual plants, and real-life plant obsessives championed by British conservation group National Trust.
“With ‘In the Garden,’ we wanted to celebrate the restorative power and timeless beauty of nature, bringing the serenity and optimism of the outdoors into our homes,” says Little Greene’s creative director, Ruth Mottershead. “All of the designs have been created from scratch, drawing inspiration and reinterpreting elements from National Trust gardens and landscapes. This collection allows us to honour and protect Britain’s remarkable design and horticultural heritage, while inviting people to create interiors that feel both restorative and inspiring.”
Two more reasons to consider this new collection: A portion of every sale goes to the National Trust to support their conservation work across 500 properties and 890 miles of coastline. And the wallpapers are printed on responsibly sourced paper and with eco-friendly pigments.
Below, a peek at some of our favorites from the collection.
Photography courtesy of Little Greene.
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1. Measure the length of your longest leaf and cut your tape to double that (Sandy’s are approximately two inches long). Peel off the paper backing,
place cut tape sticky side up.
2. Place wire in the center of the tape, half way up the length, leaving at least an inch of wire sitting outside of the tape.
3. Fold the tape over at its half-way point, sandwiching in the wire.
4. Place a leaf over the folded tape, align the midrib of the leaf
with the wire.
5. Trace around the leaf with a pencil.
6. Cut out the leaf.
7. Take a walk and find a fallen branch!
8. Tie the leaf to the branch by winding the wire around it.
Here’s another Sandy Suffield DIY using materials on hand: The Engine House Paper Quilts. And here’s one that involves Scrap Paper Flowers.
Good taste runs in the Suffield family: see A Shopkeeper’s 1930s Family Home in Winchester.
N.B.: This post was first published on Remodelista in December 2024.
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Surfaced from the archives: a favorite DIY, which originally ran on Remodelista in April 2020:
Like so many of us, Anthony Watson and Benoît Rauzy of Atelier Vime are finding reassurance and inspiration right now in nature. The couple make and sell some of France’s loveliest rattan furniture, new and vintage: see Rattan Revival. They’re currently at work on their next collection while “in containment in our farmhouse on the west coast of France.”
Via Instagram, Julie and I fell in love with Anthony’s latest household improvement: a pine bough door surround for their already extraordinary-looking home office. Anthony told us how he made it.
Photography courtesy of Atelier Vime (@ateliervime).
Winding nature motifs continue in the room on the kilim and the antique Moroccan suzani.
Also note the wall curtain: that, too, was a DIY. Anthony made it out of “some old thick cotton fabric found in the attic. I painted it a strong yellow that was in the workshop here, and draped it with little nails. It’s inspired by French Empire fabric wall coverings adapted to the style of this humble country house.”
Some other favorite DIYs made from natural supplies (go to our DIY archive for many more):
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Todd Carr has been obsessed with plants for more than half his life, whether it’s designing landscapes for clients, leading garden coverage for Martha Stewart Living magazine (RIP), tending his own garden in upstate NY, or creating otherworldly botanical experiences for visitors to Hort & Pott, the by-appointment-only, self-described “speak-easy shop” that he co-owns with his partner, Carter Harrington. The store opened seven years ago, and today, fellow plant obsessives drive hours to immerse themselves in the magical, flora-focused worlds they create for each season. (Read more about it here.) The couple’s current project? Overhauling the landscaping surrounding their 1890s house in Freehold, NY. In addition, “I have been creating a new line of ceramics, and Carter has been pushing the envelope developing a new collection of outdoor cast concrete containers and sculptural accessories for the garden,” says Todd.
Below, Todd reveals the popular flower that he just can’t stomach, his favorite gardening hack that saves hours of yard work, and why he’s conflicted about the rise of meadow gardens.
Photography courtesy of Hort & Pott, unless otherwise noted.
I must have been 6 or 7, picking fresh snap peas, still warmed by the sun, enjoying the beauty in the shadow of my mothers incredible vegetable garden. That memory forever planted the endearment of being immersed in nature.
A Way to Garden, by Margaret Roach, a classic I love to go back to in the deep winter and re-read. Hot Plants for Cool Climates, by Dennis Schrader, a go-to for my collection of tropical plant material. The Well-Tended Perennial Garden by Tracy DiSabato-Aust, a staple in my early education. [See Quick Takes With: Margaret Roach.]
@christian_douglas_design: A good friend and amazing designer, Christian has reopened my eyes to what a vegetable garden can be. [See Quick Takes With: Christian Douglas.]
@cultivatedbychristin: She has such an evocative way of discussing the true nature of flowers and is inspiring through her arrangements and writing.
Big, bold, and textural.
Any plant that can get taller than me in one season will captivate my attention every time. Over the years I’ve used such annual giants like castor bean ‘Zanzibar’, and 15-foot-tall broom corn, but fast growing vines like hyacinth bean and birdhouse gourds also make my heart sing. The structural perennial Cephalaria gigantea is a top favorite.
Roses—just never found myself enthusiastic about them, and not a fan of their scent or the maintenance required to care for them.
I have a few signature plants here that I like to incorporate in each garden, but by far the most used here at Arkwood is the native shrub Physocarpus or ninebark. I’ve got quite a few varieties here and growers keep bringing out beautiful new ones that are fun to collect and trial here in the gardens. Physocarpus ‘Amber Jubilee’ is a stand out here at Arkwood from spring to fall and throughout the winter with its shedding bark.
A few weeds in the garden and blurred border edges are okay—trying to control nature to the max always feels too constrictive to me. Being a little loose and casual with my gardens puts me at ease and I’ve come to accept the blurry lines between the natural and cultivated.
Meadow gardens everywhere. I think there is a right place for them of course and I’m not saying this trend needs to go; I know how beautiful and beneficial they are. I’d just like to see more layered gardens using native trees, and shrubs like sumac, willows, and dogwoods. I’m really enjoying the urban decay garden movement that I have been seeing, with the use of colonizing plant material and weeds being celebrated for the beauty they can possess.
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What happens when you assemble and photograph found bits of nature every single day for 12 years and counting? Mary Jo Hoffman calls her art—as well as her blog and her new book—Still and writes that her practice is not only “a respite from the enervating buzz of contemporary life,” but a way of paying attention. “Finding each day’s subject requires me to live more often than not in a heightened state of awareness that makes me extraordinarily happy.”
I can relate: I have a similar daily habit that evolved from collecting leaves on dog walks (see How I Became an Accidental Botanical Artist). But though we’re admiring much of the same foliage—I’m based in a bucolic patch of the Bronx and Mary Jo lives on three acres outside Minneapolis—our work is quite different.
Her photographs, whether of a single feather or an elaborate seed composition, have the satisfying completeness of solved equations. Mary Jo, you see, is a Stanford-educated applied mathematician and worked for 20 years as an aeronautical space engineer. “There will always be some engineering, more or less evident, behind what Mary Jo crafts of her materials, and what she crafts of herself,” writes her husband, Steve Hoffman, in the prologue to Still: The Art of Noticing.
Here, a look at some highlights from the book, which, when I last checked, was the best-selling volume from Phaidon Press’s spring catalogue.
Photography by Mary Jo Hoffman, courtesy of Phaidon Press.
Still arose from a desire to develop a creative practice while her two kids were young. Mary Jo had just left her job as a rocket scientist and had patches of free time. Wanting to join an online art community, she decided to begin with photography, something she was already good at, and to spend time in nature. She committed to making her art daily for a year back in January 2012—and has never missed a day since. “It’s like my daily yoga; I find it too life-enhancing to stop.”
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Four days after the UK announced a ban on giant rhubarb—also known as gunnera—we received an email from Tom Berington. Tom is the founder of Different Like a Zoo, a company that represents a small number of designers who “do one thing really well.” (Paola Navone’s covetable Ghost sofa and Heerenhuis’s timeless table designs have both previously featured over on Remodelista.) He wanted us to know that he recently launched a new project called House of Herbaria, a limited series of pressed and framed gunnera leaves. The timing was so serendipitous, we wanted to find out more …
Tom grew up in a unique setting: a 15th-century Prior’s Hall that was once attached to a neighboring Benedictine monastery on the slopes of the Malvern Hills. At the bottom of his garden, in a boggy, sun-soaked patch by the lake, is a patch of Gunnera manicata that has been there “as long as I can remember.” Tom—who has a degree in Fine Art—had begun experimenting with pressed seaweed. “I wanted to do something that really made an impact,” he recalls, so he abandoned the seaweed idea and headed straight for the gunnera patch.
Gunnera dies naturally in the autumn, so Tom cuts his leaves in the summer before they rot. His craft begins at the selection process: “Sometimes the insects will have already got to them, creating massive holes. Sometimes you’ll find a leaf that has been discolored by disease, which created an interesting pattination that makes them stand out.”
Depending on how they are framed, Tom will select a pair of smaller leaves or one giant leaf for the press, a purpose-built contraption that has taken many seasons to perfect. The drying process takes around six months. “The aim is to extract as much moisture as possible so the leaves don’t go moldy or break up over time,” he explains. “It’s almost like developing a photograph,” he continues. “You place the leaf in the press and, six months later, you’re left with a surprise.”
Not all presses turn out as planned but, for Tom, that is part of the appeal: “They each have their own special qualities,” he says. To add depth, the leaves are cut and arranged in layers before being mounted on muslin and framed by Tom, a process that takes places between his childhood home in Worcestershire and his studio in London, where the pressings are displayed alongside the furniture he sells.
This year, giant, individual leaves have been split in two and presented as a pair. “Because you don’t see leaves of this size very often, it can be difficult to tell what you’re looking at,” Tom explains. “They can look like ancient relief maps and the veins also have a sort of drawn quality to them. There’s real beauty in their imperfection,” he says. “They are really unusual but they just seem to work in any setting.”
See also:
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