Doris Day and Rock Hudson – perhaps the most glamorous of mid-century pillow talkers.

Well not exactly pillow talk, you know, that is, not talk over a pillow or in the midst of pillows or under the pillows.  Rather, let’s talk about pillows, which pillows, how many pillows, what color of pillows…  It’s about pillows in the Miller House conversation pit, and what to do about changing them for the season as winter relents.

The interiors of the Miller House have a lot of eye-catching elements, to be sure, but the biggest crowd pleaser has got to be the conversation pit, a 15-foot-square, 2 ½ -foot-deep exercise in below-floor-level decorative decadence.  It’s been touted as the very first conversation pit, but that’s a pretty difficult statement to verify.  There are certainly plenty of antecedents, as well as related interior features in houses of the ‘40s and ‘50s.  Houses of the Victorian and Arts and Crafts eras had inglenooks and similar areas of built-in seating.  And it’s not hard to find mid-century houses that featured floor level changes that also incorporated seating.  Eero Saarinen and Charles Eames created such designs for the Case Study Houses in California in the 1940s.  Whether the Miller House conversation pit is indeed the first is something of an exercise in architectural hair-splitting, but if anyone knows of an earlier pit of the same completely enclosed configuration, we’d love to hear about it.

Interior, Case Study House #9.

The “pit” in the Case Study House above shapes the spatial flow of the interior – down to the embrace of the fireplace and outward at the same level to the landscape beyond.   With interior designer Alexander Girard in the mix at the Miller House, the pit concept does something different.  Functionally, it achieves the goal of providing significant seating without the clusters of furniture that Saarinen so detested.  Being below the floor level, it provided nothing to impede the view to the west through the allée of honey locust trees.  By enclosing the pit on all four sides, with entry by means of a short flight of seemingly-floating padouk wood steps, Girard made the pit into a huge, discrete decorative object that balances the 50-foot storage wall and the marble-topped dining table.  It shouts for the viewer’s attention, rewards it with a lush display of textiles, and offers the novelty of looking down to something other than the floor.

Your view from the Miller House conversation pit.

After this (purposeful) digression, we will return to the subject at hand: pillows.  From what we know of Mrs. Miller’s wishes, the house needed such an object.  She was interested in a means for decorative variety and change in an interior dominated by marble, travertine, plaster, and steel.  The conversation pit served this function.  Though constructed of Aurisina marble, the pit demanded seat and back cushions for comfort, all with slip covers.  And loose pillows – lots of them.  All these, as well as the rug on the pit floor, were changed seasonally to refresh the room’s appearance.

We are just embarking on changing the pillows for the first time.  Since the IMA acquired the house in 2009, the conversation pit has been wearing its winter garb of richly-colored pillows, many of them covered in woolen fabrics.  The summer scheme, carefully worked out in the original plan by Girard, employed fabrics lighter in both color and texture, many of them the striped Mexican cottons (Mexicottons) that he designed.

Drawing from cross-cultural inspirations, Girard designed fabrics with innovative color combinations.  Many of the Mexicotton pillowcases at the Miller House share a simple plain-weave structure and a cotton composition, but the placement of color separates each fabric as a unique and innovative design element.  Stripes were created by alternating colors of custom-dyed yarn as opposed to printing designs on the fabrics.  Below is only a small sampling of Girard’s many Mexicottons, which will soon be on display.  Below are details of two of the pillowcases created out of Mexicotton Stripe fabric.  The contrasting piping around the edge of each pillowcase is created out of Mexicotton Plain fabric:

For centuries, home furnishing fabrics have been changed with the seasons, which not only refreshed the room, but also contributed to the preservation of the color and appearance of some of the most significant, expensive, and vulnerable items that a family might own.  While conservation might not have been foremost in the thoughts of homeowners through the years, it is something we take very seriously at the IMA.  The seasonal rotation of the pillows at the Miller House allows us to realize two goals concurrently: it is in keeping with what Mrs. Miller originally intended and it will allow textile conservators an opportunity to assess the condition and needs of each unique pillow.

Before redressing the conversation pit in its vernal wardrobe, the curator and conservators teamed up and went to the Miller House to further discuss and implement the seasonal rotation.  The spring/ summer pillows were carefully removed from storage and placed on plastic close to the current display.  This facilitated curatorial decisions, such as which pillows, how many, and general placement.  While not yet in the conversation pit, the shifting palette of pillows from mulled wine to citrus spritzers can be observed easily.  And that red carpet on the floor of the conversation pit will be rotated out as well – but you’ll have to visit the Miller House to see the dramatic difference…

The conversation pit as it is currently installed, juxtaposed with the upcoming seasonal color scheme.

So, how does a seasonal rotation of pillows help preserve them for future generations?  Or more importantly – what happens to a pillow when it is not on display?  Once a textile is removed from display the conservators assess the current condition and address any need that the textile may have.  All of the textiles receive a gentle vacuuming as to not return them to storage with any dirt or dust that might have accumulated during display.  Each is then carefully packed and placed in a storage environment with stable temperature and relative humidity and away from light.  Protection from light is crucial in the preservation of textiles.

The Miller House is striking with its glass walls and skylight system; however, when textiles are struck by light some fabrics will fade (depending on the dyes used, type of light, and cumulative light exposure).  This orange pillow is slated for its public debut in the conversation pit.  When the side opening is gently pulled back one can observe that it has already faded from an electric orange to a humbler shade.  By rotating the pillows seasonally and placing them in dark storage for the time they are off view, we hope to extend the lush display of textiles in the conversation pit for years to come.

On the top is a detail of the inside of a pillowcase; below is the exterior of the same pillow case after years of light exposure:

Schedule a visit and be sure to experience the Miller House pillows for each season!

And in truth, it is November. Snow in November isn’t exactly a miracle or a sign of the arrival of the End of Days.

All the same, I was not amused. It had been spitting snow off and on for a few hours but I never figured it would really get to the point of covering anything. When I arrived home, the wind-gathered leaves were heavily dusted with it. Plants in the garden had it clinging to their leaves and spent flowers. My gazing globes were covered with it, though under the full moon they looked rather delightful.

Fortunately earlier in the week I had gathered the last of my tropicals from my IMA gardens. At home, I collected the last of my most crucial plants and hauled them down to the basement on Monday evening. It gets dark so damn early I barely get started before I can’t see where to dig. With only four minutes of daylight after I get home in the evening, I gotta move fast. I only got four minutes to save my plants!

I still have cannas and dahlias to dig. Still have some agaves outside in pots (and one XMangave – Manfreda X Agave). Oh shit. I just realized I left my yellow-leaved fig out. Oh, I hope it’s okay. Damn. I don’t know where I can get another and it was not cheap. Dammit. Oh well. I said I was not going to try to save everything this year. Guess I’m just keeping myself true to my word.

Here at work, we are keeping more plants in the offices since we are trying to save money by not heating the old over-wintering greenhouse we used in the past. We concentrated on the tough stuff that can handle less than ideal conditions. It’s good to have some large specimens to put out so there is a bit of maturity to a design from the get-go.

These variegated figs and gingers will tolerate less than perfect conditions inside and outside, which is one reason we love them so much.

Some Xanthosoma and Plumbago occupy a conference table.

Bromeliads sit next to Jonathon’s desk.

And in my office is a collection of stuff from home and work.

In the basement of the northeast side of our offices (we are in the “double” – one side was the night watchman’s home, the other the gardener’s home) the bananas will wait out the frozen Indiana winter. These are both Musa and Ensete.

Check out the high tech containers.

Yes, those are garbage bags. You don’t need to be fancy. But it’s okay if you are. Especially, if it is your one chance.

In the basement on the other side, things are still a work in progress.

Some of the Colocasias (elephant ears) are put away but a good many still need processing. I wanted the soil around the roots to dry a bit before dropping them into plastic bags for the winter. It is a delicate balance – enough moisture to survive but not enough to cause rot. And why do all this? Why fret about if a plant will or will not survive? Well, isn’t it obvious?

Now my first reaction I admit was –Well, what the hell do you think? Was there a nuclear holocaust I missed? But then the reasonable part of my brain kicked in and I figured they were probably really wondering about the annuals and tropicals. Most of these are indeed gone, either damaged by last week’s frost or removed so winter materials could go in.

You will still find a few that were not badly damaged or we simply have not got round to. Don’t let a little frost stop you from coming out to see some “flower gardens”.

We do not do fall pansies and the like because they are too expensive for our fairly short autumnal season. But you might be surprised at how many perennials are still blooming.

Chrysanthemum ‘Sheffield Pink’ is seen here in all its October glory on Oak Island. This is one of the latest mums of the season always making me wonder if the frost is gonna get it. It doesn’t really care about the frost. It’s not pink so much as a soft peach or apricot.

Here is pinkish lavender sport that appeared a couple years back that is doing well. It could be a seedling but mums tend to mutate easily so I think that is the case here.

Tricytus ‘Sinome’ (toadlily) in the overlook garden is placed where it always should be, near a walkway so you can appreciate its intricate patterned orchid-like flowers up close.

Also at the Overlook is this large mass of Persicaria amplexicaulis ‘Golden Arrows’ (mountain fleece). This workhorse of a plant easily has four to five months of bloom. I love the deep but bright burgundy flowers with the chartreuse foliage.

I also love the months of chartreuse foliage before the bloom. Some years there is a bit of Japanese beetle damage but it quickly outgrows the problem.

These Agastache that were a gift from Skagit Gardens have been in bloom since arriving in August.

They are the Nectar^tm series that comes in Apricot, Grape, Grapefruit, Orange, and Raspberry. Find them growing in full sun in the well-drained soil atop the Tunnel leading from the parking garage to the museum entrance. All Agastache tend to attract hummingbirds and bees and pollinators.

Geranium ‘Rozanne’ has been blooming since May.

You can find some Echinacea still throwing up a few flowers.

In bright shade is Anemone hybrid, fall-blooming or Japanese anemone. It comes in white and an array of pinks.

Most are 30 inches tall and up. But dwarf cultivars are coming to market soon.

Along the Bridge Garden the Cimicifuga rubifolia (Actea rubifolia?), Appalachian bugbane, is in bloom with lots more buds coming. At least this is what I thought it was named at one point.

Aster oblongifolius (now Symphyotrichum oblongifolium) can still be found in bloom as well. Known as aromatic aster, The Rain Garden has ‘Raydon’s Favorite’, a slightly deeper blue color and later blooming plant than the equally beautiful ‘October Skies’.

Don’t forget, color in the garden comes from more than flowers. Fall foliage is still brilliant and everywhere on our 152 acres. Just take some time to stroll about.

Otherwise, I might only think about the current weather….

Have I grown tired of temperatures 20 degrees below normal? Oh, hell yes. It seems so ridiculous to have so many nights in the single digits and it is only mid-December. I guess it is weather like this that makes those of us living in more northern climates so appreciative when Spring returns. You are just so relieved to not have that Ole’ Blue Northern pummel you anymore. At the same time, the snow makes a very pretty landscape. Here’s the view from my office window.

I captured a few images yesterday with my phone while we were shoveling out from another snowfall. Later in the day, after we got all the luminaria built, laid out, and lit, I ran out with the camera to capture a few other areas. Unfortunately the batteries died before I got far. If you have not been here for one of our two luminaria events every December, please put it on your calendar for 2011. 800-1000 luminaria bring a whole new look to the gardens, especially on snowy nights.

The gardens are beautiful in winter but we don’t clean all the walks. Please use common sense when traveling snowy or icy paths. And remember, a stop at the Greenhouse will give you a chance to warm up on really cold days.

In the meantime, enjoy (or tolerate) the cold as best you can. It’ll be spring before you know it.

One of the great advantages of living in a temperate climate is the glorious colors displayed by the plant community in the fall. Trees, shrubs, and even some perennials seem to want to throw one last orgiastic Las Vegas-style display before winter slaps everyone upside the face and screams, “Go to sleep! Now!”
The reverie is in sight everywhere here in the gardens and grounds of the IMA, from the contemporary gardens near the around the museum building to Oldfields to 100 Acres. You can find a plant somewhere doing its best hoochie-koochie dance to get your attention one last time. How long will the show last? Hard to say. With the drought this year I think it will be a quick peep then lights-out, leaves fall. But, I could be totally off the mark. Nature’s floor shows can be difficult to predict. Your best bet is to get out there and enjoy whatever performances you can catch.
I’m prone to go on and on about paperbark maple, Acer ginnala. I know, I know, I’m prone to go on about everything. Get your own blog. Paperbark maple is a favorite of mine with its fabulous bark, foliage, and fall color. But I want to mention the paperbark’s slightly more subtle friend, three-flower maple, Acer triflorum. We have a few on the north side of the parking garage.

Beautiful foliage, beautiful bark, and good fall color. All on a tree small enough for most any landscape but big enough to provide some shade.

A more traditional maple for shade is this sugar (Acer saccharum) near Deer Zink.

The uncommon Disanthus cercidifolius and our native spicebush (Lindera benzoin) look wonderful in their fall finery.

With Oldfields being an 80-plus year-old landscape many mature trees can be found there. The red maple, Acer rubrum, in front of Garden Terrace is one of the first to color up.

My eye is always captured by the way this sugar maple glows through the other, still green trees this time of year.

It really looks like each leaf is lit from within.

And from beneath it’s just gorgeous.

The service drive going towards 100 Acres is nice, of course.

And the fall colors always create a neat color echo for the pony-truss bridge across the canal.

Within Alfredo Jaar’s Park of the Laments, the fragrant sumac, (Rhus aromatica ‘Grow-low’) are developing their trademark glossy red colors. The switch grass (Panicum virgatum, at the top,) likewise is getting some burgundy in the leaves to go with the silvery flowering plumes.

By the lake, the gray and white bark of a young sycamore (Platanus occidentalis) makes a great background for the very red foliage of Virginia creeper (Parthenocissus quinquefolia).

Down the road along the lake, mulberries (Morus alba) provide a color echo for one of the pieces in Jeppe Hein’s Bench Around the Lake.

Even some of my tropicals are getting in the act. The Tibouchina grandiflora, princess flower or glory bush, around Sutphin Fountain are taking on simply mouthwatering shades of pumpkin orange.

Great color, great texture, what’s not to love? I mean, who cares if it ever blooms? Okay, I would like the purple flowers with the pumpkin foliage. But you can’t always get what you want.

When I think of spring, I think of robins. Ever since I can remember, my mom and Nana had a contest every year to see who could spot the first robin. Forget that scrawny groundhog, the first red-breasted robin hopping around in the grass (or snow) meant warmer weather was just around the corner.

Here are a few works from our collection that remind me strongly of spring. What says ‘spring’ to you?

Birds | (verso) Studies for a Woman in a Hat

More!

Three Flying Birds

Indianapolis Museum of Art Garden, Pony Bridge; contributed by Terry.Tyson

I’m not the only one captured by the seasons, as shown by the IMA Flickr Group.  As of this writing we have over 200 members and we are pushing dangerously close to 2000 images!  It’s wonderful to see the many vantage points brought together to a single point on the web.

Here’s a few photos I captured three years ago shortly after starting at the IMA.  They are not altered in any way.  I always revel in these photos and tell people about them.  So I am taking my opportunity now to share them with you.

Grab the extinguisher. This tree's on fire!

Check out the latest additions to the Flickr group and please join us by sharing your fall photos as well.

Ooooo, the blog is getting a little too deep and self-consciously artsy.

Who said something about art being either plagiarism or genius?  In the horticulture trade, one of the first things a gardener learns is to borrow and adapt what others do. A good gardener  gives proper credit when told, “That is a nice plant combination.”  So, John Teramoto, Marty Krause, Annette Schlagenhauff (am I forgetting anyone?) – thank you for the exhibit Lay of the Land.

The exhibit combining Asian and Western art prints and poetry, set me to thinking about how often images in the galleries, or music and poetry cause me to recall some beautiful place I’ve experienced.  Nice memories and feelings …. trying to capture the bliss of the moment.

So as Autumn brings another season to a close, I offer some images and poems, with apologies to the artists,  that reminded this gardener of the promise and beauty of Spring as compensation for labors…

Work
The corn is baking in blue smoke,
Pickled tomato is piled ready on my plate,
And the chrysocolla of a young cedar branch is close.
Yet the breakfast that should be calm and enjoyable
makes me uneasy.
I’m worried about the manure I threw yesterday
From the horsecart and left on the slope.
Kenji Miyazawa 1896-1933

Manure and compost on vegetable garden at Oldfields

“Peasants Going to Work, by Jean F. Millet (IMA 40.65)”

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Ah. It is spring,
Great spring it is now.
Great, great spring.
Ah, great –
Matsuo Basho 1644-1694

Apple blossom in April 2009, Gene and Rosemary Tanner Orchard, Oldfields at the IMA. Photograph by Sue Arnold

Check out the IMA’s searchable database of the art collection any time.

Check out the flowers, and maybe some leftover
manure,  dawn to dusk on our 152 acres, or right where you live.