I've been thinking lately about this garden, a temporary 2009 installation at BilbaoJardin by Balmori Associates of New York, because of how rare it is to see a garden portrayed as doing anything but predictably
grow
-ing
-n
-er
-s
as if we didn't know that already.
What does it mean to make a garden that is [insert verb here] speaking, studying, playing, arriving, pushing, pedaling, blushing, juggling? Can a garden--not a garden element, but the whole landscape--stand and stare, wobble, whistle or whirl? If you could make a verb garden, what would it be?
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