Will Smart Cities Still Have Room for People to Plant Pansies? A "Next-Ecosystem" Pushing Against a 'Third Landscape' Engulfed by Technology.

As technology burgeons and potentially overruns our smart cities, how will humans push back? Considering the concept of the "third landscape" put forth by Gilles Clement and the practice of planting pansies in disaster-affected areas, we've reached out to Tomoki Yamauchi, a gardener, and aesthetician who continuously reflects on these phenomena. We've sought his thoughts on the interplay of "nature, technology, and resistance," a perspective that might provide some insights into this matter.

Photo by nichiiro on Unsplash

Tomoki Yamauchi（Kyoto University of Education, Faculty of Education）
Yasuto Nakanishi（Faculty of Environment and Information Studies, Keio Univ.）
Masashige Motoe（Graduate School of Engineering, Tohoku University）
Hajime Ishikawa　（Faculty of Environment and Information Studies, Keio Univ.）

An Encounter with Gilles Clement's "The Garden in Movement"

Ishikawa: Yamauchi-san, you identify as a 'gardener' rather than a landscape architect or designer, right?

Yamauchi: That's right. I stumbled into gardening part-time as a student, which was my first exposure to the world of 'gardeners.' I funded my graduate studies by working as a gardener and then became a university professor, yet I still identify as a gardener (laughs). When I started my part-time job as an undergrad, I was unfamiliar with the discipline known as 'landscape' to this day, and I still consider myself a gardener first.

Ishikawa: So, you don't do design work?

Yamauchi: People in architecture and landscape often find it surprising, but gardeners don't typically draft floor plans or jot down specifications. Though it's becoming more common, traditionally, we'd bring in natural stone and other materials and shape a garden based on our tactile impressions. I like to adopt different perspectives and ask, "What if the stones and trees were arranged like this?" The garden is a culmination of these diverse views. I follow this approach because a gardener doesn't create structures beyond a certain height. But I do enjoy design work, too.

Ishikawa: What sparked your interest in gardens?

Yamauchi: Initially, I was a "creator," dabbling in painting and installations. My interest in gardening was sparked during a university class on installations, where I learned how a single tree or stone could dramatically alter a space. I only began exploring theories when I became a gardener. Now, I teach aesthetics and the history of aesthetics at the Kyoto University of Education. One of my courses is a hands-on, somewhat unconventional class called "gardener practice," where students and I prune trees and craft gardens together (laughs).

Ishikawa: I first heard of you as the translator of Gilles Clement's "The Garden in Movement." How did you come across Gilles Clement?

Yamauchi: During my graduate studies, a senior who had returned from France introduced me to an "interesting person"—Gilles Clement and his work, "The Garden in Movement." I was so intrigued by the book that I presented it at a forum organized by an art history professor named Atsushi Okada in my first year of doctoral studies. An editor from Misuzu Shobo (a Japanese publishing company) heard about this and asked me to translate "The Garden in Movement" for a Japanese audience.

Ishikawa: Gardeners are intimately familiar with the physical sensation of plants' "movement," which a friend of mine likened to "flowers fleeing." He said, "If you want them to stay, you need to alter the soil to make the plants feel like they're escaping."

Yamauchi: I also felt that gardens were "moving." When you visit the same place for many years, you come across mysterious colonies that spontaneously appear under trees or encounter tremendous plants and trees that grow from seeds carried by bulbuls. Trees largely remain in one place, but their offspring sometimes move elsewhere.
As a gardener, I have been tending to a garden that has moved, trying to bring it as close as possible to its state from a year ago. It wasn't until I read Clement's "The Garden in Movement" that I realized the meaning of what I was doing. If there is a process called "vegetation succession," in which the composition of plants changes progressively until it reaches a climax (stable period), then as a gardener, I was repeatedly causing the garden to return to a particular phase of this ideal transition.
When I first presented "The Garden in Movement" in Japan, I was approached by elderly amateur gardeners who told me, "Our garden is also moving." I responded with, "Are you serious?!" (laughs).

Ishikawa: That's a really lovely story.

Yamauchi: It's epoch-making, but it's something people knew. Everyone can experience it. I think there may be some misunderstandings involved, but I believe the fact that people can make this concept their own is why the idea of a “Garden in Movement" has been widely accepted.

Verbs for how gardeners care for plants and for we engage with technology.

Motoe: Clement advocated "Adapting as much as possible and resisting as little as possible." He seems to say, "It's okay to change," and let plants be. Is my understanding correct that he brought forth such an appreciation and values?

Yamauchi: Well, gardens are spaces where people interact with nature. Plants that can't tolerate shade will move toward the sunlight, and plants that prefer damp conditions will thrive in such spots. Plants will spread themselves across the area according to their nature. But isn't that just nature doing its thing?

Motoe: So, it's more like a natural landscape than a garden.

Yamauchi: Clement shapes that landscape. For instance, we might create paths or islands for people to navigate. We watch the plant distribution carefully, preserving it while shaping it. It's not entirely human design. Instead, we translate the plant-created distribution into a garden. The plants have "initiative" or an "active nature," and we follow and shape that.
Conversely, Clement's "third landscape" concept appreciates undeveloped and abandoned urban land, privileging the "untouched by humans."

Motoe: I see.

Nakanishi: Can you think of verbs that capture this approach of “being guided by plants to some unknown place” as described in Yamauchi-san's story? “Manage” implies maintaining an ideal state, fixing deviations, or restoring what has shifted. So, the verb “manage” might not be entirely suitable for a garden.
For instance, we use “interaction” when it comes to computers. Anthropologist Tim Ingold uses “correspond” to depict a constant struggle between humans and technology, where humans constantly evolve.
Finding the correct verb for this might shed light on how we should engage with technology in the future and what a non-modernist city could look like.

Ishikawa: Park upkeep is certainly "management." They're maintained following a handbook.
Gardeners might pull out plants that sprouted on their own or leave them be. They use unique phrases like, “This is an Ardisia japonica, so we can leave it alone,” don't they?

Yamauchi: That's true; I do that.

Nakanishi: What do you call that approach?

Motoe: The verbs “maintain” or “taking care of” have a patronizing connotation. I understand the plants' optimal condition from experience and let them do what they want or simply allow them to grow as they, please.

Yamauchi: We often say, "Leave it alone." During cleanups, undergrowth care is a consideration. The final decision of what to do with ground plants is made during the last cleanup. Whether to remove the undergrowth is mostly left to the individual gardener.
As for pruning, while I mentioned we aim to return the garden to its state from a year ago for simplicity, we don't exactly return to that state. Even pine trees, which appear to keep the same shape, get their branches replaced every year. Their shape varies each year, but it maintains a particular state.
Older gardeners use an interesting phrase about care: "I'll _____ as plants want," as if the plants make the decisions.

Nakanishi: Does this mean that gardeners feel like the plants would be happy if they do this?

Yamauchi: I believe so. However, they're cutting many branches (laughs).

Different Regions, Different Perspectives on Plants

Yamauchi: I once showed a German environmental philosopher around a Japanese garden. When I told him this story, he angrily asked, "Is that really what the plant wants?"

Motoe: Japanese gardening is often recognized for its ability to create a lawn where there shouldn't be one. It's about defying natural succession, forcing a flower to bloom that wouldn't bloom naturally, or drawing water from where it wouldn't flow.

Yamauchi: Japanese gardens are typically small, so scale management is critical, especially when incorporating large broadleaf trees. Various techniques are developed to maintain the trees' natural shape. Branches that would eventually fall off in the grand scheme of nature are preemptively pruned. In other words, the phrase "I'll _____ as plants want" is about anticipating and acting in advance.

Ishikawa: Given the Japanese climate, plants can quickly overgrow if not properly managed.

Nakanishi: Gardens can quickly become overgrown with weeds. When I moved into my house a year ago and started weeding the garden, I was taken aback by a massive wild thistle. Its spines and fluff were quite something, and it felt like my home was being invaded by this voracious wild thistle algorithm (laughs).

Ishikawa: The perception of nature likely differs between Japan and Europe because the Ice Age significantly impacted Europe.

Motoe: Implementing the “Garden in Movement" concept may be somewhat challenging in Japan.

Yamauchi: While Clement says that a “Garden in Movement" is the easiest approach, if we did this in Japan, we'd soon be buried under two meters of weeds.

Ishikawa: In Japan, we'd probably have to maintain the garden three times as often as Clement recommends. In Jakarta, it'd likely need to be done three or four times more frequently than in Japan. Every couple of years, the whole thing would need to be razed.

Yamauchi: In places like Laos, they resort to slash-and-burn practices. If they didn't, the forest would quickly reclaim the land. It's a "forest in movement."

Motoe: Perhaps that's why Europeans are drawn to the “Garden in Movement" concept. They imagine that if they let plants do their thing, they'd settle into a stable, natural order. That wouldn't work in a jungle. The locals would fear being overwhelmed by the mass of plants. These differing perspectives on plants are shaped by their regions.

Applying this diverse view of plants to technology might help us understand how we should interact with technology when it grows beyond our control.

If robots and computers start running rampant like jungle plants or the trees in Angkor Wat, would they begin to invade our living spaces, thoughts, and possessions? Or could we establish a stable relationship with them, like a European-style "garden in movement"?
If we view them as cute, gentle partners, we wouldn't need to fight; we could just coexist peacefully. But if there's conflict, we'd need to push back. If they became overwhelming, we might be consumed. The "pansies" and "Angkor Wat" are at opposite ends of the spectrum.

Pansies and the Seven Dwarfs

Yamauchi: Reflecting on my essay on pansy(*), I realized that in Japan, under current geographical, climatic, and particularly social conditions, human activities are often overwhelmed by plants. Clement applauds the "third landscape" for its diversity, but it's already a permanent fixture. This idea struck me when I visited the evacuation area in Fukushima and the Sujin district in Kyoto. Where I had difficulty appreciating the value of these overrun landscapes, I saw people trying to restore some order by planting pansies.
I had never previously found pansies particularly beautiful or appealing. In my town, a group called the "Association to Beautify the Town with ____" places white planters filled with pansies at the station and elsewhere. These planters had a smudged stencil saying "Association to Beautify the Town with ____" - it looked a bit eerie (laughs).
However, my perception changed when I visited Namie Town and saw the pansies planted amidst the devastation. From then on, I started to see pansies planted in ordinary towns in a completely different light.
Ishikawa-san, you've been interested in such practices as pansy planters for quite some time, right? I find your stories about unauthorized vegetable gardens along the railroad tracks fascinating.

[Note "Essay on Pansy": This is a term from Tomoki Yamauchi's article "Why not nothing, but there are pansies? – an aspect of recovery in Namie town". Mr. Yamauchi was surprised to see flowerbeds and planters in front of the station and pansies planted in the devastated town of Namie following a disaster. "Despite the surrounding destruction, the unexpected presence of pansies suggested that human life still persisted and showed a desperate attempt to create some semblance of order where both city and nature were decaying in equal measure."]

Ishikawa: I've experienced visiting a project one year after completion only to find that the client had intervened in ways reminiscent of the pansy theory, even though landscape and garden designers had skillfully crafted a beautiful garden. We jokingly refer to this as the "Seven Dwarfs Problem" (laughs). It's pretty ironic when a beautifully designed modern garden appears as a barren "third landscape" to the user.

Motoe: You always find figurines of the Seven Dwarfs in the gardening section.

Yamauchi: Yes, I've experienced that too. After designing a garden, the client exclaimed, "I love the beautiful arrangement of flowers." I thought I had done an excellent job. But when I visited a year later, the flower beds had been rearranged, and flowers from the home improvement store were evenly spaced out (laughs).

Ishikawa: Gardens never quite turn out the way we want, do they?

Why Do People Plant “Pansies"?

Nakanishi: What I found interesting in your story, Yamauchi-san, is that the disaster-struck area in Fukushima is not just swallowed by nature but also by technology, forming a "third landscape." The residents there plant pansies as a testament that it hasn't been entirely consumed. They're engaging in the act of restoring human order, creating a minimalistic order by aligning pansies neatly. If planting pansies is such a human act, it might be something to be cherished, don't you think?
I wanted to ask you, Yamauchi-san. Is this act of planting pansies something to be loved, or is it something to be despised?

Yamauchi: ...Hmm, it's hard to say. As a gardener with accumulated experience, my aesthetic sense still tells me that the planters from the "Association to Beautify the Town" are somewhat horrifying. But after seeing Namie and Sujin, I feel like I can't deny the pansies anymore.
People tried to reclaim that place by planting pansies. Wouldn't this act be deemed as a kind of primitive gardening?

Nakanishi: Based on Motoe-san's perspective about how our attitudes change depending on whether we perceive technology or plants as threats, I believe pansies sit on that 'borderline of struggle.' It's akin to a child setting up a barrier and claiming, 'From here on, it's my territory' - it's like a marking for reassurance, isn't it?

Yamauchi: Hence, if planters start proliferating in an ordinary city that is not devastated, I think they are placed as a sort of symptom. Arranging planters at equal intervals is unrelated to urban planning or aesthetics - it's crucial for residents to build their territory. For that reason alone, it carries profound significance.

Motoe: To share my experience... I assisted in designing Nakahama Elementary School in Yamamoto town, Miyagi Prefecture, where former residents and teachers visit a few times a year to plant pansies in the broken flowerbeds of the earthquake ruins. From my 'aesthetics of ruins' standpoint, I find it hard to accept lovely pansies blooming there. However, I can't ignore people's prayerful activities, so I've repositioned the fence for easier maintenance.
Even in the wasteland left by the tsunami, a few pansies remain, and people are hoisting yellow handkerchiefs on ropes, hoping to live on this land again. Through my interactions with them, I've understood their deep feelings when they plant pansies, hoist their handkerchiefs, and claim, 'This is our land.' Now, I get your ‘Essay on Pansy,' Yamauchi-san.

The Resistance to the Third Landscape: "Sub-ecosystems" and "Pansy-ness"

Ishikawa: In the context of technology, is there such a thing as a constant third landscape, as Clement describes?

Nakanishi: Isn't it like when bots on Twitter go on a spree, causing chaos?

Yamauchi: Or even resulting in account deletions (laughs).

Ishikawa: That's a slash-and-burn policy. We have to intervene regularly.

Nakanishi: We have to restore order.

Ishikawa: The "Third Landscape" is necessary when cities are dominant. But what should we call something like "Pansy-ness"(*) that appears as a resistance to this "Third Landscape"?
[Note: A word coined by Ishikawa on the spot. It refers to the tendency of people to create an order with their own hands, like placing pansies.]

Yamauchi: I call it a "sub-ecosystem." It's where humans intervene, gathering seemingly unrelated elements in an assemblage-like manner. The ecosystem is organically linked to some wholeness or authenticity of "nature," but a "sub-ecosystem" implies fragmentation of these connections, making parts seemingly unrelated.
I started using this term to describe an assemblage of street trees pulled from unrelated places for city image-making and the local ecosystem. It represents a less-than-ecosystem where relations between entities have not yet been fully established.
On the other hand, Clement's "Third Landscape" is regarded as a healthy nature equivalent to a nature reserve. Although it may seem disorderly with weeds growing, there's an underlying organic connection. It's like the unintentional "green corridors" appearing in vacant or abandoned lands.

Yamauchi: It may surprise you because I didn't mention this in my Arguments paper[3], but I've been considering capturing things like Amazon Spheres(), the UK's Eden Project(), and Singapore's Jewel Changi Airport(*) using the same vocabulary as pansies.
While pansies and these entities are aesthetically or politically opposites, they differ from traditional gardens meant for the nobility or certain hobbyists. Pansy-like things are practiced by people, and Changi-like things are for tourists, but both are gardens for the masses, and I think their essence is the same. If there are still possibilities for garden-like things in modern times, I think that's where they lie.

[Note: Amazon Spheres: Amazon's glass-domed secondary headquarters in Seattle]
[Note: Eden Project: A large-scale environmental facility in Cornwall, UK]
[Note: Jewel Changi Airport: An entertainment and retail complex within Singapore's Changi Airport, themed on "nature"]

Nakanishi: Smart Cities will be created as a mix of artificial and natural environments, like the greenhouse at Changi International Airport. Equating the "decaying city" and the "artificially constructed city" as sub-ecosystems and asking how people create their own spaces, there is a fascinating question.

"Do people place pansies in a smart city?" That should be a big question.

Encapsulating a Smart City with Pansy and Changi

Ishikawa: In our vision of smart cities, the idea is that self-generating autonomous systems are ecologically beneficial. Take, for instance, the greenhouse at Changi International Airport. It's cleverly designed to create this very impression. But what exactly is the "Pansy-ness" in this context? Where does "Pansy-ness" fit into the concept of a smart city?

Yamauchi: Hmm, it's challenging..., but I'm trying to imagine a smart city sandwiched between two extremes: the "Pansy-like" elements disconnected from the smart city and the "Changi-like" elements that adapt excessively to the smart city. I think that both ends of this spectrum may share a common essence.

When I say "Pansy-like", I mean those who are disconnected from the smart city due to poverty, divergent beliefs, or some intuitive factor. Such people, unable to or choosing not to connect to the smart city, will inevitably exist. Initially, their choices may seem irrational, but as smart cities get implemented and societal sensitivities change, they could be seen as antisocial. On the flip side, the "Changi-like" people, those who fully utilize the convenience of the smart city, could adopt a "survival of the connected" mentality, treating any form of disconnection as hostile towards the "public good". Sorry, I've digressed. Anyway, I need to write a new book about "Pansy and Changi" out soon...

Ishikawa: That's very interesting. "Pansy and Changi" has a significant impact.

Nakanishi: When smart cities are built, people begin to place things of the same essence as "Pansy" or "dwarfs" within them. If it is a fundamental activity for humans, then unless there is room left in the smart city for these elements, it won't become a human habitat.

Motoe: Yamauchi-san talked about social strata, but Changi thrives because of countless people working for extremely low wages. The huge greenhouse survives because of people like those in the semi-basement of "Parasite" (*), fanning themselves in the stuffy dressing room. Singapore is a "Changi" city, surrounded by the Malay jungle, desperate to maintain its manicured lawns. Stop the energy input, and it gets swallowed up by the jungle.
So, it's hidden beneath the surface. There's this dirty semi-basement where the people who keep the Changi airport greenhouse sparkling clean take breaks, and that's where the "Pansy" resides.
(*Note: Parasite refers to Bong Joon-ho's film "Parasite")

Ishikawa: I see, so the "Pansy-ness" lies in its independence, being disconnected from its surroundings, ecosystem, and context.

Motoe: That's the essence of "Pansy."

Nakanishi: Maybe we should go exploring, saying "Let's find Pansy in Changi!"

Ishikawa: It's going to appear where we least expect it. If we were to sneak into Changi airport and place something visually striking like a potted marigold in the meticulously manicured botanical garden, that would be a form of terrorism, wouldn't it (laughs)? That's "strategic Pansy-ness."

Yamauchi: I'm thrilled that Ishikawa is expanding on the concept of "Pansy-ness."

Ishikawa: I can't wait to read your book.

Nakanishi: This "Pansy-ness" introduces another dimension to "moving gardens." It's as if a semi-disconnected planter bringing in nature, and humans who can't survive without responding to nature, represents both sides of human activity. It really does pose a big question about how we're going to deal with "artificial nature" and "natural artifice" living nested within each other. It's a fascinating discussion.

Changi is a giant “Pansy"

Ishikawa: What's interesting is the notion of autonomy. A placed pansy constitutes a unit of the environment - it's a plant, the soil, and the supporting structure. Hence, it can appear anywhere.

Nakanishi: In that sense, "Changi is a giant pansy." But does that mean we still need someone on the outside?

Yamauchi: If you want to maintain it long-term, yes. It's a giant planter.

Motoe: Singapore itself is a giant planter...

Ishikawa: If we see it that way, the act of placing that greenhouse near the airport seems very simple.

Nakanishi: But that may be the essence of being human.

Motoe: Because it's a place where everyone comes, the "Changi Beautification Committee" places the greenhouse. Isn't it beautiful?

Yamauchi: "Pansy-ness" driven by massive capital.

Motoe: Exactly. You could say that the installation of pansies is being conducted by national power. They think that if they don't do it, the city won't be beautiful. It's the same mentality as the "Beautification Committee", present in the huge greenhouse and Changi. [*Note: Gardens by the Bay's Flower Dome in Singapore's Marina Bay area is the world's largest glass greenhouse, maintaining cool, dry spring conditions in temperate regions.]

Nakanishi: So, a smart city is a high-tech, super-giant planter with solar-powered sensors and automatic watering machines.

Ishikawa: If we think of Toyota's "Woven City" (*) as a planter placed by the "Beautify the Foot of Mt. Fuji Committee" envisioned by Toyota, it all makes sense.
[*Note: Woven City is a connected town project planned by Toyota Motor Corporation on the site of the former East Fuji Factory in Shizuoka Prefecture, expected to house about 2,000 residents.]

Nakanishi: Making things like that is the essence, the nature of humans, something we should cherish.

Motoe: There's a sense of global imbalance, and it's being constructed with a sort of prayerful sentiment.

Nakanishi: I see... All redevelopment is essentially "Pansy."

Motoe: It's about that sense of scale, right? The feeling of disconnection, exactly. There's something prayerful about a giant pansy. That's why we can't easily dismiss it.

Ishikawa: Unlike agriculture, being able to change the scale and apply it as a metaphor is unique to gardening.

Nakanishi: Why do humans want to build cities? Why do we endlessly repeat redevelopment? Despite the imbalance between technology and nature, why do we build smart cities, and think the world will be happier with 5G? Perhaps it's essentially the same as placing a "pansy"... How we devise ways to admire the "pansy" better might be a theme for the future. Our scheduled time is approaching. Today was genuinely interesting. We received an unexpectedly good perspective - that a smart city is a pansy. Thank you very much.

Yamauchi: Yeah, I'm glad that you all found the "Pansy" concept more interesting than expected. Thank you very much.

Everyone: Thank you very much.

[Interview conducted via Zoom on January 12, 2021]
(Text and editing by Osamu Shimizu, Academic Groove, Translation by Momoko Yoshida)

[1] Gilles Clément, The Moving Garden, Misuzu Shobo (February 2015).
[2] Tim Ingold, Making: Anthropology, Archaeology, Art and Architecture, Sorasha (September 2017).
[3] Tomoki Yamauchi, Why is there a Pansy instead of Nothing? - A cross-section of the Reconstruction in Namie Town, Arguments #3 (June 2018).