How I Wrote My New Book, "Garden Disruptors," 19

Sep 18, 2023

“It’s a wrap”, our youngest model, a jet ski tour guide, said at the end of the day. “I’ve always wanted to say that!” he beamed.

It was a great success of a photo shoot—something all new to me. Going into this, it seemed like a big, new world. Our book producer Kevin Sharp, had done it all before, and he imagined the whole thing; a cool formal garden in Charleston with a couple of young scruffy gardeners taking a break. It meant hiring young models and a professional photographer, scouting locations, and perfect weather and light.

The day before the shoot, Tom and I spiffed up the garden, trimmed things, moved furniture, and installed some fake plants. In the rain. Sheets of rain that soon turned into a flood.

The next morning, in the dark, the whole crew showed up. Kevin’s experience and the photographer’s experience got the day off to a great start.

But little connections with hired models made it relaxed and reminded me of what a small world we live in.

I picked one of the guys because of our connection. Kellen interned with me 14 years ago. He’s a real gardener, in charge of gardens for the Charleston Parks Conservancy. His presence gave me a much-needed sense of confidence. I knew he’d get the goals.

The other two professional models came from a modeling agency. We picked them by look and build from website photos. I had no idea of personality, and no connection, so I had a good bit of anxiety.

For one shot, we’d hoped someone would wear my Burmese longyi — a men’s sarang-like thing that I love to wear for its comfort and flexibility. It’s sort of a skirt but can be folded into shorts. Harry Styles might wear skirts, but would these guys be comfortable in something like that?

When I pulled it out, the older, rugged-looking model guy said, “Hey, that’s a longyi? from Thailand?” And I looked up, surprised; not many people know about them. “I grew up in Thailand,” he said. That led to a nice conversation about his fascinating life lived around the world. We’d both been to Burma when it was still called Burma. I know it’s a big world. But that we both had memories of places halfway around the globe made a small-world connection that put me at ease.

Josh wore my well-worn overalls, and the longyi fit Kellen handsomely.

But it gets smaller. The younger guy and I talked while the photographer worked. I told him the pics would be used for the book, ‘Garden Disruptors,’ a story of the folks on the ground building Riverbanks Botanical Garden. “You might know a friend of mine,” he said. “I grew up in Columbia, and I know this guy…” he went on — turned out I knew his father.

We spent the morning doing lots of different setups. Different tools, clothes, and actions. From the hundreds of photos, we’ll eventually pick one. Just one. which is supposed to convey the stories, the feelings, and the concepts of a time thirty years ago, when we, a bunch of mostly young folks, looked at our history of formal gardens and thought, “Let’s shake this up a bit. Let’s bring some life and diversity to Southern Gardens.”

When I think back to that opportunity, those days of my late twenties, I realize I didn’t know most of the people on that project either. But a shared mission, great support, and a great crew pretty much ensure that things will turn out well.

Stepping into something uncomfortable and taking a risk, especially with generous, talented supporters, makes for a wider, wonderful world and builds connection that make it seem more connected, smaller in a way. That was true thirty years ago, and it is still true today.