CHAPTER 2: THE COURTYARD GARDEN

THE COURTYARD GARDEN

In the preceding Chapter, we argued for a different perspective on some places, such as Islamic-
era courtyard gardens, and used the Barzakh of Ibn al-'Arab and Louis Marin as a guide. Both
terms refer to a region in the centre of anything that may also serve as a limit. A third ontological
space is involved in both theories, dividing two entities at the same time without transforming
into either.

The neutral space, it should be noted, is not viewed as a static, lifeless vacuum, but rather as one
that is open to interactions not just between things in space, or simply between other spaces or
realities, but also within space, between objects and inside the neutral space.

The Barzakh also has an epistemological value, as it can be transformed into a space where
knowledge is generated and gained by bringing together two paradoxical realities, such as the
real and the unreal, or the rational and the imaginative. Another point that emerged was that the
Barzakh has an aesthetic value. As a result, the Barzakh may be said to be the common horizon
that encompasses both the real and the unreal. Barzakh is thus, at its core, a creative force, since
it defines and gives life to everything through which it operates.

It was also addressed in the preceding chapter, when Henri Lefebvre and his explanation of the
"spatial architecture" of the mirror were discussed, which emphasised the importance of the dual
surface of the mirror in terms of its grasp of reality. In this case, the mirror serves as both an
uniting element and a separator of the image and the shape at the same time. In spite of the fact
that the mirror is a visual reproduction of an item in space, Lefebvre points out that this
reflection is both identical and distinct at the same time. The reflection of the mirror is
fundamentally an interaction between presence and distinction, in which a symmetrical
representation of the reflected environment is produced, resulting in the creation of both a
physical (object- or body-space) and a virtual (object/body-reflected-space) spatiality that is
dependent on delimitation, as in the case of the mirror.
Important in Henri Lefebvre's comments, particularly in this and the next chapters, is that such
statements demonstrate the dual presence of neutral places, which is something that has been
discussed before.

The garden, for example, is a neutral place with a mediating or intermediate function. Spaces
play this function because they may hold opaqueness, bodies and things as well as the hubs of
efferent activities and energy, as well as concealed and even impenetrable locations like viscosity
and black holes. These rooms provide sequences, sets, and combinations to its visitor or
inhabitant at the same time.

As long as the subject is navigating this dual spatiality, Lefebvre claims that the subject is
actively involved in the visual sense processes and not just a passive observer. While giving a
consistent representation of pictures is important, Lefebvre believes that reflecting reality is a
more effective way to connect actual life with the topic represented in that universe. As a result
of the connection formed between the subject and object, the physical world is subsumed while
the interaction between the origin and a transcendent space entity is emphasised.

The importance of this act of mirroring is that it gives us a glimpse into a constantly changing
physical and social environment for ourselves. This is the point at which the concrete and
material worlds meet the speculative and creative ones.

The Barzakh field and the courtyard gardens are seen through the prism of Lefebvre's
observations. Similarly to how a mirror serves as a link between the actual environment and
patio gardens, the Barzakh serves as a link between those images in literature and the minds of
people. Gazing into a Barzakh's mirror or space allows one to become aware while also reading
the light of the meanings mirrored in the gardens, of the space and physical presence of the
garden regions. It is presupposed that the Alhambra's courtyard gardens are real, the space
reflected within is imagined, and the Ego is the centre of this fantasy. 94

People may imagine or reassemble their own visions of the real gardens by seeing and sensing
them, despite the fact that societal institutions continue to influence them.

However, this reflecting effect causes a twofold reflection in the Barzakh's space. It is possible to
experience the impact of a Barzakh as an imagined picture when a live individual compares the
mirror space to one. Here, the self acknowledges the Barzakh's presence in the courtyard gardens
as something real and undeniable.

However, landscape and gardens are often intended to serve as a microcosm of a person's
property or newly formed area, to use Lefebvre's terminology. Though only those who know
their language and codes can understand it, it nevertheless gives us a feeling of what's going on.

According to James Dickie, horticulture is a universally recognised emblem of life in all

civilizations. Garden iconography, on the other hand, is a product of a culture's collective
memory or, to use Jungian words, an ideal that ensures the continued resonance of the picture
through time. They're part of the creation of space that may bring together architecture and
viewpoint to create a garden that can be seen in many ways and with different lenses depending
on the viewer's spatial imagination. 96

Islamic gardening, like Barzakh, is a physical, mental, and social environment that may be
interpreted in a variety of ways and become more adaptable as a result. This complicated
connection between subject and object is apparent in the interpretation of these gardens, though.
No matter what location or social environment is used in the encounter, movement and
perception are integral to the comprehending process.

Moving and perceiving are characteristics of the connection; nevertheless, the garden is integral
to the process of perception. The Islamic Garden's origins, surroundings, political purposes, and
symbolic importance are all obscured in this chapter. This chapter, on the other hand, is devoted
to laying out the layout of the Barzakh chamber. You can decode and interpret images of the
cosmos in a court garden's general features by emphasising its physical properties.

Ibn Bajah (Avempace), a mediaeval Spanish philosopher who died in 1138, once said:

Gardens, by definition, are little paradises on earth; in a hostile and chaotic world, they
symbolise order and pleasure. 100

.Rob Aben and Saskia de Wit say that gardens are places where nature is simultaneously denied
via water, shade and plants. As a side effect, the neighbouring garden or courtyard serves as a
kind of authenticating element for the overall design. Through the use of the neighbouring
garden, the hostile world may be brought together with the sanctuary itself. They say as follows:
In the courtyard garden, Ibn Bajah's remark that knowledge is shaped like a form makes the
greatest sense. Via interpretation and renovation of nature, the courtyard garden blends landscape
and architecture while creating a visual representation of nature through clear architectural
shapes. These architectural shapes not only aesthetically reflect nature, but they also allow
people to concentrate on space, time, and society as a whole.

People may engage with their environment by interacting with the courtyard's architectural
shapes, as argued by architects Aben and De Wit. Kosmische, zeitliche, and territorial
orientations are the three main kinds of orientation. As far as they're concerned, cosmic
orientation may be defined as an instinctive understanding that opposing forces like heaven and
earth give you a sense of where you're supposed to be. This intersection of sky and garden is
critical in establishing a clear axis between the heavens and the ground. The sun's and moon's
and stars' paths provide a sense of direction. Seasonal and day/night time rhythms help us to keep
track of the passage of time since it transforms the same physical environment into something
entirely different. The geography that can be seen, the existence of distance and proximity at the
same time, the centre and the periphery, as well as inside and outside are all examples of this.
They conclude by saying the following:

In some ways, the enclosed garden is an architectural feature, but it is also a garden in its own
right. Aben and de Wit point out that it's a garden that depicts the surrounding environment. It is
determined that there are three methods in which the surrounding garden may be revealed: via
vision, supplementation, and symbolization. Gardens mirror the environment via the use of trees,
flowers, and water, yet these elements are frequently undervalued in a courtyard garden setting.
The complementary element of the courtyard is accentuated by the use of simplicity. The
openness and extension of the outer landscape are significantly reduced as a result of the vacuum
and confinement created. While the scenery is symbolic of the courtyard garden, it also becomes
a representation of the environment outside of the courtyard garden itself as a result of its being
there.

However, although the enclosed garden is believed to represent a microcosm of the greater
macrocosm, it does not exist in isolation; rather, it is positioned outside its boundaries in relation
to the surrounding environment, similar to that of a restricted purpose. Despite the fact that the
garden is a complete entity, it is usually referred to as a garden area when seen in connection to
the surrounding landscape and the walls that surround it. It is through the use of architectural
forms that give meaning to the concepts of freedom and restriction, as well as their spatial design
and visual structure, that the reciprocal connection between patio and garden landscape is
brought to light. 103

A look into the future is provided by a courtyard garden, which unites and presents two opposing
ideas in an existential vacuum. In both the inside and outside, nature and architecture are limited
but limitless, enduring yet ever-changing entities.

Marin's courtyard garden serves as a neutral place, which Malcolm Quantrill refers to as the
Zwischenraum.104

As a result, the courtyard gardens' patterns and forms are more than just depictions of reality and
myth.

As a neutral, in-between location, the courtyard garden generates its own "genius loci" or sense
of place. There's an ethereal quality to the garden's natural surroundings that carries over into the
world of the imagination. According to Quantrill, this presence entails a meeting and blending of
spirit and existence. This spiritual or abstract awareness is stimulated by the person's orientation
to particular shapes in the courtyard garden, which enhances the physical and existential sense of
location they already have. This insight indicates that the garden's aesthetic appeal is
accompanied by a deeper, more ethereal structure, one that is linked to a person's unconscious.
At this point, cultural memories and ideas provide the courtyard's perceived areas a particular
context.105

THE COURTYARD GARDEN WITHIN A MEDIEVAL ISLAMIC FRAMEWORK

Samer Akkach has a similar viewpoint to Malcolm Quantrill's in that he believes that

Akkach then turns his attention to a pre-modern Islamic consciousness, arguing that the world
was thought of and defined by arithmetic, numbers, and the alphabet as being limited, bounded,
and astronomically definable within such a framework. As a result of situating the universe in
this manner, a style of thinking was developed that effectively integrated the spatiality of the
cosmos with architectural or geographically relevant places and environments. Individuals have
been able to communicate more effectively as a result of this integration, eliminating the need for
formal mediation. Nonetheless, Akkach points out that the precision with which this choice in
isotrope-quality geometry has been made indicates a more distinctively premoderne inclination
than the Islamic spatial robustness across geo-cultural, historical, and typological barriers. In this
research, it is shown that spatial sensitivities seem to be an uncommon occurrence, but that they
may be explained by their sense of order and spatial structure, respectively.

When it comes to the spatial organisation of such places, Akkach differentiates between a
condensed composition and a continuous composition. A concentrated composition is made up
of all forms that are gathered together around a fixed centre, which symbolises a static
configuration of the three-dimensional cross's spatial structure in three dimensions. Repetition is
the most important feature of the linear composition since it conveys a feeling of mobility and
adaptability. However, since they are always in the order of quadrature and of the central and
axial structure, these linear spatial characteristics do not deviate from the spatial features
underlying condensed compositions, as is the case with condensed compositions. From an
analogue standpoint, the concentric composition serves as the foundation for the linear
composition, just as the point where the line extends and silences the movement's condition
serves as the foundation for the concentric composition. Despite the fact that there are numerous
variations, this style of construction is generally acceptable in both secular and religious
structures. There was a tendency to symmetrically organise space around a central point in the
pre-modern courtyard gardens, as shown by this arrangement. It seems that, in addition, a three-
dimensional cross that may or may not be alignable with the cardinal points has been discovered
in one form or another. In most cases, the result is a courtyard with a centre feature, such as a
stream or fountain, as well as four vaulted entrances. Within this spatial framework, certain
places are linked both pictorially and experientially.

Jonas Lehrman states:

The courtyard is not an empty area, but rather shows a complicated spatial arrangement in which
both motion and inertia are stressed at the same time in the design. The representational structure
of the courtyard garden resolves the conflict between order and chaos, harmony and confusion,
and the courtyard garden serves as a metaphor of societal order, moral harmony, and human
transcendence, among other things.
Nader Ardalan is yet another thinker who believes that architecture may convey a feeling of
location to the viewer. The garden, in a similar vein to Akkach, may be understood as a
particular area that includes a full depiction of this world inside itself. This space is transformed
into a constructive design framework that instils order and calm in the observer and
communicates this to the senses via the use of figures, forms, colours, and architectural elements.
But he contributes to the argument in the sense that he points out that there are two kinds of
gardening, each with its own associated feeling of place, each of which mirrors a particular way
of experiencing being in the world.

Such assertions show, both symbolically and metaphorically, that the vision of the courtyard
garden was a well-known mode of thinking in mediaeval Islamic societies, particularly in the
context of a focus on absolute truth. While the Gardens were meant to be worn by nature in order
to provide sustenance, they should be surrounded by a language that had importance for anybody
who may be able to comprehend it in order to grasp its meanings. Located inside a specific
building, the garden was a pleasant oasis. As a result, two groups dominated those garden spaces:
the literary idea of a garden and the real size of the garden that was designed. However, as
Katharine T. von Stackelberg points out in her account of the Roman Garden, these alternative
concepts, the literary and the physical, were not just a practical arrangement of one followed by
the other; rather, they should be seen as a synthesis of one and the other.

The significance of an individual's interpretation of the landscape must be kept in mind in order
to be able to see and enjoy the landscape properly and fully. Similarly, the emphasis on
perception is essential for the landscape of the Arabic term, mandar. The Hans Wehr Dictionary
of Modern Written Arabic defines mandar as sight, view, panorama, outlook, and perspective, an
object seen or viewed, scenery, a place commanding a sweeping view, and lookout, while
mandar mm is defined as general view, landscape, scenery, and panorama by the Dictionary of
Modern Written Arabic. Additionally, the term mindr is associated with the words telescope,
magnifying glass, and mirror.. Mandar is derived from the verb naara, which means to perceive
with the eyes, to regard, to look, to gaze, to glance, but also to envisage, to consider, to
contemplate, to pay attention, to put one's mind to, to direct one's attention, or to observe
attentively. Mandar is derived from the verb naara, which means to perceive with the eyes, to
see, to regard, to look, to gaze, to glance, but also to envisage, It becomes apparent that the
Arabic word for landscape indicates both object and subject, and that when used as a verb, it has
both a concrete meaning of seeing with the eyes and a conceptual meaning of understanding and
evaluating what is being looked at with the eyes.

Aside from that, the Arabic language facilitates the transition from the landscape to a more
particular garden area, since the terms naara (blossoming), naira (freshness), and naura
(radiance) all imply to be flourishing or blooming. It's also possible to translate nara as "bloom"
or "flower," as well as "freshness." 113

Generally speaking, the Islamic world is diverse in how it organises human civilization and, thus,
in how it cultivates the soil and practises gardening. A closer look at the Arabic lexicon of
"landscape" revealed a common thread among the many types of landscapes. One definition of
garden is an area that one sees and enjoys; it is associated with both beauty and riches and
power. 114

Lamia Latiri asserts that the Arabic term for landscape, mandar, indicates three fixed
characteristics that are not subject to variation. First and foremost, the garden serves as a medium
for perception; nevertheless, this perceptual process does not depend only on sight, but rather on
a variety of other senses as well. To begin with, it requires a perceiving subject, either a person
or a group of people, who, in their imagination, places the depiction of landscape inside a
framework that assigns a broader meaning to the components contained therein. Third, it consists
of an endlessly variable set of stereotypes or models that are used to evaluate and value the
separate components of the gaze.115

Because landscape is never static, but is susceptible to weather changes, seasonal changes, and
even instantaneous variations in light and sound and scents, the experience of such a location is
always framed by a framework of cultural memory and meanings, despite the fact that the
experience is dynamic. 116

At the same time, the Arabic term janna, which may refer to a garden or a paradise, derives from
a root that means to hide, shroud, or grow dark.117
There is a courtyard garden concealed behind the landscape, yet the landscape itself hides behind
the forms and arrangements of the courtyard garden.
The concept of paradise, from its conceptions in ancient Mesopotamia and Persia to its
introduction into Abrahamic religions, has become a very important architectural definition in
the creation of places in islamic cultures, despite the fact that it criticises the limited vision of all
Muslim gardens as embodiments of heaven on earth. According to Qur'anic paradise tales,
paradise gardens were associated with contemplation and elegance. As a result, the concept of
paradise gardens developed into an important visual metaphor, that of the courtyard garden,
which continues to be used today. The visual model, in the words of Nader Ardalan, represents
"a perfect combination of spirit and matter in a visual model of tremendous power." He adds that
in formal theological words, the paradigm is concerned with the idea of a primordial timeless
oneness at the mythological origin of humanity in the Garden of Eden, as well as the location
promised to the virtuous on the day of judgement.

To put it another way, paradise is a state of mind in which a person is at peace with themselves
and the rest of creation. There is an allegorical fountain in the Quranic Suras that represents the
paradigm's mathematically constructed walled garden with water channels set out in the four
cardinal directions and radiating from it. 118

By this logic, the paradise paradigm in Islamic visual culture and in mythological human
imagination combines a tangible sense of beauty with an immaterial reference to the fundamental
order that pervades everything in the universe. 119

However, as previously said, we are primarily concerned with the Barzakh's physical interaction
with the courtyard gardens. As a result, although relying on premodern Islamic ideas of spatial
organisation will help us see similarities in the mathematically organised spaces of the courtyard
gardens, we think that only by seeing and perceiving the garden's physical presence can one
uncover its hidden truths.