"Pay attention to the world." -- Susan Sontag
 

Lilium Regale, the Regal Lily and Its History (1 of 2)

From “Lilium myriophyllum” in Flowers from the Royal Gardens of Kew: Two Centuries of Curtis’s Botanical Magazine by Ruth L. A. Stiff:

“Now known as Lilium regale, this handsome lily was collected in 1903 by Ernest Henry Wilson (1876-1930), who found it growing in the semi-arid valley of the Min River in northwest Sichuan. This Chinese species is considered one of the ten best garden plants in the world. It is easy to grow, is deeply fragrant, with many funnel-shaped flowers of creamy white, and has slender stems, each from two to four feet tall. Thriving in moist but well-drained soil and requiring many hours of direct sunlight, the regal lily has been grown for over one thousand years in Chinese, Japanese, and Korean gardens.

“E. H. Wilson is considered the most famous of all the plant collectors who traveled to China. His first voyage there in 1899 was for the Veitch family, the best-known of the nineteenth-century British nurserymen. He hunted chiefly for the Arnold Arboretum of Harvard University from 1907 to 1919 and eventually was appointed Keeper of that institution. It is estimated that as many as six hundred of his one thousand or so introductions are still in cultivation.

“During Wilson’s celebrated return trip to the valley of the Min in the fall of 1910, when he and twenty accompanying porters and collectors harvested over six thousand regal lily bulbs for distribution throughout North America and the British Isles, his caravan was struck by a disastrous rock slide on a narrow mountain pass. Wilson, whose leg was broken in two places, was forced to lie still while pack mules walked over him in an attempt to vacate the path.

“Recalling this episode in his book Plant Hunting (1927), Wilson later wrote: ‘How many people know the size of a mule’s hoof? Quite a number have felt the strength of a mule’s leg and the sharpness of his teeth; his obstinacy is a proverb. But the size of his hoof is another matter. Frankly, I do not know with mathematical exactness but, as I lay on the ground and more than forty of these animals stepped over my prostrate form, the hoof seemed enormous, blotting out my view of the heavens.’ Miraculously, Wilson sustained no further injury, but the limp that was to plague him for the rest of his life became affectionately known as his ‘lily limp.'”


From “Enumeration of Species: Lilium regale” in The Lilies of Eastern Asia by Ernest Henry Wilson:

“This Lily has a surprisingly limited distribution being confined to about fifty miles of the narrow semi-arid valley of the Min River in extreme western Szech’uan between 2,500 and 6,000 feet altitude — a region where the summers are hot and the winters severely cold and where strong winds prevail at all seasons of the year. I never saw it wild outside of this valley, which is walled in by steep mountain slopes culminating in perpetual snows. There it grows in great plenty among grasses and low shrubs and in niches on the bare cliffs. From the last week in May to the first in July, according to altitude, the blossoms of this Lily transform a desolate lonely region into a veritable garden of beauty. Its fragrance fills the air and ’tis good to travel there when the Regal Lily is in bloom, though the path is hard and dangerous as personal experience and notices in Chinese characters carved in the rocks, urging all not to loiter save beneath the shelter of hard cliffs, testify.

“It was my privilege to discover this Lily in August, 1903, and in the autumn of the year following sent about three hundred bulbs to Messrs. Veitch. These arrived safely in the spring of 1905, flowered that summer and were afterwards distributed under the erroneous name of “Lilium myriophyllum.” In 1908 I shipped with indifferent success bulbs of this Lily to the Arnold Arboretum and to some friends, but in 1910 I succeeded in introducing it in quantity to America and the stock passed from the Arnold Arboretum to Messrs. R. and J. Farquhar and Co., Boston, Mass….

“Under cultivation in Europe and America the Regal Lily has behaved royally, being equally indifferent to winter colds, summer droughts and deluges and has flowered and fruited annually. It is the only Lily of its class that ripens seeds in the climate of New England. The seeds germinate freely and many millions of bulbs have been raised. It forces well even after cold storage and there seems no reason why it should not become the ‘Easter Lily’ of the future….


“The pollen is very cohesive, which makes shipping the plants in flower a comparatively easy matter, and the fragrance of the blossoms is pleasant, being not so strong as that of related species. The canary-yellow of the inside of the funnel contrasts well with the lustrous and translucent, marble-white upper part of the segments, and often the rose-purple is pleasingly tinted through, more especially if the flowers are allowed to open indoors or in light shade as under cheese-cloth. Some critics object to the coloured flowers, some to the narrow leaves, but in adding it to western gardens the discoverer would proudly rest his reputation with the Regal Lily….”


Hello!

This is the first of two posts with photographs of Lilium regale, a historically and botanically significant plant and flower whose common names include Regal Lily, Royal Lily, and King’s Lily — names that emerged during imperial British explorations of Asian countries such as China and Japan, and reflect the sense that this lily was both opulent in appearance and impressive in its ability to conquer its environment.

The flowers of the Regal Lily are among the largest of those produced by any lily, in a recurved trumpet or funnel shape extending five to six inches across. Strong, densely-leaved plant stems may stretch six feet, with multiple flowers emerging on any given stem. Here you can see what I often find when photographing these lilies at Oakland Cemetery, where the volume and weight of the flowers — especially after a windy thunderstorm — pushes the mass of plants into a horizontal position, yet with nearly all of the flowers intact and the stems bent but not a single one broken.

This sort of presentation might not seem ideal, aesthetically and photographically speaking — but that doesn’t matter to the lily, whose growth, flower production, and pollination strategies are only minimally impacted despite tipping over. And as you can see from the photos below — and those in the next post — for the photographer it’s just a matter of slinking among the leaves to get a satisfactory point of view on the plant’s stunning blooms.

The introduction of Lilium regale to British (and United States) horticulture began with the Chinese expeditions of Ernest Henry Wilson in the early twentieth century. Wilson — a botanical explorer and avid photographer — made several trips to China during which he encountered the Regal Lily and collected hundreds of bulbs to expatriate. Any research you encounter on Wilson — like the first excerpt I included at the top of this post — will undoubtedly mention the injury he suffered on the fourth China expedition, where he broke his leg after slipping between some rocks and used parts of his camera tripod as a splint so he could be carried from the accident scene. Wilson subsequently coined the phrase “lily limp” to describe the permanent injury he suffered, and that phrase remains linked to Wilson, Regal Lilies, and his China expeditions to this day. The chapter Advent of the Lily Royal in his book Plant Hunting (Volume 2) contains his elaborate and occasionally self-deprecating description of the events, and you can learn more about Wilson’s China trips and see some of his photographs at these links:

1907 – 1909: First Expedition to China

1910 – 1911: Expedition to China

E. H. Wilson China Expedition Photographs

I hit briefly on the significance of the introduction of Lilium regale to European and American botany in one of my posts about Lilium speciosumLilium speciosum, the Japanese Show Lily (2 of 3) — where I quoted from Naomi Slade’s book Lilies: Beautiful Varieties for the Home and Garden:

“While fabulous, lilies had gained a reputation for being challenging and capricious to cultivate. They were exciting; they were expensive; and they were quite likely to die on you after a couple of years. Inevitably, they attracted a certain type of well-heeled horticultural brinksmanship, right up until amenable Lilium regale emerged, bringing down both prices and the level of skill required to cultivate this most desirable of flowers.”

The other lilies I’ve photographed this year — such as Tiger Lilies, Japanese Show Lilies, and Formosa Lilies — were well known to early twentieth-century botanists, as they had all been encountered and transitioned to Western horticulture in the nineteenth century. Each species was being actively and broadly studied, hybridized, and sometimes naturalized in new environments for decades before Wilson’s Asian expeditions. But each transplanted lily species also presented often futile growing challenges for gardeners — as Slade describes above — until Wilson fetched the previously unknown Regal Lily from China, first in 1903.

As Wilson describes it — in the second excerpt above, from his book The Lilies of Eastern Asia — this hardy Regal Lily, found in remote and difficult-to-explore locations in China’s mountains, adapted well to European and North American gardens, as it “behaved royally, being equally indifferent to winter colds, summer droughts and deluges and has flowered and fruited annually.” This single statement helps us see how gardening with lilies moved from a specialized activity of horticultural experts, to something gardeners of any level of expertise could do — and how it can happen that, over 120 years later, we find a large batch of Regal Lilies at Oakland Cemetery producing robust, colorful, and fully intact flowers despite having been nearly knocked to the ground by the wind.

As a primary source for research, Wilson’s firsthand and comprehensive account — from which I excerpted just three paragraphs — also tells us a lot about this pivotal moment in the botanical history of lily distribution from Asian regions to the West. We can derive from his account how Liliium regale’s geographic presence was originally quite limited, contributing to its absence from Western lily culture until Wilson’s expeditions. The narrative gives us insight into the physical difficulties plant explorers faced and how they overcame them — often only over multiple expeditions — to redistribute their specimens to their home countries and foster subsequent propagation and commercial development. The excerpt even demonstrates how botanical naming conventions evolve: Lilium regale was initially marketed and sold under the name “Lilium myriophyllum” — a name that you will still find in historical resources — and Wilson’s suggestion that the Regal Lily might become the “Easter lily of the future” was applied to a different lily entirely, Lilium longiflorum rather than Lilium regale. Yet Wilson’s preference for describing this lily as “behaving royally” — or elsewhere describing it with numerous monarchy-adjacent terms — did stick throughout subsequent decades, which is why this lily’s most common nicknames Regal Lily, Royal Lily, and King’s Lily sound like they were anointed by The Crown rather than this intrepid, determined explorer.

Thanks for reading and taking a look!









Discovering Regal Lilies (2 of 2)

From “Revelation” in Oars in Silver Water and Other Poems by Hildegarde Fried Dreps:

The Regal Lilies in my antique bowl
Reveal a song,
I see them etched upon an ancient scroll
With leaf and prong.
A simple altar and a sculptured tomb
Display their grace…
I find them stitched upon an old heirloom
Of fragile lace,
They crown the Virgin, babe, and fireside shrine
With halos bright,
And in each human heart they are divine
Symbols of light.

And peace they bring into an aching breast
Sweet as the lilies are, so sweet the rest.

From “Study in Still Life” in Oars in Silver Water and Other Poems by Hildegarde Fried Dreps:

Regal lilies in a bowl
Whose fragrance feeds my soul,
Blend with two waxen candles
Tipped with gold.
And I compare
The ivory pages of an open book
That lay serenely there.
Close by,
A Buddha calmly sits
With desire in his mystic eyes,
He gazes at the waxen candles
Because no light flames
From their golden tips.
All this is light to me!
Born of earthly fire…


Hello!

This is the second of two posts with photographs of Regal Lilies (Lilium regale) from Oakland Cemetery’s gardens. The first post is Discovering Regal Lilies (1 of 2).

As you proceed through these photos, you may notice how I varied the lighting — from backlighting, to sunlight from above, to mostly shade, to bright sun with shady backgrounds, and finally to light filtered through nearby trees. Pause for a moment and consider how different kinds of lighting alter your perception of the flowers’ colors and shadows, but also how the texture of the flower petals looks different in each of these conditions.

Thanks for taking a look!








Discovering Regal Lilies (1 of 2)

From “A Plethora of Plants” in The Origin of Plants by Maggie-Campbell Culver:

“In 1899 Ernest Henry Wilson (1876-1930) travelled to China on behalf of the Veitch Nursery…. 

“It took the young Wilson six months to journey from England to China via the United States; here he took the opportunity to visit the Arnold Arboretum to learn about the latest techniques in plant collection, packaging and transportation….

โ€œWilson’s first journey was such a success and he returned with so many excellent garden-worthy plants that in 1903 he was engaged a second time by the Veitch Nursery for a further two years. In 1907 and again in 1910 he returned to China, collecting this time on behalf of the Arnold Arboretum. He became so identified with the area and was such a successful plant collector that he was often referred to as ‘Chinese’ Wilson, but his last journey to China nearly cost him his life and left him with a permanent limp….

โ€œIt has been estimated that Wilson introduced into Britain between 2,000 and 3,000 different species of seed, and many more herbarium specimens; from the seeds, at least 1,000 new plants have been introduced into cultivation….


โ€œPossibly the most gorgeous is the Regal Lily,
Lilium regale, the plant which was the indirect cause of Wilson’s ‘lily limp’. This amiable and accommodating lily, as the writer Alice Coats called his introduction, was first grown in 1905 under the name L. myriophyllum (meaning ‘many leaves’), but even though it was easy to cultivate and sweetly scented, it did not become as popular as Wilson thought it should.

โ€œHe was so keen for people to share his enthusiasm for this splendid lily that on his fourth expedition to China, in 1910, he travelled yet again from Shanghai to the borders of Tibet, where he had first found the flower, a trek of over 3,200 km (2,000 miles). The site was a remote mountain valley, and the journey to it was through some of the most difficult and desolate country….

โ€œAs Wilson himself said of the route undertaken, it was ‘absolute terra-incognita’. It is a mark of his enthusiasm that he braved this arduous journey again just so that the western world could share in the delights of the Regal Lily. Its gentle beauty and graceful habit absolutely defy its natural home; Wilson recorded in his diary that ‘no more barren and repelling country could be imagined’, but when the lovely lily burst into flower, the landscape was transformed, as he then noted, from ‘a lonely semi-desert region into a veritable fairyland’….


“It was on the return journey that, in trying to escape one of the frequent landslides, Wilson broke his leg. The remaining rigours of the journey, the delay in treatment and the subsequent infection setting in resulted in his almost having to have his leg amputated; in fact, he nearly died. In due course, he returned to America where the infection was finally cured and the leg saved, but Wilson was left, for the rest of his life, with his ‘lily limp’.”

From “Songs of Flowers” by Gwen Funston in I Hear the Song and It Wells in Me by The Poetry Society of Michigan: 

Eighty-seven and ninety-two
    sat together
    listening to old songs
    songs from youth
       memories of dancing
       with long lost mates.

Eighty-seven
    tall and stately
    dark hair turning gray
    crinkled laughter lines
       dressed in muted orchid
       amethysts and diamonds
singing the words
to every remembered melody.

Ninety-two
    tiny and erect
    white hair closely waved
    complexion lightly etched
       neatly dressed in gray
       enhanced by white
singing softly
cheeks slightly flushed.

Eighty-seven and ninety-two
an original bouquet
not seniors, not aged,
    a royal, regal lily
    and delicate, dainty rose.


Hello!

This is the first of two posts with photographs of Regal Lilies (Lilium regale) from Oakland Cemetery’s gardens. As you might be able to tell from the first three photos below, these lilies displayed an exuberant mass of flowers, stems, and leaves, so much so that it was a challenge to isolate a few individual flowers for close-up photography.

I had photographed these Regals a couple of times before (see, for example, Summer 2020: Lily Variations (1 of 10) and Lilies on Black Backgrounds (8 of 10)) — where I took the photos from some distance, since these lilies are in a terraced section of the garden, on a grassy stretch above a four-foot stone wall and set back about twenty feet from the public walkway. I hadn’t previously thought about climbing up to get a closer look — one is sometimes unsure about stomping too close to the flowers — but this time I made myself invisible (as Photographers sometimes do) and sneaked up onto the terrace to push my camera into the lilies.

With so many opened flowers, their perfume filled the air and was intoxicating, almost dizzying… and I spent about an hour photographing these beauties, until I saw one of the garden caretakers coming into view and thought I should maybe scram. I felt a wee bit like Ernest Henry Wilson — whose dangerous explorations, excerpted above, led to the introduction of Lilium regale to Britain — but I didn’t get stuck in a landslide or come home with a limp.

Thanks for taking a look!










Daylilies, Lilies, and Amaryllis on Black (3 of 5)

From “Daisy Chains” in A Field Guide to Getting Lost by Rebecca Solnit:

“The technology and conventions of photography have given a particular look to each generationโ€™s images, while history, fashion, and food have left their impressions on each body, so that nearly everyone in a given era has a kind of kinship to each other they donโ€™t to other generations….

“Before the 1960s, light and air themselves seem to have had an almost undersea depth and luminosity, in which skin glowed opalescently and everything seemed to have a faint aura slaughtered by the newer black-and-white films made with less silver in the emulsion. I think most Americans who didnโ€™t live through it think the Depression took place in a world of rough-hewn but secretly seductive black-and-white surfaces, as though texture itself could be a wealth to counter all that poverty. And the early part of the last century, when light was harsh and came from high above, was full of hollow-socketed stern faces above bodybelying clothes….

“There are fossils of seashells high in the Himalayas; what was and what is are different things.”

From “Laughing Corn” by Carl Sandburg in The Complete Poems of Carl Sandburg:

There was a high majestic fooling
Day before yesterday in the yellow corn.

And day after tomorrow in the yellow corn
There will be high majestic fooling.

The ears ripen in late summer
And come on with a conquering laughter,
Come on with a high and conquering laughter….

Some of the ears are bursting.
A white juice works inside.
Cornsilk creeps in the end and dangles in the wind.
Always — I never knew it any other way —
The wind and the corn talk things over together.
And the rain and the corn and the sun and the corn
Talk things over together.

Over the road is the farmhouse.
The siding is white and a green blind is slung loose.
It will not be fixed till the corn is husked.
The farmer and his wife talk things over together.


Hello!

This is the third of five posts where I’ve taken this summer’s daylily, lily, and amaryllis photographs, and recreated them on black backgrounds. This post features a second batch of lilies.

The previous posts are Daylilies, Lilies, and Amaryllis on Black (1 of 5) and Daylilies, Lilies, and Amaryllis on Black (2 of 5).

Thanks for taking a look!







Daylilies, Lilies, and Amaryllis on Black (2 of 5)

From “Photography: A Little Summa” in At the Same Time: Speeches and Other Essays by Susan Sontag:

“Photography is, first of all, a way of seeing. It is not seeing itself.

“It is the ineluctably ‘modern’ way of seeing….

“This way of seeing, which now has a long history, shapes what we look for and are used to noticing in photographs.

“The modern way of seeing is to see in fragments. It is felt that reality is essentially unlimited, and knowledge is open-ended. It follows that all boundaries, all unifying ideas have to be misleading, demagogic; at best, provisional; almost always, in the long run, untrue. To see reality in the light of certain unifying ideas has the undeniable advantage of giving shape and form to our experience. But it also — so the modern way of seeing instructs us — denies the infinite variety and complexity of the real. Thereby it represses our energy, indeed our right, to remake what we wish to remake — our society, our selves. What is liberating, we are told, is to notice more and more.

“In a modern society, images made by cameras are the principal access to realities of which we have no direct experience. And we are expected to receive and to register an unlimited number of images of what we donโ€™t directly experience. The camera defines for us what we allow to be ‘real’ — and it continually pushes forward the boundary of the real….”

From “Elegy (1)” in The Poetical Works of Robert Bridges by Robert Bridges:

Many an afternoon
Of the summer day
Dreaming here I lay;
And I know how soon,
Idly at its hour,
First the deep bell hums
From the minster tower,
And then evening comes,
Creeping up the glade,
With her lengthening shade,
And the tardy boon

Of her brightening moon.


Hello!

This is the second of five posts where I’ve taken this summer’s daylily, lily, and amaryllis photographs, and recreated them on black backgrounds. This post features lilies, and the first post (of daylilies) is Daylilies, Lilies, and Amaryllis on Black (1 of 5).

One of my favorites is the fifth photo of the unopened flowers, where you see a single bud with a tiny vine twisted around its stem and growing toward the upper right corner of the photo. I wrote about that vine before — see Vines on Black / Vines in Films — where I described it as a creeper variation that quite successfully wraps itself around any other plant it encounters and shoots toward the sun, while rapidly invading the space it starts growing in. This was the first time I’d encountered it at Oakland Cemetery’s gardens, where I caught it in the act of “attacking” one of the lilies. With the photo converted to one with a black background, the presence of the tiny vine exerts additional prominence, whereas it might have gone largely unnoticed in the original photo.

Regarding the quotation from Susan Sontag’s At the Same Time above:

While On Photography is Sontag’s well-known book on photography and images, she takes up the subjects in most of her other nonfiction books and essays as well — one of the few writers I’ve read who embeds cultural analysis of images in writing on so many other subjects. Throughout her writing she attempts to address — often leaving us with more questions than answers — how images alter our understanding of reality, across the realms of documentary photography, art, and media information. She also regards images as always-manipulated — even those from the earliest history of photography — because at minimum they represent the photographer’s subject choice of what will be seen versus what will remain unseen; and, for documentary-style photography, she examines how the interpreted meaning of a photograph may change based on the words used to describe it. After reading this section of At the Same Time, I couldn’t help but wonder what she might think of our emerging AI capabilities, where images can be generated from text and have no necessary correspondence to any existing reality.

One of these days, I’d like to take on Benjamin Moser’s Sontag biography — Sontag: Her Life and Work — though I’ll admit that its 800-page length is a little intimidating. Still, I’d like to better understand how photography came to be such a gripping subject that she addressed it so often in her non-fiction writing, which I imagine the book will explain. I did recently learn that the biography is being adapted into a film, so maybe I’ll wait for the movie…. ๐Ÿ™‚

Thanks for reading and taking a look!








Easter, Madonna, and Regal Lilies (3 of 3)

From “Regarding the Lily: A White Floriary” in White: The History of a Color by Michel Pastoureau:

“For the authors of the Middle Ages, the color white had three referents: snow, milk, and lily….

“The lily is the white flower par excellence, the one opposed to or associated with the rose, the archetypal red flower, even though roses and lilies of different colors exist in nature. It was already the case in Roman antiquity that these two flowers dominated over all others….

“Among the ancients, admiration for the lily dates back very far. In various forms — true flower, simple floret, stylized plant motif — it can be seen represented on Mesopotamian cylinder seals, Egyptian bas-reliefs, Mycenaean pottery, Gallic coins, and Eastern fabrics. Not only does it play a decorative role, but it also often adds a strong symbolic dimension….


“Sometimes it is a matter of a nurturing fertility figure, sometimes a sign of purity or virginity, sometimes an attribute of power and sovereignty. These three symbolic meanings seem to merge in the medieval lily, simultaneously fertile, virginal, and sovereign.”

From “The Afternoon of the Year” in The Scented Garden by Eleanour Sinclair Rhode:

โ€œThe rose, though a queen, is a friendly queen; but about her rival, the lily, there is always an atmosphere of isolation. Lilies do not reign like the roses, they live apart. There is some indefinable enchantment which puts the whole lily tribe in an altitude so far above other flowers that they are more than regal. How conscious one was in childhood of this strange sweet aloofness of the lilies….

โ€The rose sleeps in her beauty, but the lily seems unaware of her own exceeding loveliness.โ€


Hello!

This is the third of three posts featuring photos of Easter, Madonna, and Regal lilies, that I took a few weeks ago at Oakland Cemetery’s gardens. The first post is Easter, Madonna, and Regal Lilies (1 of 3), and the second post is Easter, Madonna, and Regal Lilies (2 of 3).

Thanks for lookin’!