John Wyer FSGLD explores how the different ways that neurodiverse people experience the world can be both a strength and, at times, a challenge when working in garden and landscape design
A few months ago, I had a dream. I often dream about exams and being at college or school, usually when I am stressed, and I am sure it is related to my unsuccessful academic career. In this particular dream, I was in school, doing some sort of exam. There was a computer screen in front of me, and various questions appeared, one after another, page after page.
The questions were not too difficult but required some thought and concentration to answer. I kept getting them wrong because other bits of information and images kept appearing all around them.
When I was told, inevitably, that I had failed, I complained saying there were too many distractions on each page. ‘You should just ignore them,’ they said. And my answer (in the dream) fascinates me. I said: ‘The ability to be distracted by things is how my brain works – it’s a strength and allows me to make links that other people can’t.’
I woke up almost immediately, quite shaken. It occurred to me straightaway that this was true. I am not sure quite how or why it has taken until now for me to have this insight (I am not young by anyone’s measure).
This led me to reflect on the many different types of thinking that people have and how, in the world of garden and landscape designers at least, their diverse previous careers lead them to become different designers. How is this manifested?
I have long distrusted the phrase ‘on the spectrum’. It implies not only that there are simply two dimensions in scale, but that there is ‘normal’ at one end and ‘autistic’ at the other. There is also an implicit value judgement in this, that ‘normal’ is okay and that the other end of the spectrum is, well, ‘abnormal’.
‘the ability to be distracted by things is how my brain works – it’s a strength.’
The term ‘neurodiverse’, although overused, seems to me more descriptive and accurate. Like many designers I am visual in my approach, and I would best describe neurodiversity as a roughly spherical cloud that is dense at the centre and looser as you move outwards. There is also a gravitational ‘centre’ to the cloud which, for want of a better term, one could call ‘the norm’.
Those neurodiverse people who are further from the centre may find it difficult to relate to people, or feel that in some ways, the world is not built for them in the same way that it is for others. However, they may also be able to see or think so differently that, in some circumstances, it lends them a distinct advantage.
In reality of course, not only are there many ways of thinking and seeing, but everyone has a unique combination of these instead of just one. Our own lived experiences shape our thinking further still.
My own education experience was not good. Although I went to an excellent school, I struggled to focus properly. From the age of around 15, I failed and had to re-sit almost every exam although, curiously, during the exams themselves, I had intense focus on the task in hand. Then, after a year of working in a plant nursery and on landscape sites, I went to a polytechnic to study Landscape Architecture which, at that time, was structured as a five-year course with the fourth year spent doing work experience. I failed some element of every year but blossomed in my ‘year out’, which was working as a landscape assistant for a local authority. When I left college and got a job, once again, I thrived.
I have been talking to other designers about their own experiences. Tom Massey FSGLD made a very interesting observation, which chimes with my own views: ‘Garden design as a profession seems to attract a wide range of minds. Some people are deeply visual, some highly analytical, some intensely plant-focused, some fascinated by systems and ecology. That diversity of thought feels like one of the strengths of the profession.’
He continued, saying: ‘Many of the people I most admire in creative fields seem less interested in fitting into existing categories and more interested in exploring connections that others have overlooked. Whether that relates to neurodiversity, personality, experience or something else entirely, I’m not sure.’
Most of the people I spoke to had a difficult time at school. For some, it was simply that the school was overly academic and offered no creative outlets. Patrick’s comment is typical: ‘I don’t recall creative careers ever being emphasised or explored. Looking back there was also a lack of real engagement with pupils on an individual level, understanding their particular potential or interests. It felt very much like a conveyor belt of academic learning and testing.’
Many people spoke of lacking the ability to focus. David said: ‘I didn’t really fit in at school. I struggled to focus and unless certain teachers engaged with me on a human level, I found it impossible to digest information. I loved the creative subjects and those teachers who tried to reach pupils like me on an emotional level.’
This feeling of not fitting in was frequently raised. Meg’s experience is characteristic: ‘I wouldn’t say I enjoyed school really. I struggled with the rigid structure and organisation of it all. I also didn’t learn things the same way as most of the other students; I needed time to work things through, not just follow steps or memorise facts for exams. Unfortunately, this was misread back then as rebellion or bad behaviour rather than simply a different way of learning.’
Funny that. I too was always seen as a rebel, or a disruptive influence (some might argue that I still am).
One of the questions I have asked fellow designers was about a diagnosed (or undiagnosed) condition, and whether it was a hindrance or an advantage both in their general life and as a designer. The range of conditions that people spoke about was remarkable: synesthesia, aphantasia, dysgraphia, dyslexia, attention-deficit hyperactivity disorder (ADHD), depression, colour blindness, all these featured, along with other more general characteristics such as creativity, sexual orientation, biophilia, and others.
Many spoke of their condition as something they have had to come to terms with. Being seen initially as different from others took some adjustment, but almost all feel it is an advantage in their work; it lends them an individual slant or edge.
Patrick told me about his experience: ‘One form of neurodivergence I have is aphantasia – the inability to voluntarily visualise things or people in my mind’s eye. I can’t, for example, bring to mind a clear picture of my own children’s faces. I only realised this in recent years and have since often reflected on whether and how this impacts my ability as a designer of outdoor spaces. For example, I think not being able to conjure a picture of a place without being there, even if I’ve visited many times, allows me to see it more perceptively and experience it more richly when I am there. I think this is one of the reasons why experiencing the natural world and its beauty has such a strong impact on me. The lack of visual recall means my processing of a place – what it could be, its constraints and possibilities, its particular qualities – is based more on feeling and imagination than it might be if I already had an ingrained picture in my mind of how it looks now.’
Darren Hawkes, a pre-registered member of the Society of Garden + Landscape Designers (SGLD), spoke about his adjustment: ‘I have read so much about procrastination that I have wasted a lifetime. Not being able to focus on things that don’t excite me does cause me quite a lot of guilt, but I try and focus on the things I do well now and don’t beat myself up for the things that I’m less good at. Also, it’s really important to me that I don’t get pigeon-holed by others; I can be horribly disorganised with some things but equally I can orchestrate a project like the RHS Chelsea garden we’ve just built better than most people, so I always try to look at my work life through a wide lens and not get caught up on the crappy little jobs that people like to fixate over.’ That reflects my own experience too.
Most people I have spoken to are either self-employed or run small practices. However, some are employers and some work in larger practices. What are the implications for employers?
The first is that they have a legal duty of care to support the mental health of their staff, which commonly involves managing stress, anxiety, and depression. These are sometimes side-effects of diagnosed (or undiagnosed) conditions as people try to fit into a world in which they are not comfortable.
I spoke to one employer who had a negative experience with an employee. ‘I hired someone who was self-diagnosed with autism (and is clearly on the spectrum). They couldn’t even look me in the eye when they started working with us. I went out of my way to create a role around them, the details of which we routinely discussed. And then their “superpower” became their downfall. I promoted them and everything they touched became a disaster. They refused to work with certain people and were rude and unprofessional and had a negative impact on the mental health of those in their team.’
That employer went on to say: ‘Would I hire anyone again who I thought was on the spectrum? I doubt it.’
Another spoke to me about their experience. ‘Daisy had been working with us for a while before having to take time off for mental ill health. During this break, she was diagnosed with ADHD. We adapted our communication with her to accommodate her condition. She is an exceptional designer and can achieve incredible things but tends to work until she falls over. I see her like a highly tuned Ferrari; she can do two or three brilliant laps, but then I have to take her off the track for a bit.’
So maybe, to get the best out of all their team members, employers need to make individual adjustments in a similar way that individuals must adjust to the world around them to fit in, even though that is sometimes awkward for both parties.
It is a truism to say that we are all different. But it is clear that character traits or ways of thinking and seeing may be advantageous in some situations, and a drawback in others. Colm Joseph, a pre-registered SGLD member, sums this up very well: ‘I believe that everyone is complex and unique, each with the potential for a different way of looking at things. My particular cocktail of complexities and experiences has led me to garden design, and it feels like a good fit.’
Thank you to all those who spoke to me. Some names and details have been changed to protect identities. Where people are directly quoted, it is with their consent. JW
Illustrations, (flowers) Getty Images/Anna Bergbauer; (heads) Getty Images/Oxi An