"My position is that since the non-secular status of my garden is not recognised by the law; by the world of the public, then the garden can only be private. So, I closed the garden to the public"
About this Quote
Finlay’s sentence has the chill of a bureaucratic memo and the bite of a poet who knows exactly what he’s doing with that chill. He takes a dispute about access and turns it into a philosophical trap: if the law can’t recognize the garden’s “non-secular status,” then the only remaining category is “private.” It’s an argument that pretends to be merely procedural while quietly indicting the modern state’s inability to register sacredness unless it arrives with institutional paperwork.
The key move is his use of “non-secular” rather than “sacred” or “religious.” That phrasing is both coy and combative. It refuses the easy pigeonholes of church and creed, while insisting that the garden functions as something more than a nice place to stroll. Finlay’s Little Sparta wasn’t landscaping as leisure; it was a constructed world of inscriptions, classical allusion, and aesthetic discipline - a lived artwork. When the public sphere treats that as just another amenity, it commits a category error. Finlay responds by weaponizing the public’s own categories back at it.
Subtext: closing the garden isn’t simply withdrawal; it’s a performative act, an artwork of refusal. He makes privacy not a retreat but a boundary that protects meaning. There’s also a pointed critique of “the world of the public,” a phrase that sounds communal but lands as flattening and entitled. Finlay frames access as contingent on recognition, not on goodwill - a reminder that in a culture that can’t perceive the sacred, the sacred will increasingly have to barricade itself to survive.
The key move is his use of “non-secular” rather than “sacred” or “religious.” That phrasing is both coy and combative. It refuses the easy pigeonholes of church and creed, while insisting that the garden functions as something more than a nice place to stroll. Finlay’s Little Sparta wasn’t landscaping as leisure; it was a constructed world of inscriptions, classical allusion, and aesthetic discipline - a lived artwork. When the public sphere treats that as just another amenity, it commits a category error. Finlay responds by weaponizing the public’s own categories back at it.
Subtext: closing the garden isn’t simply withdrawal; it’s a performative act, an artwork of refusal. He makes privacy not a retreat but a boundary that protects meaning. There’s also a pointed critique of “the world of the public,” a phrase that sounds communal but lands as flattening and entitled. Finlay frames access as contingent on recognition, not on goodwill - a reminder that in a culture that can’t perceive the sacred, the sacred will increasingly have to barricade itself to survive.
Quote Details
| Topic | Nature |
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