In architecture, unity is obviously necessary. A group of farm buildings may all look alike and produce a pleasing effect; or they may all be of different design, giving only a disheartening disharmony. On a college campus, it is plain that the effect is much better if all buildings have unity of form and architectural style. Twenty different buildings of twenty different kinds make an ugly campus, no matter if each particular building is a gem of its kind.

It may be noted that the last term in unity is monotony. Monotony usually has a bad reputation, yet in actual practice it is often pleasing. A garden full of nothing but Festiva Maxina peony is a grand sight. And what can be more beautiful than a piece of woods of pure white pines or a large perfectly matched garden fountain?

A hedge is a thousand times handsomer if made all of arbor vitae than though arbor vitae were mixed with privet, hemlock, buckthorn, spruce, caragana, acanthopanax and twenty other species, all of them good hedge plants when used alone. The landscape architect welcomes monotony. In certain situations it is a sure refuge—a very proper expedient.

Whether it is motive unity, style unity, color harmony, or final and complete monotony, unity is the prime requirement in any piece of fine art, be it architecture, painting, or landscaping. Without unity there can be no beauty.

Many of the ancient treatises on art, and some of the moderns, have summed up everything in unity with variety. These two principles plainly stand in a position of commanding importance to the whole field of art. They also bear a special relation to one another.

Unity is commonly found to be the most indispensable, yet if unity means uniformity or sameness, the eye soon tires of it. But unity does not demand sameness. There may be unity with variety. The two are not opposed to each other, though either one would be easier to accomplish if the other could be disregarded.

Perfect unity with satisfying variety doesn’t always need to be a compromise, but both tests must always be applied by the gardener. It is helpful to the composer to remember that variety is possible in motive, surface, form, materials, color, texture, season, composition and position.

With respect to motive, theme or subject matter, it is clear that an endless catalog of subjects awaits the artist’s creation. He may find his theme in different kinds of land, as dune-land, prairie, forest, lakeshore, mountains, brooks, etc. He may find it in the many season of his choosing, or the color scheme he decides to use. And all of these can be tied together in their own ways.

Even in the world of gardening, unity is achieved with any number of schemes; trees and flora can be used for this. One garden may have the peony for its motive. Another may flame with poppies, while rose gardens have enjoyed to themselves an almost immemorial reputation.

Some knowledge of the materials to be used is necessary in order to choose motives wisely, and some imagination to present them with artistic conviction; but the opportunity for variety is so great that no artist ought to be excused for anything trite or commonplace.