The Bawa brothers, Bevis and Geoffrey, were giants in Sri Lanka’s landscape, literally. They were inordinately tall among a people of modest proportions. Their lives and times now belong very much to the stuff of legend, either for the extravagance of their ways, as in Bevis’s exuberance, or for the lofty ideals that Geoffrey held. They were in pursuit of a grail of their own choosing, each romantic and dedicated, and each achieving their goals in different and individual ways.

They were both born into a household that could support, even encourage, such indulgence; and they were not without grace. Bevis was generous to a fault and offered of himself freely; Geoffrey was restrained in the degree to which he lavished his time and his purse. But retaining their individual personalities they each applied rigorous standards to whatever they undertook. Their ideals were never to be compromised but they indulged in beautiful things, fine paintings and sculpture, antiques; all the best, in fact, that came within their reach.

Among the things they loved with a passion were gardens, their own gardens which they each designed and developed. It was to become their perennial quest to each create a personal paradise, places of tranquility, livable spaces to which they applied the most stringent principles of good design.

This is what Prof David Robson’s new book celebrates. The Bawa gardens is a subject long waiting to be dealt with, and let me say, could not have been better researched and presented.

Robin Maugham, the author of "Search for Nirvana" published in 1975, described Bevis’s ‘Brief’ as "a nirvana", one he had been seeking when he arrived in Sri Lanka.

A truck driver delivering bricks at Geoffrey’s ‘Lunuganga’ exclaimed, upon seeing it: "But this is a very blessed place".

It is not possible to be objective in assessing a work of this nature rather because of the familiarity we have enjoyed with the protagonists, Bevis and Geoffrey, and their gardens. So you will appreciate that my enjoyment of the book is tinged with a certain sadness at the passing of an age and two remarkable human beings it has been Sri Lanka’s good fortune to have nurtured, and ours to have known.

Still, neither is it possible to talk of the Bawa brothers in the same breath but we can experience the work of their hands and appreciate their achievements. Bevis’s gardens were open to people to visit and enjoy; Geoffrey treasured his privacy and in his time, protected it jealously. It was, indeed, a privilege to be invited.

When these gardens began to appear on either side of the Bentota River, Bevis, the elder by ten years, had the advantage of a large rubber estate which he inherited from his mother. She had named it ‘Brief’ after the fact that it had been bought with the proceeds of a case argued and won by Bevis’s father, the illustrious lawyer, Benjamin Bawa.

It was here that Bevis conceived of a vast garden covering two and a half hectares. The eye was to stretch far into the distance and to gaze upon which he had to carve out several acres of his plantation. ‘Brief’ was to become a mosaic of gardens, each neatly designed, each a surprise, and each absolutely superb. Water cascaded down willing slopes; a pool lay idly reflecting the light and the shade and the colour around it; and in chosen places nature created its own wilderness. Among these areas of delight, Bevis cunningly placed statuary to enliven the scene.

He was encouraged in these adventures by Arthur van Langenberg, his childhood playmate, whose fertile imagination was no less effervescent than Bevis’s own and with whom he was to set up a landscape design practice. Bevis was later joined by Donald Friend, the expatriate Australian artist who lived at ‘Brief’ for some five years between 1956 and 1961. Between them they contrived to produce many pieces of sculpture, grotesque gargoyles and good-humoured tableaux. They also used large Chinese urns to punctuate the green of the foliage.

The vegetation around them proved to be a source of endless pleasure. They used leaves from the shrubbery to produce fossil-like impressions on cement or clay tiles. These were placed as paving on footpaths and, quite effectively, the clay tiles were integrated into table-tops.

Bevis had told Maugham he had been a collector from his childhood, of stamps, coins, labels and antiques but then decided they were a bore. "So, I turned to nature which can be enjoyed by all humanity – the poor, the rich, the young and the old. Nature enables one to forget the nonsensical barriers created by man." This was socialism of a sort which he practiced with unabated fervour.

It led him to a love of trees. "Their very stance is elegant and beautiful to watch. Though man delights in destroying plant life and the greenery around him, I have never found plants to let man down".

He explained the scheme of the garden he had created. It is, he said, "a collection of many small gardens thought out in various moods and at various times during its forty-year growth. A number of them have altered almost beyond recognition. But my gardens have now reached the end of their progress and they now rest in peace – perhaps looking back with happiness on the forty years of growth, perhaps rather sad that they no longer move on to a further change of mood."

Donald Friend found the atmosphere at ‘Brief’ most conducive to his work. He had the near-perfect host in Bevis who provided him with the many facilities the artist needed, and he gave Donald free rein in which to indulge his pleasures.

Bevis and ‘Brief’ suffered some vicissitudes together but however demanding these may have been, the gardens continued to be beautifully tended, ever welcoming and ever the setting of much stimulating activity, with artists and film stars and a galaxy of other mortals being entertained by their ever-generous and charismatic host.

Prof. Robson observes, however, with understandable surprise that Bevis was never invited by Geoffrey to work on the landscape of any of his architectural projects and that he went so far, indeed, as to instruct his clients not to employ him. I find it hard to accept this as legitimate sibling rivalry, but there it is.

‘Brief’ was the spur that led Geoffrey to ‘Lunuganga’ on the banks of the Dedduwa Lake.

It has been suggested that Geoffrey relied upon his experience of an Italian villa where he had spent many holidays in his student days, away from studies at Cambridge. Prof Robson believes that though this may have served to stimulate Geoffrey’s interest in landscape architecture, it was the gardens of 18th century England that influenced his ideas. This is a technical area with which I am not familiar, so I leave it to the judgement of our scholarly author.

However, Robson recognizes other unexpected elements in the education of Geoffrey Bawa. He sees in Sri Lanka an ancient and highly appealing practice of garden design. Geoffrey, of course, came to know this work and to enjoy it, and this, suggests Robson, exerted the greater influence of the two, between east and west.

Prof. Robson is eloquent in his description of the Sri Lanka’s garden architecture. He details them as "the bizarre boulder gardens of the first Buddhist ascetics; the rolling park landscapes of the Anuradhapura monasteries; the pleasure gardens of the Sinhalese kings; the mysterious retreats of the forest hermits; the vivid green mosaics of rice paddy; the lines of leaning rubber trees and the gentle swaying coconut palms; the neatly hedged lawns of the estate-bungalow gardens." He recognizes the people as always being planters and gardeners.

‘Lunuganga’, Robson concludes, is a unique creation which combines many memories and experiences, a fusion of European and Asian traditions of garden-making.

The hand of Geoffrey is a constantly evident everywhere at ‘Lunuganga’. Geoffery’s imagination soared. He created new vistas and wonderfully contrived spaces. The architect in him emerged in and round his house, and he indulged in a number of embellishments that were more a delight to the eye than were immediately practical, spaces that are just beautiful in themselves: pavilions of one kind or another adjacent to the main house such as the one he named ‘Sandela’, built for no better reason than to incorporate some antique doors he had obtained from an old temple.

Geoffrey had shown that it is possible to improve on nature. He exerted his authority over his landscape and was always pleased with what he had achieved. He was particularly happy with the view he obtained looking east from the house towards what is now known a Cinnamon Hill. There was a slight rise in the slope which limited what he could see of the lake beyond it. Geoffrey decided to have the offending hill lowered so that he could then have an uninterrupted view of the lake and above it, see a reflection of the white dagaba that crowned the distant hill. In the space in between he placed a large ceramic jar to mark the new perspective he had thus created.

He wrote in a 1990’s article that the imagination emphasizes natural beauty. "Water is important in any view – water and the play of light and shade gave me most pleasure – pleasure enhanced by a line of wall or a building – geometry and nature." Surely this was the mind of the architect at work with nature.

David Robson has had to balance the achievement of each of the brothers in the demanding exercise he had undertaken. I think we may justifiably describe them as artists; indeed, masters of their craft — Bevis who was an acclaimed caricaturist, as the author of a very entertaining but as-yet unpublished memoir, and as garden-designer; and Geoffrey as landscape sculptor and unrivalled architect whom it has been Robson’s particular pleasure to celebrate in two previous publications ("Geoffrey Bawa: the complete works" in 2002, and "Beyond Bawa: modern masterworks of monsoon Asia" in 2007, both published by Thames & Hudson).

His work in the present publication has been greatly enhanced by Dominic Sansoni who is today, undoubtedly, one of Sri Lanka’s most tireless and accomplished photographers. He has distinguished himself in the documentary work he has done in several Asian countries but his native Sri Lanka has clearly been the source of overwhelming excitement and delight.

Dominic also collaborated with Geoffrey Bawa himself, and with Christoph Bon in "Lunuganga", (Times Editions, Singapore, 1990) which explores these gardens in black and white photographs reproduced in a large format. I am aware of at least two other publications of Dominic’s work: "Sri Lanka Colour", (Barefoot, Colombo, 2005), and "Sri Lanka Style, tropical design and architecture," with Channa Daswatte, (Periplus Editions, Hong Kong, 2006). He has proved himself, time and again, to be an accomplished craftsman.

Dominic’s work in the present publication is all in colour. His pictures are, as you may well imagine, all rich and vivid, and I think it is his great success that he has been able to present each image, each view of the gardens and their architectural embellishments, with clarity. They are never repetitious though obviously they have to do with vegetation and a verdant landscape made up of an enormous range of greens. Quite obviously he has fallen under the spell of the Bawa brothers, and he responds almost religiously to the "nirvana" that one has created and to the "blessedness" the other ensures.

There is, of course, no substitute for the real thing. To stand by the top of the cascading series of steps at ‘Brief’, or to be at the edge of the North Terrace at ‘Lunuganga’ looking out to the lake and the island in it, with the wind playing gently on you, are exquisite experiences. Robson and Sansoni entice you to partake of these delights.

Change, however, is inevitable with the passage of time. I know, to my relief, that Bevis left ‘Brief’ in the best possible hands while he grew frail and blind. He bequeathed the estate to his friend and companion of many years, Dooland de Silva, who is assiduous in maintaining the property with the same discipline that Bevis applied to it in his days.

Michael Daniels and Asha de Silva, both architects, were appointed by Geoffrey to manage and maintain the gardens at ‘Lunuganga’. The Trust, set up also by Geoffrey, now provides accommodation to paying visitors. It is an arrangement necessary, I have been told, to generate essential funds for maintaining the place though it would seem to me to impinge on the very ambience that Geoffrey so carefully tended.