An Indian laburnum tree, also known as a yellow shower tree, grows in the central courtyard at Shangri La. It is a robust whimsical tree that harmonizes with the largely Persian aesthetic of the space. Its branches twist together in a delicate embrace and its canopy has filled the courtyard’s open roof, following the lines of the house. When a wind rustles through, spots of light flicker above as leaves and petals float gently down to the base of the tree. And, if you look closely, you’ll notice that the tree is not one, but two — two trees melded almost seamlessly together.
Planted between the 1940s and 1970s, the two trees mirror two other — less visible — trees in the courtyard. Looking closely at the row of seventeenth-century Persian tile panels on the eastern wall, you will notice several intertwined turquoise and brown trees, such as the ones seen on the panel (48.98.1) below:
The motif of intertwined trees may bring to mind the mystical dimension of Islam. In Sufi poetry, the bond between the Lover and the Beloved is used as a metaphor for the bond between the faithful and God. Likewise, in art, symbols such as intertwined trees can serve as visual expressions of devotion to divine love.
Even from first glace, the synergy of trees in the central courtyard — in art and in nature — has a powerful effect. This mirroring of 400-year-old tiles with two living Indian laburnum trees is rooted in the unconventional and beautiful symmetry of the house as a whole.
Each morning, as I make my way through the central courtyard, my eyes always linger on the branches spiraling up before me. I see not two trees, but one.