For a short period each year, a series of complete landscapes appears on a stretch of ground in London. Stone walls, water, timber structures and planting arrive together, fully formed, as if they had always been there.

They have not. Every surface, every path, every wall has been brought in, assembled and set in place. What looks settled is recent. What looks permanent will not stay.

The interest here was not in the planting schemes or the ideas behind them, but in how the elements sit together for the short time they exist. Stone against grass. Timber against sky. Water moving through a space that did not have water in it a fortnight earlier.

Pathways were followed rather than mapped. Enclosures were noticed rather than explained. The aim was to see these gardens as built environments first, the way one might look at a room rather than read about it.

The photographs move through a sequence of thresholds, walls, water and shelter. A gravel path beneath dense planting. Water running from dark spouts into a bed of flowers. Rendered walls standing among tall grasses, their curves catching the light.

Further in, a timber structure opens overhead, its lattice throwing shadow across a deck. A table is laid as though for use. A patterned screen stands against the trees, and close by, a tap waits beside a folded cloth. Glass holds a reflection of the crowd outside. Inside, a room sits still, undisturbed, as if no one has entered it yet.