Back in April I put up a long twitter thread on the emerging trend of Digital Gardening. It gathered a little buzz, and made clear we're in a moment where there is something culturally compelling about this concept.
Nerding hard on digital gardens, personal wikis, and experimental knowledge systems with @_jonesian today.— Maggie Appleton (@Mappletons) April 15, 2020
We have an epic collection going, check these out...
1. @tomcritchlow's Wikifolders: https://t.co/QnXw0vzbMG pic.twitter.com/9ri6g9hD93
The term is not new.
It's been floating around for over two decades. Though it's passed through a couple of semantic shifts - meaning different things to different people across the years. As words tend to do.
Tracing back how Neologisms are born and evolve helps us understand why we needed the word in the first place. A game I am very here for.
The earliest mention of digital gardening I've found at least partially aligns with the way we're currently using it. Mark Bernstein's 1998 essay Hypertext Gardens is a true-to-form original manifesto.
This whole artefact is a beautiful reflection on nature of links, the balance of chaos and structure, and a call to embrace free-wheeling web exploration.
It was part of a larger metaphorical conversation happening throughout the nineties around hypertext. The promise of The Web was a labyrinth-esque landscape tended by WikiGardeners and WikiGnomes – the caretakers cleaning up broken links, attributions, and awkward white space.
While it's mostly a manifesto about the user experience flow, content organisation, and the early web debates over The Navigation Problem, the core ethos feels aligned with our emerging understanding of digital gardening.
"Unplanned hypertext sprawl is wilderness: complex and interesting, but uninviting. Interesting things await us in the thickets, but we may be reluctant to plough through the brush, subject to thorns and mosquitoes"
After Mark's essay the term digital gardening goes quiet for nearly a decade. Until Twitter...
In April of 2007 when Tweets first started ringing through the internet airwaves, Rory Sutherland (oddly, the vice president of Ogilvy Group) used the term and defined it as "faffing about syncing things, defragging - like pruning for young people" For those from outside the Commonwealth, "faffing" means mucking about without a clear direction or useful output
Digital gardening - ie faffing about syncing things, defragging - like pruning for young people— Rory Sutherland (@rorysutherland) April 21, 2007
The next dozen mentions on Twitter all followed this sentiment – people were using the term as a way to describe digital maintenance - cleaning up one's digital space in general.
The focus was on sorting, weeding, pruning, and decluttering, rather than growing and cultivating. People mentioned private folders, codebases, and photo albums as the focus of their gardening efforts. Whereas now we're mainly talking about public notes and wikis.
These people were digital puttering more than gardening.
Weeds vanquished. Wish I could select weed, copy/paste it's attribute and then select all with same attribute and delete. Digital gardening.— Von Glitschka (@Vonster) April 26, 2009
clarification: digital gardening ≠ farmville. tagging, writing, cleaning, sorting, etcetera.— Jen Jones (@jen_thefuture) March 7, 2010
really need 2do some digital gardening in my iPhoto library. If u were gonna divide huge library into smaller ones, what would u name them?— TheMacMommy (@TheMacMommy) February 24, 2011
At the 2015 Digital Learning Research Network, Mike Caufield – an xxx – delivers a keynote on The Garden and the Stream: a Technopastoral
This later becomes a hefty essay that lays the foundations for our modern understanding of the word.