Our Name
A name. It is not everything, but it is important.
Studio Marina was born from the obvious place, the sea. But it is also named after my grandmother, Marian. She was so pivotal in my early years that it feels almost impossible to put into words. One of the most enduring things she instilled in me was a deep love of the outdoors.
This is an ode to her, and the foundation of everything Studio Marina is aiming to be.
Granny in the Garden
She had an energy like no one I have ever met. In many ways, she embodied what we are now trying to rediscover in a damaged world. She was ahead of her time, though perhaps that says more about how far we have drifted than how radical she truly was.
She was a walker, a keen bird watcher, someone who made everything from scratch and wasted nothing. A self-proclaimed war baby, she understood the value of food from a time when it was rationed. She was an environmental activist long before it was fashionable. I remember Ecover washing up liquid by her kitchen sink decades ago, and her well-worn copy of Silent Spring never far away. She was acutely aware of our impact on the earth.
She was also a seamstress, making matching clothes for all four of her children, and much to his dismay, my Papa too. She trained as a teacher and spent much of her career working in special education, and she taught piano to help make ends meet when times were tight. She adored hockey and tennis. She took me to RSPB meetings every week, desperately trying to instil a love of birds in me. I will admit, birds still are not my great passion, but I carry a deep appreciation for them because of her. I have also married a bird watcher, so perhaps her influence ran deeper than I realised.
But above all else, she was a gardener.
Her garden. I still find myself pausing, eyes drifting into the middle distance, trying to summon back the smells, the sounds, the feeling of being there. It was a true labour of love. Right until the end of her life, you would find her out there, weeding, shifting heavy stones, quietly working away, then wondering the next day why her hip ached.
She understood that a garden stands still for no one.
What she created was a work of art. The garden overlooked Belfast Lough, with rolling hills rising behind it. She bought that run-down house in her sixties, entirely for the view, and of course for the garden. I think she was already preparing for her later years then. She knew the comfort that view would bring when her body eventually slowed and she could no longer roam as freely as she once had.
Everything in her garden was done on a budget, and she had an ingenious way of making things work when there was very little money. I have vivid memories of helping her build a small stream that ran alongside a path connecting the upper and lower terraces, with grandchildren quietly assumed to be part of the workforce. Crazy paving, which I can now admit I am definitely not fond of, was one such cost-saving measure. She would rummage through scrap yards collecting discarded stone, lay the paths herself, and save what money she had for plants.
Her knowledge of plants and birds was extraordinary. As a grumpy teenager, I did not see its value and dismissed her attempts to teach me. What I would give now to go back and absorb as much as I could while I still had the chance.
I find this hard to write. These memories are deeply comforting, but they come with the familiar sting of tears. The truth is, her garden may not have seemed spectacular to everyone else. But I understood the work behind it, because she involved me in it. I understood its value.
She taught me how to work hard, and how to enjoy it at the same time. She never stopped messing about or poking fun, that was simply her way. When I think of her, I still hear her singing, dancing, or playing the piano.
Without her, I would not be where I am today. She was beyond pivotal. And so, it would have felt entirely wrong not to carry her with me into something that I hope reflects the same values she lived by.
Studio Marina exists to carry those values forward. It is rooted in respect for place, in working with what is already there rather than against it, and in understanding landscapes as living systems that change over time. It values resilience over quick fixes, longevity over trends, and care over excess. The studio approaches gardens with the same attentiveness and practicality that my grandmother brought to hers, seeing them not as static objects, but as evolving spaces shaped by climate, ecology, and the people who live with them. Studio Marina is grounded in the belief that thoughtful, well-made landscapes can offer comfort, connection, and meaning long into the future.
In many ways, this feels like a continuation of something she began, and an attempt to build it with the same care. If nothing else, I hope it would have made her proud.
