However, the surrounding acreage isn't a garden in the conventional sense of the word. It's more like a movie set. No, no-don't think of clipped English allées and fountained rose gardens, because that's definitely not what it's all about.

Rather, think theatrical. And then, go American style. In a way, a Western wouldn't be too far from the mark. The closest I can come is to call the Brine garden a New England spin on a chaparral, but everything is larger and denser.

If your mind jumps immediately to Hollywood when you arrive at Duncan Brine's, it's not surprising. Originally, he planned to be a director. Early in his career, he spent three years in Los Angeles doing film production work for venues including the Faerie Tale Theatre. However, it didn't take long for him to tire of the L.A. scene, which is how he ended up in New York City.

There, he met Julia, an artist and graphic designer who became his wife. Still, he probably wouldn't have switched careers except for the not-so-little trifle that their city apartment had a pocket of space just begging for an infusion of the botanical kind, which gave Mr. Brine the sort of idea one might expect from a displaced film director. He thought he'd seize the opportunity to whip up a little garden to film upon completion.

Exit film direction from the stage.

To hear him tell it, the moment Mr. Brine bore the tools of garden design, he immediately took a shine to that mode of making a living. "Doing the garden was so exciting, and I realized that I couldn't do both, so I decided to pursue landscape design," he said. Meanwhile, fate also conspired to push Mr. Brine over the brink. "When the garden was finished, I invited friends over to a barbecue. When the third person asked me to make them a garden, I decided to go into the business." That was when Horticultural Design, Inc. was born.

The business began with bite-sized spaces—rooftops, terraces and city lots. But eventually, the Brines' venture (Julia became a partner in the business) took them out into the suburbs, so that after seven years, the family moved to Garrison, N.Y., to be closer to clients. From there, they bought two acres of the property that they currently live and work from in Pawling. But it was the later acquisition of a much larger additional parcel that made an expanded nursery and a bulkier garden possible. "That changed the way we operate," Mr. Brine summed it up.

The Pawling property was once part of a large dairy farm with a 1920s farmhouse as part of the configuration, an agricultural link that Duncan Brine tries to honor in his landscape treatment. The additional purchase brought another house into the picture, which gave them office space. The land sidles up to busy Route 22 on one side, with the structures perched on a precipitous embankment looking down on the road. The garden area is steep enough to wear out your average Billy goat, dry at the crest and squishy-soggy at the bottom. Fortunately, it came into Mr. Brine's hands, because no one else would know quite what to do with it.

Mr. Brine's idea was to use trees, shrubs and immense ornamental grasses to incorporate a walking tour into the space. Due to the steepness factor, you can't possibly go up and down, so the journey snakes sideways along the hillside, with woody plants and grasses providing the interest as you move along. By sheer proportions of the plant material, the elements of concealment and surprise are written into the landscape. If it feels something like being lost in a maze, then Mr. Brine has achieved his goal. "You're supposed to feel disoriented," he explained. "The goal is to transport you and give you the experience of being lost. And then found."

To further this feeling, Mr. Brine brought in a huge inventory of plants of truly connoisseur quality. In horticultural terms, there isn't an average Joe in the bunch, they're all botanical aristocrats. Not only does he know their pedigrees like he knows his own relatives, Mr. Brine also has a good sense of how they'll perform despite the fact that most of the trees and shrubs in residence aren't what you'd find loitering around just any street corner.

He likes his plants obscure, and he also loves their bold presence. And the statement becomes even more emphatic in late summer and autumn when the grasses reach their full height. The trees, shrubs and grasses form what he calls "structural building blocks" that partition space. Although the inventory is vast and varied, repetition is important. It might be wearisome to repeat precise plants, but shapes need to be echoed. So, wanting to reiterate the immensity of the phragmites that wade throughout the bottom of the property but are invasive, he used a wall of Miscanthus giganteus at the upper corner of the garden to segment the space and echo the theme. We're talking eight- to 12-feet-tall when in plume. Similarly, many berried viburnums dot the landscape, each sharing similarities, and each with a different slant on the motif.

The point is, everything has a certain heft. Broad body language is what Mr. Brine prefers in his actors. "When you work with a big space," he affirmed, "you shouldn't waste time with plants that are too small. Big plants create space. You can go in and do the details later where required." As for his palette, it tends toward native—although he welcomes non-natives as well, if they aren't invasive. "I like re-seeders, as long as they are polite," he said. In explaining his stance, he alluded to the melting pot for which this country is famous. "It seems un-American," he said of permitting only natives in a landscape. "We shouldn't prohibit plants from other places in our gardens."

The native element links with the further landscape, and Mr. Brine sees woody plants and the larger ornamental grasses as being the only players with a large enough persona to make a statement that would be meaningful, considering the setting. When working with a big arena, mass is the only way to go. "I wanted to make a bold and large enough gesture to collaborate with the hills in the distance," he said.

As for his focal points, they are often views. "I have something like 40 vistas on the property," he pointed out. "I want to be sure to keep them open." That said, he will often make a room with large plants as the walls on three sides. The fourth side is focused on the view. And one of his favorite conceits is to use a sheer grass, such as Molina caerulea, subspecies arundinacea 'Transparent,' with sparse plumes, to partially conceal in a veil what lies behind.

Beside the nursery on the other side of the road, a more level piece of land also reinforces the big is beautiful concept. That was the original garden, before expansion added space. A little more mature, it has a similar feeling to the larger acreage. One of the unifying factors is the underpinning. Beneath it all is coarse stone gravel used in lieu of mulch around the plants, but also acting as walkways leading from one space to the next. The stone might be difficult for the average pedestrian to navigate, but it makes upkeep feasible. "It could take a summer to edge this place," Mr. Brine pointed out. "What I have here is thousands of feet of garden without any edging." The exception happens down by the phragmites forest—there, a path is laid of toppled phragmites.

Mr. Brine wanted to give credit to the influences that inspired his unique approach to design. And so he had a list ready of places and ideas that lent his garden its individual character. They ranged from Wolfgang Oehm and James A. van Sweden's bold grass gardens through the native plant movement to the restoration movement. He is grateful to plant collectors who share their findings, and public gardens that welcome visitors to see something of expansive proportions. All those elements were translated into his own garden.

"They resulted in this place," he said. And the nursery also made it all possible. Now he urges anyone with an ample garden to consider allotting space to a nursery where they can put plants in a holding area until the right place can be found to do them justice. It's part of the infrastructure that makes a large garden possible. And Duncan Brine is strong on setting up a suitable infrastructure as a first step toward making big gardens beautiful.

After we talked, I wandered the garden armed by the map that Julia and Duncan had produced—through the marsh, into the glade, over bridges and up the mulberry cliff. Everything is marked on the map, even hidden corners, knolls and ravines. And it occurred to me as I wandered that Duncan Brine never stopped doing drama. His productions are now of the ongoing kind.

Duncan Brine's garden can be visited through the Garden Conservancy's Open Days Program; check with the Garden Conservancy (www.gardenconservancy.org) for next year's tour dates.