Acuities in Landscape Architecture

Alessandro Giulio


INTRODUCTION
Located in the quiet seclusion of London's Hyde Park, lies the Diana Memorial Fountain designed by the architect Kathryn Gustafson. Since its opening in 2004, the Diana Memorial Fountain has attracted the masses in pursuit of both respects to the late Princess Diana and for personal contemplation. The fountain plants itself ambiguously within the spectrum between organic and engineered landscape architecture. The acuities between Space and the Senses are (in my opinion, of course) the hidden details that make the fountain an exceptional example of contemporary sensory landscape architecture.



ACUITIES between SPACE and the SENSES
When we construct walls around a given location, we create space; closed, clearly defined and often conditional space. But how does one design and ultimately provide for a sense of place without enclosing space? This is an issue landscape architecture continues to address. By consequence, landscape architecture projects range in their success of providing a sense of space. For this reason, sensory implementation allows for Kathryn Gustafson’s Diana Memorial Fountain to be a success project of landscape architecture. It should go without saying that the fountain holds a contemplative experience from approach to interaction. The following text is an experiential narration intended to portray the acuities between space and the senses.

You make your way into the grounds of Hyde Park. You wander through the tranquil landscape and suddenly you stumble upon the fountain in the distance. The fountain, an organic egg-shaped form, cuts across the Hyde Park landscape; a small collection of people are gathered at the form’s edge. You make your arrival to the fountain, where you would be greeted by a contrast in materiality and a sense of space. The architecture of the fountain, as you begin to examine, is slightly receding in the distance and provoking within you a sense of demarcation as the fountain gently carves out the ground in which you stand on. Standing on the outside perimeter of the fountain, you feel outside. You give a glance around the perimeter, where you quickly notice the footbridges that could bring you into the inside of the fountain. So you make your way around the fountain, closely admiring the changes in the waters speed and sound, briefly looking up to realize your place between the park and fountain. You reach a small footbridge that gently leads you into the fountain’s inside. The space you encounter is quiet and as welcoming as you would want it to be. You easily find yourself in a relaxed state of contemplation once inside the fountain; distanced from the perimeter of the fountain, yet within the fountain and its reaches of sound from the waters movement. At the fountain’s edge you see the collection of people from before, yet their voices are reduced to murmurs by the soft noise of water movement. A softscape path marks your return to the outside of the fountain, but you find yourself content with your position. Sitting on the lawn, on the inside of the fountain, you realize something. You are neither in or out of the any given space, but rather you are simply within the space sensorially.

Evolution of Gardens

By Abbie Gentry

What is a garden? Some would answer a plot of land with vegetation. Others would visualize an earthy node for gatherings. Some might even argue that the word could even refer to something the size of a box, like a window box planter (“Garden”). This seemingly all-inclusive, vague term has a past to match its ambiguous meaning. Historically speaking, a garden was purely functional. The purpose of a garden was to harvest food or medicine. Gardens existed solely to grow food or to serve as a place to explore the medicinal qualities of plants. Later, gardens developed into more leisurely spaces to be enjoyed as a promenade or as a retreat from the strain of the everyday life. Today, most public gardens have evolved into a combination of both aesthetics and function. Gardens serve the public as a place of respite; a place to congregate for recreational activities; a place to educate about and celebrate botany; a place of scientific experiment; and the list goes on.

Today, urban gardens can be used to not only provide a haven but also to function as a city’s water filtration system. Kathryn Gustafson’s Kulturpark Westergasfabriek in Amsterdam is a prime example of this. Rather than choosing plants simply from an aesthetics view, she designed the area using certain plants that have the ability to purify water. This was a wise move economically for the city because this natural filtration system is efficient and multi-functional as well as negating the need for an eyesore of an industrial purification plant.

Although the image of a garden that typically comes to mind is that of a vegetated space, it does not even need to possess actual plants to earn the title “garden.” The landscaping of Ken Smith is proof for that. Rather than using live vegetation that would require upkeep, and thus time and money, he designed a landscape entirely out of artificial materials on the rooftop of the Museum of Modern Art building in New York. From afar, the space seems alive and thriving. Up close, however, one realizes that the boulders are all built from the same plastic mold and the “grass” is actually crushed glass and other recycled materials (Raver).

Another thing that has changed over the years is the emotive qualities of gardens. Traditionally gardens were to serve as a retreat from the city; a quiet place of solitude and relaxation. Today, it symbolizes community. It has become the meeting place of urban locals to congregate. People are encouraged to be active in these spaces rather than lackadaisical. These large urban gardens more often than not include bike paths, running paths, playgrounds for children, and large areas for recreational activities.

I believe that gardens will continue to evolve and adapt to the needs of people. They will persist in educating the public, providing a place of physical and mental restoration and serving as a common ground between the city and the country.

Sources Cited

“Garden.” An Encyclopedia Britannica Company. Merriam-Webster. http://www.merriam-webster.com/dictionary/garden

Raver, Anne. “A Rooftop Garden with Synthetic Green.” The New York Times. 11 November 2004. Web. 5 September 2012. <http://www.nytimes.com/2004/11/11/garden/11NATU.html>

Tailoring Spaces to the Human Proportion

By: Tyler Norton

            Le Corbusier’s Modulor Man is a well-known principal within the architecture community. The aspect of his theory that I want to focus on is not related so much to combining scales as it is to the proportions of a human body. In the two examples reflected upon in this post, the human dimension is clearly taken into great consideration when planning each space. Even though Gustafson’s Memorial Fountain for Lady Diana is a very large space, and Zumthor’s Serpentine Gallery Pavilion is a very small one, each make guests feel welcome and comfortable. Every space, regardless of size, should be tailored to the proportions of the individuals it is created for.

            Without even seeing Lady Diana’s Memorial Fountain, you know that it is going to be a large space because it is located in Hyde Park in London. The fountain itself is located in a sizable open field within the park and is surrounded by grass and foliage. According to the royal parks’ website, the fountain was designed to symbolize her life, quality, openness, and most importantly, her love for children and warm attitude toward people in general. This last symbolism is most important because with this in mind, the fountain was designed not just in her honor, but also with the people she left behind in mind. Essentially it was designed to engage people and for them to feel comfortable in. Gustafson did a wonderful job of taking a large and open space, which otherwise may have been considered overwhelming, and molding it to fit a space where people can interact easily. Examples of this are readily apparent anyone trained in design. The sides, which frequently serve as benches, are proportioned perfectly to the human physique. The interior part of the circle divides the large field up into smaller nodes so that the inside space of the ring feels much more intimate. The shapes of the contours inside the fountain are intriguing and inviting to the human eye and are proportioned in a way to comfortably fit an average sized adult as well as a small child. Nothing in this section of the park feels overwhelming or too open.

         In direct contrast to the last example, Zumthor’s Serpentine Gallery Pavilion is a very small and confined space. However, Zumthor still manages to design according to human proportions just as gracefully as Gustafson. In fact, because of the small and intimate setting, it may have been even easier for Zumthor. The site, located in the Serpentine Gardens in London, is a small black structure that from the outside appears completely closed in, but has a partially open ceiling. As with the Memorial Fountain, the ways in which Zumthor proportioned his structure to human dimensions can be studied effortlessly.    In each entrance, the doors are comfortably spaced and the heights and widths are also of comfortable proportions. Even the height of the building, which is taller than the interior roof, is not overwhelming, nor does it make anyone feel diminished. As previously mentioned, the interior roof of the building is fairly low but not so low that it makes anyone feel cramped or clustered. Inside the structure, there is plenty of seating space and each space is designed with the human body in mind as well. All in all, the space creates a perfect balance between intimate and confining.

           

http://www.royalparks.org.uk/parks/hyde_park/diana_memorial.cfm

Gardens of the Age

By Seth Oliver

                “What is a weed? A plant whose virtues have never been discovered.”- Ralph Waldo Emerson. Gardens have transformed over the centuries into more pieces of art for public use rather than private. These landscaped features can be compilations of many materials to form miniature, condensed and sculptural pieces in themselves. Gardens can have architectural elements surrounding them but also have the plants be the architecture. The dichotomy of this ideology has come about in different ways. A few in particular that follow the notion of structure around the focal pieces are the Tanner Spring Park and Park Westergasfabriek. A few that counter this and have the focal pieces be the gardens are represented in the Serpentine Pavilion and the Lincoln Center Roof Garden.

                Architecture to contain the wild is a path to showcase the natural environment in a way that is controlled with the illusion of frivolity. Tanner Spring Park makes a miniature of an ecological process of the cleansing water. From the rough hills to the edge of the pond, the plants and landscape dominate the scene. The paths are placed on top of the show off the piece of the natural elements. It is almost as if floating above it is to admire the process at work below the bridges. The Culture Park of Westergasfabriek also fosters the idea of paths added to nature, but isolates most of the nature to preserve them from Human interaction. A visual stimulus rather than a physical one. This park also displays the cleansing of the water, but from a distance. The other difference would be the large pool at the very end of the park that engages the public. Tanner Spring Park engages people from the trails and the earth but the Culture Park of Westergasfabriek engages people from the water. Many other gardens have followed these ideas of displaying nature, but these two are of the ends of the spectrum and very unique.

                On the contrary, more modern gardens have popped up as pieces of architecture as well as natural wonders. The Serpentine Pavilion in London by Peter Zumthor and Piet Oudolf was literally a box. The dark corridors of the ambulatory surrounding the garden were completely articulated. Not only the structure, but also the pants were specifically cultivated for the height and color. Giving the illusion of wild and natural but in reality it is all planned and carefully calculated. The plants became a part of the architecture. They were integral in filling a void of the inner rectangle and shaped the experience within. The Lincoln Center Roof Garden uses plants as a building material as well. The sections of the field, pond and forest all became three separate “buildings.” The roof of the first is a vast slope of grass. The pond is a reflective rectangle flush with the ground. And the forest is a composition of the grid lined trees to shape a box building outline. All three are individual pieces of the same sculpture, but all add a different aspect of the personality of the space. This idea incorporates the city into the garden rather than the garden into the city. Blending the spaces into a modern take on the “garden” and to push the limit of what materials can be used to create architecture and landscape.

                The designing of garden spaces still centers on the public experience. This has not changed for centuries. The new gardens try to blend the materials of the featured pieces and the structures that frame them. The realization of materiality and how to use it is key to successfully composing a landscape for the modern world. Whether the flora is the main attraction, or just a thread in the fabric, gardens are pushing the boundaries of the norm further than ever before.