Landscape Without Design

 

This post is part of an ongoing (although intermittent) series of fictional chats between an architect and an intern in his Northern California studio.

 

 

 

I.        On my way in this morning I noticed these large white flowers on large stalks along the freeway – do you know that those are?

 

A.        Matilija Poppies aka Fried Egg Plant.  Do they make you hungry?

 

I.         I don’t think about plants all that much but I notice that many of our studio’s project photos seem to have plants all over the place. I mean more than just fitting carefully into the landscape. It’s too frequent to be mere coincidence – Is this coming from you or the owners, or what?

 

A.        It staggers the imagination that so many architects envision their buildings as stand-alone objects rather than part of a larger context of flora and fauna.  You know, I think it was Sullivan who said that a building could only truly be evaluated after 50 years and I like to think that in large part that was to see how it accommodated itself to the natural forces acting upon it, including the landscape.  Plants are life and as such actively enliven the buildings with or without us.  Buildings that don’t engage the landscape are prone to losing their relevance as the trends of the day pass them by.  Once you’ve seen your umpteenth Frank Gehry knock-off you may start yearning for a nice orthogonal box with a gable roof…and some Matilija poppies partially encroaching on the entry.

 

           Speaking of Frank Gehry, when he was first practicing he did buildings with the intent that couldn’t immediately be perceived to be “highly designed” and that’s the way I would like to see landscape architects think and work.  Unfortunately they seem to think there is something valuable or meaningful in arranging exotic plants in geometric patterns around the perimeter of buildings.  High fashion foundation planting to me is offensive and, I think, puts the profession to shame.

 

I.         You sound a little bristly there, boss. 

 

A.        Kind of preachy, huh?

 

I.         Are there any landscape architects you like? 

 

A.       Within the excessive amount of humanity surrounding us there are many.  Steve Martino comes to mind right off.

 

I.         But, don’t you think some of the contemporary landscape design looks pretty cool… and even sets the building off for positive effect?

 

A.       Momentarily perhaps.  It’s usually more like affect – as in affected.  My friend Kreg Brawley says “looks only matter in one thing in life and even then only in the preliminaries.”  What matters most is what something does  – its look is just the resulting expression of its function.  And if the landscape is not interacting with and providing habitat for animals then in my book it’s not real landscape.  It’s more like stage set.

 

I.         OK, let me get on track… what about the landscapes around so many of our houses.  Weber, Howguinnland, Brunsell, Sonoma Coast House, Gualala House, our studio, and others…they look like they are being engulfed by plants.  Is this designed?

 

A.       Mostly you are seeing an evolving scenario, the result of a loose discussion between the owners and myself and landscape architects or other consultants. They are not instant, complete designs, but rather general concepts that continue to evolve over time. There is no right or wrong and no adherence to a particular school of thought, ist, ism, or ion.  I do have an affinity for native species, but continuity is the key word in all my thinking, including design.  I don’t want the landscape repairs around out buildings to now be out of bounds to the plants and animals that were there before us.

 

I.         I just don’t seem to have the same feel for plants the way you do.  Is it something I’ll acquire over time?

 

A.       Malcolm Wells said he thought architecture students should take classes in biology but I don’t see it as something you learn to care about academically.  I think it’s more heartfelt and comes from sensing one’s place in a world larger than television, fashion, and economics.  One way or another it comes from seeing beyond the surveyed lot lines and making a stand for or against old Mother Nature.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Learning from the Land

This is David Weinstein’s article just published in the 2018 spring issue of  CA Modern:






 

 

 

An Evening with Bruno – March 15, 2018

 

I’m sitting here staring helplessly at my great friend, Bruno, our family’s Labrador retriever mix.  Bruno was an interesting character.  From the day we picked him up at the rescue center six years ago he decided that Helena must have come to him from the Promised Land and he has been more devoted to her than any puppy love relationship I have ever witnessed.  Bruno was never more than thirty feet from his beloved Helena. When she went upstairs Bruno went upstairs and when she came back down he came back down.  Once, when I became concerned that I couldn’t find Bruno, but could see Helena washing her van, I told her that Bruno had disappeared...  “No,” she said, “he’s in the van.”  Of course!

 

Bruno’s second most favorite thing in life was riding in vans, trucks, and cars.  This boy was truly born to ride.  He didn’t look out the window much; he just curled up and enjoyed the ride.  On the return Bruno could always smell home a mile away and would begin barking excitedly.  And for good reason because at the entry gate is where we would let him out so he could run up ahead of us for the quarter mile long driveway to the house.  But wait!  Bruno ran ahead, adding a personalized twist:  every 100 feet or so he would pirouette around and bite the on-coming license plate.  We were never able to deter him from this antic and after chewing the frames into pieces he then mangled the license plates into illegible and crumpled scraps of metal.

Crazy perhaps, but full of life and faithful devotion to his lady.  Speaking of ladies, Bruno had two girlfriends, Rosie and Lily.  They walked and played together while Bruno demonstrated his masculine prowess by always peeing on every bush in sight.  And so I stare near tears at his crippled and trembling body, paralyzed and anemic from the terrible cancer that has moved from his spleen to his spine.  He stares back and feebly offers his paw in an attempt to “shake” – all he still knows to do in an attempt to communicate.  I can hardly stand losing him like this.  Mother Nature isn’t always so pretty, is she?

Inspiration and Influence

This post is part of an ongoing (although intermittent) series of fictional chats between an architect and an intern in his Northern California studio.

 

 

 

 

I.          It’s interesting how we find our ways in life.  I mean it’s hard for  me to think  of  myself being anything  other than  an architect…maybe an industrial  designer or  a  planner  of some  sort.  And of all the places I could be working, here I am mentoring under you and being truly exposed to the hand of Mother Nature.

 

A.        Life is like that.  There’s good and there’s bad coming at us, and all we can really do is choose how we’re going to respond to it.

 

I.          Truthfully, I often am not sure how to respond to many of the surprises life seems to constantly throw at me.  I try to be thoughtful and I think about so many of our predecessors who have set examples for us.  And somehow all of this helps to mold us into who we are today. “L’Architecture aujourd’hui” the French might say.  So what are some of the big influences that have helped shape you as an architect?

 

A.        Without my mother I wouldn‘t be here.

 

I.          Ah ha!  What about your dad? 

 

A.        Not so much.  My mother, while very average in many ways, exemplified persistence and tenacity.  I think I’ve used those characteristics to help push myself and my work to a higher level than it might otherwise have achieved.  Bill Clark, the American Cemetery at Verdun, the paving of the Los Angeles River, the children at Smile Train and Shriners Hospitals come to mind.  Architecturally, Jon Jerde had a significant influence on me.  In Jon I saw the possibility of working at a level way above the status quo …that was inspiring.

 

I.          What other architects have inspired you?

 

A.        Louis Kahn, Bill Turnbull, and Steve Martino come to mind immediately, but every spark of brilliance is uplifting. And a couple of artists: Rico Lebrun and Jerald Silva. There is something particularly poignant about witnessing the genius of my contemporaries first hand.

 

I.          And what about literature?

 

A.        My Ántonia by Willa Cather, Design with Nature by Jean Paul Grillo, Hermann Hesse novels, and Bob Dylan’s songs.  As I go through life I pick up pieces here and there hundreds of them – but I’m really not a disciple of any of them.  I’ve been devoted enough to continue my own search and I’ve pretty much managed to find my own way. I’ve made a lot of mistakes and experienced my share of poor judgment and low self-esteem, but now, in my later years I feel somewhat at peace with myself although I seem to have more concern for nature and the landscape than for myself.

 

I.          I’m not even sure exactly what I’m trying to get at.  I guess I’m trying to suck some insight, some short cut answers out of you.    

 

A.        You’re more than welcome.  I’m glad to help. That reminds me of Gene Mackey telling me about his father, St. Louis Architect Gene Mackey Jr., and his partner who were on their way to a design conference in Michigan and stopped in to see Eero Saarinen.  When they told Eero the reason for their trip Eero puffed on his cigar and said something like “You boys might as well just turn around and go home now.  You’re not going to find any answers at a conference here.  All the answers you are seeking are on your desks back in St. Louis.

 

I.          You seem to always have a story.

 

A.        I listen a lot. I listen for the occasional gem.  These days I try hard to listen to Mother Nature but it’s so very hard to hear her…it’s mostly a matter of noting what works well and what doesn’t work so well.  With that in mind I might add that I’ve learned a lot about the world from fishing.  Things like the difference between what you think you know, what others say, the way you would like it to be, and the way it really is.  The way it really is often evades comprehension - mostly we just catch glimpses of how it isn’t.

 

I.          This could get discouraging.

 

A.        I know, but I think that with a positive attitude and plenty of persistence you have a good chance of finding you own way…something few attempt and even fewer still ever achieve.