Fountains
At its most basic, public art creates spaces in which people experience art without paying hard-earned dollars to own it or going to a museum or gallery to see it. Public art is also about giving everyone within eyeshot new types of experiences amid their daily routines. Perhaps it's an object they'll pass on the way to the subway or an environment they'll spot out of the corner of an eye as they drive to the grocery store. Maybe it's a place where people gather to eat lunch or a landmark for arranging meetings with friends. Whether it's familiar to the viewer or sneaks up unexpectedly, the work becomes
It began as the playful vision of Bob and Kat Tudor, husband-and-wife philanthropists and founders of The Smokebrush Theatre in Colorado Springs, Colo., who decided one day to donate a unique fountain to the children of their city. Now that vision, fully realized, belongs to the citizens of this sprawling town at the foot of the Rocky Mountains in the form of a dazzling water display and a folksy character named Uncle Wilber. Multi-talented artists in their own rights, the Tudors developed the aesthetic and creative concepts but knew from the start that they would need to enlist advanced technical expertise to
The avant-garde composer John Cage once said, “Art exists to make us aware of the very life we’re living.” I’ve always loved that statement because, as someone working to create works of art, the experiences of my own life have naturally been transferred into the way I’ve chosen to express myself – and, I hope, have enabled me to succeed in bringing other people to an awareness of experiences in their own lives. For me, water is the key in these transferences: Even though I’m probably more often described as a sculptor of natural stone rather than as a watershaper, the dialogues I have with the materials I use and with those who observe the outcomes have always begun with the way I work with water. I grew up in the Midwest on the banks of the Mississippi. As a child, I lingered on the untamed shores of the creeks, streams and rivers that laced across an otherwise developed and thoroughly mechanized landscape. I would read or draw, stroll idly along a stream, or spend hours building a raft or dam. This was well before I’d begun to think about my relationship with water in any sort of artistic way, but there’s no question that those experiences remain at the heart of my passion for working within this
If you've been following this column for the past several issues, you already know a good bit about the magnificent (and magnificently difficult) project I completed late last year in the Malibu Colony. Many times in those columns, I mentioned (mostly in passing) a system of four deck-level laminar jets we planned on installing. As was the case with just about everything else on this project, incorporating the system of jets into the courtyard environment turned out to be far more complicated and challenging than we ever thought it would be. When all was said and done, however, we all agreed that meeting this particular challenge was
Most people know Maya Lin for her bold design of the Vietnam Veterans Memorial in Washington, but watershapers in particular should become familiar with a range of her other works as well. For nearly 15 years, reports William Hobbs, his company has been involved in producing intricate water effects for the famous artist, whose works draw fascinating connections between observers and the mysteries of time and nature. The marriage of water and art can be extremely powerful and evocative, especially in the hands of a great designer. One who has taken the use of water to sublime and fantastic levels is Maya Lin, the artist who rose to prominence as a
Just as a painting comes alive with a tiny lamp perched over its frame or a simple landscape becomes a nighttime spectacle with strategically placed spot and flood lights, illuminated water creates an intense experience for the eyes. Lighting adds depth and dimension while revealing subtle details and producing emotional responses among those who view and enjoy these scenes. The simple truth is, if we didn't light water in fountains and other watershapes, much of its visual beauty would be lost. As we discussed in "Guiding the Lights" (WaterShapes, March 2001, page 48), understanding and applying the various approaches and techniques of lighting water enables professional watershapers to operate on whole new levels. In the following pages, we'll continue that discussion with a look at what it takes to maximize the aesthetic effects of water in motion and discuss some practical issues having to do with lighting installation and safety. SOLUTIONS IN MOTION Last time, we identified the various categories of water effects, design considerations for each and the most effective of the available lighting solutions. This time we'll
Sometimes, it's the unexpected that gives a place its true spirit. That's been very much the case for The First Church of Christ, Scientist, a 1975 addition to Boston's historic Back Bay district. The site features a campus plan devised by legendary architects I.M. Pei and Peter Walker, with grounds organized around a central reflecting pool flanked by a circular, ceremonial display fountain. The famed fountain is enclosed by an equally famous bosque of linden trees pleached into lollipop forms. For Bostonians and visitors alike, this classic design has become part of the urban fabric - and the church's plaza a popular gathering place. Not long after the original work was completed, children from surrounding neighborhoods (the South End, Fenway and the Back Bay) discovered the wonderful play opportunities associated with the 180-nozzle deck-level fountain, especially during the hot summer months. Since 1975, literally thousands of kids with their families in tow have made this space their summer hangout, and now second-generation children are being brought to the fountain by parents who grew up playing in its irresistible jets of water. From the start, however, there was a problem with
No matter how it's used - as a focal point in a design or as just another feature balanced among many - the thoughtful use of water offers landscape architects and other watershape designers a huge range of aesthetic opportunities. Indeed, the water's texture, reflectivity, sounds and sculptural qualities can all be used to enhance the observer's experience as he or she moves through an environment, and in a near-infinite number of ways. Regardless of how familiar one becomes with these attributes and using them in built spaces, the presence of water in a design often yields something new, interesting and even unexpected. Whether you use it as a visual transition, a physical destination, an expression of nature or an architectural statement, water is
A watershape doesn't need to be immense to be either beautiful or monumental. Nor does it need to be outsized to serve its community as a gathering place or point of pride. Those are a couple of the lessons we learned in shaping the York Street Millennium Fountain in the heart of one of the highest profile tourist areas of Ottawa, Ontario, Canada. Using an inventive approach that balanced the needs of the neighborhood, a range of national and local government officials and the general citizenry's desire to celebrate the new millennium, the project also embraced the city's own rich history. The new fountain sits at a significant crossroads of pedestrian traffic between the Byward Market and the government district in downtown Ottawa. Indeed, the traffic island surrounding the fountain stands just blocks from Parliament Hill, the seat of Canada's national government, and was intended from the start to serve as a focal point and gathering place. Although small and comparatively simple, the project was complicated by the need to satisfy both local and national officials, which meant we had to incorporate
People don't usually have trouble with boundaries and will honor requests to "Keep Out," for example, or leave certain doors to "Employees Only." But there are also cases where we generally take issue with limitations on behavior whether stated or implied, and I can think of no better instance in which this takes place than with water in public spaces. Despite designers' best efforts over the years to make it clear where bathers are welcome and where they are not, the public has steadily defied boundaries by trespassing into waters that were never directly designed for human interaction. In fact, you might say that formal, decorative fountains are a forbidden fruit from which many of us have taken the occasional bite. During the past two decades, watershape designers have looked very specifically at the irresistible urge we have to touch water in an effort to shape all-new boundaries between public nuisance and design nuance. Along the way, we've learned which elements offer a deliberate, positive signal - a real "permission to play" - and are now wielding this power of interactivity to create and define a broad range of
