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It's common knowledge that getting into any body of water - large, small, natural, man-made - involves a certain level of risk. Despite all the healthful benefits of water recreation, despite all of the immense psychological and even spiritual appeal of even being in water's presence, the brutal truth is that, in certain conditions, simply
It's common knowledge that getting into any body of water - large, small, natural, man-made - involves a certain level of risk. Despite all the healthful benefits of water recreation, despite all of the immense psychological and even spiritual appeal of even being in water's presence, the brutal truth is that, in certain conditions, simply
In pre-Colonial days, the neck of the woods now known as Longwood Gardens was a hunting ground for the Lenni Lenape tribe, who prized the area for the richness of its game and timber. Once the British arrived, the land moved under the control of William Penn, founder (and namesake) of Pennsylvania, who sold it to a Quaker family by the name of Pierce in the year 1700. The family farmed the property until 1798, when Joshua and Samuel Pierce began planting an arboretum and the space that would one day become Longwood Gardens was born. Those of us living in the Philadelphia area have long enjoyed the privilege of having this resource in nearby Kennett Square, Pa. It's an amazing place, and I find my way there often because it seems that each time I go, there's something
In pre-Colonial days, the neck of the woods now known as Longwood Gardens was a hunting ground for the Lenni Lenape tribe, who prized the area for the richness of its game and timber. Once the British arrived, the land moved under the control of William Penn, founder (and namesake) of Pennsylvania, who sold it to a Quaker family by the name of Pierce in the year 1700. The family farmed the property until 1798, when Joshua and Samuel Pierce began planting an arboretum and the space that would one day become Longwood Gardens was born. Those of us living in the Philadelphia area have long enjoyed the privilege of having this resource in nearby Kennett Square, Pa. It's an amazing place, and I find my way there often because it seems that each time I go, there's something
As a sculptor, I always seek ways to use my work to create positive (and sometimes intellectually challenging) experiences for those who have the opportunity to see what I've done. In my case, most of the time I'm not trying to make direct, narrative or literal statements. Instead, I seek to conjure feelings of fascination that lead to appreciation and enjoyment: You don't necessarily have to understand the forms I create to walk away from them with good feelings. When I have the opportunity to work in public settings (as was the case in the project featured on these pages), I'm stimulated by the idea that large numbers of people will be exposed to my sculpture and that, in many cases, those people will be exposed to what I've done over and over again because they'll be passing by at least twice each day as they go to and from their jobs in adjacent buildings. In this case, I was working next to an office tower in Century City - a famous business and entertainment district near downtown Los Angeles - which meant that thousands would repeatedly be walking right past my work and would come to accept it as part of their daily lives. In that light, I see art set amid architecture as a permanent commitment, as a cultural reference that has the potential to resound for generations. This recognition fills me with a heightened sense of
As a sculptor, I always seek ways to use my work to create positive (and sometimes intellectually challenging) experiences for those who have the opportunity to see what I've done. In my case, most of the time I'm not trying to make direct, narrative or literal statements. Instead, I seek to conjure feelings of fascination that lead to appreciation and enjoyment: You don't necessarily have to understand the forms I create to walk away from them with good feelings. When I have the opportunity to work in public settings (as was the case in the project featured on these pages), I'm stimulated by the idea that large numbers of people will be exposed to my sculpture and that, in many cases, those people will be exposed to what I've done over and over again because they'll be passing by at least twice each day as they go to and from their jobs in adjacent buildings. In this case, I was working next to an office tower in Century City - a famous business and entertainment district near downtown Los Angeles - which meant that thousands would repeatedly be walking right past my work and would come to accept it as part of their daily lives. In that light, I see art set amid architecture as a permanent commitment, as a cultural reference that has the potential to resound for generations. This recognition fills me with a heightened sense of
Echo Park is one of those places that has come to be defined by an all-too-familiar litany of urban woes: gangs, crime, violence, graffiti and drugs set amid aging buildings and a crumbling infrastructure. Fortunately, the community also has leadership that's working hard to change things for the better. One of the recent and most significant efforts to improve the lives of its citizenry involved renovating Echo Park Deep Pool, the area's only public swimming facility. The $6-million program involved enclosing the big pool with a new
Echo Park is one of those places that has come to be defined by an all-too-familiar litany of urban woes: gangs, crime, violence, graffiti and drugs set amid aging buildings and a crumbling infrastructure. Fortunately, the community also has leadership that's working hard to change things for the better. One of the recent and most significant efforts to improve the lives of its citizenry involved renovating Echo Park Deep Pool, the area's only public swimming facility. The $6-million program involved enclosing the big pool with a new
One of the things I love about working in the southwest is the way the openness and rugged, sculptural appearance of the natural landscape opens the door to those who want to make bold architectural statements in concrete, stone, steel and glass. Even the plants here have an overtly sculpted quality. I appreciate this all the more by virtue of having worked in more tradition-bound places: Here in the southwest, I feel free to use a strong, contemporary design vocabulary in forging unique connections between built spaces and their dramatic surroundings. Although I'm perfectly comfortable working in those traditional styles, I'll admit to being heavily influenced by the masters of Modernism - particularly Frank Lloyd Wright and the German-born American architect Ludwig Mies van der Rohe - and love the way those amazing mid-20th-century designers used clear, sculptural geometries to direct the eye and define intricate spatial relationships. The project depicted here is a direct channeling of their influence, aided and abetted by