Infinite Potential
A few weeks back, I saw an item on the architecture website Arch Daily that immediately caught my eye. Entitled "Infinity Pools in 15 Architecture Projects" and compiled by Brazilian architect Eduardo Souza, the article delivers as promised - and I'm grateful that, for a change,
#33: Flagstone Decking
Of all the videos in this series, this is one in which I covered almost all of what I had to say about flagstone decking while on camera - a fact that doesn't leave me as much as usual to write about in this introduction. But as always, I've spotted a few areas worth additional comment. One small point needs more emphasis than I gave it, for example, and that has to do with
Swimming’s Place
My nightstand is so overstocked with books that I've given up on ever catching up. Each gift-receiving opportunity makes more of them appear, and for some reason my family and friends have decided that I like reading volumes so thick that I have to crane new arrivals into place after
Speaking the Language
'As is true of many business sectors, the architecture, engineering and construction industry . . . has its own language,' noted Dave Peterson to start his March 2009 Currents column, 'and the construction documents generated by those professionals (watershapers very definitely included) are the medium through which everyone communicates.   'The challenge for watershapers is that we've
Artful Opportunities
As is true of many designers, I carry a large number of unusual ideas in the back of my mind, waiting for the right site, the right client and the right project to pull them out and put them to use. Some of these ideas are innovative or even wild and most of them are unconventional - otherwise, they would have found quicker paths to my drawing board. In the project covered in this article, I was lucky enough to break out two of these special ideas - one an unusual transition from the home's upper level down to the poolscape, the other in the form of
Strangely Sublime
I must start by letting you know that I have yet to see this watershape personally. Even so, it is so extraordinarily odd and conceptually brilliant that I couldn't resist writing it up and suggesting we all should add it to our lists of things we need to see while we still can. Situated off an intersection in the heart of Bern, Switzerland, the fountain is called "The Spiral Column (Nature's Way)" and is the work of Meret Oppenheim, a German-born Swiss artist who became an icon of the Surrealist movement and had a career that spanned more than 50 years from the 1930s into the 1980s. This fountain is one of her last works, completed just two years before she died in 1985 - and indeed she didn't last long enough after its dedication to see how it turned out. The original spiral tower was simple enough in form, maybe even a bit dull - sort of like a section of threaded rod with a weird hat. The real genius came in Oppenheim's anticipation of what would happen as the structure flowed year 'round with water from a mineral-rich source: Before long, the water's calcium content began depositing itself on the surface of the tower, adding strange protuberances that keep growing so dramatically that, periodically, the city needs to chip them back to keep the composition from toppling. Born in 1903, Oppenheim moved in distinctly artistic circles as she grew up and eventually moved to Paris at age 18 to study and, more steadily, hang out with other artists. In 1933, she was invited by friends to participate in a Surrealist exhibition and quickly rose to prominence among her peers, before long becoming part of André Breton's influential circle. Later, she returned to her Swiss roots, taking up residence in Bern in the 1960s. The legacy she left behind in her chosen home base is just fascinating: The Spiral Column changes daily as water flows shift in response to the calcium growth. And then there are the various plants, mosses and lichens that have taken hold: They change colors as time passes, growing and fading with the seasons. Finally, in the dead of Bern's long winters, the spiral is wrapped in icicles in odd patches, with the white drapery projecting outward to reveal all of the surface distortions that have accumulated during the year. It's a spectacular idea, one worthy of respect and admiration. But apparently it's something of a civic issue that the composition is also spectacularly ugly. The local attitude toward Oppenheim's fountain reminds me of the occasional uprisings in San Francisco aimed at demolishing the Vaillancourt Fountain, another Brutalist waterfeature that seems under perpetual threat. By comparison, however, the Vaillancourt Fountain is actually on the pretty side, and even I would have objections to "The Spiral Column" if I didn't perceive it as such a timeless, insightful look inside the nature of water, calcium and the persistence of plants and microorganisms. I also think it's both ironic and hilarious that the city has tried to dress the fountain area up with large foreground flower pots: Anyone with enough ill-will to think of ramming the hideous fountain to do away with it will have to destroy conventional beauty on the way. I haven't been to Switzerland since the 1970s and haven't felt much need to go back - until now, that is. This is one weird fountain, and I'm anxious to see it for myself!
A Slice of Paradise
As an engineering-oriented designer/builder, I know that it simplifies a project if I'm working with like-minded clients: They tend to listen well and get a quick grip on crucial details that have an influence on the outcome. They also tend to operate on the conservative side of the construction spectrum, preferring not to take unnecessary risks for themselves or their families, friends and neighbors. In the project discussed here, not only was the client an engineering and general contractor, but he and his wife were successful real estate investors with extensive holdings. As a result, they had the wherewithal, knowledge and desire to have the pool and spa behind their San Diego-area home stay put on the middle of a long
Organizing Chaos
The backyard-design process, it's been said, is something like completing a jigsaw puzzle: You start with a framed space and assemble available pieces to fill in the picture. But there are two problems with this common analogy: First, the number of available pieces far exceeds the physical capacity of the frame and, second, there are no precut tabs or notches to guide placement of the selected pieces. So you'd be closer to the mark if you said that design is like the worst, most challenging jigsaw puzzle ever - and even then, the typical backyard-design task is much harder. Shining a light on this process is
Fishy Affairs
There comes a time with most ponds when the owners will want to add fish to supplement the original population or replace pets lost to age or predators. It's a perilous step, notes Mike Gannon, which is why he prepares his clients for the occasion early on with words of caution.    
Powering the Press
'Exceptional projects for outstanding clients don't fall off trees:  You need to reach these people somehow,' declared Brian Van Bower in his Aqua Culture column for March 2004, 'and make your presence known. 'There are numbers of ways of achieving this contact, and I'd argue that