Ponds, Streams & Waterfalls
My love of nature started with a rock collection I had as a child: My fascination with the simple beauty of those small pieces of stone hit me early in life and never left. Several years later, my outlook was dramatically expanded when a wealthy uncle of mine paid to have a formal Japanese garden built for his home in Boulder, Colo. Ever since, I've had a profound appreciation of archetypal Japanese gardens and the way they celebrate nature through landforms, rocks, plants and water. By the time I was in high school, I had already decided that my career was going to involve working outdoors, and from that time forward, my prime interest was in bringing the techniques and disciplines of Japanese gardens into the greater American landscape both where I grew up in the Pacific Northwest and elsewhere. For 30 years now, I've worked as a landscape artist in that region - for 15 years in Portland and for the last 15 in Eugene, Ore. Although many of my designs are not what you could describe as "Japanese gardens" per se, everything I do is informed and influenced by those traditions. I bear no grudge of any sort against the beauty of gardens in the Western European tradition, but to my mind, there's nothing in landscape design that harmonizes more seamlessly with nature than
My love of nature started with a rock collection I had as a child: My fascination with the simple beauty of those small pieces of stone hit me early in life and never left. Several years later, my outlook was dramatically expanded when a wealthy uncle of mine paid to have a formal Japanese garden built for his home in Boulder, Colo. Ever since, I've had a profound appreciation of archetypal Japanese gardens and the way they celebrate nature through landforms, rocks, plants and water. By the time I was in high school, I had already decided that my career was going to involve working outdoors, and from that time forward, my prime interest was in bringing the techniques and disciplines of Japanese gardens into the greater American landscape both where I grew up in the Pacific Northwest and elsewhere. For 30 years now, I've worked as a landscape artist in that region - for 15 years in Portland and for the last 15 in Eugene, Ore. Although many of my designs are not what you could describe as "Japanese gardens" per se, everything I do is informed and influenced by those traditions. I bear no grudge of any sort against the beauty of gardens in the Western European tradition, but to my mind, there's nothing in landscape design that harmonizes more seamlessly with nature than
To me, designing and building ponds and streams is the best job in the world: It offers the professional rare opportunities to shape beautiful compositions that mimic nature and bring joy to those who spend time near the water's edge. It's hard work both physically and mentally, but ultimately, it's profoundly satisfying. I backed into this business while doing lawn and landscape maintenance work during high school. What I observed on that end of the market was a level of competition so intense that I soon recognized I'd need a specialty if I were to have any chance of pursuing a good career at it. In surveying the market, I noted that a number of landscaping firms were getting into naturalistic waterfeatures - and that the outcomes frequently looked terrible, even from my novice's perspective. To get in and out quickly, too many of these operators created systems that bore no resemblance to nature at all: From the rockwork to the way streams cut through spaces, what I saw just didn't square with what I'd seen in the real world. These shortcomings spelled opportunity, of course, but I also knew that to stand apart from the rest, I'd need to develop my own skills and deliver work that reached a much higher level than just about
To me, designing and building ponds and streams is the best job in the world: It offers the professional rare opportunities to shape beautiful compositions that mimic nature and bring joy to those who spend time near the water's edge. It's hard work both physically and mentally, but ultimately, it's profoundly satisfying. I backed into this business while doing lawn and landscape maintenance work during high school. What I observed on that end of the market was a level of competition so intense that I soon recognized I'd need a specialty if I were to have any chance of pursuing a good career at it. In surveying the market, I noted that a number of landscaping firms were getting into naturalistic waterfeatures - and that the outcomes frequently looked terrible, even from my novice's perspective. To get in and out quickly, too many of these operators created systems that bore no resemblance to nature at all: From the rockwork to the way streams cut through spaces, what I saw just didn't square with what I'd seen in the real world. These shortcomings spelled opportunity, of course, but I also knew that to stand apart from the rest, I'd need to develop my own skills and deliver work that reached a much higher level than just about
For a long time, I've studied a small lake that formed long ago in a natural bowl in Northern Wisconsin. It has about 20 acres of surface area and is now surrounded by a cow pasture and a cornfield. Holsteins graze right up to the water's edge and at times step into the lake to drink. Sometimes, cows being cows, their waste ends up in the water as well. On the opposite shore, the cornfield has an unusual configuration, with its furrows running straight down the slope and into the lake. When it rains or the fields are irrigated, some fertilizer inevitably washes into the lake. The stage is set for aquatic misery: Viscous, pea-soup mats of green algae and foul odors are the common results of this sort of nutrient loading. Indeed, few life forms other than algae survive in
For a long time, I've studied a small lake that formed long ago in a natural bowl in Northern Wisconsin. It has about 20 acres of surface area and is now surrounded by a cow pasture and a cornfield. Holsteins graze right up to the water's edge and at times step into the lake to drink. Sometimes, cows being cows, their waste ends up in the water as well. On the opposite shore, the cornfield has an unusual configuration, with its furrows running straight down the slope and into the lake. When it rains or the fields are irrigated, some fertilizer inevitably washes into the lake. The stage is set for aquatic misery: Viscous, pea-soup mats of green algae and foul odors are the common results of this sort of nutrient loading. Indeed, few life forms other than algae survive in
I've always believed that if you're going to do something, you should do it so well that the results are beyond compare. That basic philosophy has guided our company, GCS of Woodbridge, Calif., from the very start. It has led us to apply the highest standards to every one of our projects, all of which have been executed on large estates for ambitious, affluent, selective clients who invariably want something no one else has. We've been selective from the start as well, seeking clients who are in the process of creating the homes of their dreams and who want to have fun with (and in) their exterior spaces. In most cases, what they want are true oases - resort-like settings that give them a taste of
I've always believed that if you're going to do something, you should do it so well that the results are beyond compare. That basic philosophy has guided our company, GCS of Woodbridge, Calif., from the very start. It has led us to apply the highest standards to every one of our projects, all of which have been executed on large estates for ambitious, affluent, selective clients who invariably want something no one else has. We've been selective from the start as well, seeking clients who are in the process of creating the homes of their dreams and who want to have fun with (and in) their exterior spaces. In most cases, what they want are true oases - resort-like settings that give them a taste of
In all my many years of working with water, I've never grown tired of its remarkable beauty and complexity - or of the variations it encompasses, the ways it changes and the endless fascination it offers to those who come into its presence. At the heart of water's ability to inspire us and rivet our attention is its capacity to reflect. There's something truly magical about the way water mirrors the sky, a surrounding landscape, nearby architecture or a well-placed work of art. It's a gift of sorts, a timeless bounty that has captured imaginations ever since Narcissus fell in love with
In all my many years of working with water, I've never grown tired of its remarkable beauty and complexity - or of the variations it encompasses, the ways it changes and the endless fascination it offers to those who come into its presence. At the heart of water's ability to inspire us and rivet our attention is its capacity to reflect. There's something truly magical about the way water mirrors the sky, a surrounding landscape, nearby architecture or a well-placed work of art. It's a gift of sorts, a timeless bounty that has captured imaginations ever since Narcissus fell in love with
