Ponds, Streams & Waterfalls
Creating watershapes and landscapes that are natural in appearance is always a challenge, says Ken Alperstein of Pinnacle Design, a firm that specializes in high-end projects related to top-flight golf courses. For this project in Shady Canyon, however, the ante was upped considerably by the site's location in an environmentally sensitive coastal canyon in southern California - a design challenge intensified by regulatory scrutiny every step of the way. It was a job that forced everyone involved to be on exactly the same page at all times. The landscapes and watershapes at the Shady Canyon Golf Club in Irvine, Calif., were developed by the Irvine Company as the heart of an upscale residential community. The wilderness area set aside for the course and its immediate surroundings had a subtle, bucolic charm all its own - a character the design team needed to
Whether we function as designers or builders or both, we watershapers tend to be flexible folk: We mold ourselves to projects and situations and tasks when we're called on to apply our skills and experience, and this often leads us to perform in unanticipated ways. This sort of adaptability is a way of life for most of us: It's a talent we use to produce success. But even the most adaptable practitioners of the watershaping arts will, every once in a while, encounter a project that shocks the system, alters all formulas and breaks down familiar parameters. In these rare cases, just surviving the process is an accomplishment that brings a sense of relief as well as a sense of amazement that both you and the project made it through to completion. I was recently fortunate enough to be part of just such a project - a fascinating set of challenges now known as the Smithsonian Institution's National Museum of the American Indian in Washington, D.C. It's the last museum that will be
Every year, it seems, I'm asked to teach more and more classes on how to build streams, waterfalls and ponds that look natural. I enjoy conducting these sessions for local supply houses, landscape architecture firms, community colleges and other organizations and find it flattering that they value what I know. My motivation for sharing, however, is less about ego gratification than it is about my awareness that there's no way a single company can build all of the naturalistic watershapes consumers want these days. To me, it's a matter of collective as well as personal interest that these watershapes be built to function well and look great. In Colorado in particular, I also see a need for work that appears completely and distinctly natural, simply because most clients here are accustomed to seeing remarkable beauty in the countless alpine settings that grace this beautiful state. Indeed, it's a fact of professional life here that the work must mimic nature closely or it just won't fly. That can be very good for business, of course, but only if more than a few professionals hereabouts are up to the challenge. Available projects range from those that use thousands of
It certainly doesn't happen very often, but sometimes the addition of a watershape can completely redefine the way a property is perceived. In the case seen here, a nine-acre estate in the mountains above of Malibu, Calif., was zoned for agriculture. The owner's intention in buying it was quite appropriate: He wanted to turn it into a working vineyard brought to life visually by a big stream, pond and waterfall system. Once the watershape took form, however, the owner was so inspired by what he saw that his vision for the property changed and he recast the place as a venue for weddings and other events that would be enhanced by the bucolic, utterly romantic surroundings. In a very direct way, in other words, the watershapes served to increase both the aesthetic and financial value of the property. I'm a romantic at heart, so the notion that the work on display here will be a backdrop for special, memorable occasions has made the big, complicated project even more
I've been using the word "confluence" a lot lately - so often, in fact, that I decided to look it up to be sure that I wasn't misusing it in some way. According to Webster, the first definition of confluence is "a flowing together of two or more streams," with a second meaning of "a gathering, flowing, or meeting together at one juncture or point." To me, it's a perfect word to describe a trend that's redefining the watershaping industries - that is, a growing confluence between the pool/spa and pond/stream industries. Coming from the pool/spa side of the discussion, I can recall a time not very long ago when ponds and streams were only rarely if ever considered by anyone in my business. What could pools and spas possibly have in common with
Think of it: Just below the surface of our ponds and streams is a wonderful potential for beauty, an amazing opportunity to open observers' eyes to an entire submerged "landscape" made possible by virtue of completely clear water. I like to picture it as an "underwater garden," which is why, to me, water clarity is an essential component of my ponds and streams. Too often, however, I run into settings in which it simply has not been a priority for the designer or installer. I'm further distressed when the subsurface views I treat as key design elements are left partially or wholly unconsidered. I think back to my family's trips to the seashore, where we would spend hours observing rocky tidal pools. Peering into the water and seeing a world of oceanic plants and animals at close proximity was a profound source of fascination and excitement. It is for me still – and, I believe, for most other people as well. What I see in tide pools is a perfectly balanced, utterly natural underwater garden filled with beautiful stone colors, textures weathered by the action of the waves and tides and a plethora of pebbles and sand mixed with bits of seashell. It is here that we may
I believe it's fair to say that many of us who are now in the business of creating naturalistic watershapes have been intensely influenced and inspired by experiences we had as children playing near streams, waterfalls and ponds. That was certainly true for me as a kid growing up on Long Island, N.Y., where I was constantly exposed to beautiful natural bodies of water. When I grew up, I found myself in the entertainment industry for several years. It was exciting at times, but no matter where I went, I always felt myself being drawn back to
It's a fact: A great many of the ponds and lakes in the western United States are simply not part of nature's scheme. Whether used for water retention, landscape beautification, fishing or swimming, these artificial, man-made bodies of water are inclined (and in some cases doomed) to be troubled, usually because of fertilizer- and pesticide-laced runoff from surrounding developed areas. Indeed, some of these problem watershapes are filled with just about the worst water the environment has to offer. As our business has developed, a large portion of what we do has focused on setting things right in these troubled watershapes and
During a lifetime of driving up and down the part of Sunset Boulevard where it finally meets the Pacific Ocean, I'd often noticed the sign pointing to "Lake Shrine" but had never taken the time to stop and have a look. I suppose the "shrine" part of it made me think it was the exclusive preserve of adherents or members of the Self-Realization Fellowship - an organization I knew nothing about other than that their facility was in one of Los Angeles' most beautiful locations. I finally overcame my hesitation about visiting the Lake Shrine a couple years ago, when a friend told me it was a place where people of all faiths and religions were welcome to stroll, meditate and enjoy the tranquility of the setting. Curiosity overcame skepticism and I finally visited the place. What I found at the Lake Shrine was a serene, calm, meditative oasis of lush, beautiful gardens surrounding a lake. To this day many years later, the minute I drive through the entrance gate, I'm always swept up by sensations of serenity and peace - and have since
When we think about the challenge of literally "shaping" a body of water, we must start by thinking about edges. The edge is the pond's DNA or blueprint. It tells us almost everything about the pond. Without being able to observe the edge, you can't discern whether it's a formal pond, lake or a sewage-treatment facility. It might be a beautiful water feature or an eyesore. The edges form our reference in defining the whole setting and are consequently of the utmost importance. We find this defining-edge concept at work in nature's own beaches, riverbanks and lakeshores, and it is a one that extends right through the heart of watergardening and all types of watershaping, whether architectural or naturalistic (or, as I commonly classify them, formal or informal). No matter the focus or intent of our designs, we must always consider what will be happening at the water's edge. This is the part that demands the most thought, skill, care and expenditure. The subject of edges is so massive that it will be considered here and in articles to come. For purposes of this discussion, we'll limit our look to the use of edges in informal pond settings and situations in which we are attempting to create the impression that the body of water in question was originally
