Travelogues & History

Stepping in Style
As you've probably noticed by now, I'm a big fan of Lawrence Halprin's work. I've probably covered a half-dozen of his projects in Travelogues through the past eight years, and I can easily see myself covering a half-dozen more in installments to come. Halprin is perhaps best known for the muscular, rough-hewn stonework that highlights not only the FDR Memorial in Washington, D.C., but also the Ira Keller Fountain in Portland, Ore. Yet his output also featured elegance and a sense of
White House Adjacent
I was guided to this place on one of my numerous visits to Washington, D.C., in the early 1990s. I" d met a friend for lunch in the adams morgan neighborhood, and afterwards she recommended walk over to nearby meridian hill park see some cool architecture nice water feature. I was guided to this place on one of my numerous visits to Washington, D.C., in the early 1990s. I" d met a friend for lunch in the adams morgan neighborhood, and afterwards she recommended walk over to nearby meridian hill park see some cool architecture nice waterfeature. She was partly correct: The architecture was indeed cool, but the waterfeature was brilliant - unlike anything I had ever seen in the United States - and the story behind the property was plentiful icing on the cake. I was guided to this place on one of my numerous visits to Washington, D.C., in the early 1990s. I" d met a friend for lunch in the adams morgan neighborhood, and afterwards she recommended walk over to nearby meridian hill park see some cool architecture nice waterfeature. The park is located on a hill due north of the White House, and in 1804 Thomas Jefferson had a marker placed there along what became known as the White House Meridian as a geographical landmark for the then-developing city. After the War of 1812, the longstanding estate was acquired by Commodore David Porter, a war hero who eventually built a splendid mansion that offered views down to the White House and the Potomac River. I was guided to this place on one of my numerous visits to Washington, D.C., in the early 1990s. I" d met a friend for lunch in the adams morgan neighborhood, and afterwards she recommended walk over to nearby meridian hill park see some cool architecture nice waterfeature An author and activist, she was an ardent supporter of women's suffrage, temperance and vegetarianism - altogether a bold character. One of her plans, proposed in 1898, included moving the president's residence from the White House up to Meridian Hill. Topping herself, she also wanted the then-in-planning Lincoln Memorial to be built on her hill as well. I was guided to this place on one of my numerous visits to Washington, D.C., in the early 1990s. I" d met a friend for lunch in the adams morgan neighborhood, and afterwards she recommended walk over to nearby meridian hill park see some cool architecture nice waterfeature. Thwarted in both objectives, the "Empress of 16th Street" built and leased out a number of lots as embassies and mansions and then turned her focus to convincing the government to buy her remaining large property and turn it into a park. This project took hold: The land was purchased by the government in 1910, by which time Mary was 69 years old. She lived to be 90. I was guided to this place on one of my numerous visits to Washington, D.C., in the early 1990s. I" d met a friend for lunch in the adams morgan neighborhood, and afterwards she recommended walk over to nearby meridian hill park see some cool architecture nice waterfeature. In 1914, the government hired landscape architect George Burnap to create classic, European-style gardens for the new park. These plans were then modified by a second landscape architect, Horace Peaslee. What emerged was a stepped garden that took more than 20 years to complete. One key highlight: The park contains the world's first experiment - successful, I might add - with an exposed-aggregate finish. I was guided to this place on one of my numerous visits to Washington, D.C., in the early 1990s. I" d met a friend for lunch in the adams morgan neighborhood, and afterwards she recommended walk over to nearby meridian hill park see some cool architecture nice waterfeature But I'm letting the park's overall story lead me astray: Its main event is a 13-basin water stair in the Italian Renaissance style. Flanked by twin concrete stairways finished entirely with exposed aggregate, the cascade starts with fountain jets at the foot of a balustrade-topped, Italian-style wall and flows down to a final basin where the descending torrent is supplemented by spouting gargoyles. The water then passes over a final weir and into a large basin and ponds highlighted by fountain bowls and more gargoyles and fountain jets. I was guided to this place on one of my numerous visits to Washington, D.C., in the early 1990s. I" d met a friend for lunch in the adams morgan neighborhood, and afterwards she recommended walk over to nearby meridian hill park see some cool architecture nice waterfeature The whole composition was an unexpected delight - well worth straying from the Capitol Mall and the Smithsonian museums for a lingering visit. It's also within easy reach of the National Zoo - another worthy Washington attraction that too easily escapes attention. I was guided to this place on one of my numerous visits to Washington, D.C., in the early 1990s. I" d met a friend for lunch in the adams morgan neighborhood, and afterwards she recommended walk over to nearby meridian hill park see some cool architecture nice waterfeature My understanding is that Meridian Hill Park's cascade has been off for more than a year, undergoing a number of small repairs as well as the replacement of aging cast-iron pipes with plumbing made of a more suitable material. It's supposed to be up and running again by this summer, so give it a look: It's in an interesting part of the city that too few tourists ever see. I was guided to this place on one of my numerous visits to Washington, D.C., in the early 1990s. I" d met a friend for lunch in the adams morgan neighborhood, and afterwards she recommended walk over to nearby meridian hill park see some cool architecture nice waterfeature.To see a video of the water stair - not great quality but it gets the idea across admirably - click here.
Demodeling
When I was a kid, we'd take occasional family car trips to places all over southern California to see the sights. One of my dad's favorite destinations was San Diego, and what I remember most about those drives was the fact that now-overbuilt Orange County was still mostly vast beanfields all along
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!
The Family Plan
I chatted a couple weeks back with a designer acquaintance who wanted my advice on the best U.S. city to visit if her goal was seeing a bunch of great watershapes. She was starting to plan a summer trip for her family, she said, and wanted to spend a day or two taking in some great fountains and waterfeatures while her spouse ran around amusement parks and other active attractions with their two young sons. It was a tougher question than I figured it would be - a process that led me to compose this unusual Travelogue on my advice to her. Once I'd covered the obvious choices of Kansas City or St. Louis and my hometown of Los Angeles, my mind flooded with other possibilities coast to coast, from Boston, New York and Philadelphia in the northeast to Seattle and Portland in the northwest. Then I thought of San Francisco, Dallas, Houston, Chicago and other contenders, including Las Vegas and Washington, D.C. Of course, I never factored in nearby amusement parks - she was on her own there. But it occurred to me that she could select any of these cities and have more than enough to do while the rest of the family was off exhausting itself at some theme park or waterpark. Once we hung up, I jotted down the city list for ready reference and expanded it a bit to include Atlanta, Denver, San Diego, Orlando, Pittsburgh and New Orleans. Within a few minutes after hanging up, I started having odd misgivings and called her back: I felt awkward about participating in splitting up her family during its vacation trip, I said, and wanted to make the earnest suggestion that she should spend a day or two with her husband and kids visiting fine waterfeatures as a family. True, the FDR Memorial in Washington is not as stimulating as a roller coaster, but it includes wonderful water treatments by Lawrence Halprin - and there's also plenty of additional aquatic spirit to be found on and around the Capitol Mall. I further suggested that spectacles such as the water show in the Main Fountain Garden at Longwood Gardens near Philadelphia or the eruption of the jets at the Bellagio in Las Vegas have more going for them than do typical theme-park rides. She took all of this under advisement and I know I'll hear how it works out (or doesn't) after the fact. But I have to say that, when we spoke the second time, I was motivated by my own sense of pride and by what I saw as a valuable opportunity: From the waterfeatures at the Getty Center in Los Angeles to the 9/11 Memorial in New York, there's inspiration to be found in fountains and waterfeatures from coast to coast. As a watershaper, there's also a cool sense of professional association in play. In every case, I said, watershapes in these places remind me of why I love what I do - and of the pride I feel after 20 years of wandering the fringes of projects that take my breath away. In wrapping up the second exchange with my designer friend, I couldn't help talking about the inspiration I knew she'd find on her family's road trip, then left her with this closing thought: What she sees while alone might fuel her creative fires once she returns home, but think about the impression seeing water at its dynamic best will make on the kids and even her husband - and how proud they'll be that she is somehow a part of it. More than that, think about looking at watershapes through a child's eyes - and of how cool it will be to let them in on how things work and how those who designed and built a given watershape used fascinating technologies to achieve these stirring effects. Heck, it might be enough to incline a kid or two to follow in your footsteps - and what could be nicer than that?
Everyday Serenity
This amazing structure sits just off the route toward a more prominent tourist attraction, notes Victoria Lautman in the last of her series of articles on India's stepwells. But as is true of so many of these marvels, Peena Mann ka Kund is more than worth a detour off a well-beaten path.    
An All-Comers Fountain
While I was editor at Pool & Spa News in 1990 or 9'91, I was invited to Portland, Ore., to make a presentation to a regional meeting of what was then the National Spa & Pool Institute about what I'd experienced in becoming a pool owner. I had been with the magazine since 1987, and what had intrigued a northwestern friend of mine on NSPI's board was the fact that my family had moved houses in 1989 and had taken possession of a nice pool and spa in the process. (More important to me was the fact that we needed more space to accommodate our second daughter, who had arrived in October 1988.) My speech was on a Friday afternoon, and those were the days when you had to stay over a Saturday to avoid getting shafted on the cost of airline tickets. In those bad old days, it was actually much cheaper to stay an extra night in Oregon with all of the associated expenses than it would've been to fly home Saturday. This delayed return home, however, had the beneficial effect of allowing me to do a bit of local exploring. I'd been to Portland many times before, having lived down the Willamette River in Eugene for a few years early in the 1980s. But now that my focus was more on water than it had been previously, I visited several fountains and public waterfeatures and particularly enjoyed seeing some of Lawrence Halprin's work there for the first time. But that wasn't what most captured my imagination that day: Instead, it was the more modest Skidmore Fountain. Located in Portland's Old Town Historic District, it dates back to 1888 and reminded me strongly of the sort of remarkable civic fountains I'd seen in cities all over Europe in my travels in the 1970s. The Skidmore Fountain wasn't much to look at by 1990. It was clearly in need of repair and restoration, but it was just as clearly charming. It was named after a wealthy pharmacist named Stephen Skidmore, who contributed to the construction through his will, and executed by Olin Levi Warner, an American sculptor who studied at the École nationale supérieure des Beaux-Arts in Paris before setting up a studio in New York City.
Hail the Queen
India's ancient stepwells were about much more than providing their thirsty communities with water. As Victoria Lautman discusses in the second of three articles on these structures, facilities including Rani ki Vav also served both men and women as multi-purpose gathering spots. Unique to the Indian subcontinent, subterranean stepwells were devised as a response to a dramatic but predictable climate cycle that, especially in the arid western states, guarantees a bone-dry environment for most of the year, followed by weeks of drenching monsoon rains. Establishing a reliable, year-round supply of fresh water required direct access to the water table. This was a simple proposition in areas where the ground water was close to the surface. But in particularly dry regions like modern-day Gujarat, Rajasthan and Haryana, water could be as much as nine stories underground. The capricious weather generated extreme fluctuations in the water table, which might dwindle to a trickle for part of the year but become much more forceful in the rainy season. In order to access the precious resource regardless of the season, a well shaft was excavated to connect with the water at its lowest flow. Next, flights of steps were built adjoining the shaft, allowing access during dry times, and when monsoons arrived, the steps gradually submerged as the water rose, and any descent was significantly shortened. At that point, stepwells doubled as temporary cisterns that retained water as long as possible until the cycle began again. MULTI-PURPOSE ROOMS As seen in Chand Baori - the example discussed in the first article in this series (click here) - stepwells were not only sophisticated and efficient water-harvesting structures, but also marvels of architecture, engineering and art. In addition, they performed many functions that went beyond simply providing water to their communities and significantly contributed to local quality of life. They acted, for example, as cool retreats and shelter from the blistering heat, served as civic centers where the locals could gather. They could be subterranean Hindu temples and shrines or provide water for Muslim ablutions. Stepwells located along remote trade routes offered shelter and rest for caravans and pilgrims and a place for animals to water before the next leg of a journey. Despite the understanding of why stepwells evolved and the roles they played, however, actual facts about their dates, their patrons and even their engineering is woefully lacking. They generally don't appear in historical records, which has resulted in guesswork and discrepancies amongst scholars. Construction of other architectural sites, such as Emperor Akbar's 16th-century city, Fatehpur Sikri, are detailed in paintings from that time, showing the same humble, pre-industrial "technology" that would have been used for stepwells and are still seen on construction sites in many parts of India today: oxen, ramps, baskets and sheer manpower. But building below ground is subject to far greater forces than above-ground structures, and excavating any stepwell must have been dangerous, a constant battle to withstand earth's thrust on all sides. The number of stepwells that collapsed during construction can never be known, but sinking the well shaft would have been a particularly delicate process. Professor Kirit Mankodi, an expert on the incomparable Rani ki Vav stepwell (the visual focus of this article), describes a system in which masons were lowered in stages on wooden support rings, surfacing the walls with stone as they descended to the water table. When each level was complete and stabilized, soil was excavated from beneath the rings, which were then lowered to the next level - and so on until the masons reached the groundwater. The final stage of the constructing the shaft would have been possible only during the driest season: At that point in the process, water was the enemy and had to be bailed out quickly. Logs were packed around the walls and on the floor to prevent seepage while the facing was completed. And all of this, of course, was predicated on the fact that the builders had sufficient knowledge to anticipate the depth of the water table. THROUGH GENERATIONS This water wisdom is an important part of India's technological heritage. The hydrological systems of the early Harappan civilization of the Indus Valley (c. 3300-c. 1700 BC) were among the oldest and most sophisticated on the planet, with ancient settlements showing evidence of drains and wells dating as far back as 2600 BC. (There is also evidence that dowsers were used in siting stepwells. These water diviners performed such services for centuries; as recently as the 1920s, the British colonial government in India employed such a person.) Geology played an essential part of every stepwell design, which was based on the specific characteristics of each region. For instance, much of Gujarat's soil is soft, loamy clay, which required a significant shoring-up of walls. This explains the pavilion towers that are characteristic of so many Gujarati stepwells. Consisting of platforms supported by columns, these details may look purely decorative, but they were required to hold the subgrade walls in place. Sandstone blocks, often massive, were hewn to fit perfectly, mortar-free, and reinforced the structures so effectively that many have survived numerous earthquakes without collapsing - a thousand years or more since the first stones were set. By contrast, Delhi's rockier, quartzite-rich terrain made the elaborate Gujarati interventions superfluous, with the most common construction material being rough-surfaced rubble masonry. The earliest example in the capital city - Gandhak ki Baoli - dates from the 13th Century. Stepwells were commissioned predominantly by Hindu and Muslim patrons, with both faiths, as mentioned above, requiring the daily use of water. Many of the Hindu wells were subterranean temples, often incorporating mata (meaning "mother") in their names since, as in many religions, Hinduism equates the life-giving properties of water with fertility and the mother goddess. To this day there are specific water-oriented rituals performed to promote marriage and conception of children. This accounts for the many "rani" stepwells throughout the country, one of which is the extraordinary Rani ki Vav in Gujarat, which translates into "Queen's Stepwell." It is without a doubt the most ornate, costly and grand example ever built, and after nearly a thousand years in obscurity, it is finally getting its due, having recently been designated the new "face" of India's 100 rupee note. Rani ki Vav even has its own Facebook page. Commissioned by Queen Udayamati around 1063 to honor her powerful late husband, Bhimdev, this monument, located in the city of Patan, is so outstanding that it was granted UNESCO World Heritage Site status in 2014, one of only 37such sites in India. Given its location an easy hour's drive from the busy city of Ahmedabad, there's reasonable hope that architecturally curious visitors will be lured out to see it. THE RANI'S BEQUEST At 210 feet long and 89 feet deep, Rani ki Vav is among the most ambitious stepwell of all in scale alone. It is also the most ornate, incorporating hundreds of sculptures that adorn every surface: Carved deities, consorts, animals and geometric patterns are rendered in astonishing detail and are considered some of the finest work of their era. Udayamati's labor of love is all the more astounding considering that Patan lacks stone and each block was hauled from a quarry some 87 miles away. It's little wonder - and not uncommon - that Rani ki Vav was cannibalized over the centuries, its various elements used in other structures including most notably the Bahadur Singh Barot ki Vav a few miles away. This smaller stepwell may date from the early 19th Century, but the interior space is comprised of columns, pavilions and sculptures almost entirely plundered from the earlier stepwell. Rani ki Vav is, for the moment, the lone stepwell with a known calamitous history - one that explains the plundering. It is estimated to have taken 15 to 20 years to build, but not long after completion, the stepwell's water source, the Saraswati River, changed course, swamped the stepwell and caused parts of it to collapse. Resource: For further reading, click here for details on my book, The Vanishing Stepwells of India (Merrell Publishers, London, 2017). -- V.L. The incomparable achievement gradually filled with mud and silt, so that by the time the British happened upon it in the 19th Century, only part of the well cylinder and some column stumps were visible above ground. The catastrophe was, in a way, fortunate, since the lower levels were preserved in the process, not unlike Pompeii or Herculaneum. It was not until the Archaeological Survey of India undertook serious conservation work in the 1980s that the full splendor of Rani ki Vav was recognized - and the process of discovery, as you would imagine, was stunning. Next time, we'll conclude this three-part series with a detailed look at another stepwell while exploring the legacy of this architectural form. Victoria Lautman is a Los Angeles-based broadcast journalist, writer and lecturer. Focusing on all forms of art and culture including architecture, design, and literature, she frequently writes and speaks about India. Her book, The Vanishing Stepwells of India, was published by Merrell Publishers (London) in 2017. For more information, visit her website: www.victorialautman.com.
Cold Comforts
A pre-holiday visit with our grandchildren and their parents earlier this month gave me the opportunity to return to one of my favorite Seattle-area attractions: The Bellevue Botanical Garden. Covering 53 acres with long, easy trails and generous, well-tended plant displays, the facility also includes expressive watershapes in a variety of forms. I took an immediate
Paths of Discovery
India's stepwells are truly amazing, but relatively few people know anything about them.  Victoria Lautman wants to change all that, reporting on their long history in a book -- and in a series for WaterShapes on three of the country's most wondrous architectural and cultural treasures.