art
As I see it, watershaping is ultimately about its emotional effects: As designers and builders, it’s our job to bring a variety of technical and aesthetic elements together to create spaces and structures that leave our clients with enduring feelings of vitality, relaxation, comfort and luxury. In my case, the quest to realize this emotional component actually drives the process. As I strive to generate spaces that have real meaning for my clients, I’m always putting my heart into the work and am fully aware that what I do is an extension of who I am. Indeed, I’ve never been shy about letting my designs reflect my passion for art, architecture, history, color, form and even poetry. By working on this level, I find that I’m able to carry my clients along and make them as excited, inspired and engrossed by the process as I am. It’s an unabashedly romantic approach, but it can be infectious – and clearly satisfies everyone who gets involved. Of course, there is plenty of perspiration that goes along with the inspiration. For all of my enthusiasm, I spend a tremendous amount of time designing these spaces and selecting elements that will populate them, from the largest waterfeature to the smallest plant. I also closely manage the construction process, never relinquishing control because with each and every project, I’m expressing
Back in 1949, a prominent couple living in Litchfield County, Conn., decided they wanted to build a contemporary-style home that would stand out among the classically styled residences that marked the area. After conducting extensive research, they retained the renowned Bauhaus architect and Modernist artist Marcel Breuer. The home Breuer eventually designed for Leslie and Rufus Stillman pays testimony to the stark beauty of minimalism: The daring, box-shaped, two-level structure featured an array of contemporary elements and appointments, not least of which is a large, rectilinear swimming pool accessed by a dramatic, cantilevered staircase from the home’s upper level. (Things worked out so well here, by the way, that this was just the first of three Breuer homes commissioned by the Stillmans.) The couple avidly collected modern art, so the home became a showplace for a number of original pieces by several of the mid-century period’s greatest artists, including Alexander Calder. Although perhaps best remembered today for inventing the mobile, Calder was asked in this case to paint an original mural on a large block wall set above the deep end of the pool. The results were, in a word, spectacular. But let’s fast-forward 60 years: By 2010, the Stillman House was in need of restoration, and even the vivid Calder mural had cracked and eroded from exposure to the elements. Happily, this proved a turning point, as the property’s new owners announced their intention to
By Fu-Tung Cheng I’ve never been entirely comfortable with the term “decorative concrete.” To me, the pairing of the words has always implied that one merely applies material over a substrate in the way a baker might apply icing to decorate a cake. Instead, I see concrete as inherently profound. More than appliqué, it is a medium that has long been used functionally as well as expressively. In my own case, I feel far more creatively engaged in my work when I merge my thinking about those dual potentials of function and art. Historically, in fact, I believe that when the two become an inseparable one, we recognize and celebrate these works as rising to the level of great design. In my own case, I began using concrete as an expressive medium a few decades back, when I was among the pioneers in designing and installing concrete countertops in contemporary kitchens. As both designer and builder, by the year 2000 I had
If you ask my employees and manage to get an unguarded response, they’ll tell you that I’m an unrelenting pain in the neck – a real tyrant. That’s because I’m always asking nagging sorts of questions such as, “Why isn’t this project finished yet?” or “How much longer is this going to take?” or “Can you speed things up?” My point in asking, of course, is to let them know on some level that if I were on site and was responsible for what was happening, we’d already be
The warmth and solid heft of aged, cast brass are the hallmarks of the antique rice cooker — a treasure acquired in India several years ago — that now makes a statement to visitors approaching a modern Colorado home's front door. Forged more than 150 years ago using the same techniques employed in making
Last month, we began our discussion of a large pond, stream and waterfall system for a historic upper Midwest estate found on the forested shore of a scenic lake. As related there, the project was to include three major ponds and a series of complex waterfall structures connected by streams rising close to the top of the gently sloping property. To sum up, the space we were working with measured approximately 300 feet wide and 800 feet long – a large section of a 35-acre estate marked by scores of mature trees that largely governed the watershapes’ configurations. Moreover, as there were no natural rock formations or outcroppings on site, we faced the need to
It was no easy task: We were called on to take the majestic landscape defined by the confluence of the Mississippi and Missouri rivers; use it as a template for an urban oasis filled with sculptures, plants and water; and develop a park that would mesh seamlessly with its surrounding urban spaces. Furthermore, they wanted this park to appeal to every conceivable user – people of all ages, needs and backgrounds – while also serving as a catalyst for growth and a profound revival of the city’s core. And not only was the space to carry that symbolic load, but it also had to function efficiently with long-term reliability. We at Hydro Dramatics (St. Louis, Mo.) know from experience that projects of this scope and scale require much planning and coordination to go along with large measures of innovation. We also know that these types of challenges make success that much sweeter. So we jumped into the task with all our energy, supporting the design team charged with developing Citygarden, a 2.9-acre parcel to be filled with
The renovation and restoration of historic watershapes and their surroundings is a rather peculiar specialty. After all, such projects don’t come along very often and never amount to enough to be considered a primary business focus. Even so, whenever and wherever they present themselves, those who get involved must always be ready to meet sets of very specific and often unusual challenges. The fact that these sites are historic, for instance, means that they also tend to be old, so they almost invariably come with surprises with respect to how they were originally built, what sort of remodeling and repair work has been done through the years, how they’ve been maintained and, often, the degree to which they’ve suffered from neglect or even abuse. Original plans can be hard to come by, so from the start there’s a need for a good bit of educated guesswork and a fair measure of improvisation. On top of that, you also have to be prepared to deal with members of any number of community organizations and historical societies ( not to mention concerned citizens, donors and benefactors) – all of whom have
As watershape design expands beyond the mostly recreational traditions of the recent past, more of us are being asked these days to design water elements that work more decoratively and serve to frame, reflect and otherwiseaccentuate or accompany art pieces. In these situations, a pool, fountain or basin design is visually driven by the artwork, and whether the project is done for a private residence or a commercial complex, the results can be wonderfully dynamic. In most cases, requests for this design approach come from an owner who has a particular piece in mind; in a few other cases, the artist will commission a watershape to accompany a main attraction of his or her devising and becomes a key participant in the design process. All in all, I see this as another manifestation of a trend in which
