boulders
As milestones go, the project depicted in these pages has been a big one for me - and for lots of other people as well. The grand estate with its outsized home is located in the countryside near Hanover, Pa., a remote setting that offered a set of challenges that has in many ways redefined what is and isn't possible in a whole region when it comes to watershape design, engineering and construction. A full two-and-a-half years in the making (a period broken up, of course, by stretches in which there was no activity on site), this stands as one 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 always been conservative when it comes to guaranteeing my work, which is why I only offer a 300-year warranty on my sculptures. I'm fairly certain that the vast majority of my pieces will last well beyond that span, but there's always the possibility one might be consumed by a volcanic eruption, blown up in disaster of some sort or drowned when the ice caps melt and cover the land with water. Those sorts of cataclysms aside, it's hard to imagine that the massive pieces of stone I use to create what I call "primitive modern" art will be compromised by much of anything the environment or human beings can throw at them. Ultimately, that's one of the beauties of working in stone: It possesses a profound form of permanence - and there's a certain comfort that comes with knowing my work won't be blown away by wind, eroded by rain or damaged by extremes of heat or cold. And given the fact that these pieces are so darn heavy, it's safe to say that most people are going to think at least twice before trying to move or abscond with them. Beyond the personal guarantees and despite the fact I don't dwell on too much, working with stone also has a unique ability to connect me and my clients with both the very distant past and the far distant future. Human beings have been carving stone for thousands of years, and many of those works are still with us in extraordinarily representative shape. There's little doubt that those pieces
The art of watershaping so often is all about the art of finishing. Certainly, every stage of any project is important, but the final steps leading to completion are what make most designs come to life. The project pictured here, which I've covered in five of my "Details" columns during the past couple years, has been an undertaking of extraordinary scale and mammoth complexity. As I mentioned frequently in those columns (November 2003, January and February 2004 and January and February 2005), the lion's share of the project management fell to my east coast partner and dear friend Kevin Fleming, who truly has endured a baptism of Tisherman-style fire as he
The art of watershaping so often is all about the art of finishing. Certainly, every stage of any project is important, but the final steps leading to completion are what make most designs come to life. The project pictured here, which I've covered in five of my "Details" columns during the past couple years, has been an undertaking of extraordinary scale and mammoth complexity. As I mentioned frequently in those columns (November 2003, January and February 2004 and January and February 2005), the lion's share of the project management fell to my east coast partner and dear friend Kevin Fleming, who truly has endured a baptism of Tisherman-style fire as he
To me, setting natural stone has always seemed something like assembling a very large jigsaw puzzle: All the pieces have to fit together, and there's definitely a right way and a wrong way to make it happen. I start the process systematically by laying stones out in an adequately large area and then just looking at them. As I go, I visualize how each will work as part of the overall composition and identify stones with either convex or concave contours that might fit together in some visual way. I'm constantly asking myself, "If I put this stone here and this other one right next to it, how will it work? Should I pick another stone and use a different combination?" Nature helps me in coming up with the answers, because
After a long, mostly weather-related break, it's finally time to return to the rolling hills near Hanover, Pa., and the huge, multi-phase watershaping project I began discussing in the fall of 2003. When we last visited the project in February 2004 (page 22), the primary gunite structures were in place; we are now proceeding with the meticulous work that will give the project its visual appeal. Even in unfinished condition, the pool complex is pretty impressive: a big, free-form vessel with a variety of features including an island spa, an enormous associated waterfeature, bridges and a range of bells and whistles I'll discuss in upcoming columns as the project draws to a close. As previously discussed, one of the defining design elements on this project is the extensive use of natural boulders and large expanses of stone decking. Even without the weather delays, these project phases alone have turned into
So often, design comes down to an ability to see patterns. I first learned this from my mother, a dressmaker who had an uncanny ability to look at garments for which there were no sewing patterns and then sit down and make them from scratch. I seem to have inherited this talent, taking in a barren landscape and quickly visualizing how it will look with plants, rocks and water. For this, I am happily in her debt. Not everyone comes across such a gift by birth, but I believe that the ability to visualize is something most any watershaper can develop through experience and by taking the time to learn the "language" of any
When I first walked the four acres of wooded ravines of what would later be christened "The Garden of Wind and Pine" at the heart of the Garvan Woodland Gardens in Hot Springs, Ark., I was both delighted and daunted by the experience. The delight came in the site's sublime natural beauty, which reminded me of tromping through the woods as a child - an activity I enjoy to this day. As for my sense of unease, I don't know which was more significant: the expansiveness of the dry drainage ravines that were to be converted to ever-varying cascades and streams, or the omnipresence of ticks and poison ivy. When I made my first visit in the fall of 1999, the site was part of an undeveloped 210-acre woodland parcel on the shore of Lake Hamilton given to the Department of Landscape Architecture at the University of Arkansas in Fayetteville by Verna Garvan. She had long seen the peninsula as the ideal setting for a botanical garden and had spent two decades developing her vision, planting camellias and azaleas and a rose garden and commissioning a pavilion by the architect Fay Jones and his partner, Maurice Jennings. I had worked in Fayetteville before, crafting a
If I were to ask the average watershaper to name the most versatile element in any landscape, he or she would probably reply by talking about water or plants or some other equally prominent component. If you asked me the same question, however, I'd almost always say rocks. Some of you might be thinking I have a few too many of them rolling around loose in my head, but there's a good explanation for my response. First, rocks come in an infinite number of forms, shapes, compositions, colors, textures and sizes. Second, they can be used to sit on, walk on, retain hillsides or create small mounds. Third, they add dimension to designs and contribute in countless other ways to the
