fountain design
At a time when scores of American cities are still looking for ways to revive the faded glory of their urban cores, possible approaches are as visionary (and numerous) as can be. The process has resulted in new parks, major redevelopment, architectural restorations and a long list of other solutions - including the unique watershape commissioned by the city of White Plains, N.Y. A town with 54,000 full-time residents whose population swells to more than 200,000 during the day when office workers, shoppers and visitors come calling, White Plains made the decision to invest $4.5 million of public and private grant money in resurrecting a small downtown park. Appropriately named Renaissance Plaza, the park surrounds a state-of-the-art musical fountain unveiled in October 2003 for the specific purpose of luring people back to the downtown area - and it has worked. In fact, the plaza has become such a hub of activity that nearly 1,700 units of new residential housing are now under construction in its downtown neighborhood. URBAN OBJECTIVE First settled by British colonists who bought it from the Mohican tribe in 1683, this historically rich city located 25 miles north of Manhattan has truly been reborn, and it's with no small measure of
Composition of this article began with an e-mail I received a while ago from a colleague working in Australia. "What," he asked, "is the maximum allowable depth for a fountain in the United States?" As simple as it sounded, when I took the time to research the issue I found that there was a noticeable lack of definition. I took the next logical step and called various people I know in the watershaping industry and asked them the same question. Surprisingly enough, nobody could point me to any code, regulation or standard that defined what depth a waterfeature's pool could
While discussing his column for this issue, I visited one of David Tisherman's projects and observed one of the most dramatic examples I've ever seen of the
June 6, 1944, was a cold, dark, cloudy day along the northern coast of France. When the Higgins boats carrying allied troops slapped their gangways into the cold sea 60 years ago this month and released their human cargo onto the beach, withering machine gun fire greeted the soldiers from German bunkers high above the beach. Before the day was over, 6,603 Americans had lost their lives in what became known as D-Day - the start of the allied invasion of Nazi-occupied Europe. When planning started for a National D-Day Memorial to be built in Bedford, Va., the project's
To residents of St. Louis, Forest Park is a civic treasure on the order of New York's Central Park - which, locals are quick to point out, is smaller than their favorite park by 500 acres. Established in 1876 at the heart of the city, Forest Park has a similarly grand and glorious history, including service as the site of the renowned 1904 Louisiana Purchase Exposition & World's Fair, which drew more than 20 million visitors from across the globe. Through the years, the park's 1,370 acres have become "home" to such major attractions as the world-famous Saint Louis Zoo as well as the city's art museum, science center, planetarium, history museum and The Muny, the nation's largest outdoor theatre. Forest Park is also home to the
In 1997, the City of Palm Springs Arts Commission held a national competition for a sculpture to be placed in a prominent public space, the Frances Stevens Park. I was intrigued by the site's high visibility - and by the fact that the California city wanted a sculpture that used water in a desert setting. Working from my studio on the East Coast, I put together an initial proposal that included a number of ideas - provocative to me, but not yet fine-tuned. It wasn't until I actually visited the site in Round Two of the selection process that I knew just how perfect a setting was being offered - a wide-open space in the center of town, ringed by tall palm trees and low-lying buildings with the stunning
Since the dawn of civilization, it has stood as the single most enduring of all artistic media: From representations of mythological characters and historic events to applications as purely architectural forms and fixtures, carved stone has been with us every step of the way. As modern observers, we treasure this heritage in the pyramids of Egypt and Mesoamerica. We see it in the Parthenon in Athens, in the Roman Colosseum and in India's Taj Mahal - every one of them among humankind's finest uses of carved stone in the creation of monuments and public buildings. As watershapers in particular, we stand in awe before the Trevi Fountain in Rome, the glorious waterworks of the Villa d'Este and the fountains of Versailles, three of history's most prominent examples of carved stone's use in conjunction with water. But you don't need to
The fire came swiftly, sweeping through the dry, late-summer undergrowth, and the land was quickly blackened and denuded. A month later, the rains came, hard and lashing, and rivulets of water ran down the hillside. Torrents of mud and stone ground away the soil and washed out the base of a tree that happened to be in the way. The tree fell. Branches became splinters on the ground. The noise the tree had made as it fell was intense: a cracking and groaning sound followed by crackles as limbs snapped against still-standing trees. Now it lay there, its roots all but pulled from the ground.Ten years passed, and as the tree's bark rotted, small saplings had begun to grow from its base. The creek ran close by, gurgling and never-ending, its water wending its way among the rocks and other fallen trees toward the ocean just half a mile away. This tree would serve a purpose in its death: In my work as a sculptor, I seek out
It began as the playful vision of Bob and Kat Tudor, husband-and-wife philanthropists and founders of The Smokebrush Theatre in Colorado Springs, Colo., who decided one day to donate a unique fountain to the children of their city. Now that vision, fully realized, belongs to the citizens of this sprawling town at the foot of the Rocky Mountains in the form of a dazzling water display and a folksy character named Uncle Wilber. Multi-talented artists in their own rights, the Tudors developed the aesthetic and creative concepts but knew from the start that they would need to enlist advanced technical expertise to
The avant-garde composer John Cage once said, “Art exists to make us aware of the very life we’re living.” I’ve always loved that statement because, as someone working to create works of art, the experiences of my own life have naturally been transferred into the way I’ve chosen to express myself – and, I hope, have enabled me to succeed in bringing other people to an awareness of experiences in their own lives. For me, water is the key in these transferences: Even though I’m probably more often described as a sculptor of natural stone rather than as a watershaper, the dialogues I have with the materials I use and with those who observe the outcomes have always begun with the way I work with water. I grew up in the Midwest on the banks of the Mississippi. As a child, I lingered on the untamed shores of the creeks, streams and rivers that laced across an otherwise developed and thoroughly mechanized landscape. I would read or draw, stroll idly along a stream, or spend hours building a raft or dam. This was well before I’d begun to think about my relationship with water in any sort of artistic way, but there’s no question that those experiences remain at the heart of my passion for working within this
