materials
As a rule, I avoid working for contractors: I’ve found that far too many of them spend so much time worrying about the bottom line that they lose sight of the fact that their clients want quality rather than compromises. I’ve also found that their general caution is often at its worst when it comes to watershapes: Even though these structures may be key components of the overall project, they tend to come along late in the process and are all too often seen as places where corners can be cut to meet overall budget goals. Frankly, I’ve never liked being treated as a pawn or second-class citizen, so I avoid these situations like the plague. Instead, I typically work directly for homeowners and refuse to subordinate my part of a project to the whims of another contractor. Any worthwhile rule, however, has
There’s no substitute for working closely with clients. I typically spend many hours conversing with them, discussing everything from their travels and artistic interests to the specifics of the project at hand. It’s the only way I know of to ensure that I’m following the best path in developing a design to meet their needs. That approach was taken to something of an extreme in the project pictured here: Not only did I devise the outdoor spaces, including a large swimming pool and a host of other exterior features, but I also was extensively involved in building the house itself. It was an exciting process for me, one that yielded positive outcomes and that, to this day, is still one of my favorites. Interestingly, however, my association with these wonderful clients actually began a couple years before this project commenced – an encounter that resulted in no work for me at all and also
Last month, I introduced my rundown on books I like to have at hand in my studio by mentioning a project that included a pool, an outdoor kitchen, stone walls, a fire pit and some other amenities. A feature I didn't mention - but one that may well be unique for a backyard in upstate New York - was the Peruvian Travertine we chose for use around the pool. While decking material seldom takes center stage in a design, its high visibility tends to make it more than just a bit player. Indeed, the choice of a material can either
Last month, I introduced my rundown on books I like to have at hand in my studio by mentioning a project that included a pool, an outdoor kitchen, stone walls, a fire pit and some other amenities. A feature I didn't mention - but one that may well be unique for a backyard in upstate New York - was the Peruvian Travertine we chose for use around the pool. While decking material seldom takes center stage in a design, its high visibility tends to make it more than just a bit player. Indeed, the choice of a material can either
As a sculptor, I always seek ways to use my work to create positive (and sometimes intellectually challenging) experiences for those who have the opportunity to see what I've done. In my case, most of the time I'm not trying to make direct, narrative or literal statements. Instead, I seek to conjure feelings of fascination that lead to appreciation and enjoyment: You don't necessarily have to understand the forms I create to walk away from them with good feelings. When I have the opportunity to work in public settings (as was the case in the project featured on these pages), I'm stimulated by the idea that large numbers of people will be exposed to my sculpture and that, in many cases, those people will be exposed to what I've done over and over again because they'll be passing by at least twice each day as they go to and from their jobs in adjacent buildings. In this case, I was working next to an office tower in Century City - a famous business and entertainment district near downtown Los Angeles - which meant that thousands would repeatedly be walking right past my work and would come to accept it as part of their daily lives. In that light, I see art set amid architecture as a permanent commitment, as a cultural reference that has the potential to resound for generations. This recognition fills me with a heightened sense of
As a sculptor, I always seek ways to use my work to create positive (and sometimes intellectually challenging) experiences for those who have the opportunity to see what I've done. In my case, most of the time I'm not trying to make direct, narrative or literal statements. Instead, I seek to conjure feelings of fascination that lead to appreciation and enjoyment: You don't necessarily have to understand the forms I create to walk away from them with good feelings. When I have the opportunity to work in public settings (as was the case in the project featured on these pages), I'm stimulated by the idea that large numbers of people will be exposed to my sculpture and that, in many cases, those people will be exposed to what I've done over and over again because they'll be passing by at least twice each day as they go to and from their jobs in adjacent buildings. In this case, I was working next to an office tower in Century City - a famous business and entertainment district near downtown Los Angeles - which meant that thousands would repeatedly be walking right past my work and would come to accept it as part of their daily lives. In that light, I see art set amid architecture as a permanent commitment, as a cultural reference that has the potential to resound for generations. This recognition fills me with a heightened sense of
Stairs, to borrow an immortal phrase from Rodney Dangerfield, “get no respect.” In fact, if my observations through the years tell me anything, the stairs set in far too many landscapes are strictly utilitarian objects – no more than a means of getting from one level of a space to another. The only thought that seems to go into some of them has to do with avoiding trip hazards, which is important but hardly the most aesthetically oriented of approaches to take. In my experience, when stairs are considered in deliberate and creative ways, they can become
It seems to be a trend: In more and more of the conversations I’ve been having with watershapers, the level of interest in what’s involved in working overseas has really spiked in recent weeks and months. I recall a time several years back when curiosity about overseas work focused on the glamour and excitement of stepping into uncharted territory. Now, however, there’s a certain urgency to the inquiries, and my guess is there are at least three reasons behind it. First, there’s the enduring sense of the prestige and energy that
In December 2004, WaterShapes introduced ‘The Platinum Standard,’ a registry of projects that embodies watershaping…
It’s an unfortunate fact that landscape architects receive little or no formal education in watershaping while they’re in school. As a result, where the typical landscape architect’s irrigation plan will show every pipe, fitting, wire and component for a given project, that same project’s pool plan will carry almost no detail at all. This phenomenon begs the question: Why don’t our colleges and universities do more to educate landscape architects about watershaping? The answer to this question causes me double pain, because I know full well that
