style
Although my practice primarily encompasses residential landscapes, I occasionally tackle a commercial project. In one such case, I was recently asked to design the entry planting and make recommendations for the hardscape at the Riviera Country Club in Pacific Palisades, Calif. One of the most prestigious golf courses in the world, Riviera is the regular host to the Nissan Open, one of the sport's premier tournaments. It's a high-profile site in every conceivable way, so image is everything to the facility's owner and managers. After many years of placing what were essentially band-aids on the entry's landscape, they decided it was time for a complete overhaul and a
It might be something of a cliché, but it's often said that there's great wisdom in being willing and able to learn the lessons of history. In that spirit, I recently took advantage of an opportunity to sit in on a class in the
A well-conceived garden that has endured through many decades can teach us all a multitude of lessons. In the case of the Virginia Robinson Gardens, however, even getting to the point where those lessons might be recognized and appreciated has taken years of research, study and painstaking restoration. In the nine years I've been associated with the gardens, I've done all I can to determine the original design intent of those who owned and established it, stripping away generations of alterations, additions and miscalculations while interpreting the site and uncovering clues that point to the sense of mission and the creative spirit that influenced its creation and further development early in the 20th Century. I've done so with a recognition that the Virginia Robinson Gardens are important as an emblem of southern California history and an era gone by. I've also come to perceive the complexity, artistry and beauty of the space, seeing it as a blueprint that, examined closely, can serve to inspire and inform the work we all do today. The current gardens occupy most of the grounds of the former estate of Harry and Virginia Robinson, heirs to a department store fortune. My charge has been to restore and manage these six-and-a-half acres in the heart of Beverly Hills, Calif. - a graceful setting in the midst of
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
As the first columnist among several who will be writing in this space, I've been elected to explain what this "Material World" thing is all about. I agree with the editors that it does require some explaining - but not much. The thought is that we in the landshaping business, designers and installer alike, seldom use a single material all on its own. Even a huge, monolithic concrete deck outside a grand office building will have ribbons of stone or brick to break up the monotony. The aim of this and subsequent articles - whoever writes them - is to discuss the process we go through in selecting plant and/or hardscape material combinations that ultimately work together to become beautiful and seemingly effortless explorations of style, texture and color. In other words, we'll be looking at projects for which all the
Despite the axiom that "every client is a good client," we all know that some of them are wonderful to work with - and that dealing with others is a form of slow torture. I've always loved hearing the horror stories about bad customers that float around the watershaping trades: The telling and retelling of these nightmares (often with exaggerations as the stories travel from ear to ear) is often a treat, and I know I've had my share of therapeutic fun at the expense of a knucklehead or two. We don't generally hear quite so much about the good ones, but it's fair to say that most of us have lists of satisfied clients and that our experiences with them give us much of the motivation we have to stay in the business. What it boils down to is this: Each and every client is
For the typical visitor, the newly-reopened Getty Villa is perhaps the most exquisite of all possible venues for viewing ancient works of art and craft - reason enough to plan a visit. For students of architecture and design, however, there's much more, particularly the opportunity to immerse yourself in the living, breathing environment of a classic Roman villa and its abundant amenities. The Getty Villa site encompasses 64 acres of a rugged canyon rising above the Pacific Ocean in Malibu, Calif., and was once home to oil tycoon J. Paul Getty. A fanatical collector of Greco-Roman antiquities, he dedicated part of his original ranch-style home as a public museum in 1954. By 1974, less than a year before his death, he had completed and opened the original Villa on another part of the estate, realizing his ambition of creating a public monument dedicated to the arts. The Villa's layout was inspired by the Villa dei Papiri, a first-century country house in Pompeii buried by the eruption of Mt. Vesuvius in 79 A.D. It was Getty's vision to display his collection in a setting evocative of its contents' historic origins and he realized it, but there were compromises: The spaces were crowded, and the works on display also included samples of paintings and craftworks of much more recent vintage - Renaissance masters, baroque furnishings and other distinctly non-classical artworks. The Villa closed in 1997 at about the same time the
When we first began collaborating on projects with top-flight architects, landscape architects and landscape designers several years ago, for the most part our role in terms of design was fairly limited: We'd receive requests for bids and proposals based on plans of varying detail, and our role was that of faithful installers of the design. On occasions, of course, we'd also refer our own prospective clients to those same designers, who would generate plans that we would in turn estimate and very often install. We still work that way, but as we've built our ties to these accomplished artists, we've become aware that our role in their projects has been growing, even to the point where we are now being asked in many situations to offer our own design ideas. We're also seeing that, when on-site decisions must be made, these designers are
A teacher I respect once told me that there's a fine line between research and plagiarism. He explained that using the ideas of others to construct your own creative expression is perfectly acceptable - desirable, in fact - and a practice that's been part of
As part of my work on movies and television shows through the past dozen years, I've developed a range of special effects that focus specifically on fire. For the science fiction hit Men In Black, for example, I was charged with devising the flame-spewing weapons wielded by Tommy Lee Jones and Will Smith in a spectacular scene in which they shoot down a flying saucer. That system involved a range of safety issues along with devising a specially formulated fuel (alcohol mixed with various metals) to create blue flames as well as a combination of inert gases and electronic control systems that were used to extinguish the fire and protect the actors. As is the way with so much in Hollywood, an on-screen sequence that lasts just a couple of seconds took my team
