visual transitions
One of the things I love about working in the southwest is the way the openness and rugged, sculptural appearance of the natural landscape opens the door to those who want to make bold architectural statements in concrete, stone, steel and glass. Even the plants here have an overtly sculpted quality. I appreciate this all the more by virtue of having worked in more tradition-bound places: Here in the southwest, I feel free to use a strong, contemporary design vocabulary in forging unique connections between built spaces and their dramatic surroundings. Although I'm perfectly comfortable working in those traditional styles, I'll admit to being heavily influenced by the masters of Modernism - particularly Frank Lloyd Wright and the German-born American architect Ludwig Mies van der Rohe - and love the way those amazing mid-20th-century designers used clear, sculptural geometries to direct the eye and define intricate spatial relationships. The project depicted here is a direct channeling of their influence, aided and abetted by
When I first entered the watershaping industry in the late 1970s, one of the details to which I took an immediate dislike was the practice of wrapping the tile that covered the walls of raised bond beams around the corner and onto step risers and various other vertical hardscape surfaces found around pools and spas. We've all seen it - Spanish Colonial Revivalist tiles of questionable authenticity, extra-bold in color and used to cover highly visible vertical surfaces. To me, these swaths invariably look out of place and have the effect of drawing attention to features that often don't warrant or benefit from the emphasis. It happens to this day because
My journey in the company of water began when I was about seven years old, as soon as I was old enough to explore the countryside near my family's farm in Southern England. It was then that I fell in love with water - wading in streams, making dams out of small rocks, sticks and mud and watching the fish darting in clear pools. Much of my summer vacation was spent on a sun-peeled green punt gliding on a lake and staring down to the bottom at the aquatic plants and water creatures. It was a formative experience. My parents loved the water, too, and they always had some type of boat. I'll never forget how almost every one of those modest vessels leaked profusely. This gave all of us first-hand experience of enjoying the water as we developed a visceral appreciation of the importance of
