waterfall
When we think about the challenge of literally "shaping" a body of water, we must start by thinking about edges. The edge is the pond's DNA or blueprint. It tells us almost everything about the pond. Without being able to observe the edge, you can't discern whether it's a formal pond, lake or a sewage-treatment facility. It might be a beautiful water feature or an eyesore. The edges form our reference in defining the whole setting and are consequently of the utmost importance. We find this defining-edge concept at work in nature's own beaches, riverbanks and lakeshores, and it is a one that extends right through the heart of watergardening and all types of watershaping, whether architectural or naturalistic (or, as I commonly classify them, formal or informal). No matter the focus or intent of our designs, we must always consider what will be happening at the water's edge. This is the part that demands the most thought, skill, care and expenditure. The subject of edges is so massive that it will be considered here and in articles to come. For purposes of this discussion, we'll limit our look to the use of edges in informal pond settings and situations in which we are attempting to create the impression that the body of water in question was originally
Successful residential exterior design is akin to a precisely choreographed dance. One sequence of steps defines the relationships among hardscape, water and plants. Other sequences distinguish light and shadow, color and texture, open views and intimate spaces. If the choreographer has done a good job, we don't see the individual steps so much as we enjoy the overall experience of motion. The key to making these multifarious steps work together? It's all about balance. Transferring these principles to backyard design, there's a similar need for
In designing and constructing naturalistic projects for residential clients, I keep two thoughts uppermost in mind: First, the only way to create a successful, natural-seeming illusion is to base my work on the observation and study of nature; second, the only way to build fun into such an environment is to fill it a child-like sense of wonder that draws old and young alike to the natural beauty. For the project pictured in these pages, those two thoughts were always front and center. The homeowner first contacted us about his desire to place a dramatic waterfall in front of some striking, 120-foot-tall eucalyptus trees. That vision soon expanded to include additional watershapes now woven through the majority of the steep, terraced, heavily wooded site. Some work had already started on a set of streams and a hillside pool by the time we became involved, but when the client became acquainted with our work and saw the sort of realistic, highly detailed projects we execute, he wanted us to pick up and take the entire project to completion. Built during the unusually wet winter southern California experienced this past year, the project was challenging in logistics, scope, variety and detail. Some of the practical challenges included hand-carrying 400-pound rock panels down 100 yards of steep, switch-back paths - and occasionally dodging rogue golf balls shanked over from the adjacent Bel Air Country Club. Despite such annoyances,
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
Our projects generally take two forms. On the one hand, we're called upon to "heal" ailing bodies of water that have been set up with inadequate or improperly functioning circulation and filtration systems. Although other people's mistakes mean good business for us, I won't say that we ever look forward to seeing potentially beautiful ponds or lakes cursed by unappealing or even unhealthy water conditions. On the other hand, we often have the opportunity to join a project at the design phase and handle the installation as well, applying what we know about water quality from the first conceptualization of the watershape. That's always a welcome prospect: Not only is it exciting to
The combination of water and plant material is so pervasive and obvious in natural and man-made settings that it's easy to take it for granted. In urban parks, rural settings and countless backyards, where one finds the blue, one also finds the green - and we all seem pre-wired
I've always been fascinated by the concept of urbanism as defined by Thomas Jefferson: He boiled it down to the notion that everyone should have his or her own private space as well as a buffer against the outside world. In a sense, the physical concept of the front yard fits perfectly within Jefferson's utopian ideal. At root, it's an ingenious setup that has probably endured for so many centuries because, on some level, it addresses our primal need to have land all around us. By the very configuration of our residential spaces, we each have a small, open, pastoral area that separates the privacy and sanctity of the home from adjacent public areas, sidewalks and streets. The problem is that in many modern cities and suburbs, the amount of room allocated for front yards in particular has dwindled as property values have soared and lots have become smaller and more tightly packed as a result. And when you combine that spatial shrinkage with the increased desire for safety and privacy on the part of many homeowners, it all works together to place ever-higher premiums on how we choose to make use of our small slices of front-yard land. To my mind, this dynamic set of trends
There's something in human nature that loves the unexpected. From pulling open gifts wrapped in paper, ribbons and bows to the thrill of rounding a forest trail to come upon a waterfall, the sense of anticipation and discovery adds spice to life and generally keeps things interesting. As designers of watershapes and landscapes, we have a tremendous opportunityto use the excitement that comes along with the process of progressively experiencing an environment. And the nice thing about setting up spaces that unfold as you move through them is that they can be organized around simple elements, from free-standing walls, steps or hedges to trees, fences and just about anything else thatpartially blocks, disrupts or interrupts a view. This project, which was first covered in "Details" in the December 2004 issue, is a perfect example of using a sense of
Watershaping advanced by leaps and bounds from 1999 through 2004 – a journey of artistry…
Watershaping advanced by leaps and bounds from 1999 through 2004 – a journey of artistry…
