Design, planning and ~anagementof the land Volume 7, Number 2, Fall 1988

THEUNIVERSITYOFWISCONSINPRESS

SCAPEDesign, planning and management of the land

Edited at the School of Environmental Design, University of Georgiaand Department of Landscape Architecture, University of Wisconsin­Madison in cooperation with the Council of Educators in LandscapeArchitecture (CELA)and published by the University of WisconsinPress.

Editors

Book Review EditorEditorial Assistant

Editorial Board

Ex officio

Arnold Manen, University of Wisconsin-MadisonDarrel Morrison, University of GeorgiaNoel Dorsey Vernon, Ball State UniversityClaris Ingersoll, University of Georgia

Clare Gooper-Marcus, University of California-BerkeleyPeter Jacobs, University of MontrealGrant Jones, Jones and Jones, Seattle, l-ffishingtonRobert Leopold, Bureau of Land Management, DentlerMichael M. McCarthy, uxas A and M UniversityRobert Riley, University of IllinoisFrederick Steiner, University of Colorado-DenverJoanne M. Westphal, Michigan State UniversityErvin Zube, University of Arizona

Sue Weideman, President, Council of Educators in Landscape A rchiteclureWilliam Swain, Fellow, American Society of Landscape Architects

EDITORIAL OFFICE: Robert B. Riley, Department of Landscape Architecture,214 Mumford Hall, University of Illinois,Urbana, IL 61801. The editors invite the submission of manuscripts reporting results of research and scholarly investigationrelating to landscape design, planning, and management. Submission ofa paper to Landscape journal implies that it has neitherbeen published elsewhere nor is under consideration by another periodical. For complete guidelines regarding preparation ofmanuscripts and illustrations, contact the editors at the editorial office address. Enclose a self-addressed, stamped envelope.

BUSINESS OFFICE: All correspondence about advertising, subscriptions, and allied matters should be sent to: JournalDivision, The University ·of Wisconsin Press, 114 N. Murray St., Madison, WI 53715.

LANDSCAPE JOURNAL is published twice yearly by The University of Wisconsin Press.

© 1988 by the Board of Regents of the University of Wisconsin System.

Authorization to photocopy items for internal or personal use,or the internal or personal use of specific clients, is granted bythe Board of Regents ·of the University of Wisconsin System for libraries and other users registered with the CopyrightClt!arance Genter (CCC) Transactional Reporting Service, provided that the base feeof$l. 50 per copy is paid directly toCCC, 21 Congress St., Salem, MAOJ970. 0277-2426/8410003~091$1.50/0

Postage paid at Madison, Wisconsin, .andat additional mailing offices.

SUBSCRIPTION RATE: One year: $40.00 businesses, libraries, government agencies, and public institutions; $18.00individuals (individuals must prepay); foreign subscribers (including Canada and Mexico) add $8.00 per year or for Air MailService add S11.00 per year.

US ISSN 0277-2426

SPECIAL' ISSUE:NATURE, FORM, AND MEANING

This special issue was edited at the Department of Landscape Architecture andRegional Planning, University of Pennsylvania and the Department of Land­scape Architecture, University of Wisconsin-Madison, with assistance providedby the School of Environmental Design, University of Georgia. It was sup­-ported, in part, by a grant from the National Endowment for the Arts.

Guest EditorEditorial ConsultantNEA Gra~t LiaisonEditorial Assistants

Guest Editorial Board

Anne Whiston Spirn, University of PennsylvaniaArnold Alanen, University of Wisconsin-MadisonDarrel Morrison, University of GeorgiaSusan Haswell, University of Wisconsin-MadisonSigne Holtz, University of Wisconsin-MadisonJennifer Lee, University of PennsylvaniaJohn Gilbert Widrick, University of Pennsylvania

Garrett Eckbo, Berkeley, CaliforniaSusan Rademacher Frey, Louisville, KentuckyKenneth Helphand, University of OregonReuben Rainey, University of VirginiaJoseph Rykwert, University of PennsylvaniaSusanne Louise Turner, Louisiana State University

Grateful acknowledgement is made for permission to reprint the following:

"The Dry Salvages," in Four Quartets, Copyright 1943 by T. S. Eliot; renewed 1971 by Esme Valerie Eliot. Reprinted bypermission of Harcourt Brace Jovanovich, Inc.

"Anecdote of the Jar," Copyright 1923 and renewed 1951 by Wallace Stevens. Reprinted from The Collected Poems of WallaceStevens, by permission of Alfred A. Knopf, Inc.

"The Isle of Innisfree," in The Collected }1i)rks of W B. li'ats. Copyright © 1933 by Macmillan. Copyright renewed © 1961by Anne Yeats. Printed by permission of A.P. Watt Ltd.

Anthony Hecht, 1 stanza, "The Garden of the Villa d' Este," in The Hard Hours. Copyright © 1967 Anthony Hecht.Reprinted with the permission of Atheneum Publishers, an imprint of Macmillan Publishing Company.

Denise Levertov, "Silent Spring," in Oblique Prayers. Copyright © 1984 by Denise Levertov. Reprinted by permission ofNew Directions Publishing Corporation.

From the book The Sense of }1i)nder by Rachel Carson. Copyright © 1956 by Rachel L. Carson. Copyright renewed © 1984by Roger Christie. Reprinted by permission of Harper & Row, Publishers, Inc.

Acknowledgement is also made for 'material reprinted from:

Lawrence Durrell, "Landscape and Character." In Spirit of Place: Letters and Essays on Travel. Allan G. Thomas, ed. NewYork: D. P. Dutton & Co., Inc., 1969, p. 161.

C. Levi-Strauss. Tristes Tropiques. Translated by John Russell. New York: Criterion Books, 1969, p. 127.

CONTENTSArnold Alanen andDarrel Morrison

11 Anne Whiston Spirn

85 David Leveson

95 Lawrence Durrell

96 v: Frank Chaffin

107 T. S. Eliot

108 Anne Whiston Spirn

127 Claude Levi-Strauss

128 Dan Rose

134 Wallace Stevens

135 William Butler Yeats

136 Robert B. Riley

148 Anthony Hecht

149 Laurie Olin

169 Denise Levertov

170 Kerry Dawson

176 Rachel Carson

177 Jusuck Koh

192 Denis Wood

206 Rachel Kaplan

207 Carl Steinitz

208

Editors' CQmmentary

Nature, Form, and .Meaning: Guest Editor's Introduction

Geologic Clarity: A Geologist's Perspective on Landscape Aesthetics

From Spirit of Place

Dwelling and Rhythm: The Isle Brevelle as a Landscape of Home

From "The Dry Salvages"

The Poetics of City and Nature: Towards a New Aesthetic for Urban Design

From Tristes Tropiques

The Brandywine: A Case Study of an Ecological Strategy

"Anecdote of the Jar"

"The Lake of Innisfree"

From Sacred Grove to Disney World: The Search for Garden Meaning

From "The Gardens of the Villa d'Este"

Form, Meaning, and Expression in Landscape Architecture

"Silent Spring"

Flight, Fancy, and The Garden's Song

From The Sense of U1Jnder

An Ecological Aesthetic

Unnatural Illusions: Some Words About Visual Resource Management

Commentary-Illusory Explication: Some Comments on "Unnatural Illusions"

Commentary-On "Unnatural Illusions"

Index

Landscape Journal is dedicated to the dissemination of the results of academicresearch and scholarly investigation of interest to practitioners, academicians,and students. of landscape architecture.

Cover: Skyspace I (day), 1972, by James Turrell. Interior light and open sky. See Anne WhistonSpirn, "The Poetics of City and Nature: Towards a New Aesthetic for Urban Design," page 108.Photograph by James Turrell.

Volume Seven, Number Two Fall 1988

Editors' COIIlrnentary

E•.. vel' since LandscapeJournalfirst appeared in early

1982, there have been calls to publishany number of"theme" issues. Indeed,one such issue of theJournal (Volume 3,Fan 1984) was devoted to the generaltopic of visual assessment and the per­ception of beauty in the landscape.That issue, however, resulted after sev­eral manuscripts on visual assessmentalready had been submitted, reviewed,and accepted for publication.. It wasonly because of this fortuitous circum­stance that we were thereby able tohave an issue which featured a single,albeit broadly defmed topic.

A facet of landscape architecturethat undoubtedly has not yet beenaddressed- adequately on the pages ofLandscapeJournal is the one of design.While some articles on landscape de­sign have appeared since 1982, italways. has been our wish that moreauthors involved with such matterswould contribute manuscripts for re­view and consideration.

This c0ncern about the shortageof articles on design theory was ad­dressed directly at the 1985 GELAconference. As is pointed out in theguest editor's introduction that follows,that conference provided the forumwhich ultimately led to the publicationof this issue of LandscapeJournal. (Itperhaps is worth noting that anotherCELA conference, the 1980 meeting atthe University of Wisconsin-Madison,served to launch LandscapeJoumal asthe first refereed publication for land­scape architecture in North America. )Once it had been agreed that a specialtheme issue on design should be pur-­sued, the question ofsecuring addi­tional financial assistance was consid­ered. The National Endowment for theArts emerged as the logical agency tocontact for what was envisioned as a

LandscapeJournal

larger-than-usual issue of theJournal.Anne Whiston Spirn was asked toserve as guest editor and to assumemajor responsibility for writing theNEA grant proposal. By adopting thetheme, "Nature, Form, and Meaning,."Anne also selected a topic that wouldallow potential authors to address oneof the more important issues that is ofconcern in contemporary landscapedesign theory.

The masthead of LandscapeJour­nalreads: "Design,. Planping andManagement of the Land." With thisissue of Land.scapeJournal~design hasfinally received the special attention itso dearly deserves. We encouragefuture authors to continue writing in asimilar vein.

ArnoldAlanenDarrelMorrisonCo-editors

Nature, Form, and Meaning: Guest Editor's Introduction

mare surrounded with things· which we have notmade and which·haJJe a lift andstructuredijferentjrom our own: trees,. flowers,. grasses:,. rivers,. hills, clouds. For centuries they haveinspired us with curiosity and awe; They liave heen objects ojdelight; m have recreated them inour imaginations to reflect our moods. And we have come to think ofthem as contributing to an ideawhich we have called nature. . . (Clark 1963, p. 1)

l A Thether "the sense of rela­V V tion between natUre and

man in some' form has always been theactuating spirit ofart, " asJohn Dewey(1958,. p. 339) asserted in Art as Experi-­enee, it is certainly at the heartofthe artoflandscape design. Landscape designexpresses our conception of nature andthe place ofhumans within nature.This issue of nature is fundamental tolandscape design theory;

The artful shaping of the land­scape to serve human purposes atwhatever scale, from the garden to theregion, entails an understanding of thehuman and the natural worlds, in bothan empirical and a metaphysical sense.Landscape architects must confrontnature as discrete elements of rocksand trees and nature as Idea (naturelNature). In designing the landscape weextract natural features from their con­text and reorder them to serve humanpurposes. At times we attempt to imi­tate or reproduce natural processes andforms, at times we abstract or echothose processes and forms, and at timeswe superimpose a sharply contrastingorder. This w~ do to express meaning.

The concern for nature that is atthe core of landscape architectureyields a sense for temporal and spatialscales that distinguishes it from relatedfields. The landscape comprises a spec­trum of scales; it is rarely as enclosedand self-contained as a building~ but iscontinuous, linked to' other distantlandscapes by the movement of air,

earth,. water, and living organism:s,including humans. The landscape isalso dynamic, evolving continually intime. Unliess a landscape design is com­prised ofiinert materials, it is thusnever complete,. but cOJ1tinues tochange perceptibly month by month,year by year.

This special issue ofLandscapeJournal focuses on the theme "Nature,Form,. and Meaning." It consists:ofnine articles whose authors represent arange ofdisciplines, including land­scape architecture, architecture, geoIo,..gy, geography; and anthropology; Eachauthor approached the topic from a dif.:.ferent perspective; some focused onlandscapes formed primarily by naturalprocesses with little evidence ofhumanintervention, others on, the vernacularlandscape, while others concentratedon landscapes designed by profes­sionals. Several themes emerge fromthis diversity that pose a challengeto contemporary landscape design.Where do landscape forms come from,both those of the natural, as wen as thecultural landscape? How can thoseforms be employed in the designedlandscape? What sorts of meanings dothese forms embody and how do thesemeanings come to stand for the viewsand values ofa group or a society as awhole? Why do we value what we valuefrom the past? And finally, how canthis understanding be applied to de­signing landscapes and to judging theirquality? The issue ofauthenticity also

Spiro u

looms large. Can the appearance of thelandscape be different from its reality?In landscape design one must choosewhether to abstract from nature or toimitate the appe~ranceof nature. Isone app~oachmore valid than theother? One also senses a new aestheticemerging from many of these papers,an aesthetic that involves movement aswell as rest, sound and other sensualqualities as well as vision, that recog­nizes the evolutionary character of thelandscape, and that provides a newappreciation of works of the past.

This issue of theJournal raises asmany questions as it answers, and thatwas the intention. It is hoped that theissue might engender debate which willcontinue in forthcoming issues. In onecase, Denis Wood's critique of visualresource management, the debatestarted prior to publication, and anumber of authors were invited torespond. Two responses are includedhere. Reactions to this and otherarti­cles are welcomed in forthcoming issuesof theJournal.

The idea for this special editiongrew out of a panel at the CELA con­ference at the University ofIllinois in1985, presented by Arnold Alanen,Kenneth Helphand, Robert Riley, andErvin Zube. A lively discussion be­tween panelists and audience ensued,spilled out over the remainder of theconference ~o include others, and cul­minated in the decision to sponsor thisspecial issue. This would not have beenpossible without a grant from the Na­tional Endowment for the Arts, and Iwould like to thank Catherine Brown,Robert Riley, Darrel Morrison, andArnold Alanen for their advice on theproposal to NEA. Members of theguest editorial board provided im­portant ideas, counsel, and supportthroughout the preparation of the is­sue, and helped greatly with the diffi­cult task of reviewing papers. I alsowould like to thank all of those whosubmitted articles, some of which will

uz LandscapeJournal

appear in subsequent issues of theJour­nal. In accordance with the policy ofLandscapeJournal all submitted artiClesreceived blind review by at least tworeferees. I would like to thank ArnoldAlanen, not only for organizing theblind review of my own article, butalso for sustained support, advice, formanaging the production and for serv­ing as liaison with the University ofWisconsin Press. Having seen from theinside the enormous amount of workentailed in a single issue, much of itunnoticed and invisible to readers andeven to authors, I believe that tlle fieldowes a great debt to Arnold Alanenand Darrel Morrison for their energy,selfless devotion, and good judgment inlaunching LandscapeJournal and in serv­ing as editors for its first seven years.

Anne Whiston SpirnGuestEditor

References

Clark, Kenneth: 1963. Landscape Into Art.Boston: Beacon Press.

Dewey,john. 1958. Art as Experience. New York:Capricorn Books.

•

The Poetics of City and Nature:

Towards a New Aesthetic for Urban DesignAnne Whiston Spirn

Anne Whiston Spirn is Professor andChairperson of the Department ofLandscape Architecture and RegionalPlanning at the University ofPennsyl­vania. Her book, The Granite Garden:Urban Nature and Human Design (BasicBooks, 1984) received the President'sAward of Excellence from the Ameri­can Society of Landscape Architects.This essay is the subject of a new bookthat further explores the theoretical andaesthetic issues raised in The GraniteGarden. She received her A.B. fromRadcliffe College and an M.L.A. fromthe University of Pennsylvania.

Abstract: This essay describes a new aesthetic of landscape and urban design, an aesthetic thatencompasses both nature and culture, that embodiesfunction, sensory perception, and symbolicmeaning, and that embraces both the making ofthings and places and the sensing, using, andcontemplating of them. This theory is based upon an understanding ofnature and culture as com­prising interwoven processes that exhibit a complex, underlying order that holds across vast scales ofspace and time. This basis in processyields a view ofurbanform as dynamic, as evolving overtime, in predictable and unpredictable ways.

The idea ofdialogue, with its embodiment oftime, purpose, communication, and response, iscentral to this theory. Theform ofthe city is seen as the result ofcomplex, overlapping, and inter­weaving narratives that, together, comprise the context ofplace and the storylines that connect theplace and all those who dwell within it. The issues of time and change, process andpattern, orderand randomness, being and doing, andform and meaning are inherent to this theory. These issuesare also central to recent theoretica/currents in otherfields, including art, music, and science.Although this aesthetic prompts a new appreciationforforms ofthe past, it also demands newforms, new modes ofnotation and representation, and new processes ofdesign, construction, andcultivation.

~e city has been likened to a~ poem, a sculpture, a

machine. But the city is more than atext, and more than an artistic or tech­nological artifact. It is a place wherenatural forces pulse and millions ofpeople live-thinking, feeling, dream­ing, doing. An aesthetic of urbandesign must therefore be rooted in thenormal processes of nature and of liv­ing. It should link function, feeling,and meaning and should engage thesenses and the mind. 1

The city is both natural and con­trived, a transformation of "wild"nature to serve human needs, an evolv­ing entity shaped by both natural andcultural processes. Urban form isdynamic, ever-unfolding throughdialogues of statement and response.These dialogues are articulated byindividuals and by groups, who, intranSforming the city and nature, arethemselves transformed. The form ofthe city thus records many narratives,all embodying stories: stories about thenature of human society (about therelation of the individual to the State orthe Church, for example, or the powerof commerce); about the quality ofdeities; and about the nature of

108 LandscapeJournal

Nature. These stories are all bound upin one another, their themes inter­woven, their plots never complete. 2

In those dialogues that engageboth culture and nature lies the basis fora new theory of urban design. This the­ory, which builds on a rich history ofantecedents, as well as recent work inphilosophy, art, and science, embodiesan aesthetic that recognizes both natu­ral and cultural processes and revealsthe rhythms and the patterns createdby their discourse. 3

This theory applies not only tothe city, but to rural regions as well.Many examples described here aredrawn from non-urban settings, andone could substitute the words "place"for "city" and "settlement form" for"urban form." Still, it is in the city thatthe challenge is both greatest and leastrecognized, because the human-builtstructure seems so dominant, becausethe contrast between nature's order andhuman order is particularly acute, andbecause cultural processes are sodensely interwoven and overlain.

This theory is concerned equallywith everyday things and with art, withsmall things like fountains, gardens,and buildings and with large systems

like those that transport people or carrywastes. It connects those who live in thecity with those who design theseobjects, places, and systems. It is a the­ory that will yield new urban forms,forms that are as revolutionary as thoserevealed by contemporary science, andthat will require new modes of notationand representation and new processesof design, construction, and cultiva­tion.

Dimensions of the New AestheticThis is an aesthetic that cele­

brates motion and change, that encom­passes dynamic processes, rather thanstatic objects, and that embraces multi­ple, rather than singular, visions. Thisis not a timeless aesthetic, but one thatrecognizes both the flow of passingtime and the singularity of the momentin time, that demands both continuityand revolution. This aesthetic engagesall the senses, not just sight, but sound,smell, touch, and taste, as well. Thisaesthetic includes both the making ofthings and places and the sensing,using, and contemplating of them.

The idea of dialogue, with itsembodiment oftime, purpose, commu­nication, and response, is central to

Figure 1. Fish A1flgic, by Paul KJee, 1925. Court y orthe Philadelphia Museum or An, The Louise and Walter Arcnbcrg Collection.

this aesthetic. One form of dialogue,cssentially introspectivc, entails thecontemplation of such questions asWho Are We? Wherc Are We? WhatDo We Value? Anothcr type of dia­logue entails the transformation of theexternal world for human purposes,including construction of shelter,acquisition of food and watcr, defense,trade, worship, and play. Throughthese transformations we express whatwe, as individuals and as societies,value. Both types ofdialogues-theinternal and the external-arc meansof knowing oneselfand one's place inthe world. Throughout history, indi·viduals and societies have engaged insuch dialogues and have recorded them

in poetry. painting, scientific experi­ments, and the forms of human settle­ment. Whether their origins are meta­physical or mundane, these dialoguesare utimately aesthetic.'"

Many different and even con­trasting epistemologies have empha­sized an ultimate unity and havestressed that that ultimate unity is (US­

thetic(Bateson 1980). John Dewey(1958) characterized the sense ofaoextensive and underlying whole as theessence of aesthetic experience andeven of sanity. Design which highlightsnature's processes for our contempla­tion permits lhe experience of a senseof unilY with a larger whole which isthe universe in which we live.

A sense of idenliry-as both anindividual and a member of a group­is an imporlanl couilierpoim to a senseof unity; both arc csscmiallO psycho­logical growth and health (Erikson1963). Erik Erikson descrihcd the sig­nificance of identity and its develop­ment in the individual (Erikson 1968).Relph (1983) and Norberg-Schulz(1979) both stressed thc importance ofidentity as it is expressed in a sense ofplace. Design which juxtaposes andcontrasts nature's order and humanorder prompts the contemplation ofwhat il means to be human. Designthat fosters and intensifies the experi­ence of temporal and spatial scalesfacilitates both this renection upon per-

Spirn 109

sonal change and the search for identityand sense of unity with a larger whole.Design that resonates with the namraland culmral rhythms of a place, thatechoes, amplifies, clarifies, or extendsthem, contributes to a sense of rooted·ness in space and lime.

The understanding gainedthrough this sense of unity, sense ofidentity, and sense of place are revealedin the manner in which we dwelL Weare what we build and, in that build·ing, we come to know who we are.Design facilitates a sense of dwellingwhen it permits individuals to shapetheir own environment and when itexpresses the values and attiwdes aculture holds toward the natural worldand human society.

Time, Change, and Rhythm... For the artist, " observed Paul

Klee. dialogue with nature remains aconditio .sint qua non. The artist is a man,himself nature and part of nature innatural space" (Klee 1923, p. 63). Thedialogue between the human organismand the natural environment takesplace on both an unconscious and aconscious level. Before humans builttowns and cities, our habitat wasordered primarily by nature's pro­cesses. II Early man was imprinted bythe soils, rocks, springs, and riversamong which he developed. His mindand bodily responses were shaped bythe infonnation he derived from hissenses" (Dubos, 1971, p. 9). The mos'intimate rhythms of the human bodyare still conditioned by the nalUralworld outside ourselves: the daily pathof the sun, alternating light with dark;the monthly phases of the moon thatlUg the tides; and the annual passage ofthe seasons. Isolated in a windowlessrOom with constant, artificial illumina­tion, the human mind becomes disori­ented and lhe body drifts into eccentricrhythms. These rhythms of sleepingand waking, of the ebb and now ofenergy, are dialogues our bodies enterinto without our conscious interven­tion.

The perception of change isessential to developing a sense of whowc are, where we have come from, andwhere we are going, as individuals, associeties, as a species. The perceptionof time depends upon regularly recur­ring eveOlS, "vit.hout which, time wouldbe an imperceptible, fonnlcss now. The

110 LandscapeJoumal

experience of repetitive and com­prehensible change, as expressed bytemporaJ cycles like the seasons, gainsan even more powerful aesthetic poten­tial in an age such as ourscharacterized by rapid change. Designthat makes ,risible the operation of nat­ural processes and their temporal cyclescontributes to the experience of beingconnected to rather than separate fromthe past and the future. Movement andchange are central, indeed, essential tolife. When these qualities are found inthe designed environment or works ofart, they aUraCt the onlooker, affirmone's everchanging existence, one's life,and transform one from observer intoparticipant.

Lo contrast to the repetitive pre­dictability of daily and seasonal changeis the immensity of the geological timescale. Over the past three centuries ournotion of time and space has changedenormously. In the seventeenth cen­tury, the age of the earth was reckonedin thousands of years. From this viewof the world that measured the age ofthe eanh in human generations, wehave come to calculate the eart.h's age interms of thousands of millions of yearsand have developed theories of the uni·verse that dwarf the age of the earthiLself. The human life span now seemsbut a hlip, and the carth but a smallspeck in the universe. 5

T. S. Eliot (1962) in "The DrySalvages," addressed both a sense ofunity with nature ("The river is withinus, the sea is all about us"), as well asthe poignant contrast between nature'stime and human time C'The tollingbell/Measures time not our time, rungby the unhurried/Ground swell").6This is a thcme also explored by PaulKlee in many drawings and paintings,including "Fish Magic" (1925) inwhich he depicted humans as poisedbetween (\'\10 realms-the rcalm ofnalure and the realm of culture.

Many contemporary artists havemoved the focus of their work awayfrom the gallery and me museum intothe larger environment to better ex·plore this theme, and their work hasprofound impJications for the design ofcities. TheJapanese sculptor SusumuShingu, for example, creates an explic­it dialogue between human-made ob­jects and the natural forces of wind,water, and light. Shingu's intention isto make visible the dialogue between

two rhythms-"the rhythm of chang­ing nature and the rhythm of beingsliving in nature." He describes theserhymms as being "delicately inten·wined, making various points ofcontact" and seeks to highlight thesepoints of contact through which he con­fronts the fragility ofhuman artifactswith nature's power. This he does in agentle way; his purpose is to inspirehumility and nourish human growth,10 reject the "static and solid" in favorof" placing ourselves amidst per­petually flowing rhythm" (Shingu.1983, p. 6).

Such points of cOntact are elo­quently delineated in Waltcr De­Maria's "Lightning Field" (1974­1977), a seemingly endless grid ofstainless-steel poles Sct in a desertbasin. The poles are of uniform heightand regular spacing, forming a gridthat measures one mile on one side andone kilometer on the other. The gridsets IightJy on the land; almost invisibleat midday, it is revealed by the low lightof morning and evening, and duringlightning storms when the poles formnash points providing an awesome dis­play.

In "Time Landscape," artistAlan Son fist has attempted to replicatethe precolonial landscape of New YorkCity on a small. fenced-in plot in Man­hattan. The "artwork" is composed oftrees and shrubs intended to evolvethrough natural processes of plant suc­cession into a native fore t. Urban"volunteers"-Acer platanoides,Ailanthus altissima-have seededthemselves since the original plantingand have thrived. The eventual forestwill be cosmopolitan; like the city itself,it will consist of both "natives" and"exotics." Conceptually, "Time Land­scape" is exciting; in execution, how­ever, it is not wholly successful. "TimeLandscape" is "invisible" to manypassersby. rts appearance, at casualglance, is indistinguishable fromvacant lots nearby. Only a small plaquewhich describes the project gives a cluet.hat the landscape was intentionallyplanted. 7

Another artist, James Turrell,works with light and sky to designapcnures in ceilings and walls whichhe calls ··s.ky spaces." Turrell frames aview of the sky, frequentJy combiningnatural and artificial light. By isolatingthe sky and stripping away competing

Figure 2. Sel in the fOOlhills oflhe Rocky Mountains, Red Rocks Amphithcmcr affords a view out acl'OSS the Greal Plains and the city of Denvcr.Photograph by Anne Spim, 1977.

visual stimuli, he offers an aestheticexperience of the sky alone. His intentis "to set up a siruation to which r takeyou and let you see. h becomes yourexperience ... h's nOt taking fromnature as much as placing you in con­'ac' wi,h i'" (Brown 1985, p. 22).Turrell's sky spaces recapitulatc, in thecity, lhe experience oflying in an openmeadow where the sky fills the view.One is absorbed in changes in the skyfield; clouds scudding past, lendingdepth, color shifting graduallYi espe­cially a' dusk when blue becomesdarker and deeper. cxtending into vio­Ict, then pierced by the first tar, all ina slow, but steady, succession towardthe ultimately enveloping black ofnight. Through a smaU window fram­ing a view of the sky, the observer is ledto a contemplation of the physical lawsthat govern the universe, that connectOUT body, OUT world. to other worlds.8

In the modern city, where buildings

crowd the horizon, such an experienceof the sky is rare except on rooftops orin park meadows. Yet skylights, light­ning rods, wearner valles. and vacantlors are all commonplace. Turrell.DeMaria, Shingu, and onfist havetransformed them into art, into vehi­cles for contemplating time, change,and the rhythmic dialogue betweenhumans and nature.

Process, Pattern, and FormGreat, upright, red rocks, thrust

from the earth, rising hundreds affect,Strike the boundary between mountainand plain along the Fron' Range of theRockies. Rcd Rocks Amphitheater isset up in these foothills, its nat stagedwarfed by the red slabs tha' frame itand the panoramic view OUl across thecity of Denver and the Great Plains.The straight lines of the terraced seats,cut from sandstone to fit the humanbody, and the tight curve of the road

cut to fit the turning car, seem fragilenext to the rocks' awesome scale andmagnificent geometry.

Denver is a cit)' of the highplains. Nestled up against thesefoothills, it rests on sediments manyhundreds of feet deep, their fine grainseroded from the slopes of ancientmountains that once rested atop theRockies, their peaks high above theexisting mountains. The red slabs arethe ruined roots of those ancient moun·tain peaks, remnants of rock layers thatonce arched high over the Rockies weknow today. As the eye follows theangle ofthcir thrust and completcs thatarc, one is transported millions of yearsinto the past. This is the Context ofDenver, a contcxt in space and timecreated by the enduring rhythm ofnature's processes and recorded in pat­terns in the land. The amphitheateraffords not only a view of the city, butalso a prospect for reflecting upon

Spim III

Figure 3. The e red. lab al Red R . Amphithcal rare th remnant of r k la . r. Lhat on e arched high over Lhe Rockie .Photograph by Anne pim. 1 77.

tim, hange, and the place of lhhuman and city in nalure.

When we negl t natural proces-e in city design, we nOl only ri k th

inlen ificalion of natural hazard andth d gradation of natural r ur e ,w al forfeit a sen. I onn ction to alarger whole b yond our he. In con­tra ·t. u h pIa ea' Red R k Amphi­theater and Turrell' ky pa . provoka vivid xperience of natural proce ethai p rmit u to extend our imagina­tion beyond the limil of human mem­ory into the reach of geologi al anda tr nomicaltim and to tray r pacefr m th microscopic t th 0 mic.

eol gi tDavidL \' son(1971,p.24)ha: ob rved Ihal 'ifro k i. primarilyur foothold on life, it i' also a remin­

d r, a link-if we I t it b - four rela­tion hip to and the realilY oflh' r t ofIh univer e. 0 Ie than Ih tars thero k 0 casually around u are IhetulT of lh world: th ir ibling irde

th un, th ir godpar ll(' p pulal all·pace." How ver permanent rock may"m, it i. ultimatel . worn mooth b

\ au.:r, reduced finall t du ·t. Thpow r of a raindrop, multipli d by thetriJli n v r lhou and, and million ofyear ha eroded mountain. intoplain . Th pattern ofJin 't b d by

112 LandscapeJournal

waler in the and of a gulter or a beacheho the pallern engraved on the anh

by rivers over lime.The e arc th' patt filS Ihat con­

n "\. Th y conn t u t . aI ofpa e and tim b y nd our gra p; theyonn CI our bodie and mind to th

pul e of the natural world ulside ourkin. Th branching riv rbed cut by

wat r nov ing, th branching tree\ 'ithin \ hi h lh ap ri , th pal-I m: mirror th branching arlerie andv in through which our blood our e .

Pal tern form db natur ' pro-s. and lheir ymm lry a ro .cale

have I ng been appr iat d by 10ob rv r. of the natural w rid. R C md 'veJopmems in mathematics and sei-

ne afford n w in ight into the geom-'try and ac theti f f, rm g neratedby d namic pro es s, b Ihey naLUralor 'ulrural, and point to n 'w dire cionfor d ign.

The form of mountain range,riverbank., and dun ,cloud" tree.and nO\' cry tal ar pied, j lied, atam m nt in tim th ph. ·i al mOOd­iment of dynamic pro<'c '. 'heirbeauly con i l of a peculiar combina­tion of rder and di ord r harm m­ou I arranged, and th act that lheirform i at quilibrium, at an given

mom nt, with the pro lhat pro-du ed it. um forms and the phenome-non of Ih ir mm try a ros ale oftim and space, hay re cndy b end crib d by a n w g ometr , •fractal"ge m try, which one of it originator,B n il andelbrot(183,p.5),eall'th geom lry ofnaLUr "-"pimply,""p ky," "tortuou ," and "inten-

d.' en ibiliry t' P d in c1a i-metry perceiv th f, rm as

t 0 omplex to de cri ,and yen abcing di ordered. How \ r, a fractalueh pallem an b d . rib d wilh

simpli it , lhe re ult f 'implc,r p ,titive pr e u h a bifurcationand d eI pment. Th' vari 'ty of formsthat 5t m from the sam' pro c i theresulLofrespons LOdirIi ringcondi­lion of context, or to th imera tionwilh oth r prote 'c .

now cry, tal in th ir balance of'lability and instabilit" of mm lryand randomn , of r pctiti nandv ri 'ty, are an example of frac.tal form.

wal r cry tallze', it form' a growingtip \\ ith a boundary lhat be orneuntabl and nd off id branch .Thi proce account for lh imilarilYam ng sno\ nakes, while lheir seem­ingly infinite vari ty i cau db'variation in their onte. I-in the pI' -

cise combinations of wind, sun, humid­ity, and temperature to which eachflake is exposed during its formation.Computer simulations of these ther­modynamic processes produce patternsthat mimic real snowflakes (Gleick1987). The form of each snownake orice crystal thus embodies bOlh the pro­cess of its formation and all the chang­ing weather patterns it has experi­enced. These paltcrns hold at themicroscale and at larger scales: at thescale of an ice cl'ystal and at the scale ofan ice Ooc.

Strange and wonderful forms,mirroring those of nature, have beencreated by repeating a simple computerprogram many times over. Early in theprocess, the resulting form, as seen onthe computer screen, appears random;gradually an order unfolds. Suchexperiments are the subject of a newfield, coined Chaos by its pioneers,who feel [hat they are defining a newparadigm. 10 Their subjects are di­verse, their objective to identify theunderlying order in seemingly randomfluctuations in, for example, weather,

the static in telephone transmissions,the populations of predators and prey,heartbeats, and the stock market.Many of those working in this fieldhave expressed their aesthetic attrac­tion to the mathematics of fractalgeometry in contrast to what they termthe "Euclidean sensibility" (Gleick1987).

This is a geometry foreign to thatof Euclid with its lines and planes, cir­cles and spheres, triangles, and cones.Euclidean geometry is an abstraction ofreality; its beauty lies in smooth, clean,ideal shapes. II is a geometry based inthe belief that rest, not motion, is thenatural state; it is a geometry thatdescribes three-dimensional space, butthat neglects time. II That does nOlmean we should avoid using Euclideangeometry in the design oflandscapes.Indeed such usc may heighten our per­ception of the natural forms of riversand trees and the processes that pro­duce them, especially when it is em­ployed as a visual counterpoint thatboth expresses and contrasts with thoseforms.

In Dinan, France, a monumentalarc of poplars takes its inspiration fromthe sweeping meander of the RiverRance, smoothing out the irreg­ularities of the river bank. The arcrepresents the idea of that sweep.Through the abstraction and echo ofthe horizontal form in the verticaldimension, in what is clearly a lineinscribed by humans on the landscape,Ihe experience of the river's meander isintensified. Though set in a tight,evenly-spaced row along the banks ofthe river, the individual trees asserttheir own quirky growth, which is seenmore clearly in contrast to the reg­ularity of their placement. The cOI-e ofDinan is a fortified medieval town seton a hill. The park is a river valley thatforms a green chasm between the oldcity and its modern suburbs. The river­way is a precinct apart from the oldand the new city through which theriver nows; its form is more sinuous, itstempo marc leisurely. I[ is a landscapeon the move: water nowing, swinging,cutting into the rock along Ihe outcrarc, and laying down a broad terrace

Figure 4. Poplar Arc and Allotment Gardens. This monumental arc of poplars in Dinan, France, takes its form from the sweeping meander ofthe River Rance. The crazy quilt paltern of allotments in Ihe lower right resuhs from the efforts of many individuals who garden Ihere. The viewis from the ramparts of the old city looking to the suburbs beyond the park. Photograph by Anne Spirn, 1978.

Spirn 113

along the inner curve. The flat plainwhose edge is marked by the poplar arcis advancing, built from sedimentscarved from hillsides upriver. Therough green wall of woods risingbeyond the poplar are cloaks the sleepslopes, cut by water flowing.

The interplay of different pro­cesses is also a subject of currentresearch on "chaos." Computer d.raw­ings iJiustrate the patterns that resultwhen several rhythms, such as radiofrequencies or planetary orbits, comelogether (Gleick 1987). Perhaps this isthe contemporary version of the" musicof Lhe spheres." 12 Such patterns appearcomplex, yet one senses Ihat there areunderlying, ordering principles. Theyresemble a tOpographic contour map.prompting the realization that landform results from a similar interplayamong multiple forces and processes,including gravity, water now, andweather. Cultural processes also

engage natural processes on the landjthe rhythms of food production andtransportal ion, for example, interactwith the now of wind and waler to

mold a landscape. Like natural pro·cesses, certain cultural processes-theacquisition of food, disposal of wastes,movement ofpcople and goods, trade,child-rearing, and play-are universal.The patterns thal result from those pro­cesses vary in response to the specificCOntext of natural environment andcuhure and to the idiosyncracies ofindividuals.

I t is nalUre and culture together,as interacting processes, that render aplace particular. Natural processes,operating over time, give rise to the ini­rial form of the land and comprise thebase rhythm to which cultural pro­cesses respond, inlroducing new andchanging themes, and weaving anintricate pattern, punctuated here andthere by high points of nature and an.

Every urban landscape is a symphonyof complex harmonies, which, althoughthey can be savoured at any givenmoment, evolve continually in time, inboth predictable and unpredictableways, in response to natural processesand changing human purposes. Ie is asymphony in which a1llhe dwellers ofthe city are composers and players.

Making, Caring, Thinking, DwtllingThe process of dwelling, an irre·

ducible fact of every culture, is anaesthetic act, entailing b~ing and doing,a correspondence bct,\'een nature andculture. Through cultivation and con­struction, individuals and societiesforge a place within nature that reneclstheir own identity-their needs, val­ues, and dreams. It is Ihe making ofand caring for a place, as weU as thecontemplation of these labors and (heirmeanings, which comprise lhe aestheticexperience of dwelling.

Figure 5. Poplars. Dinan, France. Though set in a tighl, evenly-spaced row along the banks oflhe River Rance, Ihe individual trees assen theirown quirky growth. In the distance is the rampart from which Figure'\. was taken, Photograph by Anne Spiro, 1978.

114 LalulsrapeJou",al

This concept, as explored by thephilosopher Martin Heidegger (1971).has important implications for design­ers and planners of human settle­ments. 13 In his search to define thenature of dwel1ing, Heidegger tracedthe roots of the verb "to dwell" in bothhigh German and Old English. In bothlanguages the root word for dwell, buan,also means "to build." [n German,moreover, the roOt word for buildingand dwelling is also the same as that forich bin or "I am." [am because 1 dwell;I dwell because I build. "We altain to

dwelling, so it seems, only by means ofbuilding" (Heidegger 1971. p. 145).

To deny people the opportunityto build, to manipulate their environ­ment, is to deny them the ability todwell. Furthermore, the word bauell,which embodies building, dwelling,and being, not only means to build asin to construct, but "also means at thesame time to cherish and protect, topreserve and care for, specifically to tillthe soil, to cultivate the mind" (Heid·egger 197 I. p. 147). To dwell in aplace, therefore, to make it one's own,onc must not only construct, but alsocultivate. In this dual sense, house andgarden together comprise a dwelling.Of these it is the garden that affords theprimary opportunity for dialogue withthe natural world. 14

The garden is a potent and com­plex symbol; it embodies pleasure,fertility, sustenance, and renewal. Gar·dening is a life·embracing act, an act offaith and hope, an expression of com­mitment to the future; it can even be apolitical act. From ancient cities to thecities of medieval Europe, agriculturalpursuits formed a part of daily urbanlife; orchards and gardens lay withinthe city walls. 15

How do we account for thestrength of this tradition of urban gar·dens? Is it entirely utilitarian-theneed to produce food, a precautionagainst seige? Heidegger's essay on thequality of dwelling sheds light on thepersistence and popularity of urbangardens, as well as their significance. 16

People who can afford gardens in thecity do so, even on tiny balconies.Many city residents who rent the apart­ments or houses in which they live,however, are not permitted to alterthem; many also do not have access to aprivate garden. In Heidegger's sense ofthe word, these residents are prevented

Figure 6. Computer drawings illustrate the patterns that result when several rhythms, such asradio frequencies or planetary orbits, interact. Photographs courtesy ofJames Yorke, DireclOr,Institute for Physical Science and Technology, UniversilY of Maryland.

Spirn 115

from dwelling in the houses they occu­py, from making them homes ratherthan houses. Nor do most public parksprovide an opportunity to shape one'senvironment. People arc discouragedfrom ahering parks or even from deco­rating them. 1b aJtcr is to vandalize.

The urban allotment gardenmovement has evolved to address misneed. In Europe this tradilion has itsrOOlS in the medieval city, and urbangardens take many forms. 1n Germany,for example, many apartment coun·yards are divided into individualgarden plots; each apanment in theadjacent building has a correspondinggarden (mie(ugarlro). The plots are thesize of a small room, their boundariesmarked by a fence. The gardens aredivcrscj some people put up trelHses,others have picnic tables, some peoplegrow corn, and Others cultivate roses.The result is a delightful, ordered riotof form. color, tcxlure, and use. It ismuch more engaging and more aeslhet·icaJly pleasing ,han the landscape ofmost apartment buildings, particularlypublic housing.

Sam Bass Warner (1987) hasdocumented the history of communalallounent gardens in American citiesover the past century. Design and plan·ning professionals usually ignorecommunity gardens as an urban landusej if they consider such gardens atall, it is as an ephemeral land use. Thepresence of community gardens on anyspecific site within the city may be tem­porary, but ,hey have had a remarkablysustained history in urban life and havepersisted as a viable and popular urbanland USC. 17

Recently, the community gardenmO\'cmem has been strongest in inner·city neighborhoods where the well­tended gardens stand in stark contrastto vacant lots and poorly-maintainedpublic parks nearby. "Cooper's Place, "a community garden in Boston. com­bines individual garden plOts with aseparate OO\...er garden open to thepublic and maintained by the gar­deners for their neighbors' use. Thesegardens were constructed in 1984 onseveral vacant lots. They were can·ccived by nearby residents who, withthe help of Boston Urban Gardeners,organized the necessary resources andmobilized graduate students in land­scape architecture to work on thedesign.18

..

April 198~ Photograph by Beth AmdlSCn.

AUguSlI98~. Photograph by GeorgeBatchelor.

March 198~ Drawing and model by BethArndlsen.

July 1988. Photograph by Karen ReUllinger.

....,~.•, . yt J.

I: --~.....1..". "'1\' '. -. ....'- / \_ J..;.:;.,.... ./ ,

•-.

~_'GD~;:'~4'" ... ..".

\- .' "

, " -'.' I I .~• ~ 11~.

February 198~. Photograph by Randy Palmer.

Figure 7. Coopers Place, a community garden in BaSion built and maintained by thegardeners for (heir neighbors' use.

Apri1198~ Photograph by Beth AmdLSen.

July 198~. Photograph by Randy Palmer.

116 Landscap,Joumal

In Ihis and other neighborhoods,the effon-both individual andgroup-cntailed in marshallingresourcc.. securing land, renovatingsoil. and building and cultivating gar­dens has had far-reaching ramificationsfor education, employment, and funhercommunity projects. Community gar­dens are a model ofho\\ to care for aplace. \\'jthout the opportunity to dweUin such a way, it is hard to care for thegreater environment of the city as a~hole, which is an es entiaJ perspectiveif we are to make the city a better placefor all of us.

A major is ue for designers ishow to rclinqui h control (whether toenable othe~ to expres themselves orto permit nature's processes to taketheir cour ) while still maintaining anaesthetically plea ing order. Two paint­ings by Paul Klee, "Tree. 'ursery' and.. Rhythm of Planting" demonstrate ananswer. In both, the artist established aframework (horizontal lines in "TreeNursery" and a grid in "Rhythm ofPlanting") within which much varietywas accommodated without the overalleITect seeming chaotic. The pleasingquality of the "mictcrgarten" inMunich, depends upon a similarframework of divided plots. Each panor garden is a whole in itself, an im­provisation on similar themes by dif­ferent individuals. Yet all are part of awhole unified by materials, strucmre,and the process of cultivation.

In Granada. Spain, allOtmentgardens lie within the Alhambra andGeneralifc, a nadonal landmark. Thegardens rest \\-ithin a highly organizedframework of walls and terraces. andenliven the ~en rather than detractfrom it. They complement the formalgardens and courtyards, where vegeta­bles and nut and fruit tfees are plantedamong Oo'..-en and vines. There is noarbitrary paralion in thi ~1oorish

garden bet""ecn the ornamental andthe produCli,," ,between the pleasur­abl and the pral(lTlali ,between thesacred and the '>eeular.

JUSt as garden expre s themakers' \ iew!\ of their relation to thenatural world, so does the fonn of thecicies a so<:icty creates expre that soci­ety's values. As such. urban form rep­rescms a dialogue between human pur­pose and natures processes over time.In the history of a city, the natural set­ting is a constant that successive hu-

Figure 8. Tree Nursery, by Paul Klec. Courtesy oflhe Phillips Collection, Washington, DC.

Figure 9. Terraced allolmenl gardens at the Generalifc. Granad.t. Spain.PhotOV<lph by Ann< p.m, 198'1

Spirn 117

Figure JO. Aerial Vie:.... orme Fens, ca. 1925. Counesyorthe 3lional Park Service,Frederick Law Olmsted Historic Site.

Figure 11. Aerial \·jew or the Fens and the surrounding city.PhOlogrnph by Alex . MacLean/Landslides. 1983.

celebrates the opportunities afforded bythe natural environment and thatacknowledges the constraints it posesconnects time past and time future wid1time present.

Just as an individual gains self·knowledge from an ability to perceivehis or her own life in relation to thepast, so docs a city gain identity whenthe shared values of its residents areclearly embodied in urban form. Bos·ton is fonunate in that regard; many ofthat city's most admired urban featuresembody the cultivation of nature bypast generations in order to sustainhuman healLh, safety, and welfare. TheFens and Riverway and the residentiaJand institutional districts that sur­round them, for example, tell a storyabout Boston: about a vilal, growingcity's need for expansion and publictransportation; about (he need to pro·(eCl citizens from Ooods and water·borne disease; about a new role fornature in the city.

As originally conceived and con­structed, the Fens and Riverway wereillOovative models for public openspace serving a variety of human needsand for the integration of engineering,economics, and aesthetics. The Fensand the Riverway created an integratedsystem of park, parkway, storm drain,and streetcar line that formed the skel­eton for the growth of new suburban(now inner city) neighborhoods.

Frederick Law OlmsLCd and hispartners designed the Fens as a saJtwaler marsh that would function as anoed control reservoir and that wouldbe a counterpoint to the surroundingcity. This marsh was a human con­struCt dug out ofthe polluted mudnats,but it was designed 10 appear like anatural SaJl marsh around which thecity had happened to grow. Time andchange, process and purpose areexpressed by its shape-a bowl with anirregular edge-and the pattern ofplants-bands of grasses and shrubsvariably tolerant of nuclUating waterlevels; even when riverl10w was low, itsform recaHed the noeds that it wasdesigned to receive.

Olmsted's imitalion of "wild"nature represented a divergence fromthe prevailing pastoral and formalstyles, both of which were domesticatedlandscapes and abstractions of nalUre.In this approach, Olmsted heeded Lheadmonition of his contemporary,

taken tOgether, tell a SlOry of the inter·action between natural processes andhuman purpose over time. Togetherthey contribute to each city's uniqueidentity and together they express thefailures and achievements of the past,the aspirations of the present, and theopportunities for the future (Spirn1984). Urban form LhaL exploiLS and

man generations must address againand again. each in accordance with ilSown values and technology. Civiliza·tions rise and fall, traditions, values,and policies change, but the naturalenvironment of each city remains anenduring framework within which thehuman community builds. A city's nat·ural environment and its urban form,

//8 Lan<fs,apejoumal

Figure 12. lbe Palio de 13 Reja in the Alhambra. Granada, Spain. The prescnceof'watcr imbuesthis palio, physically and symbolically. Water spills from liS source in the founlain onto thepavement, its sound amplilied by the surrounding walls. Photograph by Anne Splm, 1984.

George Perkins Marsh (186~, p. 35),who advocated thal "in reclaiming andreoccupying lands laid waste by humanimprovidence or malice ... the task

. is to become a co-worker withnature in the reconstruction of thedamaged fabric." The Fens and theRivcrway, in their time, represemed anew aesthetic lor the urban landscape.Juxtaposed to the urban districts whichgrew up around them, of sufficientscale to hold their own against the largebuildings at their edge, and recallingthe original condition of the land priorto colonial settlement, they initiated apowerful and poetic dialogue. Imita­tion of nalUre was, in this case, asuccessful design strategy. Today, onemust knO\.y their history to fully appre­ciate them as ... designed" rather than"natural" landscapes. Olmsted's con­temporaries. however, knew fuU weUthat they were buill, not preserved.

The design for Lhe Fens andRiverway were nOt produced over­night, nor did they spring from themind of a single genius. They were theculmination of public dialogue aboutthe future shape of Boston thatextended over decades. This dialogueconsisted of published proposals by pri­vate citizens, including landscapearchitects and lawyers, and of debatesat public hearings, including a meetingat Faneuil Hall in 1876 advertised byits organizers as II Parks for the Peo­pie." 19 This sustained public dialoguenot only produced ideas that were laterincorporated in Olmsted's design, italso generated the support necessary {Q

implement these ambitious projects.The Fens no longer serves the

nood control and water quality func­tions for which it was primarily intend­ed Tevertheless, its fonn and lhe fonnof the surrounding neighborhoods forwhich it served as a skeleton, surviveand still carry meaning. The Fensstands as a model of how a former gen­eration of Bostonians dealt with theidentical environmental problems thatface their city today; watcr poUutionand nooding, transportation, and theneed to forge new roles for public openspace. The Fens, as originally con­structed, extended the metaphor ofgarden and the notion of cultivationthat it embodies to the larger environ­ment. The Fens and Riverway providea structure for a public realm withinwhich the city has unfolded, one that

also reveals and intensifies the naturalrhythms and patterns of the place thatis Boston.

Function, Feeling, and MeaningThe overlay and interplay of nat­

ural and cultural processes can beemployed consciously in urban design(whether in harmony or calculated dis­cord), 10 fuse a connection betweenfeeling, utility, and meaning. The fonnof the Fens and Riverway, for example I

represents and reveals overlapping nat­ural and cultural processes whosecongruence adds layers of meaning,bOlh functional and symbolic, therebyamplif)'ing the aesthetic experiencethat each might engender alone.

Water and its use for human pur­poses has great potential to forge emo·tional, functional, and cognitive linksbetween people and nature in the city."Vater moves through the hydrologiccycle as liquid, solid, and gas; poweredby the fi re ofthe su n and the force ofgravity. water connects air and eanh,and li\'ing or~anisms. ""ater comprisesmost of the human body. Water cut thearching river meander at Dinan; watereroded the ancient mountains nearDenver; wat r forms the frameworkalong which floods flow and people

drive through the Fens and Riverwayin Boston.

Like a primordial magnet, waterpulls at a primitive and deeply rootedpan of human nature. Water is asource oflife, power, comfort, fear, anddelight; it is a symbol of purification,of both the dissolution ofJife and itsrenewal. The creation myths of manycultures portray water as the primaryelement from which life emerged(Eliade 1967).

In a smaU patio in the Alhambra,a fountain brims with water that trick­les slowly over the edge, creating aneffect far beyond its volume. This patiois an economical, elegant, and powerfulstatement on the functions, meanings,and sensuous quaJities of water. Waterspills from its source in the fountainonto the pavement, liS sound amplifiedby the surrounding walls. Water pud­dles on the StOne (loor, and as it e\'ap­orates, cools the air. Small, river·wornpebbles, each embodying the action ofwater over time, arc set in a tightlyorganized, geometric pattern. Elon­gated black stones fonn Oowing,braided rivers; rounded whitish-graystones are alternately ground and stars.The stones are set in packed eanh thatpermits water to seep beneath them to

Spim 119

Figure 13. Patio de la Reja. Smooth, river-worn pebbles, each embodying the action of waterover lime, are set in a tightly-organized, geometric pattern. Photograph by Anne Spiro, 1984.

irrigate the roots of the cedar treesplanted at each corner of the courtyard.The whole forms a deep congruencebetween sensual perception, iconogra­phy, and function. "All the rivers runinto the sea; yet the sea is not full; untothe place from whence the rivers come,thither they return again." This linefrom Ecclesiastes and the Patio de laReja are among the most concise andpoetic descriptions of the hydrologiccycle.

Nature and nature's order, pro­cesses, and forms are an importantsource of inspiration for LawrenceHalprin. He makes a distinction, how­ever, between imitation and abstrac~

tion, between Clcopying nature's pic­tures" and "using her LOols of composi­tion" (Halprin 1969). Halprin's nOle­books contain many studies of watermovement around rocks and of theplanes and fracture lines, ledges andtalus of rocky slopes (Halprin 1972). Inthese drawings, he has recorded theprogressive abstraction in the transi­tion from mountain environment tourban plaza. At the Portland, OregonAuditorium Fountain, the progressionfrom small source, to tributaries, todownstream waterfaUs is telescopedinto a small space. The treatment ofwater is varied and dynamic; the foun­tain permits and even invites human

J20 LarulscapeJournal

participation. The sheer volume andforce of the waterfalls and the mysteryinjected by the many water sources,some half-hidden, combined with thesteep drop from street-level to the baseof the fountajn and the dense screen ofpines, all contribute to an experience ofwater that resonates with its impor­tance as a source of electric power inthis region of rushing rivers.

Since the construction ofthefountains in Portland, Halprin's officehas designed similar fountains for othercities; some of these are far less suc·cessful and demonstrate the pitfalls ofabstraction that strays too far from thesource of inspiration. In Denver's Sky­line Plaza, for example, the fountainsare small and sit in a linear plaza thatis designed [Q hold rainfall after astann, ponding it for a few hours, thenreleasing it gradually to the sewers-aflood-prevention measure. It is attrac­tive and functional, but when empty,the plaza docs not recall the presence ofwater. Nor do the fountains respond tothe special character of the hydrologiccycle as it is expressed on the highplains of Colorado.

Denver has a semi-arid climate;rain falls in cloudbursts which, whenaugmented by springtime snow melt,swell streams and rivers, swiftly con­verting meandering trickles to raging

torrents. James Michener (1974, p. 65)has referred to the South Platte, thebraided, sediment-clogged river thatflows through Denver, as "a sad,bewildered nothing of a river. . Jt 'sa sand boltom, a wandering after­thought, a useless in-itation, a frustra­tion, and when you've said all that, itsuddenly rises up, spreads out to a milewide, engulfs your crops and lays wasteyour farms." These are rhythms thatbecome part of one's life when onedwells in a place.

Denver's metropolitan openspace system is also an urban stormdrainage and flood control system. Thechannels, reservoirs, and detentionand retention basins which structurethe urban landscape are not only con­gruent with the natural rhythms of theregion, but also make these rhythmslegible within the city and provide avisible and tangible framework thatlinks downtown, suburbs, and outlyingfarmland. The form of this parklandreOects the different neighborhoodsthrough which it flows.

Confluence Plaza in downtownDenver is a formal plaza on the SouthPlatte River that is designed to deflectflood· waters and survive periodicimmersion. Sometimes its foundationsare exposed, and sometimes portionsarc under water. Like Skyline Plaza,however, it does not exploit the dramaof this fluctuation. Harvard Gulch is asuburban storm drainage channel andlinear park designed by Wright WaterEngineers as a replacement for a nar­row, dirt gulch which once flooded theadjacent houses. The original plancalled for an underground storm sewer;now, the water emerges from under thestreet into a park whose sinuous landforms echo the movement of water,even when there is only a small trickleflowing. A line of dried grass lyingmidslope marks the reach of the laststorm. Where the level of the channeldrops, a weir breaks the erosive force ofthe water. At high water the weir isexciting to watch, but even at low waterits form is pleasing and meaningful,recalling the power of water at highflow.

Many advances to health andsafety introduced in cities over the pastcentury have distanced us from thewater that sustains us and have dis­guised its cycling through the environ­ment. As rain falls to the ground, it is

I , r,'.' .r,.',.,

."

r

'tn- l L

Figure 14. tudies ofwater movement in the Sierras. Drawings by Lawrence Halprin, from Notebooks (1972). Reprinted coune y ofMTT Press.

Figure 15. Portland Forecoun Fountain, by Lawrence Halprin. Photographs by Anne Spirn. 1975.

quickly directed to drains and carriedoff; after we use water, it is flushedaway into underground pipes andtransported to sewage treatmentplants, which, like garbage dumps, aretucked into forgotten corners of thecity. When this is done, an importantopportunity for connection is forfeit.

Werribee Farm in Melbourne,Australia is a 27,000 acre park thattreats 60 percenL of the sewage from ametropolitan region of nearly threemillion people and supports a cattleand sheep station that is comparable insize to the largest farms in southernAustralia. The farm's landscape isdiverse, including lagoons, canals, pas­tureland, and estuary. Sewage effluentirrigates and fertilizes pasturelandwhich supports a herd of 15,000 cattle,with 7,000 new calve born eachwinter, and a sh ep flock ranging from30,000 to 70,000 animals. The cattleand sheep are fattened, then slaugh­tered and sold for meat, thereby yield­ing a financial return that substantially

Spim 121

reduces the cost of sewage treatment.Much of the farm is open to the public.Residents of Melbourne visit to watchthe grazing animals, as well as thefarm's varied bird population, whichconsists of more than 200 species,including ground birds, arboreal birds,birds of prey, seabirds, and swamp­birds. A self-guided tour leads visitorsthrough the process of water treatment.

The hydrologic cycle, the nutri­ent cycle, and the food chain are essen­tial to human life; they sustain us, andthey link us to the environment inwhich we live and to the other organ­isms, both human and non-human,that share our habitat. Yet to most peo­ple these cycles are abstractions, some·thing read about in textbooks, thenquickly forgotten. The urban land­scape affords abundant opportunitiesto celebratc these cycles, [Q make legi­ble and tangible the connections theyforge.

Landscape architccts, urbandesigners, and architects have pro­gressively narrowed their scope ofconcern. The aqueducts of ancient

Rome were artistic monuments that cel­ebrated the feat of bringing water intothe city from afar; the fountains ofBaroque Rome celebrated the recon­struction of that public water system.The introduction of public water sup­plies ro American cities in the nine­teenth century was the occasion for cel­ebrations and commemorative foun­tains in urban parks and squares. Themonuments marked a connectionbetween the people who dwelled in thecity and the natural processes that sus­tained them. They were utilitarian, asource of sensual pleasure and sym­bolic meaning. Today, few urbandesigners concern themselves withwater and sewer systems. Yet theimpact of these public works on theshape of urban form and aestheticexperience is LOa great to ignore.Neglect of such concerns, combinedwith a focus on form that is devoid ofmeaning or whose meaning is limitedco an arcane discourse, not only forfeitsa sense of connection, but also leads tothe creation of a public realm thatengenders a sense of alienation.

We Are Storytellers"We are story tellers," say the

dwellers of a city named Della. l< Tn theform of our city are unfolding stories."

Della's most prominent naturalfeatures are the river that cuts gracefularcs along the valley bottom and thehills that rim it; the city of Della hasevolved within this framework of river,valley bottom, and surrounding hillsfor the past four centuries.

The river is a powerful presence;its sweeping curves interrupt andsoften the city's angular grid. Theriver's nowing force erodes and erasesthe works of man; ebbing, the riverreleases sediments from suspension,laying down new land. The river'sphases follow the seasons: brown andswollen after spring storms; full andgreen with the reOected leaves of treesin summer; blue and still under theclear skies of autumn; and choppygrey, white with flecks of ice, in palewimer's light. The river keeps its owntime, a time distinct from that markedby humans in the adjoining city.

Within Della's lIoodplain park,

Figure 16. Harvard Gulch, a suburban SlOrm drainage channel and linear park in Denver. Photograph by Anne Spirn, 1985.

122 Landscap,joumal

landforms molded to absorb. denect,and concentrate lhe floodwaters' forceform sensuous curves across the land­scape. At some places, these landformsbroaden into wide amphithealers thaidissipate tbe force of floods; al others,they pinch together, constricting thewater's flow and magnifying its power.Two lines of square marble pa,'ers SCI

nush in the grass chart paths throughthe park. One marks the limit reachedby the Great Flood; the other marks theextelll of the "normal" annual flood.The character of the riverbanks is var­ied; whether urbane and ele-gam orwild and rugged, the riverbanksprovoke a dialogue with the districtsthrough which the river moves. Pondswithin the noodplain park hold thewater of heavy, summer storms andcool the air as it flows over them. Thefloodplain park extends from down­town into the outlying countryside:from the Mall, with its canal a greenaxis Lhat penetrates the city's hean, tothe river's rributaries which form greentendrils reaching into the ruraluplands.

At intervals along this enormousfloodplain park, at the confluence oftributary and river, are water purifica­tion parks. Each receives used waterfrom the urban watershed it serves, andhere the water is purified: first in apurification plant; then within thelagoons, marshes, and fountains of thepark. Treated water is pumped nightlyto reservoirs on the hills above the city,from which it flows downward to irri­gate parks and gardens; then it is puri­fied further as it seeps through the soil10 replenish groundwater and to aug­ment the river's now during summerdrought. The water wardens who man­age this treatment and cycling processare knowledgeable about all aspects ofwater behavior and use. Every school­child spends one day each year with awater warden. learning to direct theplay of water through the city.

In the midst of the city is a plazathat celebrates both the daily and sea­sonal cycles of nature and the ceaselesshuman activities of commerce, spon,sociability, and politics. Buildingsenclose the plaza on three sides, noneso tall as to block the sun on a wimer'sday. Several ro'....s of trees form thefourth side, the one opposite City HalJ.Their arching branches mark the entryto a park whose central feature is a

canal that stretches from the plaza toriver's edge a mile away.

Stones form the plaza's floor.Those that lie within heavily troddenareas are nat, worn smooth over theyears by the passage of feel. Roundedcobbles from the riverbed, weatheredby waler, are embedded within thefountain at one end of the square.

The foumain is at its most exu­berant and showy on a hot summer'safternoon when the sun shines throughspray and mist sparking rainbows. Aswater evaporates ofT wet pavement, itcools the air. In the autumn, the foun­tain bubbles softly, feeding still pools,disturbed only by the ripples ornowingwater that reflect the color and activityon the plaza. In winter, water freezesinto ice crystals as it trickles from thefountain, its color varying with thick­ness, its motion captured in evershift­ing forms. The sound of water movingunder the ice and the gradually chang­ing color and transparency of tbe ice asit thaws mark the transition from latewinter to early spring.

The play of water in the fountainis never the same. As air temperacurerises or falls and as people enter orleave the plaza, water volume swellsand diminishes. The fountain's pumps,checkdams, spigots, and nozzles arecontrolled at will; some can be pushed,lid, or turned by a single child, while

others require the combined strength oftwo or more people. The water in thefoumain is concentrated or dispersedand the pattern ofits now varied aspumps lift the water. as checkdams areshifted or slid into place, as spigots areopened or closed, and as nozzles areturned to produce a fine mist or a line.Sometimes the play of water is a riot ofrandom pauerns; sometimes it isorchestrated lhrough the coordinatedefTol"ts of the players.

Water leaves the fountain alongrunnels that feed a series of pools in adepressed section of the square. Nor­mally only the pools at the bOllom ofthe basin are filled, but after a Stormthe basin fLI1s with runolTfrom sur­rounding pavement. One can alwaysgauge tbe magnitude of a rainstorm byhow high the water reaches in thestepped basin. Only once in the last tcnyears has the water reached the topstep.

At one end of the basin, waterflows over a lip into a broad canal that

extends from the steps at the plaza'sedge through a long park {Q the river;from subsidiary pools it nows into run­nels that irrigate the trees lining thecanal. Where canal meets river, waterspills over a series of steps and downlong, crenelated cbutes. Steps on eitherside anord a portage for the shallow­bottomed boats that are so popularamong Dellans. On a weekend after­noon, these light craft filithe canal,moving up and down between riverand city center. The tree-lined malls oneither side of the canal are popularpromenades. Tn winter, skaters replacethe boaters and walkers; the river sel­dom freezes over entirely. but the shal­low canal is icy most of the season.

The site of the canal was once acreek with a marshy floodplain, andthe elevated spot adjacent to it the city'Soriginal settlement. Later, the creekwas buried in a sewer and the flood­plain filled in; now that original water­way has been reopened into one of thecity's most important public spaces.Fountain, mall, canal and the sub­regional water treatment parks werebuilt as part of the reconstruction of thecity's water system. Fountain and mallwere dedicated at the city's most fa­mous public event, an event commem­orated by literature and the arts. Everyyear on the f,rst of May, the Water Cel­ebration is reenacted. Barges bear theplayers down the river to the canalwhere they disembark, mount thesteps, and reembark, borne slowlydown the canal to the plaza with itsfountain. There, before a crowd ofthousands assembled along the canaland in the square, the mayor of Dellarededicates the fountain, initiating itspowerful play for yet another year.

Many changes to Della in recentdecades were inspired by proposals inDella's annual Festival ofldeas. EachMay, people from allover the citygather on a long, broad riverbank tobuild ideas in the sand. Anyone mayparticipate, but each mUSI propose asolution to a problem faced by the city.The proposals range from the prag­matic to Lhe fanciful and draw largecrowds who are vocal in their apprecia­tion or dissent. The news media feacuremany of the models, and all are repre­sented in a special exhibit ofphotographs at City Hall. This eventhas been so popular that a smaller sandarena was built recently in the park

Spim 123

near City Hall Plaza. The arena fea­tures an ever·changing array of sandforms. Many are fantasies and areappreciated as such. Some, however,engender serious debate, ensuing overdays and weeks, provoking other sandmodels in response.

Thus is Della evolving, its story­lines retold and extended, new narra­tives continually unfolding.

Design is a mode of storytelling.Urban design is a process of spinningout visions of the future city that posealternatives from which to choose; it isa process of describing the shape of thefuture. The products of design, be theybuildings, parks, or sewer systems, notonly provide settings for living, theyalso embody a powerful symbolic Ian·guage that conveys meaning, express­ing the way a society regards itself andthe values it upholds or rejects. Thesemeanings are further extended throughthe process of construction and cultiva­tion, use and neglect, as we dwell inwhat began as dreams.

Continuity and RevolutionUrban form evolves in time, in

predictable and unpredictable ways,the result of complex, overlapping, andinterweaving narratives. These storiesare all present and ongoing; some aresensed intuitively; others are legible tothose literate in the language of theurban landscape. Together, they com­prise the context of a place, the story·lines that connect the place and allthose who dwell within it. When identi­cal urban forms are repeated again andagain, across the world, their storybecomes boring in its sameness andalienating in its ignorance of the story·lines that form the context of place.

Concomitant with the need forcontinuity, is the need for revolution.Despite certain constants of nature andhuman nature, we live in a worldunimaginable to societies of the past.Our perception of nature, the qualityof its order, and the nature of time andspace is changing, as is culture, pro·voking the reassessment of old formsand demanding new forms. The vocab­ulary of forms-buildings, streets,parks-that comprise our heritage andthat are often deferred to or acknowl­edged as precedents, are a reOectionnot only of universal needs and values,but also represent a response to cui·rural processes and values of the time

124 LandscapeJournal

in which they were formulated. Whilesome of these patterns and forms stillexpress contemporary purposes andvalues, it is important to rememberthat they are abstractions. Today theunyielding axes of Versailles and thesmug arcadia of Stowe and Stourheadembody an assurance that seems for­eign. They stand for views of the worldheld by seventeenth-century French4

men and eighteenth·century English­men, but they cannot be normative forcurrelll design. What are the formsthat express contemporary cosmology,that speak to us in an age when pho­tographs of atomic particles and ofgalaxies are commonplace, when timeand space are not fixed, but relative,and when we, as humans, are less cer­tain of our place in the universe thanwe once were?20

To conceive new forms that cap­ture the knowledge, beliefs, purposes.and values of contemporary societydemands a repeated return to the origi·naJ source of inspiration, be it natureor cuhure, rather than the mere quota­tion or transformation of abstractionsorthe past.

The current understanding ofnature and culture as comprising inter­woven processes that exhibit a com­plex, underlying order which holdsacross vast scales of space and time, notonly demands a new aesthetic, newforms, and new modes of design, can·struction, and cultivation, but alsoprompts a fresh appreciation for theforms of the past and the processes bywhich they were created. Fractal geom­etry, for example, provides a means ofdescribing and appreciating the geome­try of old urban districts which evolvedwith a peculiar combination of orderand disorder, through purposeful pro­cess and repetitive use of forms whoseprecise shape was varied in reponse tovarying conditions of nature, culture,and individual preference. The com­plex order of such districts is now oftenhighly valued for its variety and qualityof "wholeness" in contrast both to theorder of new towns where the form ofhouses and even of such details as exte­rior paint color and landscaping areprescribed and to modern cities whichseem a hodge-podge of idiosyncraticbuildings and left·over space. 21

It is possible to create new placesthat capture a sense of complexity andunderlying order, that express a COI1-

nection to the natural and culturalhistory of the place, and that can beadapted to meet changing needs. Thesolution lies in an understanding of theprocesses that underlie these patterns,and there are some principles that canbe derived for urban design: establish aframework which lends overall struc·ture-nOl an arbitrary framework, butone congruent with the "deep" struc­ture of a place; define a vocabulary offorms that expresses natural and cui·tural processes; then encourage asymphony of variations in response to

the conditions of a particular locale andthe needs of specific people. The resultshould be a dynamic, coherent wholethat can continue to evolve to meetchanging needs and desires and thatalso connects the present with thepast. 22

Such a proposition poses a chal­lenge to conventional methods ofplanning, design, construction, andmanagement of the urban landscapeand the structures and spaces of whichil is composed. It caUs for a moreinclusive dialogue about values andvisions, and for tapping the inventionand energy of individuals in small·scale construction and cultivation. Fordesigners, new techniques of notationand representation are required. Con­ventional techniques are inadequate tothe portrayal of time and change, andthey encourage the continued focus onvisible and static form. Designers mayconsider time and change and suchsensations as sound, sroeU, and move­ment, but do not have the means to

notate these ideas beyond the rudimen­tary level. 23 Music, dance, and filmare arts of movement, and contempo·rary modes of notation and representa­tion in these fields offer inspiration.Jazz and contemporary dance, forexample, employ a choreographedframework within which playersimprovise, expanding upon andexploring the themes established in theframework. The computer also pro·vides the means to display patternsgenerated by processes of nature andculture to enable the perception,manipulation, and evaluation of pat­terns and forms as they emerge andchange over time.

The issues of time and change,process and pattern, order and ran­domness, being and doing, and formand meaning inherent to the theory

outlined here are also centrallO con·temporary explorations in music, art,literaLUre, and science. Indeed this Ihe·ory and the aesthetic it embodies willbring urban and landscape design intune wilh theoretical currents in otherfields. Ultimately, however, the urbanlandscape is morc than a symphony, apoem, a sculpture, a dance, or a scien­Lific experiment. It is the selling inwhich people d...vcll, living every day.This aesthetic, as applied to the urbanlandscape, mUSI provide satisfaction onmuhiple levels: on the level of thesenses aroused, the functions served,the opportunities for "doing" provided,and the symbolic associations engen·dered. These multiple layers ofmean­ing, when congruent, will resonate,combining complexity and coherence,amplifying the aesthetic experience oflhe city.

Acknowledgements

This essay grows OUI afmy book Th~ Granite Car­dDt ( pirn 198+) and subsequent work funded bya Noyes Fello\"iship IU Ihe Bunling Institute infall 1985. II was first presenled as a leclure atM IT in 1986. then subsequenlly revised for LhcVincenl Lc<;ture af the University ofGeorgia in1987, for lhe 1988Jensen-Longenecker Lectureaf the UnivcrsilY ofWiSt.'Onsin-Madison. andagain for the RAJA/UIA Conference in Sydney,Australia lind lhl' Ethel Chellie Visiling Fel­lowship al the UniversilY ofSydney in 1988. Iwould like 10 thank Darrel Morrison for first sug·gesting lhat thc essay be included here andAmold AlaOl~n for his suppon and for anendingto iu revie..... I am also F;"raleful to Paul Spirn,Susan Fre)·, Reuben Rainey. Dan Rose, GarySmilh. Sam Bas Warner.JennifcrTaylor.JusuckKoh. and IWO anonymous reviewers for com·menu .....hich helped shape the final version.

NotLs

I My poinl ofdeparture isthal ofJohn De.....ey(1934) InArI 4J ExpUU11U that aesthelic experi­ence has WI roolS in ttx- (>xpcnence ofeverydaythings. Ihal an is prdigurttl in the very processesofli,·ing. I share with Dewey (1934. p. 339) tbebelief IhaT "I.bc= se:n~ of relation bet'¥l'ecn oatu~

and man in some foml has always been the actu­ating spiril ofan."2. holanhip on the history ofuman form hasfocused primarily on settings ofpoy.-er and....-ealth. whether sacred or secular, ralhcr than onthe semngs of everyday life (see Ackerman1980). The shirt in hiJnorical scholarship from apreoccupation with the powerful and .....ealthy 10 aconcern for how everyday people lived lheir lives(Aries 1962. Braudel1979) is now alw evident inan and architectural hislory (Clark 1984.Girouard 1985) and this work should prompl usto rethink the role of the designer. These scholars

focus on urban foml as the produet of a larger,collective." rociety. a!! well as lhe l)roduCl oranindi"idual genius or po.....erful pal ron. They treatwhole: dislricUl .....here people lived, as .....ell asmonumenlal spaccslike l. Peter's Square or thcChamps d' Elysec!!. Still. one of the grandest sto­ries recorded in urban fonn. the nature of

'ature, has bardy been (old. This is a task for anew generation of'icholars3. The aesthelic oudinro in this essay is implicitin my book Th( Granltt Cardnt Urba" NaLun tmdHumtl'l Dts,.tll (Spirn 1984). The man)' ca.se Stud­ies de5Cribed in Tht Gmm~ ear(/m should be seenas additional examples 10 those p~nto:l he~,

each cmbod)·ing some of the dimensions of thisaesthetic. The tradition to which lhis lheorybdonKs has emerged O\'er the pasl thru: decade!!>.See McHarg{I967, 1969). Lynch {I958, 1972.1981). Halprin (1969. 1972a. 1972b~ Alexander(1975,1977.1979, 1985. 1987~ Koh(1982~

Spirn(1984-, 1985, 1986). Nohl(1985). Howell(1987~ TIle e\vlulion of this theoretical traditionhou been parallel to dcvelopments in other ficlds.4. Appleton (1975) formulated an aesthetic oflandscape rooted in buman experience, specifi­cally, lhe needs for heller, food and water, anddefense (prospect-refuge theory} This essayargues thaI Olher bMic human needs. both pby!!>'ical and psychological, and other cullura!proceS5e!!> also contribu(" to the aeslhetic experi·ence of the landscape, especially in the denselybuilt and populated urban landscape.S.. e Albrillon (1986) and Gould (1987) fordescriptions oflhe change in perception oftbescale and nature of time Over the past few ccn­turies. and Hawking (1988) for views revealedby contemporary sciencc.6. The lerms "human time" and "humanorder. " a.~ used in fhis c!tsay. refer 10 lneasure­menlS of time and space as calibrated by humancuhures and to pattcrns imroduced on lhe land­scape for cultural purpoK's. The distinctionmade here between "nalural" and "human" byno means implies thai lhe IBltcr is unnatural. butrather servell to distinguish the result of processesthat operate independently ofconscious humanIIlfef\'eluion from those ..... hich do nol.7. I have spoken with numerous people who liveor .....ork near "TIme Landscape" and ..... ho havepassed~' many times ..... iti1QUl "seeing" il. Thisraises imponanl qUC'3tion!!> about when and howimilation of natun: is a successful design sU'alegy.In the: urban landscape, lhe: treatment ofscale,context. and edge~ key to success.8. See COUnt Giuseppi Panza di Biumo's do­quent description ofhis experience ofTurrell's-Sky Space" (Brown 1985>-9. The phrast, '"the patlern lhal connects," isGregory BatC:SOn' ,see Mind alU! NlJltut: A "'au.saf} U,lI('1 (Baleson 1980).10. In many ways lhe name "Chaos" i!!> a mis­nomer sinct it implies disordcr. wbc.reas scienceincreasingly reveals an elegant order underlyingwhat was pn:vious seen as disordered. This workin "chaos' builds On that oftile pasl, and manyoftbc subjects described in GJelck (1987) arefamiliar-snownakes, lurbulence In flUids, lhefact that Irouble comes in bunches (the mYlhical100·yt:ar flood, for example, Ihat occurs Lhreetimes in a single decade). and the phcno,nenoo ofscaling-Ihe congruence of palternll from the:minute 10 til(> collo sa1. See also Mandelbrot(1983) and Hawking (1988).II See Buttcrfield (1957) and Hawking (1988)

for descriptions of the evolution of the concept ofmotion12. Pythagoras (fifth eenlury B.C.) beLieved thatIhe stars, the planels, lhe sun. and the moonrevoh,ed around the earth, each carried on a sep­arate, rotatinK sphere. "The music ofthespheres" wa imaginrd as the harmonious soundproduced b). Lhe friClion among lhem. Cenlurieslaler, Kcpler alw emphasiz.ed the aesthetic aspeclofhis theory of planetary motion. In 17u HarmonyoftJrr l1iwldJ. Kepler (1619) ..... role musical notesrepresenting the sounds oflhc planets as theyRlO\-ed in their orbits.13. Some of these implicalions have beenexplored in reccnl work by geograher E. Rdph(1976) and architectural theorist. Christian 'or­berg·Schulz (1985). These pubLications havebeen seminal for rece:ntTheories ofarchilecluraland urban rorm14- The homes designed by AUSTralian architeclGlenn MurcuU Mil" an exemplary exception.(Ore...... 1985), ResidenuofMurcult'tbuildin~can adJusl .... indow!!>. walls. and e....en roofs inrcsponx to lighl, lemperature. and ..... ind. Mur·CUlt has compared living in one of his houses 10

saiJing a boat (peuonal communication~In thisrespect, his buildingz recall the wind·calchers(malqafand badgir) and wind-escapes oftradi­tional Islamic architecture in the Middle East.15. These arc dearly leen in old city views suchas those in Braun and Hogenburg's (n.d.) six·Icenrh-century alias16. Refer 10 Kaplan (1973) and Francis (1985).17, Mark francis (1985) has documented a pref­erence among certain cit)' dwcllers for communi­ty gardens over conventional parkland.18. This proj,'cllinked "grassroots" communityorganization and development with lhe educa­tion of gradumc !ltudcnlS ill landscape architec.­lure and job lraming in landscape constructionand managcmcnl for unemployed youlhs. Theprojeci used city funds Jlel aside in an cxperimen­tal program to foster open space improvementsby local groups on vacant land. For IWO yean. in1984and 1985. I taughl 8 sludi03t Harvard'sG raduau: School of Design thai produced thisand another buill garden. Each student created adesign for tile gard~n and presented his or herproposal to eommunilY residents .....ho wereresponsible for ~rn(' number and variet)· of aJtef'"nati,'o; did not confuse t.he communilY memberswho .....ere charged ..... ith selecting a single design.bUl ralher \C",,«t to crystalize lhe a\-ailabJeoptions and enabled fhe group 10 reach a consen·sus fairly quickJy.19. The first city plans in ninc:teenth·centuryBoSlon were for urban open spaces that were pro­posed as inlegrafed systems ofp.arkland. roads,pleasure dri ..es. and sewer and .....ater lines-theinfraslructure oft~ell}. Copeland's (1872)"The Most Beautiful Cit)" in Arnt.rica: Essay andPlan For the ImprO\'c:menl ofltH: City of BoslOo"and Charles Eliot's( 1893) plan for BoslOn'!!> Met­ropolilan llark System .... ere: aniculate proposals.by landSC"ape archilects, for metropolitan de,,-c:I­opment thai still sland as modds for the field.20. Perhaps the contemporary fascination withlhe landscapes built by prehistoric cultures andlhe: inspiration these places have had for contem­porary sculpture is due. alleasl in pari. to therecent, perceived diminution ofthe human in thefac~ of nature21. Thi.s qualil}' of"wholenes!!>" in urban formbuilt by cenain socielies of the past has long fas-

Spirn 125

dnaled designers. Christopher Alexander (1987)has recently aniculaled a SCi orrormalistic rulesfor achieving ~ch a quality in the contemporaT)city. These rules. howe,·er. focus on the OUlwardappearance of urban form and on processcs oftksign and construction and ncglet't botb themeaning ofthat form and the: natural and eul~

tural prottncs to which urban torm is anadaplation or an expn:ssion.22 Some of these issues are all'cad beingexplored in urban design. l.ynch's (1958) articleon adaptability remains a classic. There is also agrowing literature on the idea" place" and theengagement of Ihe people who do or willli,'c in aplace In Ihe process ofdesigning and building il.Although Alcxaodcr(cg. 1975. 1977. 1979),Kroll (1984, 198(a. 1987b), Ilnd others for whomthese IlT(' important concerns express an appre­ciation for natural featurcs of the landscape, lheyfocus nil cultural processes and neglect naturalprocesses. This is particularly evident in Akx·ander', (1977) pattern language, .... hc~~palterns" associated with natural features andthe rul' for t~ir application are static anddivorced from tlK- pnxCSSC5 that give them fonn.23 Halprin~ U~ ofMscOl'C .. are explorationslDthe notation of movemC:nt that remain singular inthe proression

Rif<r<·cesAckcrman,james. "The History of Design and

The Design of HislOry, .. VIA Cam­bridge, MA; MIT PreS! and The Univcr­silyorPennsylvania, pp. 12-18.

Alcxander. Christopher. 1979. The TImelesl lJilyojBuilding. New York: Oxrord UniversityPl'css.

, Howard Davis,Julio Manincz, and DonCoener. 1985. The Produdion oJ HOlLSes.New \'Ork: Oxford University !Jrcss .

, Hajo Neis, Artcmis Anninou. and IngridKing. 1987. A NtW ThlfJ'Y of Urban Dwgn&w York: Oxford University Press.

, Murray Silversu::ln, hlomo Angel. SaraIshikawa. and Denny Abrams. 1975. ThLOrtgon &pm.mml ~w York- Oxford Uni·versity Press.

, Sara Ishikawa. and Murray Silverstein.1977. A PrJiknt LtmglUW' New YOI"k:Oxford Unwersity Prall.

Albrinon, Claude C. 1986. T1uAbyssoJ7inu.Los Angele : jeremy P, Tarcher.

Appleton, jay. 197.5. The Expmtn«of Laruhca/HLondon:john Wiley.

Aries, Philippe. 1962. CtnturitJ ojChikJhood: A&ciol History ofFamIly Life New York:Vintage Books.

Bateson, Gregory. 1972. Sltps 7;' An Ecology ofMmd New York: Ballantine Books.1979. Mind and NaJuu, A Ntcusory Uniry,

New York: Bantam Books.Braun. Georg, and Franz Hogenberg. n.d. Old

EurojNrJn Cllu,J. Ediled by Arthur Hibbertand RuthamlOehme. London: Thame

Hudson

J26 LandscapeJournal

Braude!. Fernand. 1979. 71u SlrudurtS oj EverydayLift New York: Harper and Row.

BrO\\n,Julia. 198.5. Oedudld FrrmJ.-janu1 TurrtlLLos Angeles: The LaPI$ P~ss and TheMuseum orCOntcmpor-ary An.

Buuerfidd, Herbe:n, 1957. 7'1K Ori.P/ufModmrScullte, rC'o·ised edition ew York: TheFree Press.

Clark. T J 1984. 7'11, PoI1l111l.!(JfMorkrn wft.Princeton. Nj: Princeton UnivenityPress.

Dewey,john. 1929. ExpmmulUId NaJur" serondEdition. La Salle. IL: Opcn Coun.19.58. Art OJ Exfwrlmu. ew York: Capri·

com Books.Drew, Philip. 1985. uavesriflron Sydney, Aus­

lI",Uia; The Law nook Company.Dubos. Rene. 1971. "lntroduction."lnA Srnsuf

Jht Eorth Carden City. NY: Doubleday,Eliildc, Mircea. 1957. ThtSomdandtMProjaru.

New York: Harcourt Bracejovanovich.1967. From Primlti/JIs to Zen. New York:Harper and Ro....

Eliot. T. S. 1962. ThtComplcul\trnsatU!Plap.New York: Harcoun, Brace & Wond.

Erikson. Erik H 1963. ChildJuHx/tlr"JS«rdy, sec­ond edilion. New York: Nonon.

.. 1968 ldmllly )olllh and Cmis. Ne.... York:Nonon.

Fran('is, Mark. 1985. ThL PorI: aM tM Gtmun lIJ 1Jr~

Clly. Davis, CA Center for DesignResearch, University ofCalifornia

GirouArd, 1\.<lark. 1985. CIf;ts tlnd Propk' A $oab/and Archllutural H;stttry, New Haven, CT:Yalt: University Press.

Gleick,james. 1987. CHAOS: MaJcl"l0 Ntw &i·nlet. New York' Viking PT\:ss.

Goestler, Georg. 1986. Abotl(' From Below. NewYork: Abbeville Press.

Gould, Stephcnjay. 1987. 7im,l-Arrow, 7imt'seyel, Cambridge, MA: Harvard Univer­lIlty Press.

Halprin, Lawrence. 1969. N,S VP eyela. NewYork: George 8raziller.

-- 1972a. Cilia. Revised edition. Cam­bridge, MA M IT Press1972b. A'ottb<xJM: 19j9-J971 Cam­

bridge. MA: MIT Pres.Hawlling, Stephen W. 1988. A BnifHlsloryoj

7ime. NcYlo York: Bantam Books.Hcidegger. Manin. 1971 "Building D .....elling

Thinking." In hdry. La"tUllle, Thaughl1 w York; Harper & Row.

Hov.-eu, Catherine. 1987. '"Systems, Signs, Sen­sibilities; Sources for a New LandscapeAesthetic." unthcoJHjollnlill 6.No. I: 1-12.

Kaplan, Rachel. 1973. "Some P ychologicalBenefits ofCardcning. M Enuironment and&havior 5, No.2: 145-162.

Klee, Paul. 1923. "Ways or Nature Study." InNotebooks: l'olunu o,,~. 71Ic 711inkmg Eye.Edited by Jurg Spiller. 1961. London:Lund Humphri,-'S.1961. NolLbooks· l'oIumeOtlc 77u 71I'nKing

1:." Edited byjurg Spiller. London:Lund Humphries.

-- 1970.A'oubooh__ l'olumL "liL¥) ThcNalwtoJNallJU Edited by jurg Spillcr, New York:George Wiuenoorn

Koh.jusuck. 1982 "Ecological Design; A POSI·~fodern Design Paradigm of HolisticPhilO'\Ophyand Evolutionary EthiCS."Uvuu<aJKfi.".,) I. FalJ.16--84.

Kroll, Lucien. 198-4. ~Lc: Vignes Blanches,Clergy-Pontoisc:." In UrhoniJm.· Archlf«­lural Design Profilt 51 26-35. Edited 1».Da, id Goslin~ and Barry Maitland.1987a. An ArrhJvctllurJjCumplcnty

Cambridge, MA- ~lIT Press1987b. Bui/dmKJond P,a}u/J. New York'Ri..-,Zoli.

Le.veson, David. 1971. A Snueojtht Earth. Gar·den Cit)·, NY: Doubleda)',

Lynch, Kevin. 19.58. "Environmental Adapt·ability." Joumol o!th, ;Immcan Institute ojPlonnns24-, No. I: 16-24.1972. IVhal Tim, b TIlis Piau?

Cambridge, MA' ~t1T Prcss1981 A 77uory ofGood CIty Form Cam'

bridge, MA: MIT PTC-SS.Mandelbrot, Benoit. 1983. 7']"PmrtIJlGtonuuyoj

NQluu. :-':ew York: \-\ H. Freeman.r..1aquet,Jacqu~s.1986. TJuAtstJrnic Expmene~

New Haven, CT- \ide University Press.Marsh. George Perkins. 1864 Aftltt and No/urc

Cambridge, MA: Harvard UniversilYPrt-n, J%.5.

McHarg, Ian L. 1967. "An Ecological Methodror l..andscapc Architct:lurc:." LanthctlPtArchit«twt, january: 105-107.

· 1969. DUlgn WIth Nalurt, Card.::n City,NY: Natural Hislol)' Pl'ess.

Michener,james. 1974. C,."tnlnllll. New York:Fawcett Crest.

Nohl, Werner. 1985. "Open Space in Cities:Inventing a New Aesthelic." Lo.7ldscoJH28,No.2: 35-40.

Norberg·Schulz, Christian. 1979. GeniUS LociNew York: Rizwil.

· 1985. 711~ CDI1rtp' tlf DwtlhtlJ Ncw York:Rizzoli.

Olmsted. Frederick Law, 1880. MReportoftbeLandscape Architect Ad\"i5Ol)'. M In Frtdcr~

irA-. Law Olmsfld tlnd Ih, Boston /tJrk SySlcmEdiled by Cynthia Zailze\'sky.Cambridge, MA Hlir"ard UniversityPress.

Relph, E. 1983. Piau aM P/act/wntS.S London:Pion.

hingo. Susumu. 1983, Dla/olut I,'j,h Naluu: Sus'umu Sh",!u Proun· A rchllUturt 40.

SplTlt. Anne Whiston. 1984. 71IcGron;uGtJr<kn·Urban Nalw,a"d HwntUI DtnlJn NewYork: Basic Books.

• 1985. "Urban Nature and HumanDcsign: Rcnewing the Creat Tradition."journal of Plolln/1fK Edutal;on and Restllrch 5,No. I: 39-51

· 1986. '"Landscape Planning and Theit)'." Latldscoptond Urban Plonning 13:

433-441.Warner. Sam Bass. 1987. 7;' Du.:~ll If to CardOf.

Boslon. MA: Northeastern Uni\'ersity Prcu.