"Everybody wants the same thing, rich or poor... not only a warm, dry room, but a shelter for the soul." -Samuel Mockbee
We've all had the experience of arriving at a special place and becoming overwhelmed with a sense of awe and wonder. What is it about this place that affects us so powerfully? While natural places such as a "cathedral" in the woods or a sheltered cove have evolved by natural forces, most created or developed places have been designed. These special, designed places have been considered and planned thoroughly. What story do we want to tell? How many outdoor "rooms" do we want to create? Which views do we want to open up, conceal, or reveal gradually? How shall we guide circulation? How do we incorporate resting places or spots for triangulation? How do we want to use color to create moods? How do we make users feel safe? What is the existing language of the space and the surrounding spaces that must be respected to create this sense of place?
A great designed space matters. So many of our clients tell us that before we designed their gardens they never spent time in the space, and afterward they derive great pleasure spending much of their time in the space. They now want to share it with friends, and they now start planning activities around the space. A fellow designer compares good designs with smoke. "You know what they are when you see them. But when you try to grasp it, sometimes you can't reel it in." Again, we have the feeling of the ethereal.
Clients are often thrilled when I hand them their final drawings after so much time spent thinking about the design. It is a tangible representation of this ongoing conversation about the creation of this new place. I take great pride in my drawings, but the cost of my design services is not paying for the drawing alone. It represents the many hours of training, specific research, developing and storytelling that is behind each pen-stroke of my drawings. Only through these less visible steps do I achieve a good design; and a good design creates a great place. Good design is intentional, purposeful, and defensible. When a client asks me why I placed that patio or tree as I did, my answer will always be much more than "because I thought it would look pretty there."
Landscape Architect Dan Kiley has said "The greatest contribution a designer can make is to link the human and the natural in such a way as to recall our fundamental place in the scheme of things." Each of my designs strives toward this ideal, as I work through each design in conversation with nature. Now that so very few people make their living from the land, this contribution is particularly in need. So many of us are obliged to be locked up in an often windowless room for eight or more hours a day, we drive to and from this room on an asphalt road, surrounded by concrete, and by day's end, we find ourselves completely drained. As Jennifer Heath laments in her book The Echoing Green, "Cultural memory is quickly disappearing under the weight of television, shopping malls, and wanton destruction of Nature. Yet whether we realize it or not, each time we plant a seed, we are rebelling against materialism and the loss of Soul." Mass media has hijacked the cultural memory, and we yearn to reconnect individually and as a culture with the cycles of nature. The land upon which we survive literally "grounds" us.
Landscape designer Harry Schuster once commented, "All other things being equal, a well-designed landscape costs just as much to install as an ugly one. Why not make them all nice?" I agree! All should bring beauty to our spaces and shine beauty into our souls. I commend all of our lovely clients and friends who have had this foresight, and I encourage you all to spread the word. I am on a mission to spread this sense of place, and I'd like to enlist your help. And to all of Botany's new friends, I invite you to join us.