Landscape Theory in Design Phenomenology, Materiality, Cybernetics, Palimpsest, Cyborgs, Landscape Urbanism, Typology, Semiotics, Deconstruction – the minefield of theoretical ideas that students must navigate today can be utterly confusing, and how do these theories translate to the design studio? Landscape Theory in Design introduces theoretical ideas to students without the use of jargon or an assumption of extensive knowledge in other fields, and in doing so, links these ideas to the processes of design. In five thematic chapters Susan Herrington explains: the theoretic groundings of the theory or philosophy, why it matters to design, an example of the theory in a work of landscape architecture from the twentieth and twenty-first centuries, debates surrounding the theory (particularly as they elaborate modern and postmodern thought) and primary readings that can be read as companions to her text. An extensive glossary of theoretical terms also adds a vital contribution to students’ comprehension of theories relevant to the design of landscapes and gardens. Covering the designs of over 40 landscape architects, architects, and designers in 111 distinct projects from 20 different countries, Landscape Theory in Design is essential reading for any student of the landscape. Susan Herrington is Professor in the School of Architecture and Landscape Architecture at The University of British Columbia, Vancouver, Canada, where she teaches in the landscape architecture and architecture programmes. She is author of On Landscapes (Routledge) and Cornelia Hahn Oberlander: Making the Modern Landscape. She is also a licensed landscape architect in the State of Connecticut.
This book is a remarkable contribution to landscape architecture as a practice and as a discipline. Herrington brings clarity to what is often obtuse in design theory, while revealing the significance of tackling theory whether as a student, a teacher, or a practicing professional. Provocative images and questions framed by equally thoughtful prose comprise a rich body of landscape and design thinking and experience. This book will be a core resource in teaching and will more broadly increase the intellectual rigor of the discipline. Thaisa Way, Professor, Landscape Architecture, University of Washington What is landscape theory in design? In her new book addressed to students, Susan Herrington shares her insights and experience as a professor of architecture and landscape architecture, giving valuable answers. Timely, clear, and easily accessible with a wealth of case studies from around the world and numerous color illustrations, Herrington illuminates the theories that can help us analyze, understand, and interpret designed landscapes. From phenomenology to cybernetics, semiotics to deconstruction, readers will learn how these ideas and concepts relate to designed landscapes. A first of its kind, Landscape Theory in Design is also a manifesto for meaningful and critical landscape design and activism. Sonja Dümpelmann, Harvard University Graduate School of Design Susan Herrington takes us on a courageous, critical excursion in this clearly written and richly illustrated book, providing an overview of ideas that guide thinking through the design process. In an explicit attempt to help students examine their design thinking and motivations, Herrington unravels the roots of landscape architectural theory from philosophy to sociology in order to identify sources of normative theory in landscape architecture. This is further demonstrated through a valuable analysis of projects completed by designers and artists. Herrington also includes suggested questions and readings, a glossary, and a comprehensive bibliography. This will become a ‘must have’ text in schools of landscape architecture. Marcella Eaton, Associate Professor of Landscape Architecture, University of Manitoba
Landscape Theory in Design Susan Herrington
First published 2017 by Routledge 2 Park Square, Milton Park, Abingdon, Oxon OX14 4RN and by Routledge 711 Third Avenue, New York, NY 10017 Routledge is an imprint of the Taylor & Francis Group, an informa business © 2017 Susan Herrington The right of Susan Herrington to be identified as author of this work has been asserted by her in accordance with sections 77 and 78 of the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988. All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reprinted or reproduced or utilized in any form or by any electronic, mechanical, or other means, now known or hereafter invented, including photocopying and recording, or in any information storage or retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publishers. Trademark notice: Product or corporate names may be trademarks or registered trademarks, and are used only for identification and explanation without intent to infringe. British Library Cataloguing-in-Publication Data A catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library Library of Congress Cataloging in Publication Data Names: Herrington, Susan, author. Title: Landscape theory in design / Susan Herrington. Description: New York, NY : Routledge, 2017. | Includes bibliographical references and index. Identifiers: LCCN 2016020490| ISBN 9780415705943 (hardback : alk. paper) | ISBN 9780415705950 (pbk. : alk. paper) | ISBN 9781315470771 (ebook) Subjects: LCSH: Landscape design. | Landscape architecture—Philosophy. Classification: LCC SB472.45 .H47 2017 | DDC 712.01—dc23 LC record available at https://lccn.loc.gov/2016020490 ISBN: 978-0-415-70594-3 (hbk) ISBN: 978-0-415-70595-0 (pbk) ISBN: 978-1-315-47077-1 (ebk) Typeset in Univers by Keystorke, Neville Lodge, Tettenhall, Wolverhampton
v Contents Introduction 1 1 Forming 12 Theoretical groundings of formalism 12 Why formalism matters 16 Formalism in action 16 Formalism debated 25 Primary reading for formalism 25 Theoretical groundings of expression theory 25 Why expression theory matters 29 Expression theory in action 29 Expression theory debated 33 Primary reading for expression theory 33 Theoretical groundings of function 34 Why function matters 35 Function in action 36 Function debated 40 Primary reading for function 41 Theoretical groundings of form generation 41 Why form generation matters 42 Form generation in action 43 Form generation debated 48 Primary reading for form generation 49 Theoretical groundings of interventions 49 Why interventions matter 52 Interventions in action 52 Interventions debated 56 Primary reading for interventions 56 Notes 56
Contents vi 2 Spatial practices 61 Theoretical groundings of spatial constructs 61 Why spatial constructs matter 66 Spatial constructs in action 67 Spatial constructs debated 75 Primary reading for spatial constructs 76 Theoretical groundings of illusionary space 77 Why illusionary space matters 78 Illusionary space in action 78 Illusionary space debated 85 Primary reading for illusionary space 86 Theoretical groundings of phenomenology 86 Why phenomenology matters 87 Phenomenology in action 88 Phenomenology debated 92 Primary reading for phenomenology 93 Theoretical groundings of memory and space 93 Why memory and space matter 94 Memory and space in action 95 Memory and space debated 100 Primary reading for space and memory 100 Theoretical groundings of contested space 100 Why contested space matters 102 Contested space in action 102 Contested spaces debated 106 Primary reading for contested space 107 Notes 107 3 Material matters 112 Theoretical groundings of materiality 112 Why materiality matters 114 Materiality in action 115 Materiality debated 120 Primary reading for materiality 121 Theoretical groundings for the truth of materials 121 Why truth of materials matters 124 Truth of materials in action 125 Truth of material debated 129 Primary reading for truth of materials 131 Theoretical groundings of palimpsest 131 Why palimpsest matters 133 Palimpsest in action 133 Palimpsest debated 137
Contents vii Primary reading for palimpsest 138 Theoretical groundings of consequentialism 138 Why consequentialism matters 140 Consequentialism in action 141 Consequentialism debated 147 Primary reading for consequentialism 148 Notes 148 4 Language 153 Theoretical groundings of typology 153 Why typology matters 156 Typology in action 157 Typology debated 164 Primary reading for typology 165 Theoretical groundings of semantics 165 Why semantics matters 168 Semantics in action 170 Semantics debated 176 Primary reading for semantics 177 Theoretical groundings of semiotics 178 Why semiotics matters 180 Semiotics in action 182 Semiotics debated 188 Primary reading for semiotics 190 Theoretical groundings of structuralism 190 Why structuralism matters 192 Structuralism in action 195 Structuralism debated 200 Primary reading for structuralism 201 Theoretical groundings of post-structuralism 201 Why post-structuralism matters 204 Post-structuralism in action 205 Post-structuralism debated 211 Primary reading for post-structuralism 212 Notes 212 5 Systems logic 221 Theoretical groundings of systems theory and cybernetics 221 Why systems theory and cybernetics matter 224 Systems theory and cybernetics in action 225 Systems theory and cybernetics debated 230 Primary reading systems theory and cybernetics 231 Theoretical groundings of infrastructure 232
Contents viii Why infrastructure matters 233 Infrastructure in action 234 Infrastructure debated 240 Primary reading for infrastructure 241 Theoretical groundings of aleatory systems 241 Why aleatory systems matter 243 Aleatory systems in action 244 Aleatory systems debated 250 Primary reading for aleatory systems 251 Theoretical groundings for digital systems 251 Why digital systems matter 254 Digital systems in action 256 Digital systems debated 263 Primary reading for digital systems 264 Theoretical groundings for diagramming 265 Why diagramming matters 267 Diagramming in action 268 Diagramming debated 271 Primary reading for diagramming 272 Notes 272 Glossary 280 Bibliography 297 Index 319
1 Introduction WHAT IS A THEORY, AND WHO CARES? What is a theory? Theories are debatable explanations concerning how you interpret phenomena in the world, make sense of experiences, discover patterns, and produce meaning. Notice I wrote “debatable.” Unlike the sciences, where “theory” is a phase in the scientific method, in the humanities most theories remain in the contested territory of debate. This means that the majority of theories introduced to you in this book are best estimates and debatable accounts. The goal of Landscape Theory in Design is to introduce you to theoretical ideas that will be useful in the design process. Certainly, not all theories are useful in design. In general there are three types of theories – resistant, normative, and explanatory – that are particularly germane to design and can serve as powerful motivators for those designing landscapes.1 Resistance theory challenges the status quo. The philosopher John Dewey thought that resistance was crucial to our experiences with art because it challenged what we believe. Dewey thought if your beliefs were never tested your appreciation of art would be “transient and overweighted with sentiment” and “lack significant meaning.”2 Intervention theories in the Forming chapter (1) and contested spatial theories in the Spatial Practices chapter (2) are both resistance theories. Intervention theories seek to change the way people think and act by intervening in a specific context. Thus, they enable the designer to operate critically through the act of design by challenging people’s perception of a landscape. Contested spatial theories hold that designed spaces are key locations where culture, ideology, and capital are continually negotiated. Understanding the contestability of space facilitates an understanding of design as part of this negotiation. In short, contested spatial theories challenge the notion of space as simply a neutral area to be shaped by the landscape architect. Since resistance theories challenge the status quo they tend to be passionately debated among professionals. In the Language chapter (4) you will read about the landscape architect Martha Schwartz, whose Bagel Garden questioned the role of plant material as the primary content of designed landscapes. This challenge struck a deep chord among readers of Landscape Architecture magazine, which featured the Bagel Garden on the cover, and the garden’s merits were debated for
Introduction 2 a year after its publication. Sometimes resistance can come directly from the client. Mikyoung Kim, a landscape architect, was hired by a couple in Lincoln, Massachusetts, a New England town known for its stately historic homes and undulating lawns. The couple didn’t want a lawn like the other houses, and their tastes were anything but historical. Look at the landscape for the Farrar Pond residence. Mikyoung Kim designed a tapestry of confetti-like paving and sedums instead of a lawn. Normative theories are based on what should be and there are many normative theories relevant to the landscape design process. The theory of consequentialism discussed in the Material Matters chapter (3), for example, maintains, “that the rightness or wrongness of an agent’s action depends solely on the value of the consequences of this action, compared to the value of the consequences of any other action that the agent could have undertaken.”3 Thus, consequentialism declares that you ought to consider the ecological costs of decisions made during the design process. This thinking has had a tremendous impact on material selection, extraction, transportation, assemblage, and production. Unlike resistant theories that prompt designers to act critically, normative theories tend to prescribe the way something should be done. Returning to the Bagel Garden, Schwartz was not proposing that every landscape architect start using bagels as a material source; rather the bagels provoked questioning of 0.1 Farrar Pond residence landscape (2007) by Mikyoung Kim, image courtesy of Mikyoung Kim Design, Lincoln, Massachusetts, USA
Introduction 3 the conventional materials used in landscape design. Normative theories, such as consequentialism, contend that all landscape architects should consider the ecological costs of materials. In this sense, normative theories often turn into paradigms or schools of thought with their own tenets, and when entire schools of thought are debated this can lead to divisions or camps. In the Systems Logic chapter (5) you will read about landscape urbanism, whose followers challenged the tenets of new urbanism – a debate that continues today. Explanatory theories describe why something is the way it is, and while they are often used to explain an existing site, they also feature in the design process. The typological theories discussed in the Language chapter and the systems theories covered in the Systems Logic chapter are examples of explanatory theories. Landscape typologies help classify types of landscapes that share common traits. This classification creates a language of types that can be used and transformed through the design process. Systems theory, which provides an alternative to mechanistic explanations of life, can describe how natural systems continually interact with each other. The explanation of a landscape as an organic system facilitated the integration and regeneration of natural processes in the design process. Of the three types of theories, explanatory theories are the most difficult to debate because these theories describe more often than make claims. But who cares about theories in design? I’ve met some landscape architecture students who feel they don’t need to bother with theory. I tell them, theory is like exercise for the brain. Theories, at least the theories presented in this book, help develop your ability to see and interpret works of landscape architecture. This is an invaluable skill for you as a student, designer, landscape architect, and member of the design community, which is also an intellectual community. Speaking to the Design History Society meeting in Cornwall, the philosopher and sociologist of science Bruno Latour championed the term “design” for its ability to prompt interpretation and how it features in daily life. For Latour, “Design lends itself to interpretation . . . Wherever you think of something as being designed, you bring all of the tools, skills and crafts of interpretation to the analysis of that thing. It is thus of great import to witness the depths to which our daily surroundings, our most common artefacts are said to be designed.”4 Latour also commented that design “is never a process that begins from scratch: to design is always to redesign.”5 This is a perfect description of what landscape architects do, and theories can help in this endeavor by providing debatable explanations of site phenomena, landscapes experiences, patterns, and communication through the act of design. Debatable explanations, or theories, also have a long tradition in landscape architecture. The landscape architecture professor Jacky Bowring reminds us that, “Landscape architecture was born amidst a period of intense debate. During the eighteenth century, the sometimes heated exchanges between theorists of the picturesque raised many points of contention and laid down the foundations for the discipline of landscape architecture.”6 To be sure, one of the most prominent theories in the past few decades, picturesque association, can
Introduction 4 trace its roots back to this time period. For scholars such as Thomas Whately (1726–1772) and Richard Payne Knight (1750–1824), the associations sparked by a ruin in a landscape garden could provoke a range of sensations and associations ushered in by memory. Since these associations take place in the mind and not entirely in the objects being perceived, attributes of the landscape previously considered unattractive could be enjoyed as picturesque. With picturesque association the grotesque, the ugly, and the melancholy were hailed as important dimensions of landscapes. Subsequently, design features such as dark grottoes, decaying Roman-inspired bridges, and lichen-covered temples were purposely designed as part of the landscape to trigger people’s rumination on the glories of past civilizations. Homages to the fading agrarian society were also created with the inclusion of rundown mills and hermit huts. Indeed, ruins, whether classical or vernacular, became the experiential space of the past. As I argued in On Landscapes, this aesthetic mode of picturesque association has been revived in more recent works of landscape architecture that frame deteriorating relics from the industrial past. Abandoned industrial structures, most likely deemed eyesores by a previous generation, are now treasured for their associations with loss and decay. Like the eighteenth-century landscapes that lamented the loss of both classical splendor and the quaintness of agrarian life, post-industrial parks recall the loss of industry from a twenty-first century service-oriented perspective. An early precedent for these post-industrial parks is Duisburg North Park, designed by Latz + Partner, in Germany. Previously home to a Thyssen factory, the site was redesigned as a park. Latz + Partners intentionally retained features, such as abandoned railway scaffoldings, blast furnaces, and foundry walls, so that they could function like the ruins did in eighteenth-century landscape gardens. Indeed, picturesque association attests to the long-standing tradition that theory has played in landscape design. THE FORMAT OF THIS BOOK The book is segmented into five chapters: Forming, Spatial Practices, Material Matters, Language, and Systems Logic. Whenever you place things in categories there will be overlap, and I note within the text points where theories converge across chapters, but you will most likely find some yourself as well. The chapters are “loosely” chronological, as form was central to theoretical discourse in the beginning of the twentieth century, while the rise of computer use and digital tools of late has made systems one of the more recent theoretical topics discussed. Each of the five chapters contains four or five theoretical positions that contain: “theoretical groundings,” describing the background of the theory; “why the theory matters,” detailing why I think it’s important for landscape architecture students to know this theory; theory “in action,” demonstrating how the theory is operating in a specific design; theory “debated,” which gives different views on the theory; and a primary source reading list. These readings can be paired with this book, or students can refer to these works in their own research.
Introduction 5 I purposely selected theory topics that translate to the design process. I’ve been teaching theory to landscape architecture students for many years, and there are plenty of theories, but I have found that only some can influence the design process. In this book I draw upon theories from philosophy, art theory, architecture, cultural studies, etc. Some might be disappointed that the theories in this book borrow from disciplines other than landscape architecture. I think this is a strength because it connects what you do in the design studio with ideas and movements larger than the discipline itself. Of course, not all theories are the same. You will encounter heavy theories, like phenomenology in the Spatial Practices chapter, which has a long-standing connection to philosophy. You will also read about lighter theories that have emerged out of the design professions, and do not rely on a deep philosophical tradition. I also selected theories that I could understand and explain clearly. Some think that if a text is confusing and it uses a lot of verbs as nouns, that it is theory. This is actually a writer trying to appear theoretical. Theory must be comprehensible because if you can’t understand it, you can’t debate it. The theory “in action” sections feature 111 projects from 20 different countries. I thank my students for finding many of these examples. I taught versions of this book to landscape architecture and architecture students in 2012, 2013, and 2014, and one of the requirements for the class was to find examples of the theories that they interpreted in recent works of landscape architecture. The criteria for selection maintained that the projects had to be built (only a few examples are not built), they should be graspable in a single image, and the student should be able to visualize the theory in the image. I wanted built examples because realizing a built project is ultimately what landscape architects do, and it is the most challenging dimension of practice. For practical purposes I wanted landscapes that could be understood from a single image. Also, this is an introductory book on theory and design for students, and students usually, but not always, begin with studios that address the human scale, the scale you know by first-hand experience. I also wanted my students to select views that showed the theory in action because I wanted them, and you, to look more carefully at images. We are bombarded with virtual images every day, and students can become very enthusiastic about images of designed landscapes that they see on the Internet. I do too. This tends to be the most prevalent way of studying designed landscapes today. A hundred years ago students of landscape architecture obviously didn’t have the Internet as a resource. Instead, they looked at lantern slides and performed careful in-situ studies, such as measured drawings, of built landscapes. It is my hope that this book will help you look at images of designed landscapes more discerningly, and, if you are lucky enough, of course visit them. You may have noticed that some words in this introduction are in bold type. This means their definition can be found in the Glossary. Here, you will find not only the meaning of terms as they relate to their theoretical context, but also the chapters where they appear. If I explain the meaning of a term in the text, it will not be in the Glossary. I strongly encourage you to look up words that you do
Introduction 6 not know, even if they are not in bold. If you don’t know the meaning of terms, this will hinder your comprehension of theories. DID THE DESIGNERS IN THE “IN ACTION” SECTIONS USE THE THEORIES YOU DESCRIBE? I must confess, in most instances – I don’t know. The landscape architect Günther Vogt has said that his office is influenced by Claude Lévi-Strauss, whose theory of the “Raw and the Cooked” is part of the theoretical underpinnings of structuralism discussed in the Language chapter, and one of the places where I discuss Vogt’s ideas. However, most of the landscape architects, designers, artists, and architects covered in this book have not claimed to use the theories I write about. Although I did have the happy coincidence of hearing a lecture by the landscape architect Anu Mathur in Sweden. She started her talk off by quoting Gayatri Chakravorty Spivak, a postcolonial feminist whose theories provide the theoretical grounding for post-structuralism in the Language chapter, and where I had placed Mathur’s work with Dilip da Cunha. Moreover, it doesn’t entirely matter if the designers employed the theory that I use their work to illustrate. Theories give names to explanations that have existed before the theory. Consider Jean-Paul Sartre’s theory of group praxis, which I discuss in the phenomenology section of the Spatial Practices chapter. Sartre’s theory concerns how people behave in a group for others, which empowers the individual while also reinforcing the group. He theorized that due to group praxis, you are obliged to a set of customs and behaviours. Your theory class could be described as an example of group praxis. Your participation in the class reinforces your role in the praxis as a student and the idea that this class is a group, and you engage in numerous customs and behaviours that are part of that reinforcement. You (hopefully) arrive at a specific time and place to take the course, you raise your hand and ask questions, you watch the presentations given by the instructor and classmates, and so forth. Think of what happens when these codes are not adhered to. Thus, group praxis is a phenomenon that Sartre observed during his lifetime and gave it a name. In other words, he discovered something very interesting that has probably existed among human beings for a long time. I used Little Spirit Garden by the artist Bill Pechet and Daly Landscape Architecture as an “in Action” example of Sartre group praxis. The garden honours infants who have died in the Vancouver area. Pechet designed 3,000 tiny concrete houses so that parents, family members, and friends of the infant could place items in the houses to commemorate them. I know Bill, and I don’t think he is familiar with Sartre’s theory, but he and Daly Landscape Architecture didn’t need Sartre’s theory to create this beautiful memorial. They just needed to tap into a practice that they had accurately observed in other memorials – where people placed items in commemoration of those who have died; the Vietnam Memorial in Washington, DC, for example. However, even though they didn’t need Sartre’s theory to design this landscape, knowing Sartre’s theory can help
Introduction 7 you understand Little Spirit Garden more profoundly and, more importantly, as a student this may cause you to think more deeply about the designs you create. COMMON THEORIES IN THE BOOK In writing this book I have discovered a number of competing positions within landscape architecture and how these relate to design. Landscape architects have not experienced the divisive schism between modernism and postmodernism that architects have witnessed. Yet, modern designers and postmodern designers do maintain disparate approaches or attitudes to the main subjects of the book. I hesitate to put a date on when landscape architecture became postmodern; this attempt is still hotly debated in architecture. The landscape architecture considered in this book covers a wide range of geographies and time periods, but generally landscapes created in Europe between the 1910s and the 1930s and in North America and Europe immediately after the Second World War are typically considered modern (albeit Horace Walpole published History of the Modern Taste in Gardening in 1780). Postmodern landscape architecture on the other hand is commonly associated with work created after the late 1960s, although there are landscape architects working today, such as Cornelia Hahn Oberlander, who argue that they maintain a modern practice. It may be more useful to distinguish some of major divisions claimed by modern and postmodern landscape architects (see Figure 0.2). Interestingly, by creating this list I have just participated in the most re occurring controversial thought process discussed in this book – binary thinking. This practice, the pairing of two concepts that are thought to oppose each other in meaning, has occupied philosophers and theorists for decades. As you can see from the list on modern and postmodern landscape architecture, binary distinctions can help clarify differences. In the Western philosophical tradition 0.2 Modern landscape architecture versus postmodern landscape architecture attitudes and influences attitude towards form Influences on form Impact of form on people attitude towards space Influences on space impact of space on people attitude towards materials influences on materials interpretation of materials attitude towards language influences on language impact of language on people attitude toward systems Influences on systems Impact of systems on people modern autonomous function + site generate universal feelings an area to be shaped psychology generate universal feelings authentic new materials available after second WW identified as modern binary terms frame thought structures modem, architectural design vocabulary unify people across cultures and time should be controlled by designers scientific understanding will lead to harmony and stability postmodem signifies culture memory + site connote multiple ideas contested space of power cultural criticism connote multiple ideas artificial is ok, but not fake ecological consequences identified as sustainable binary is too restrictive, repressive earthworik and land art, ecology language controls identity designers are part of the system artistic practice will lead to chance
Introduction 8 this practice, called the dialectical process, was thought to reveal the truth. Yet, others have found this thought process oppressive because one category always maintains power over the other. Also, by placing the world in opposing categories some have claimed that this limits individual identity. Think of the simple binary: male and female. There have certainly been critiques made by feminists that male maintains power over female, and the transgender movement has questioned the very basis of this simple pair. Another source of controversy I discovered in writing this book is what the landscape architect James Rose called “perceptible form,” which means that people can perceive human-designed forms in a designed landscape. Landscape architects are unique in that their work is sometimes confused with natural processes or not noticed as intentionally designed at all. Architects don’t need to wonder if the new addition they have designed for their client’s house will be perceived as naturally occurring. People won’t say, “Hey, look at that new sunroom that has grown on the side of that house.” Landscapes also have a special relationship with time. They often contain and are subject to non-human factors that significantly shape their character over time. Natural processes, such as growing plants and eroding soil, can significantly shape landscapes. Other art and design practices are subject to natural forces too, but these are incidental (unless a mud slide destroys the building). Natural forces in landscapes are not incidental; rather they are often part of the design intent. While some landscape architects prefer that their landscapes look as if they were not designed, for others it has been imperative to create landscapes that get noticed for their design. In fact I first started writing about landscape theory when my brother, Wayne, called me to ask if I knew anything about a landscape with golden frogs and a large planted dome at a shopping centre in Atlanta, Georgia. It was the Rio Shopping Center designed by Martha Schwartz. My brother worked in the corporate world and was looking at the property, and had never seen anything like this before. He was amazed and at the same time deeply curious about this landscape. He asked incredulously, “Is this what landscape architects really do? What does it mean?” This exchange with my brother prompted me to consider how designed landscapes feature in people’s daily lives, and that some designs will prompt interpretation. Years later I was teaching a landscape theory course at the University of British Columbia, and I was asked by Derek Matravers, a philosopher and visiting scholar that year, if he could join the class. It was a privilege that he participated in the course and I think he would make a great landscape theorist, but the question of “perceptible form” really bothered him. During the last week of the course he gave his own presentation to the class voicing his concerns. I won’t divulge his entire proposition, but he was very puzzled by the idea that landscape architects would want to relinquish human form-making to ecological processes. He recalled that some of his most treasured landscapes in London possessed strong forms, and this made them quite memorable. Matravers’s worries reminded me of the landscape architect Laurie Olin’s contention,
Introduction 9 It is the aesthetic endeavor that separates us from social and natural scientists, from engineers and policy planners, from politicians and preservation administrators. We make things in the endeavor to produce environments that are more complex, more stimulating, more useful, and more beautiful than if we had not intervened.7 But what is aesthetics, or more precisely, what does it have to do with landscape theory? As I have written in On Landscapes, John Dewey’s views on aesthetics are particularly relevant to landscape design. RECOVERING DEWEY’S AESTHETICS Aesthetics is the philosophy of art, and according to the philosopher James Shelley, since the eighteenth century it has investigated “judgements, attitudes, experiences, qualities, objects, and values.”8 Initial conceptions of aesthetics focused on the act of making rational judgments, such as judging a landscape beautiful. These aesthetic theories were eventually supplanted by experience theories. John Dewey (1859–1952) was an early American pragmatist philosopher (along with Charles Sanders Peirce and William James), who made experience central to his aesthetic theories.9 In Art as Experience (1934) Dewey claimed, “The product of art – temple, painting, statue, poem – is not the work of art. The work of art takes place when a human being cooperates with the product so that the outcome is an experience.”10 In other words, Dewey didn’t think art happened in an object of art sequestered in a museum, rather it happens in experiences. He thought museums were akin to beauty parlours of civilization, and thought that people should find aesthetic experiences in daily life. By discovering aesthetic experiences outside of the museum walls, Dewey thought art would reach more people and shape interests instrumental to their daily lives. This aesthetic theory had the effect of unlocking where and when aesthetic experiences could happen, in a landscape, for example. In addition to Dewey’s contention that art occurs in daily life, and his insistence on resistance (as discussed earlier), two other facets of his pragmatism that are highly relevant to landscape theory in design are the socialness of aesthetic experiences and anticipation. Unlike other aesthetic theories, Dewey thought that aesthetic experiences promoted dialogue, socialization, and shared meaning. For example, Dewey established the Laboratory School at the University of Chicago, where he promoted “learning by doing.” Working in groups, children made gardens, plaster cities, and other works in order to build a community as a foil to the regimented and alienated forces of the city.11 Dewey thought gardening in particular was an activity that produced a strong social cohesion among children and their teachers.12 This underscores the social capacity of landscapes. Because landscape architects are often charged with the task of designing public spaces for all types of people, landscapes represent a key space for experiences that can be shared.
Introduction 10 Lastly, Dewey’s conception of anticipation is the when dimension of his aesthetics and it suggests another experience made available by many landscapes. He charged that anticipation, the expectation of some change, starts before the experience commences and is carried through experience. For Dewey, “at each stage there is anticipation of what is to come. This anticipation is the connecting link between the next doing and its outcome for sense. What is done and what is undergone are thus reciprocally, cumulatively, and continuously instrumental to each other.”13 Since landscapes change over time, and thus tell time rather than deny it, they make available unique aesthetic experiences. Dewey’s aim to recover “the continuity of aesthetic experience in the normal processes of living,”14 was largely ignored by philosophers and the art critics who privileged art exhibited in museums. The philosopher Richard Shusterman contends that the neglect of aesthetic experiences in everyday life implies the “dismal assumption that ordinary life is necessarily one of joyless unimaginative coercion” and “provides the powers and institutions structuring our everyday lives with the best excuse for their increasingly brutal indifference to natural human needs for the pleasures of beauty and imaginative freedom.”15 It is the aim of Landscape Theory in Design to help you challenge these assumptions and indifferences. NOTES 1. Susan Herrington, “An Ontology of Landscape Design,” The Routledge Companion to Landscape Studies, eds. Peter Howard, Ian Thompson, and Emma Waterton (Abingdon: Routledge, 2013), 355–365. 2. John Dewey, Art as Experience (New York: Putnam Capricorn, 1958), 60. 3. Avram Hiller and Leonard Kahn, “Introduction: Consequentialism and Environmental Ethics,” Consequentialism and Environmental Ethics, eds. Avram Hiller, Ramona Ilea, Leonard Kahn (Abingdon: Routledge, 2014), 1–16 (3). 4. Bruno Latour, “A Cautious Prometheus? A Few Steps Toward a Philosophy of Design (with Special Attention to Peter Sloterdijk),” keynote lecture for the Networks of Design meeting of the Design History Society, Falmouth, Cornwall, 3 September 2008, 4, www.bruno-latour.fr/sites/default/files/112-DESIGN-CORNWALL-GB.pdf 5. Ibid., 5. 6. Jacky Bowring, “Meaning in Landscape Architecture and Gardens,” Landscape Review 13, no. 2 (2011): 40–43 (40). 7. Laurie Olin, “Most Important Questions,” Landscape Journal 11, no. 2 (1992): 171–172 (171). 8. James Shelly, “The Aesthetic,” The Routledge Companion to Aesthetics, third edition, eds. Berys Gaut and Dominic McIver Lopes (Abingdon: Routledge, 2013), 246–256 (246). 9. See Michel Conan, ed. Contemporary Garden Aesthetics, Creations and Interpretations (Washington, DC: Dumbarton Oaks, 2007). This book is based on papers delivered at a Dumbarton Oaks Colloquium dedicated to Dewey’s aesthetics and gardens. 10. Dewey, Art as Experience, 214. 11. William Harms and Ida DePencier, Experiencing Education: 100 Years of Learning at the University of Chicago Laboratory Schools (Chicago: University of Chicago, 1998), 4. 12. John Dewey, School and Society (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1942), 99.
Introduction 11 13. John Dewey, Art as Experience, 52. 14. Ibid., 10. 15. Richard Shusterman, “Pragmatism: Dewey,” The Routledge Companion to Aesthetics, third edition, eds. Berys Gaut and Dominic McIver Lopes (New York: Routledge, 2005), 121–131 (126).
12 1 Forming This chapter covers one of the most challenging aspects of design – the generation of forms. Where do forms come from? They can be drawn from the site, natural or cultural processes, the programme, and many other different sources. Historically, form generation in the design process was associated with the artrelated aspects of landscape design. In fact one of the earliest textbooks for landscape architecture students, An Introduction to the Study of Landscape Design (1917) by Henry Vincent Hubbard and Theodora Kimball, argued that landscape architecture was aligned with the fine arts.1 In keeping with the École des Beaux-Arts traditions, if you were a landscape architecture student in 1917 you would probably be busy studying historic forms to be copied in your studio design projects. Yet, twentieth-century art was rapidly changing, as it was no longer securely tied to the task of mimesis – representing attributes found in the three-dimensional world. Cubism and other early twentieth-century art movements abstracted reality on the canvas, and in sculpture, photography, film, and theatre. A painting of a city, for example, didn’t need to look like a city one might encounter first hand. These changes in the formal qualities of art eventually influenced ideas about designed landscapes and the way they were conceived and theorized. THEORETICAL GROUNDINGS OF FORMALISM Compare the image of the Donnell pool with the reflection pool at the Bloedel Reserve. By answering these questions you’ve just begun a formal analysis of two works of landscape architecture. Formalism in art and aesthetics addresses the formal 1.1 Donnell Garden pool (1948) by Thomas Church, image courtesy of Marc Treib, Sonoma, California, USA 1.2 The Bloedel Reserve reflection pool (1984) by Richard Haag, image courtesy of Marc Treib, Bainbridge Island, Washington State, USA One pool is for swimming and the other pool is for viewing, but how are their formal properties – in terms of their colour, line, and shape – different? How do the colours and lines of the pools’ edges suggest stasis or movement?
Forming 13
Forming 14 qualities – the textures, forms, shapes, and lines – of a design or work of art. In general formalism prioritizes form and its qualities over form’s ability to represent something. A formalist analysis, for example, would not be concerned with the idea that the curving edges of the Donnell Garden pool mimic the edges of the salt marshes once in the distant background. Rather emphasis is placed on analysing the garden’s formal properties. The philosopher Nick Zangwill defines “formal properties as those aesthetic properties that are determined solely by sensory or physical properties – so long as the physical properties in question are not relations to other things and other times.”2 So, the salt marshes are not part of the formal properties of the Donnell Garden pool. In a formalist analysis, the focus is on the physical and sensory attributes of the design. Formalism can be traced back to the work of the art critic Clive Bell (1881– 1964) in his book Art (1913).3 While Bell never precisely defined formalism, his emphasis on the formal qualities of art, instead of what an artwork represented, became a dominant cultural attitude shaping the way art and design were discussed, conceived, and valued.4 Highlighting the far-reaching powers of Bell’s formalism, the philosopher Noël Carroll argues that even school children when reading a story “were taught not to let their attention wander away from the text: allow their concentration to become caught up in the story’s relation to real life, rather than to savour its formal organization and features (for example, its unity, complexity and intensity).”5 Indeed, the viewer’s recognition of form over other associations can be seen in the early writings of the landscape architect James Rose (1913–1991). In his 1938 article, “Freedom in the Garden” for Pencil Points magazine, Rose argued for a formalist conception of garden design, one that did not rely on the École des Beaux-Arts tradition of copying historical forms. Rose thought it was the garden’s basic forms and perception of the forms, and not what they represented, that counted. When form was perceptible “the thing acquires form and meaning. The arrangement may be pleasing or ugly, it may be loose or stiff, it may be symmetrical or unsymmetrical, but if the arrangement is perceptible, it possesses the quality of form, and to that extent is ‘formal.’”6 During the twentieth century formalism not only provided a method of evaluating art, but it also played an ontological role in defining what made something art. Art critics such as Clement Greenberg (1909–1994) proffered a version of formalism in order to champion abstract expressionist painting over painting that attempted to represent three-dimensional scenes or events, especially historic ones.7 Formalist approaches to landscape design also played an ontological role in defining a landscape as a modern one. This was particularly widespread after the Second World War, when the design professions sought a vocabulary that was “unfettered by religion, unconstrained by subject matter, free of national or linguistic boundaries.”8 It is this sense of the term formalism – as a language of basic forms – that reflects the formalist design theory of many mid-century landscape architects. These designers argued that the use of a basic design vocabulary was
Forming 15 more egalitarian than École des Beaux-Arts designs. The landscape architect Garrett Eckbo (1910–2000) maintained “if our concept for design is held on a higher plane than our concept of people we introduce a contradiction in our work . . . how about the majority who experience our park designs? Do they require a course of training before they enjoy them?”9 Landscape designs referencing narratives and stories, for which historical interpretation was critical to their appreciation, were deemed elitist. In contrast, designs employing basic forms were considered egalitarian because they did not require an educational background or specialty in art history; one could simply sense them. For a counterexample to formalism, look at the Fountain of Pegasus at the Villa Lante, Bagnaia, Italy. The fountain’s design includes at its centre a sculpture of a winged horse, Pegasus, with its front hooves in the air and its rear hooves perched on a rock-like base. Pegasus, a figure from ancient Greek mythology, produced a spring of water wherever he struck the ground with his hoof. The fountain’s design conveys this myth, a very appropriate one given the bountiful supply of water at the Villa Lante site. 1.3 Fountain of Pegasus at the Villa Lante, image courtesy of Dominic McIver Lopes, Bagnaia, Italy Comparing this with the previous examples of the Donnell Garden pool or the Bloedel Reserve pool, how are they different? If you were unaware of the myth of Pegasus would you be less likely to enjoy this fountain?
Forming 16 Why formalism matters Formalism transformed what a landscape design could look like and opened up a range of forms that could be borrowed from other fields. However, a major critique of formalism charged that there could never be a universal language of forms because people’s reception of forms (in a landscape or in a painting) were culturally biased and determined by socio-economic status or other factors. Yet, formalism matters precisely because of these differences in reception. Form, line, and colour can provoke extremely different reactions in people (including your studio critics and peers). In landscape architecture the employment of organic versus geometric forms are frequently points of passionate debate precisely because people do make associations with these forms. Some champion organic forms because they are commonly associated with natural processes. Some gravitate to geometrical forms because of their association with culture. Yet there are certainly geometries in nature (think of the precise distribution of petals in a flower or the crystalline shapes of a snow flake). Likewise, not all cultural processes need be geometrical (think of the wildly organic forms produced through digital fabrication). Yet, it is this aspect of formalism – the attention to formal properties in design and its reception by those reviewing or experiencing these properties – that is of value. Landscape architects are not able to control the reception of their work by others, but by carefully focusing on the formal properties of their designs, they may prompt a perception of these properties, whether, as Rose states, it is pleasing or ugly, loose or stiff. Formalism’s preoccupation with the visual qualities of design and people’s reception of design is a first step towards a landscape’s ability to mean or communicate. “For if the independence of the one from the other generates and sustains both communication and the interpretation of meaning, then formalism can be seen to provide the most compelling account of that relation.”10 Formalism in action Simplicity and complexity Debates regarding simplicity and complexity in design are commonly attributed to the work of the architects Robert Venturi and Denise Scott Brown.11 Since the late 1960s they argued against the abstraction of formalists and favoured the complexity and contradiction old European squares and the Las Vegas Strip. However, in landscape architecture debates regarding simplicity versus complexity date back to eighteenth-century England. The fabled “Picturesque Controversy” probed this very issue. Richard Payne Knight (1750–1824) and Uvedale Price (1747–1829) criticized the landscapes of Capability Brown If you did know the myth would you have a deeper appreciation of the garden’s design?
Forming 17 (1716–1783) for their smooth textures and simple shapes. Knight was suspicious of this new trade, landscape gardening, and thought Brown was “ignorant of painting, and incapable of judging picturesque effects.”12 To express his indignation Knight published The Landscape: A Didactic Poem in 1795, which mocked Brown’s landscapes as shaven and lacking in intricacy. Humphry Repton (1752–1818) retorted to Knight that a landscape gardener needed to consider how the landscape was accessed by the owner and the more practical uses of the landscape – not whether it looked like a painting or not. Knight countered that one of the many names Repton should call himself was a “walk maker.”13 By 1810 Uvedale Price joined in the debate against Brown and Repton, cautioning that it was important “to distinguish what is simple, from what is bald and commonplace; what is varied and intricate, from what is only perplexed.”14 Smoothness was a key critique that even extended to Price’s assessment of animals. “We find that the Pomeranian, and the rough water-dog, are more picturesque than the smooth spaniel, or the greyhound; the shaggy goat than the sheep: and these last are more so when their fleeces are ragged and worn away in parts, than when they are of equal thickness, or when they have lately been shorn.”15 Knight’s poem was accompanied by two engravings, one that looked to be designed by Capability Brown and another of a similar scene, but made picturesque. Look at Figures 1.4 and 1.5. 1.4 A picturesque landscape by Thomas Hearne under the instruction of Richard Payne Knight for Landscape: A Didactic Poem (1795), public domain What are the main differences between the two scenes? Does the scene depicted in Figure 1.5 look more natural?
Forming 18 It has been argued that the intentional conflation of landscapes as nature in the gardens created during Knight’s time was a means of “naturalizing” the power of their prosperous owners. Critics such as the architectural historian Robin Evans argued that these landscapes were not only proof that their owners possessed the informality that only the very rich could afford, but that this wealth was part of a natural order, a given social hierarchy whereby the wealthy owned the landscape and the poor laboured in it. Generations later two public landscapes can be compared for their simplicity and complexity, but with different connotations. Compare the images of the Promenade Plantée in Paris with the High Line in New York City. An abandoned railway viaduct that once connected Place de la Bastille to Varenne-Saint-Maur, Promenade Plantée spans 4.5 km from Place de la Bastille. It was transformed in the early 1990s as an elevated linear garden with roses and clipped ornamental shrubs, trellised arcades with climbers, and sculptures. The idea later inspired the creation of the High Line, but there are some marked differences. The garden designer Piet Oudolf’s planting design for the High Line entails more than 300 species of perennials, grasses, shrubs, and trees. His design takes its cues from the self-seeded landscape that had emerged on the abandoned rail tracks. 1.5 The same view as a modern Brownian landscape by Thomas Hearne under the instruction of Richard Payne Knight for Landscape: A Didactic Poem (1795), public domain What else do you think Knight and Price were saying with these images?
Forming 19 1.6 Promenade Plantée (1993) by Jacques Vergely and Philippe Mathieux, Paris, France 1.7 The High Line (2014) by James Corner Field Operations, Diller Scofidio + Renfro, and Piet Oudolf, New York City, USA
Forming 20 Opacity and transparency In the 1970s the art historian Philippe Junod sought to identify the reoccurring patterns in art with a systematic theory of opacity and transparency. In doing so, he attempted to classify formal qualities of art as opaque or transparent. Opacity expunges any traces of the act of imitation, rejecting “that a work of art is a mirror in which one sees something else.”16 In seeking to avoid imitation, opaque designs are usually based on abstraction. In the philosopher Nelson Goodman’s words, abstraction is the “processes of image making in which only some of the visual elements usually ascribed to ‘the natural world’ are extracted (i.e. ‘to abstract’)”17 In other words, abstract works do not use mimesis. The theory of Both projects are located on an abandoned elevated rail line, but how are their formal features different? How do simplicity and complexity factor into the two designs? Do you think the different designs impart dissimilar thoughts and feelings on the visitors? 1.8 Memorial to the Murdered Jews of Europe (2005) by Peter Eisenman, image courtesy of JoJan, https:// creativecommons. org/licenses/by/3.0/ deed.en, Berlin, Germany
Forming 21 transparency, on the other hand, reveals imitation in the artistic process, and thus it often involves mimesis. Look at the image of the Memorial to the Murdered Jews of Europe. The memorial consists of 2,711 massive rectangular forms (called stelae) on a sloping stretch of land (a size approximately equivalent to two soccer fields) in the heart of Berlin. Interpretations of Eisenman’s stelae are varied. Look at the image of Shoes on the Danube. Between 1944 and 1945, Arrow Cross militiamen, the National Socialist party members of Hungary, led Jews to the Danube River. Standing by the river’s edge, they were forced to take off their shoes and were shot to death, immediately falling into the river.18 In 2005 Togay and Pauer sought to commemorate these victims of the Holocaust by installing 60 pairs of bronze shoes along the river’s edge. What do you think they are an abstraction of? 1.9 Shoes on the Danube (2005) by Can Togay and Gyula Pauer, courtesy of Julie Royce, Budapest, Hungary Do you see how this memorial is transparent? Do the shoes look like they are from the 1940s? Can you see the transparency of imitation?
Forming 22 The landscape architect Catherine Dee contends, the ability to abstract is the basis of new creation. The human capacity to abstract, to apply or change an existing schema for a new situation created the possibility of fresh knowledge and new forms. Abstraction in design prevents mannerism and coping old forms. In abstraction lies the potential for significant new landscapes.19 Seriality Seriality involves forms or objects that are repeated in space. The art critic Rosalind Krauss employed the term seriality to describe the repetition of objects or forms created by minimalist artists, such as Donald Judd. For Krauss, “What is characteristic of the approach taken by minimalist sculptors is that they exploited a kind of found object for its possibilities as an element in a repetitive structure.”20 While Krauss, a student of Clement Greenberg (1909–1994), would eventually reject formalism, seriality proved significant to the work of the landscape architect Peter Walker, who began to import this formalist strategy in his design work. Walker argued against the conventional notions of form as simply a way of enclosing space. Drawing from the minimalists, he used seriality to blur the distinctions between physical objects and space and draw attention to the pattern of forms as a designed landscape.21 Look at the image of Tanner Fountain. How would the memorial be different if the bronze castings were abstract versions of shoes? Both examples are attempts to memorialize the Holocaust. How do they use form differently? Do you think the abstract design is more powerful than the transparent design or vice versa? How does seriality feature in the project? Are all the rocks the same in Tanner Fountain? If not what unifies the design? Do you think Walker’s design blurs the relationship between object and space instead of articulating an enclosed space?
Forming 23 Colour and form Colour in design is traditionally analysed as hue (warm colours or cool colours), value (degree of lightness), and chroma (saturation). The art critic John Ruskin (1819–1900), whose theories foreshadowed formalism, included colour as part of his seven lamps of architecture. Ruskin also had specific advice on colour’s relationship to form noting, “Let it be visibly independent of form. Never paint a column with vertical lines, but always across it.”22 He gleaned this insight from observing colour patterns in natural elements. “Notice how nature does it. In a variegated flower not one leaf red and another white, but a point of red and zone of white.”23 While there are flowers that do have colour changes on every other leaf, the colour does not conform to the form. By the twentieth century, the painters Amédée Ozenfant (1886–1966) and Fernand Léger (1881–1955) studied how space advanced or receded in the perception of coloured form. Léger, in particular, explored the play between representation and abstraction and the sense of flatness, and that of depth, as he saw these contrasts as indicative of modern life.24 A student of Léger’s, Bernard Lassus, brought this exploration to his own garden art, exploring sensory perception, nature, culture, and colour.25 For Lassus it is this very 1.10 Tanner Fountain (1984) by Peter Walker, image courtesy of Peter Walker and Partners Landscape Architecture, Cambridge, Massachusetts, USA
Forming 24 juncture between form and colour that has occupied his career for nearly half a century. In his design for the Colas Garden in Paris, Bernard Lassus, was asked by the client to separate the garden from the adjoining park space. Instead of your average fence or wall, Lassus created a layered scrim of plant material and perforated metal trees of a fictional plant material. Because of their different colours, these metal silhouettes give a depth to the view as darker colours recede and lighter colours advance. In the final backdrop, the real trees of the nearby park play against Lassus’s imaginary abstraction. According to the sociologist Michel Conan, the fictional plant material “bears the mark of clipping scissors, a mark of artificiality. This seems even truer of the high abstract arbour that forms the last limit of the hedge before the trees at the municipal park.”26 1.11 Les Jardins suspendus de Colas (2007) by Bernard Lassus, image courtesy of Bernard Lassus, Plasticien Architecte– Paysagiste, Paris, France Why do you think Lassus wanted to give depth to this view? What do you think the relationship is between the fictional plant material and the real plant material?
Forming 25 Formalism debated Formalism typically privileges the visual over other senses. The architectural theorist Marc Treib cautions in his widely read article, “The Content of Landscape Form [The Limits of Formalism],” that we should not design for the photographic image but the experience of the landscape . . . The photograph is a fragment that is forced to represent the whole, like the synecdoche of literature. But a landscape is not a fragment: it is a whole, and at times these designs maintain our interest only at a small scale for short periods of time . . . it demonstrates little regard for the human body, mystery and appeal, or for senses other than vision.27 As you will read in the Systems chapter, formalist approaches that attempted to create static forms were challenged by theories that viewed landscapes as process instead of a composition of forms. Indeed, ecologically performing landscapes can often look dishevelled and thus uncared for. The landscape architect Joan Iverson Nassauer argues, “The visual qualities of ecologically valuable landscapes and wildlife habitats can be misinterpreted by non-landscape architects as signs that its owner is not caring for it.”28 She suggests that these landscapes could be appreciated by non-professionals if designers gave cues to care, such as “bold patterns – these patterns indicate human intention by their crisp edges and landscape scale.”29 Primary reading for formalism Clive Bell, Art. David Carrier, Rosalind Krauss and American Philosophical Art Criticism: From Formalism to Beyond Postmodernism. Mitchell B. Frank and Daniel Adler, German Art History and Scientific Thought: Beyond Formalism. THEORETICAL GROUNDINGS OF EXPRESSION THEORY Physical forms possess a character only because we ourselves possess a body. If we were purely visual beings, we would always be denied an aesthetic judgment of the physical world. But as human beings with a body that teaches us Can you think of ways that you might include other sensory perceptions as part of form-making in landscape design? Can you think of some examples where landscape architects or designers have used “cues to care” in order to communicate that the landscape is intentional and cared for? Are there cues to care in the High Line project?
Forming 26 the nature of gravity, contraction, strength, and so on we gather the experience that enables us to identify with the conditions of other forms. Why is no one surprised that a stone falls towards the earth? Why does that seem so very natural to us? We cannot account for it rationally: the explanation lies in our personal experience alone.30 (Heinrich Wölfflin, “Prolegomena to a Psychology of Architecture,” 1886) This is the art historian Heinrich Wölfflin (1864–1945) describing how architecture expresses to you the externalization of internal feelings – in this instance an understanding of gravity is learned from the pull of gravity felt by your own body. Wölfflin liberated architectural historians from the constraints of traditional historical analyses by attempting to isolate expressive content in the formal qualities of design. In this sense, the historian was chiefly concerned with expression, and how expression, over mere description, brings forth or re-enacts certain mental states in not only the artist but the audience or viewer as well. According to Wölfflin, “the body functioned as a sensitive psychological tool, providing the means to project the embodied feelings of the human subject onto the objects of art and culture, and thus enliven them with meaning.”31 Expression theory is closely related to formalism and Wölfflin would later develop a formalist methodology for his highly influential book, The Principles of Art History. However, expression theory primarily addresses the identification of emotions and their shaping of feelings. Emotions are reactions to stimuli coming through your sense of sight, sound, taste, smell, thermal conditions, pain, pleasure, balance, and motion. They are often immediate and occur unconsciously, and we often have little control over them. Recall a time when you could not stop crying or blushing – that’s your emotions at work. In contrast, “Feelings occur after we become aware in our brain of such physical changes; only then do we experience the feeling” of sadness when crying or embarrassment when blushing.32 Thus, expression theory is chiefly concerned with the emotional impact of the external world produced in art, such as film, literature, painting, or a landscape; and when a person expresses something she or he becomes conscious of that emotion. According to the philosopher Derek Matravers, “expression is experienced as being a quality of the work itself . . . Such qualities can be analysed independently of the state of mind of their creator.”33 In other words, a landscape architect might be happy, but produce a solemn landscape. Expressing something, solemnness for example, through the design of a landscape does not necessarily require that you have that emotion while engaged in the act of design. Matravers parses out several contemporary theories of expression. The first theory involves the experience of resemblance. Resemblance theory involves awareness of the emotion being expressed by something, but it does not necessarily make you feel that emotion. For Matravers the face of a St Bernard dog looks sad. The fact that I perceive its face as sad doesn’t mean the dog is sad and its face doesn’t make me sad. The St Bernard’s face resembles
Forming 27 the state of sadness. For a landscape example, return to the pools in the previous section. Experiencing the Donnell Garden pool might make me feel the emotion of happiness because the bright colours and flowing forms resemble happiness, whereas the Bloedel Pool might make me feel melancholy because the colours and static shape of the black pool resemble solemnity to me. Matravers is an advocate of Arousal Theory, which says thatthe expressive qualities of a work arouse feelings in the viewer.34 The emotion need not match the emotion experienced or planned by the artist or designer; however, it does prompt an emotional response. If you were unable to swim, for example, the bright and cheerful Donnell Garden pool in sunny California might fill you with fear and dread. As you will see in “Expression theory in action,” arousal theory is often at work in contemporary memorial designs where the calling forth of emotions is a central goal. Another expression theory is called expression-looks. Referring to twodimensional works, the philosopher Dominic McIver Lopes explains that we interpret expressions “because they are depicted as having physical configurations that are expression-looks. Not only are those configurations seen in pictures, but we see them as expressions when we see them as having the function of indicating.”35 These configurations are often identified by their 1.12 The karesansui (dry landscape) garden at Ryo¯ an-ji Temple, Kyoto, Japan
Forming 28 resemblance to a particular idea or emotion, and humans can create them or they can be naturally occurring – such as the feeling of surprise when hearing the first clap of thunder during a storm. For landscape design, the physical configuration of a design becomes the vehicle for expressing something – an idea, an emotion, etc. In the article, “Gardens Can Mean,”36 I argued that when landscapes are designed by humans as a medium to communicate they express something. Starting with the garden at Ryo¯ an-ji temple in Kyoto, which expresses a range of ideas, I moved the rocks and placed them in a line rather than in specific clusters using Photoshop. Look at the images of Ryo¯ an-ji and not Ryo¯ an-ji. If I actually made these changes to the rock and moss at Ryo¯ an-ji, I would significantly change the way this garden expresses and what it expresses. This means the rocks of Ryo¯ an-ji – their configuration in particular – must be communicating something to people visiting the garden. 1.13 Not the karesansui (dry landscape) garden at Ryo¯ an-ji Temple, Kyoto, Japan How do the two gardens differ? How might you interpret them differently?
Forming 29 Why expression theory matters Like formalism, expression theories can facilitate the first steps of communicating to others through your design. Some theorists think that the projection of emotions onto the external world allows for a shared space to be created between the viewer and artist or designer.37 It enables the reader to understand the human emotions of another through an experience with the work, carving out a reality that humans share. Collective or shared emotions are particularly relevant to designed landscapes because many of the design projects that you undertake as a student are publically accessible projects. The landscape architect Laurie Olin was one of the earliest proponents of expressive content in design. In his article, “Form, Meaning, and Expression in Landscape Architecture,” he argued that the forms and material palette available to landscape architects offered rich opportunities for expression, and it was only professional conventions and cultural norms (which deemed that landscapes should look like they were created only by natural processes) that limited their use. He notes, Landscapes are made of many diverse phenomena – visual, aural, tactile, olfactory – that may trigger the recall of things from our own personal environmental history, which in turn combine with a world of information from our education and experience. For this reason there is no question in my mind that the art of landscape design – when it is an art – is possibly the most complex and sophisticated art we possess.38 Olin concluded that literary devices, such as metaphor, could invest meaning in design. His article has prompted debates over the past decades. Must landscape mean? Can landscapes be invested with meaning? Should they? Who determines this meaning? You will return to these questions in the Language chapter. Expression theory in action Resemblance Since 2000, the Les Jardins de Métis International Garden Festival in Quebec, Canada, has hosted a series of temporary gardens aimed at expanding the meaning of the garden in contemporary culture. The garden I designed, Hip Hop, is composed of two visually and experientially very different gardens – a black side and a white side. On the white side stalks of hops wind up tall poles, and steppingstones invite the visitor to hop through the delicate grasses. In contrast, the black side is stark and theatrical, like a stage set. The black ground and the movable Métis muses dressed in long formal gowns and crowned with black flax invite the spectator to move them (castors were affixed to their bases). While I didn’t intend this, people were scared of the muses (not full-blown “arousal theory” scared, but a little intimidated) because they thought the muses resembled witches. When I was invited back the following year I designed the garden
Forming 30 1.14 International Garden Festival, Jardins de Métis/ Reford Gardens, Hip Hop Garden Muse (2004) by Susan Herrington, image courtesy of Robert Baronet, Jardins de Métis/Reford Gardens, GrandMétis, Quebec, Canada 1.15 International Garden Festival, Jardins de Métis/ Reford Gardens, Hip Hop Garden Muse (2005) by Susan Herrington, image courtesy of Louise Tanguay, Jardins de Métis/Reford Gardens, GrandMétis, Quebec, Canada
Forming 31 in blue and white, and people delighted in the fact that they now resembled dancing women. Look at Hip Hop from the two different years. Arousal There are some landscape projects where the design is intended to arouse strong emotions in the viewer. This is frequently the case in memorial designs when the emotion of grief and remembrance is part of the design. Look at the image of the landscape for the Bełz˙ec Death Camp Memorial in Poland. The notorious death camp was the site of the extermination of hundreds of thousands of Jews between 1942 and 1943. Using the remnants of this landscape as the expressive raw material for their design, the artists Andrzej Sołyga, Zdzisław Pidek, and Marcin Roszczyk created an interstice that cuts through a field of rubble and twisted rods that demarcate the extent of the death camp area. For the artists, the slicing of the earth reveals the hidden elevations of the terrain, and the gravity of the crime. This interstice leads visitors 10 meters downslope to a memorial wall. Inscriptions made from rusting cast-iron text abound: a wall contains the first names of Jews who died at the death camp, a perimeter walk lists the names of towns where Jews were removed from, and quotes from the biblical Book of Job define the entrance. The artists also saved the trees they found on site, noting, “the trees that were witness to the events will be kept on the terrain.”39 How do the two different versions of muses resemble different entities? Aside from colour, are there other aspects, such as plant material, that make these two muses resemble different ideas? 1.16 Bełz˙ec Death Camp Memorial landscape (2004) by Andrzej Sołyga, Marcin Roszczyk, and Zdzisław Pidek, and DDJM Biuro Architektoniczne, image courtesy of Lysy, https:// creativecommons. org/licenses/ by-sa/3.0/deed. en, Lublin District, Poland
Forming 32 Expression-looks As mentioned previously, according to Lopes expression-looks involves seeing configurations of forms “as having the function of indicating,” a certain expression. The theory of expression-looks is a refinement of resemblance theory. Expression-looks extends beyond colour or basic forms to include the elements in a particular form, figure, or combination that together express. Look at the image of The Garden that Climbs the Stairs, designed by Diana Balmori, in Bilbao, Spain. Here, the CorTen steel planter of billowy plants ascends (or descends) a flight of stairs between two towers.40 Balmori created a winding form for the planter and selected wispy plant textures to express the feeling of movement and ascension. What features of the memorial resemble the feeling that the artists wish to arouse? 1.17 The Garden that Climbs the Stairs (2009) by Diana Balmori, image courtesy of Balmori Associates, Bilbao, Spain Can you see how the configuration of the planter with lines that contrasts with the rectilinear stairs express movement? If the plantings were arranged to conform to the rectilinear form of the steps would The Garden that Climbs the Stairs still have the same effect, or even expression-looks? If the photograph was taken at the top of the steps looking down would it be called The Garden that Falls Down the Stairs?
Forming 33 Expression theory debated The role that expression has played in the design of landscapes has varied during the course of the twentieth century. While neuroscientists today have demonstrated that emotions are part of rational thought, for much of the interwar and post-war periods architects sought to rationalize their design methods, and landscape architects, such as Leberecht Migge (1881–1935), responded by designing landscapes that involved the strategic use of urban land for food and human use. As the architectural lecturer David Haney explains, “The rationalized garden was the necessary and logical complement to the rationalized building.”41 Migge’s interest in the rational distribution, use, and management of landscapes also extended to municipal lands and parks. Since emotions were perceived as the antithesis to rational thinking, and planning and design, the expressive dimensions of landscape design were largely ignored. Likewise the rise of functionalism, discussed in the next section, left little room for designers to consider how their work might express emotional states. This is particularly true in the post-Second World War years, when the demand for large-scale building programmes, built with alacrity, was common. Thorbjörn Andersson witnessed this in the Stockholm School of Park Design. The Stockholm School was initially inspired by the landscape architect Erik Glemme (1905–1959) whose “fascination of landscape architecture resulted from the experience of the soul as well as the senses.”42 Designing numerous parks and plazas in Stockholm, Glemme set the tone for design in this school of thought by stressing the expressive qualities of the natural region, and experimenting with innovative street-furnishings as well as play sculptures for children. With major rebuilding programmes underway during the 1960s, which sought to erect one million apartments in ten years, landscape architects in Stockholm attempted to develop rational planning and design methods that would be efficient and practical. According to Andersson the design approach developed by Glemme deteriorated. Indeed, Landscape architecture also suffered from these so-called rational production methods. The pre-existing characteristics of the landscape, for example, were eliminated in order to provide easy access for construction cranes. And the new landscape consisted of vast deserts of grass – good for maintenance if poor for people – and rationally organized playgrounds.43 Primary reading for expression theory Dominic McIver Lopes, Sight and Sensibility: Evaluating Pictures. Harry Francis Mallgrave and Eleftherios Ikonomou, Empathy, Form, and Space: Problems in German Aesthetics, 1873–1893. Derek Matravers, Art and Emotion.
Forming 34 THEORETICAL GROUNDINGS OF FUNCTION “Functional” as the translation of the German words “sachlich”, “zweckmässig”, “funktionell”. Where English has one word, “functional”, German, by 1900, had three. While Germans often used the three interchangeably, they carry different nuances of meaning that give the concept a depth impossible to convey with the single English word.44 (Adrian Forty, “Function,” in Words and Buildings, 2000) In English, the architect Louis Sullivan’s (1856–1924) phrase, “form ever follows function,”45 is often considered the starting point when form began to follow function. Yet, as the historian Adrian Forty reminds us in this quote, function has a long and varied history, particularly in the German language. From its early association with the functioning of tectonic elements of buildings in eighteenthcentury Italy to function’s varied meanings in Germany in the nineteenth and twentieth centuries, the term function was characterized by a complex history of usage before it became an English architectural term championed by modern designers. Christopher Tunnard was an early adopter of the term function in his theories on the design of gardens and landscapes. As an aspiring designer in the UK during the 1930s Tunnard was keen to reconceive gardens and landscapes in light of modern theories, such as functionalism. As a member of the Modern Architectural Research Group (MARS Group), which developed plans for the post-war reconstruction of London, Tunnard was influenced by modern architects and planners who sought to re-envision the world using rational design principles such as function. Some of Tunnard’s earliest proposals for a modern landscape architecture were described in articles he wrote for the Architectural Review between October 1937 and May 1938.46 These articles culminated in Gardens in the Modern Landscape (1938/1948) where Tunnard declared that a functional, emphatic, and artistic approach was needed for a modern conception of design. Tunnard espoused a version of functionalism where form followed both “fitness for purpose”47 and the “rational expression of construction.”48 In Tunnard’s description of the patio for the house at St Ann’s Hill in Chertsey, for example, he stresses the functional role of construction and the use of the patio as a walking surface. He notes “The surface of this paving was treated with carborundum at the floating stages partly to prevent slipperiness in wet weather and partly for the sparkle which this material imparts in sunlight.”49 Tunnard also asks readers to appreciate that “The incised division lines were cut at distances no greater than two feet apart to prevent cracking.”50 Both the carborundum and the division lines are part of the construction of the patio. While carborundum functions to aid in the human use of the patio (fit to the purpose of walking), the division lines function by accommodating movement of the patio subsurface caused by temperature changes and drying shrinkages (rational expression of construction).
Forming 35 Like formalism, function became synonymous with modern landscape architecture, particularly after the Second World War. In the 1950s the landscape architect Norman T. Newton (1898–1992) proposed a comprehensive theory of function for landscape design.51 While Tunnard’s conception of function asked landscape architects to appreciate human function and natural function as they related to the construction process, Newton defined function into four categories under two headings: natural functions and assigned functions. Biological and mathematical forces that exist without human intervention determine natural functions. The dispersal of dandelion seeds by the wind on a well-drained mound of soil will eventually result in a dandelion-covered mound. This type of growth is a natural biological function since the wind, seeds, sun, and soil conditions function to produce growth. The angle of repose of this well-drained mound of soil is approximately 45 degrees. This is a natural mathematical function because the angle of repose refers to the steepest angle at which a mound of soil remains stable. It’s determined by the frictional contact among soil particles and the pull of gravitational forces. Assigned functions are the products of conscious human intervention and involve use functions and affective functions. Revisiting the mound example, if the earth is stepped with risers just the right height for sitting this is an assigned use function because the shaping of the mound accommodates the function of sitting down. If I curve this north-facing stepped mound, I am communicating to people that this landscape can be used like an amphitheatre. This is an assigned affective function because the curved shape signals to people that they can gather to sit down. Newton thought all of these functions were important to achieve in a work of landscape architecture. Why function matters Functionalism remains important because it attempts to address the needs of the people who will ultimately use the designed landscape. Without a basic understanding of the purposeful functions of a project – the need to play or eat lunch, or view a concert – the design might hinder these actions. Also, the increased need for measuring the ecological functioning of landscapes, a descendent of Newton’s natural functions – its biological and mathematical dimensions – has become central to designing and evaluating the performance of landscapes. Inherent in these measures is the goal to enhance ecological functioning during and after construction. These tasks range from supporting 1.18 Norman T. Newton’s theory of function natural functions biological mathematical/physics assigned functions use affective seeds dispersed by wind angle of repose for soil provides seating signals a place to gather
Forming 36 to improving natural functions, such as water filtration, nutrient recycling, and wildlife movement. Newton’s fourth function, assigned affective function, also matters since there has been a growing concern among landscape architects that functions should not be concealed, but should feature in the visual reading or interpretation of a landscape, in what have been referred to as revelatory landscapes. Philosophers Glenn Parsons and Allen Carlson contend that reading the functioning of an environment’s form can make it beautiful, because this function gives coherence to forms that might otherwise be perceived as formless. They note, it seems possible for our knowledge of an object’s function to enhance the perceptual unity of that object to varying degrees. Without going so far as to make the object appear simple or elegant, knowledge of causal role functions of various perceptible elements of an ecosystem may render it less disordered and random-looking, more unified, than it would otherwise appear. It may in other words, give a different aesthetic appearance to the object.52 Yet, they also note that function might not always be translatable. Not everyone will understand the natural functions of an ecosystem or, in the example of the mound, the assigned function of an amphitheatre. This is what Parsons and Carlson call the problem of indeterminacy, when people do not see or understand the proper function to be appreciated.53 Much like Joan Iverson Nassauer’s advice to create cues to care, cues to function might help with the problem of indeterminacy. Function in action Four-fold function Newton’s four-fold functionalism can be seen in Stockholm at Hornsbergs strandpark by Nyréns Arkitektkontor. The meandering 700-meter-long linear landscape along lake Mälaren provides three floating piers that extend over the water. According to project manager Bengt Isling, the piers enable people to go out on to the lake and the seating is oriented towards the west in order to provide direct lines of sight to the setting sun in summer (natural, math function). The piers literally float on the water to minimize impact on the lakebed flora and fauna (natural, biological function). Isling also notes that people living close to the park use the space as a living room, so the piers were sized to provide enough space for families and small groups of people sitting, sunbathing, and swimming (assigned, use function). Lastly, the terminus of each pier forms a circle to denote where to gather (assigned, affective function).
Forming 37 Repurposed functions Landscapes and buildings are often used for functions that stand in sharp contrast to their originally intended function. An early example of a major repurposed landscape is Germany’s Duisburg North Park designed by Latz + Partners. Previously the site of a Thyssen factory, it was redesigned as a 200-hectare park. The activities of this ruined city of iron and steel consciously invert the original functions of the site’s landscape and structures. The gasometer serves as a scuba-diving facility, the cooling trough is now a lily pond, and the blast furnace accommodates community activities. Look at the image of the Climbing Garden for the German Mountaineering Club located in the former ore storage bunkers. 1.19 Piers at Hornsbergs strandpark (2012) by Bengt Isling and Nyréns Arkitektkontor AB, image courtesy of Bengt Isling, Stockholm, Sweden Can you see how the designers have addressed all four of Newton’s functions? Do you think the form resulting from original function enhances the experience of the form with a new use? Do you think the more the extreme contrast between past function and present-day function, the more interesting the design?
Forming 38 Operative functions Robert Venturi argued for multiple-use functions, which he called double functions, where there is an ambiguous correspondence among several functions and form. This was a critique of modern architects who assigned single uses to the forms they designed. Double functions also support his theory of contradiction and complexity in architecture. Venturi notes that the Ponte Vecchio in Florence affords multiple functions.54 The medieval bridge spans the Arno River for pedestrians, and contains shops and homes, and in the sixteenth century Giorgio Vasari built a corridor on top of the shops to connect the Uffizi with the Pitti Palace. So within a span of a river crossing, multiple functions are provided by forms that have several possible meanings or interpretations – bridge, home, and commercial corridor to name a few. The landscape architect, Alissa North, proposes a variation of double functions, called operative functions, where the functions of forms are not ambiguous, but rather targeted to perform specific, multiple ecological and social functions. For North, The operative landscape is an inherently dynamic and continually evolving medium that takes into consideration programmatic and ecological dynamics and uses landscape to direct communities towards resilient outcomes. The operative landscape approach accepts and incorporates change over time to reduce the need for continual material and maintenance inputs, while maintaining an active project agenda.55 1.20 Climbing Garden at Duisburg Nord Landscape Park (2009) by Latz + Partner, image courtesy of Latz + Partner Landschafts Architekten Stadtplaner, Ruhr District, Germany
Forming 39 In this sense operative functions can be layered in time and space rather than separated. Look at the image of Benthemplein Water Square by De Urbanisten. The site is located in one of the lowest parts of Rotterdam’s Spangen district. The area suffers from flooding on a regular basis. The new water square serves as a floodable space when raining and a dry park space when it’s not subject to rains. Varying depths of the plaza accommodate different types of interactions for children and adults.56 1.21 Benthemplein Water Square (2013) by De Urbanisten, image courtesy of Ossip van Duivenbode, Rotterdam, the Netherlands Can you see how the designers have provided for multiple functions depending on weather? Can you see how the designers have made the operative functions visible to the people using the square?
Forming 40 Function debated Functionalism has provoked numerous debates. In The Death and Life of Great American Cities (1961), the writer and activist Jane Jacobs provided one of the earliest critiques of purportedly functional urban design and planning. Jacobs traced a lineage of city building approaches from the Garden City to the City Beautiful to the design schemes of the post-Second World War era, which increasingly siloed urban functions. Jacobs notes that, “to deal with the city’s functions was to sort and sift out of the whole certain simple uses, and to arrange each of these in relative self-containment.”57 Yet, as she argues, in reality, functions of the urban landscape are messy and complicated, and daily life in the city requires a mixture of uses and functions. She thought that vibrant cities could not be achieved by compartmentalizing a set of functional areas, such as highways, parks, housing, etc. Like Venturi’s double function and North’s operative function, what made urban landscapes vital was their accommodation of multiple, layered functions. Some historians charged that the promotion of functional design, particularly in architecture, was really a ruse meant to rid German architecture, which was often the exemplar of functional design, of its political connotations. In architecture the critique of functional design was intense, as some sought to employ the forms of architecture to express a problem rather than seeking to resolve one.58 The house designed by Robert Venturi for his mother, Vanna Venturi, contains elements that purposefully antagonize functions. For example the house contains a narrow set of stairs that lead up to a blank wall. In landscape architecture there were critiques as well. According to the landscape theorist Anita Berrizbeitia, George Hargreaves argued that design was impoverished by the conventional step-by-step design process which involved: site analysis, potentials and constraints diagram, bubble diagram, and finally the functional diagram resulting in a design.59 Many designers thought that this stale process was hindering what landscapes might contribute to people’s experiences. Some viewed meaning, particularly meaning as it related to the site and its cultural or natural history, as key facets of the design process that were just as important as functional requirements. However, critics were quick to point out when functions as basic as providing shade were not addressed. Both Treib and the landscape theorist Udo Weilacher have critiqued Isamu Noguchi’s California Scenario in Costa Mesa, California, as lacking in basic amenities. Weilacher notes that the landscape has no formal places to sit and little protection from the sun. “Noguchi was well aware of such functional requirements but nevertheless, he uncompromisingly decided to disregard purely functional aspects in favour of creating a place of significance.”60 I have argued that the lack of shade in California Scenario expresses the climate of California. As its title suggests, California Scenario was designed to evoke the California landscape and some of its major geographic features – forests, waterways, and mountains. Experiencing Noguchi’s California Scenario can be hot and sunny because Southern California on many days is hot
Forming 41 and sunny. Noguchi is expressing this in his scenario, not solving the problems of the plaza being too sunny and hot, as described in the Language chapter. Primary reading for function Norman T. Newton, An Approach to Design. Marc Treib, ed., Meaning in Landscape Architecture & Gardens: Four Essays, Four Commentaries. Christopher Tunnard, Gardens in the Modern Landscape. THEORETICAL GROUNDINGS OF FORM GENERATION The pieces’ configuration – the straight edge and the rough edge, the irregular grain produced by the successive throws – lucidly recorded the process of its making.61 (Marc Treib on Richard Serra’s Casting, 2005) Form generation traces its roots to a number of different artists and art movements in the twentieth century (Georges Bataille’s Informe or formless, Duchamp’s use of chance, the drip paintings of Jackson Pollock, and Arte Povera in Italy).62 Landscape architects and artists interested in process were also exploring cybernetics and systems aesthetics, which you will read about in the Systems chapter. But it was the Process Art of the 1960s and 1970s in particular that influenced form generation in the design of landscapes. The 1969 exhibitions, “When Attitudes Become Form,” and “Anti-Illusion: Procedures/ Materials,” challenged the hegemony of formalist art and art criticism by emphasizing process over form. Process art privileges the “process” of creation over predetermined forms and compositions that were the ideals of formalism. Importantly, the forms that result from the process recall this process. While exhibits of Richard Serra’s work will sometimes include photographs of the artist himself creating the sculpture, the actual forms produced also reveal something about the process itself. In the above quotation this is how Marc Treib explains Casting, created by Richard Serra in 1969 for the exhibit “Anti-Illusion: Procedures/Materials.” To create this piece Serra poured molten lead against the junction of a wall and floor. Once peeled away this act was repeatedly done to create 12 castings.63 Even his title “casting” references the word “cast,” which means both to throw something with determination in a specified direction and the artistic usage of the term, meaning to shape a sculpture with molten material poured in a mould. Treib reinforces in his description of Casting that the forms resulting in Serra’s process reveal this process. The straight edges of the thrown material reveals its state as a fluid substance given shape by the corner of the wall meeting the floor, while ragged edges disclose the force of the throw. It is also interesting that Serra calls his work a verb. Instead of exploring shapes in design as the formalists, some process artists investigated a series of verbs as inspiration for process. Indeed, Serra compiled a list of verbs