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Posts tagged LANDSCAPE ARCHITECTURE

Feb 16
Don’t fix what’s isn’t broken is my response to New York City’s plan to improve the plaza in front of the Metropolitan Museum of Art.   Philanthropist David H. Koch, who’s donating $60 million to finance the  work, saw the refurbished  fountains at Lincoln  Center and then prodded the Met to do something about  their “crummy” ones.  The new design,  by Philadelphia-based landscape architects OLIN,  replaces  the long, low fountains at each side of the museum entrance  with  smaller square ones, and frames the two underused, street-level side entrances with stands of trees.  The plan of the project released to the Times has a hollow prettiness, filling the space with trees, cafe tables and umbrellas.  The amateurish quality of the drawing certainly doesn’t help.
The plaza, as it is, is a vibrant urban space.  On cold days, like today, there are groups of visitors gathered on the entrance steps, some waiting for others and some just sitting there.   On warm days it feels like a festival, the entire length of the plaza  thick with artists, food vendors, tourist and park-goers.  On the final  evening of the Alexander McQueen show last summer, just before midnight, lines of brilliantly turned-out scenesters and fashionistas snaked around the fountains for a final  entry, a spectacle of crazy, urban glamor.  True, the fountains are  dismal, and rarely offer anything beyond a burble.  But that only keeps the  area clear for small children and dog walkers.  Why can’t the Met keep  the plaza they’ve got, which works, and clean and light the  fountain properly?  The two side entrances that the new plan  highlights are awfully small.  To turn them into proper entrances will  require significant architectural work (larger openings, windows, some interior  replanning) and not just rows of flowering trees out front.  There’s  something nice about leaving this monumental public plaza in this, the city’s toniest precinct, unadorned, rather than turning it into an open air food court.  The  real magic, after all, happens after you step inside the building.

Don’t fix what’s isn’t broken is my response to New York City’s plan to improve the plaza in front of the Metropolitan Museum of Art.  Philanthropist David H. Koch, who’s donating $60 million to finance the work, saw the refurbished fountains at Lincoln Center and then prodded the Met to do something about their “crummy” ones.  The new design, by Philadelphia-based landscape architects OLIN, replaces the long, low fountains at each side of the museum entrance with smaller square ones, and frames the two underused, street-level side entrances with stands of trees.  The plan of the project released to the Times has a hollow prettiness, filling the space with trees, cafe tables and umbrellas.  The amateurish quality of the drawing certainly doesn’t help.

The plaza, as it is, is a vibrant urban space.  On cold days, like today, there are groups of visitors gathered on the entrance steps, some waiting for others and some just sitting there.  On warm days it feels like a festival, the entire length of the plaza thick with artists, food vendors, tourist and park-goers.  On the final evening of the Alexander McQueen show last summer, just before midnight, lines of brilliantly turned-out scenesters and fashionistas snaked around the fountains for a final entry, a spectacle of crazy, urban glamor.  True, the fountains are dismal, and rarely offer anything beyond a burble.  But that only keeps the area clear for small children and dog walkers.  Why can’t the Met keep the plaza they’ve got, which works, and clean and light the fountain properly?  The two side entrances that the new plan highlights are awfully small.  To turn them into proper entrances will require significant architectural work (larger openings, windows, some interior replanning) and not just rows of flowering trees out front.  There’s something nice about leaving this monumental public plaza in this, the city’s toniest precinct, unadorned, rather than turning it into an open air food court.  The real magic, after all, happens after you step inside the building.


Jan 30

The exhibit of work by Roberto Burle Marx, the legendary Brazilian landscape architect, at Rooster Gallery is called Tablecloth, after a large canvas one he painted in the 1960’s that’s been cleaned, stretched and given pride of place in the small gallery.  Burle Marx is best known for designing the park Ibirapuera in Sao Paulo and for his collaborations with architect Oscar Niemeyer and planner Lucio Costa, including the grounds of several civic buildings in Brasilia.  The tablecloth, along with the seven other paintings in the show, were gifts from Burle Marx to José Ramoa, a Portuguese art collector and close friend.  At the opening reception the tablecloth, rendered in dizzying, overlapping patterns, made a stylish backdrop for patrons strolling back and forth with capirinhas in hand.

When you look at a painting by an architect (like one by Le Corbusier, or Michael Graves, or Zaha Hadid), you’re likely to find the same forms they employ in their architecture, but lacking their dynamism.  Somehow these architects aren’t always able to capture the life of their architecture in their art; their two-dimensional works are unnaturally dulled.  So I was surprised to see Burle Marx’s smaller paintings, which have a dense, sculptural sensibility altogether different from his landscape designs.  You can spot similar amoeba-like geometries in both, to be sure, but the paintings boast a spatial complexity that’s different in character from his best-known garden designs, which seem to be primarily graphic.  Is there more life in this great landscape architect’s paintings than in his gardens?


May 20

What makes a city a city, gives it an indelible, like-no-other-place character?  It’s some kind of alchemy between landscape, location, culture and planning.  In Savannah one essential element is the giant old live oak trees draped with clouds of spanish moss along the sidewalks and in the squares.

Along with ravaged socialites and fresh-faced SCAD students, these great, graceful trees are real city characters.  Their enormous branches are twisted into demented, expressive shapes, as if they had been imagined by Edward Gorey.  At daybreak the clouds of moss filter sunlight so that only a soft, skittish haze reaches the ground below.  At dusk they sway slightly in the breeze and give off the faintest, phosphorescent glow, as if they’re sentient creatures, suffocating the trees and poisoning the air.  It’s an old world, gothic feeling that’s part of the city’s allure.