Mastering History

Occasionally a master writes a masterpiece. John Dixon Hunt has taken a lifetime of study and given the world a book to cherish: A World of Gardens (London: Reaktion Books, 2012). This book satisfies a great need to understand how the events and people who designed gardens and landscapes worth remembering are still important to current issues of design. Types of places are presented with clear, jargon-free language and precisely chosen images that lead the reader through the history of places in Europe and the United States primarily, although the chapters on Chinese and Japanese gardens inform the Western reader well. The bibliographic footnotes are of particular importance. Here key volumes and their relevance list authors who have contributed to the field’s scholarship – books all landscape architecture and architecture history professors should know well, and students should dedicate themselves to reading from start to finish. This is also a book written for the 21^st century reader where basic information easily available online is passed over for the rich perspectives Hunt brings to a full range of topics.

This book recognizes that landscape making has always been a blend of culture and climate, which provides a strong example of sustainable design to the benefit of architects. Before better buildings can be built, natural forces need to be thought of as natural resources. Transcendent truths include the facts that hot air rises, water flows down by gravity, and stones, brick and clay tiles absorb and radiate heat. Before any active engineered systems are inserted into buildings, they should be oriented to or away from the sun and prevailing winds depending on the location. Taking advantage of thermal mass solar gain and release is a passive way to use materials to warm interiors without cost or waste. Any building that employs such passive strategies will not only require smaller and less expensive mechanical equipment initially, and lower operational costs perpetually, but will have internal “seasons” that more closely match exterior weather. This keeps people connected to and not isolated from their world.

Less than two hundred years ago buildings had no engineered equipment apart from fireplaces in northern climates. All interior rooms had natural daylight and higher ceilings in hotter climates. Some had open chimneys that drew cool air from the cellar through the house to a roof vent. While everyone today appreciates the benefits of electricity, indoor plumbing and year-round comfortable temperatures, population projections along with the food, water and energy requirements necessitated we reevaluate our expectations.

People are marvelously adaptable. We cope with many circumstances beyond our control and can thrive under some kinds of pressure. But rather than facing the challenges of surviving long commutes, working in windowless offices, eating nutrition-poor food or seeking soul-sapping entertainment, we lived in smaller spaces that are closer together but better suited to the climate, and owning less stuff. Cultures can evolve by applying the best of historic accomplishments for future practices, but only if we know and appreciate what they are.

Strategic Advantage

An important Civil War battle was fought at Antietam in western Maryland on September 17, 1842.  Called the Battle at Sharpsburg for a nearby village by the South and Antietam for a nearby creek by the North, it has the sad distinction of being the bloodiest day in American history. Over 23,000 men died or were wounded here then, which is more than the combined total of the American Revolution, the War of 1812 and the Spanish-American War. Should the South win their first battle fought in a northern state, England and France were likely to recognize their sovereign status and intervene with the coastal blockage. Should the North win, President Lincoln would have his first victory, a necessary precursor to issuing his Emancipation Proclamation freeing slaves in rebel states and allowing their military service.

The battle was fought in cornfields with surrounding hills and ridges, in forests, a sunken path later called Bloody Trail, and a stone bridge crossing Antietam Creek.  Artillery attacks from the woods across fields disrupted orderly advances, lines of soldiers that were protected by ridges fared better than those in open fields, and the sunken path was at first easily defended but later turned into a death trap. In the end, General Lee lost a quarter of his troops and retreated back across the Potomac River to Virginia. General McClellan claimed victory although Lincoln later relieved him from duty for not pursuing Lee and hopefully ending the war.

Ninety-six monuments have been erected here mostly from 1890 to 1910. They represent Union Infantry from ten states, five are for Confederate states, ten for heroic individuals including Clara Barton, and there are six mortuary cannons for the generals who died on that day or later from their wounds. They are true markers, often with figures looking toward home, commemorating those who died. They contrast sharply with recent memorial design which is so determined to be place-making. Antietam National Battlefield needs no reminder that it became a Place by the events that occurred There.

The outcome of this battle resulted in part by the strategic reading of the landscape. Excessive losses occurred where the terrain offered no protection. Now the surrounding countryside is being altered by crops of suburban housing development laid out in former cornfields in the usual single-family house clusters with no regard to orientation or response to the natural forces of sun, wind and rain. Formerly, farmhouses were located close to the road so that you could get to your livestock even through deep snow, or situated between uninterrupted field and protective forest (a version of the Savannah effect), but these new communities have ignored the lessons of strategic siting. Perhaps the cost of heating and cooling these vinyl boxes will be their first clue, or the effects of a severe storm, but eventually we will have to realize that what we design and build either works with found ecological conditions, or we forfeit strategic advantage and are committed to an extended battle with Mother Nature; one we will eventually lose.

Architecture: Suffering from Engineering and Saved by Landscape Architecture

The 2012 National AIA Convention was held in Washington, DC this year. Although attendance has dropped by over forty percent due in part to the recession, it remained a large event replete with “business as usual” offerings. Notable among them was the vast Expo populated by building component suppliers. What seemed oppressively discouraging was a general lack of attention to sustainable design in spite of this being the profession’s declared commitment. If no one was allowed to exhibit an unsustainable product, then architects would more easily learn what they need to know to design with this newish sensitivity in mind.

General meetings were kicked off with opening speeches and a staged singing of God Bless America. Much as I like this patriotic song, it was sprung on the audience by hidden professional singers who rose up with microphones singing the well-know first verse but then singing solo during the lesser-known later verses. Unlike the respectful tradition of singing the national anthem before sporting events where everyone stands, faces the flag, removes their hat, and puts their hand over their heart, this group was at a loss having been sandbagged by this empty, nostalgic attempt at “positivity.” I was not amused.

Further disappointment followed. Committed to a policy of continuing education, and evaluated in a way that penalizes self-promotion over the conveyance of useful information, the worst presentation, for example, explained local historic preservation methods without extracting transcendent information that might benefit their national audience. Lazy. The best presentation I attended was a panel on biophilic design entitled ‘Design Connects to Nature: Examining the Myriad and Innovative Ways the Built Environment Uses Nature as a Metaphor and Amenity.’ After an engaging presentation on design methods that are more responsive to the human use of natural resources, a question was asked of the audience: how can this way of working have more influence? While many offered suggestions, my comment was simply for the architect to rely less on engineering for building design performance, and more on the landscape architect’s expertise. In the past, ill-considered engineering has required unsustainable energy consumption – think of south-facing window walls that require year-round air conditioning – and an attitude that architects have the vision and the engineers make it work. Any landscape architect who indulges their visionary imagination without regard for ecological systems is likely to get a dismal failure when their garden or landscape does not thrive, or even survive.

And this is the very approach that architects need to engage when designing buildings. For instance, what if architects responded to the forces of nature instead of slapping on exterior louver shading devices where all building exposures have the same elements not to mention that the lower floors which can be shaded by trees have the same devices as the upper floors, and recommending office policies allow people to wear shorts. Of course, sometimes Nature says “Too much,” or even “No;” a word proud architects don’t like to hear.