Site Analysis

Green field sites don’t exist. This term does not refer to a landscape, but to what undeveloped land is called. Even if a site being considered for development has no evidence of prior human use, it is already occupied ecologically. Standard techniques for mapping existing conditions are inadequate given the complex and ongoing environmental operations. Field surveys document grade change on topological drawings, which are made by identifying point elevations and interpolating them as flowing elevations lines that indicate designated vertical intervals. Hachuring is another drawing technique that shows land form where lines are drawn perpendicular to slope with steepness indicated by the distance between the lines.

The situation of a site is not limited to the legal property boundaries and surface shape. Below the surface are soils of varying types. Structural evaluation through core boring samples provide the information needed to design footings, but that test also gives archeological evidence of past activity. Land once near coastal areas has soil mixes that differ from places near mountains formed by geologic activity. Biotic material is testament of previous forests, and the height and depth of water tables alert designers to the long-term likely success or failure engineered measures. Before H. H. Richardson designed Trinity Church in Boston, built between 1872 and 1877, he drilled thirty feet below the surface in a grid that allowed him to map the structural character of the earth in order to locate the heavy stone piers. The building will stand for centuries.

Site analysis also calls for above-surface observation. Wind rose diagrams chart prevailing breezes at various elevations, but can’t note the carried scent of salt air or the nearby presence of a sewage treatment plant. A wind topo would mark direction, quality and intensity, for the day/night cycle as well as for seasonal variation. The acoustic footprint also requires documentation in a sound topo that notes how noise swells and dissipates with commuter traffic, or over-head flight paths, or outdoor sporting events. A temperature topo might acknowledge the role mature deciduous shade trees play cooling summer air, or stands of evergreens that hold snow and provide what 19^th century landscape architects called “winter interest.”

These are often fleeting aspects of the site that belong to its context and are only borrowed. Temporally and spatially present, an alert designer engages them in design. Attractive or unattractive views are either framed and revealed, or concealed, and this is now considered the viewshed and one of the “charactering defining features” of a place that receives historic preservation protection. A watershed is the term for hydrologic circumstances. What if there were also windsheds especially important for sustainable buildings that generate power from wind turbines, or soundsheds for controlling levels deemed acceptable for human comfort in dense cities, or feltsheds that mandate shady paths for public places in hot climates, or sunsheds for paths and places in cold climates and to protect the access needed by photovoltaic panels to the sun? The point is to realize that the prospects of any design depend on the richness of understanding its site’s aspects.  

Practical Neighborly Infrastructure

Sustainable design depends on three things: engineering, energy and architecture. Sustainable engineering building systems requires properly sizing mechanical equipment for ventilation, heating and cooling, choosing efficient electrical light fixtures, and separating plumbing systems of potable, gray and black water, and retaining and using stormwater on site. Sustainable energy can be supplied by solar, geothermal, or wind turbines, but more often it comes from power plants fueled by renewable resources (and not non-renewable resources such as oil and coal). Sustainable architecture is oriented to take advantage of light and prevailing wind for natural daylight and ventilation, is made of sustainable materials that interact with systems to provide comfort and convenience. New projects should try renovating existing structures or be located on remediated brownfield sites. Cities should fight to keep the little remaining green space, revitalize public space, and support development that is close to mass-transit.

This is a long list. Municipal infrastructure has development in populated areas replacing the need for individual wells with hand pumps for fresh water and septic fields for sewage disposal. Natural or propane gas, and oil have replace wood for cooking and heating. Instead of investing in private wells and fields, people pay utility bills. This is preferable so long as power plants are non-polluting and efficient. Only recently have some property owners been given a choice about their power supplier accepting higher costs for “greener” operations.

There is an historic precedent that suggests an alternate scale of sustainable operations between individual and regional responses. People had horses before they had cars. At that time, developers built rowhouses in cities such as Washington with back alleys. Rear yards were for kitchen and laundry functions not yet relieved by labor-saving appliances, rather than for gardens and recreation. Horses needed accommodations too, but it was expensive for every family to have a stable and employ people to take care of them. Many blocks took a collective approach and shared the expense of a stable with operators in the public alley.

Perhaps there’s a lesson here for sustainable design. Instead of tax-credits for individual upgrades taking buildings “off the grid,” or paying the high cost for power plants to switch to renewable resources for power generation (which still lose a significant portion of their energy in transmission) people could work together at the neighborhood scale. Some places with mature shade trees are well suited for stormwater collection swales while unshaded structures are ideal for solar voltaics. Buildings that are close together can channel and intensify breezes, which small spinners or twirling equipment can capture for wind-powered energy generation. When streets or alleys are re-surfaced, this is the opportunity to dig for block-scaled geothermal heating and cooling systems. Schools are permitted in residential zones because it benefits the community to educate their young children nearby, and these public facilities can contribute to the energy needs of the neighborhood. Changes to attitudes regarding sustainable construction and operation need not be a solo or regional effort. It can be practical and socially-reinforcing to share sustainably-generated energy infrastructure.

The Contemporary Beautiful

Ken Smith gave a presentation at Dumbarton Oaks on his design for the newly completed Santa Fe Railyard Park. His design transformed the formerly degrade site into play areas for children and quiet areas for relaxing. Drainage ditches were cleaned up to allow the stream to thread its way through shady places, historic rail lines were preserved, and utility poles for light fixtures were cleverly designed as glu-lam posts that concealed the electrical conduit. The surrounding areas are responding with new stores and cafes. I’ve been there, and it projects a sense of place unique to Santa Fe: sunny, rugged and industrious. I asked Smith a question that he and John Beardsley the moderator were unable to answer. Was this park beautiful? I suppose it was a trick question because after looking at a presentation of gorgeous landscape photography, the stage was set for thinking about the park as a picture, or an image of an object. My intent was not to challenge the representation, but to question what can be beautiful in design today, and I wondered if these two imaginative innovators had a thought.

The contemporary beautiful is ecological health. This park design had taken a derelict place and returned it to be a contributing member of a vibrant environment. New graded land forms shaped distinct places within the park, shady plants and trees grew in their naturally-occurring forms, flash-flooding was oriented toward channels that could accommodate the occasional inundation without damage, and people had places to walk, sit and play.

The park was hard to photograph. No single vista beckoned or artificial composition of “features” begged to be captured as a “photographic moment.” My memories are less visual and more recalled feelings of experiencing gradations of light and shade, movement and rest, activity and interesting details. Most think of the beautiful, as opposed to the sublime, following Edmund Burke’s 18^th century definitions. Beautiful objects were to be small, smooth with gentle variation of form, and delicate with soft colors. Smith’s aim was not to create the beautiful using these attributes. Nevertheless, the park was beautiful even according to Burke, because it fit.

Fitness as an aesthetic attribute has been part of design principles - firmitatis, utilitatis, venustatis (strength, utility, grace) - since at least the treatise of Vitruvius in the 1^st century, CE. The underlying foundation for all three principles is fitness. Strength comes from using the right material and method of construction that are appropriate to the site and intended purpose. Utility is often summarized as satisfying a list of operations of which the network of natural processes and human activities must fit together to be sustainable. Grace, the most difficult to interpret, can be reduced to the design’s pleasing and elegant appearance, but it can also be considered to be the design’s full perceptible vitality as a dynamic part integrated into networks of ecological operations. What could be healthier than experiencing a design that is well-made with local materials thoughtfully employed, performs well for all users human and otherwise, and is intellectually and emotionally engaging; what could be more beautiful?