Meet Artist Kristi Lin: Bringing a Natural Balance — 11/29/21, The San Diego Union-Tribune
“Like many local artists, Lin grew up knowing she had artistic inclinations, but was worried about the financial impracticalities that come with being a working artist. In the field of landscape architecture, she says she found that balance; a profession that allows her to be creative and inspired while also paying the bills.”
How to Design a City for Sloths — 11/29/21, Bloomberg CityLab
“As pedestrians, sloths do not walk as much as ooze, inching forward commando-style with their bellies to the ground, as if trying to dodge a museum’s laser-security system. From a distance, the 10 long minutes it takes an average sloth to walk across the street might look more like the end of a yoga class.”
Africa’s Rising Cities— 11/19/21, The Washington Post
“Several recent studies project that by the end of this century, Africa will be the only continent experiencing population growth. Thirteen of the world’s 20 biggest urban areas will be in Africa — up from just two today — as will more than a third of the world’s population.”
Minneapolis’ Newest Park Is Like a Front Porch on the Mississippi River— 11/17/21, The Architect’s Newspaper
“Damon Farber Landscape Architects led the design team with HGA designing the pavilion, MacDonald and Mack as historic consultants, and the 106 Group as archaeologists. The Healing Place Collaborative brought in Dakota artists and language experts to design covers for the fire pits and interpret the rainwater collection and use of Native plants.”
This Stunning High-Rise Would Absorb More Carbon Dioxide Than It Produces
— 11/15/21, Fast Company Design
“Wrapping the buildings are algae-filled facades that produce biofuels that can power the building. Inside, structural components made of biological materials and insulation made from hemp sequester carbon throughout the building’s lifetime. Built-in direct air capture systems pull CO2 out of the air and either store it or make it available for industrial use.”
According to Pliny, Roman Emperor Tiberius’s doctors instructed their charge to consume a fruit of the Cucurbits family each day. To grow these melon and cucumber fruits year-round on his home island of Capri, Tiberius directed construction of specularia: “[He] had raised beds made in frames upon wheels, by means of which the Cucumis were moved and exposed to the full heat of the sun; while, in winter, they were withdrawn, and placed under the protection of frames glazed with mirror-stone.”
Thus begins The Conservatory: Gardens Under Glass. Illustrating their text with stunning photography, the authors Alan Stein and Nancy Virts, co-founders of Maryland’s Tanglewood Conservatories, survey the evolution of the conservatory in Europe, North America, and, ultimately, the world. The conservatory, an outgrowth of global trade, imperialism, and innovation, embodies a historical leap in the conjoining of architecture and landscape architecture—the extension of the growing season by manipulating the outputs of the sun.
After specularia, the next great innovation in overwintering plants didn’t occur until the arrival of oranges to Europe in the late fifteenth century. Wood and stone structures called orangeries protected the citrus from cold temperatures. At first merely functional, these buildings grew increasingly extravagant, achieving maximal opulence in the seventeenth century at Louis XIV’s Versailles. There, the orangery, 492 feet long and 42 feet high with double windows and thick walls, warmed over 1,000 orange trees.
And yet, an “ordinary stone-and-glass orangery” was not suitable for Hugh Percy, the third duke of Northumberland, who needed a structure for his collection of exotic plants—“the floral dividend of Great Britain’s expanding global empire.”
Lucky for him, the industrial advances of the nineteenth century were taking hold: new fabrication methods for glass and metal made them ubiquitous and affordable, and standardization increased speed and affordability of construction. With all that at hand, in 1827 Charles Fowler designed the Great Conservatory for Percy’s Syon Park in England, a structure of iron webbing connected by countless panes of glass: the first conservatory.
With material innovation came a shift in intention. Instead of gardens of pleasure for the wealthy, conservatories also became research centers to study the medicinal and industrial value of the plants they housed. The Palm House (1848) at the Royal Botanic Gardens, Kew in England particularly embodied this transition. Not only did the conservatory present the first structural use of wrought iron at such a large scale, but it was also free for the public to enter. Kew’s research center served as model for conservatories around the world.
If the Palm House marked a turning point in the use of wrought iron, the Crystal Palace designed by Joseph Paxton did the same for glass. Constructed as the Exposition Hall for the Great Exhibition of 1851, the “revolutionary modular structure” occupied nineteen acres and reached a height of 168 feet—and was built, in fact, around several elm trees on site. The immense amount of glass was enabled by the production of large panes, and machine fabrication allowed uniformity, affordability, and rapid installation. After the international Great Exhibition hosted over 14,000 exhibitors and 6 million visitors, a flurry of conservatory construction swept the world. The Crystal Palace’s light, open space, and facility of construction subsequently informed architecture of all kinds, and the relationship between buildings and the outdoors.
In the latter half of the nineteenth century, conservatories at the scale of the Crystal Palace emerged across Europe, growing increasingly elaborate in form and detail. Serving as “a way for the wealthy to preen and for universities to pursue research,” they seemingly offered an acceptable display of affluence. British conservatory design influence emerged from the Chateau Lednice Conservatory in the Czech Republic (1845), the Palm House conservatory (1880) at the Schönbrunn Palace in Vienna, as well as further south in Madrid and Milan.
North Americans, too, replicated the British conservatory model. They didn’t have an empire, but they had their own brand of colonialism, and, “like the Europeans, Americans needed places to conserve and study what had been found.” New York built its own Crystal Palace (1853); San Francisco erected its Conservatory of Flowers (1879); and Pittsburgh, the Phipps Conservatory (1893). Conservatories became integrated with the City Beautiful movement, whose romanticized parks often included glasshouses, like those in Baltimore and Chicago.
Throughout this progression, as note Marc Hachadourian and Todd Forrest in the volume’s introduction, “the history of conservatory design is the history of humankind’s obsession with cultivating rare, exotic, useful, and beautiful plants.” As such, it is often a history of the elite, as those with the means to obsess over such plants have usually been those of power and wealth—a fact made clear in The Conservatory. But also as such, the history of conservatory design is of those who labored in the conservatories, the factory workers of the industrial revolution, and the territories from which the conservatory plants were snatched, newly “discovered.”
The authors do not eschew the problematic imperial stimulus behind conservatories. And they importantly note that, in the days of orangeries, the primary difference between European and American versions was their work force: American orangeries were built and maintained by enslaved people. Yet this volume begs more such admissions and revelations. As Kofi Boone, FASLA, writes: “what if landscape architecture were described with some acknowledgement of the dynamics of race, class, gender, and power?” Baltimore’s Druid Hill Park, in which sat the Peters Rawlings Conservatory (1888), mandated recreational segregated facilities for Black and white individuals until the 1950s. What bearing did this racial division have on visitors to the conservatory?
The history of conservatories also prompts inquiry into their present-day purposes as we struggle to chart new habits beyond our imperial and colonial pasts. Most historic structures have rightly dedicated themselves to education and research, and, along with newly constructed ones, have become leaders in environmental efforts and stewards of biodiversity. Kew, for instance, has played a critical role in protecting Taxus wallichinana, a Nepalese plant from which an anti-cancer drug derives. Though, these initiatives too can be seen as a contemporary embodiment of the same problematic worldview that birthed the structures: a worldview that collects, “protects,” controls, and systematizes the exotic Other.
The modern structures, like their antecedents, exemplify technological advance and trends. Kew’s Princess of Wales Conservatory (1989), also a modern research institution, was recognized for its energy conservation. The two conservatories at Parc André Citroën (1992) in Paris stand upright through tension cables that underpin skins of glass. Amazon’s Spheres (2018) at its corporate headquarters in Seattle bring nature to its employees so they may “think more collaboratively and creatively” (there are certainly much more cynical interpretations).
And yet, what if a modern conservatory were rooted in and respectful of place and culture, rather than exploitative of them? One of the book’s few glasshouses from the Southern Hemisphere, Singapore’s Gardens by the Bay (2012), offers an example in part. Climate change takes center stage at its Cloud Forest, where the visitor ascends the 135-foot thickly vegetated Cloud Mountain. The path winds through different sections, among them “Lost World, “Earth Check,” and “+5 Degrees,” each revealing calamitous effects of a changing climate on plants.
The anthropological alterations of the planet may have themselves altered the gesture of the conservatory. Our longstanding obsession to cultivate plants divorced from site — of a piece with the driving forces of the climate crisis — has turned out to be a preemptive salve: the modern conservatory has germ in the earth that was.
Indeed, from the current vantage point, a visit to a conservatory does seem of the past. In the Covid-19 era, who would elect an indoor nature over that outdoors? But this moment will likely pass, and The Conservatory makes a persuasive argument for the role of conservatories in our contemporary world. The authors’ passion for the structures, and their admiration for the assiduity required to erect and tend them, similarly convinces the reader of their magic.
Treasure and Yerba Buena islands are about a mile off the northeast coast of San Francisco. They have a strange history. They were originally part of the city of San Francisco before they were confiscated by the federal government as naval and coast guard bases during World War II. The federal government then sold the islands back to the city government, which in turn created the Treasure Island Development Authority (TIDA) and sold much of the property to real estate developers Wilson Meany, Lennar Urban, and Kenwood Investments.
As San Francisco housing prices continue to skyrocket, the aim is to create 8,000 new housing units on the islands, nearly a third of which will be affordable, transforming these islands into the “next great neighborhood” just 12 minutes by ferry to downtown San Francisco. On the 425-acre Treasure Island, some 300 acres will be turned into public parkland, creating the largest new public green space in the city since Golden Gate Park. This is the kind of grand city-building rarely done in the U.S. anymore.
First, a brief history of the islands: In the 1930s, the San Francisco — Oakland Bay Bridge was constructed, linking downtown San Francisco to Yerba Buena and Treasure Island and then those islands to Oakland.
The very-flat Treasure Island was built up in 1936-37 through tons of imported rocks added over shallow shoals, all in time to become the site of the 1939 World’s Fair, which was officially named the Golden Gate International Exposition. The island later became a municipal airport, where the Pan Am clipper flew to Shanghai. Now, only those passenger terminals and hangars remain, and they are the only historic, protected buildings on the island.
At the onset of World War II, the U.S. government confiscated the island and transformed it into a naval station, an embarkation point for the Pacific theater of war. In the 1950s and 1960s, Treasure Island was the site of the U.S. Navy Naval Technical Training Center (NTTC). And according to the book Gay by the Bay: A History of Queer Culture in the San Francisco Bay by Susan Styker, there was also a dark, cruel episode in the island’s history: a psychiatric ward on the base was used to study and experiment on naval sailors who were being discharged for being gay. The base facilities closed in 1997 through the base realignment and closure (BRAC) program. The federal government remediated brownfields that littered the landscape, opening up the island for residential and commercial development.
In contrast with the flat artificial nature of Treasure Island, the nearby Yerba Buena Island is nature made, very hilly, and rich in native plant and bird life. Once called Goat Island or Sea Bird island, this smaller 150-acre island has a similar history. The U.S. federal government confiscated it and managed as part of the Treasure Island naval base. The island was home to officer housing, including for residence for Admiral Chester W. Nimitz, who was commander of the Pacific fleet in World War II. There is now a U.S. coast guard search and rescue base and clipper boat cove. Across both islands, there are now a few thousand people living full-time.
According to Chris Meany, a partner at Wilson Meany, the process of developing the island started in earnest in the 2000’s. After a decade-long “mind boggling” negotiation process, Mayor Gavin Newsome agreed in 2009 to pay the federal government $105 million for Treasure Island, while the federal government retains some 40 acres for U.S. Department of Labor Jobs Corps facilities and a section of Yerba Buena Island for the U.S. Coast Guard. In 2005, the first land plan was developed by the city and a team of developers at Wilson Meany, Lennar Urban, and Kenwood Investments. The plan included a development rights swap between Treasure and Yerba Buena islands in order to protect 75 percent of the richly bio-diverse Yerba Buena from development and concentrate denser housing on Treasure island.
For the new communities on the co-joined islands, the city and the developers aimed for sustainable and resilient design excellence. This involves creating public transit access; orienting communities to reduce wind; building sustainable and resilient housing, parks, and promenades; and creating a massive park that can adapt to rising sea levels.
Leo Chow, a partner with SOM, said Treasure Island is a beautiful place with access problems. Right now, visitors can either drive, bike, or take the bus over the Bay Bridge — just one route. A new ferry terminal in development on Treasure Island will add an important option and take people to and from downtown San Francisco in 12 minutes. At the new ferry landing, people can also hop on a bus or access bicycle lanes. “It will be possible to circumnavigate the island by bike.”
The new commercial and residential eco-districts are oriented on a “parallelogram grid” to maximize sun exposure but reduce the impact of high winds coming off the bay.
The commercial district will include a retail corridor in the historic airport terminals and hangars. Residential communities themselves will be compact developments, 90 percent of which will be a 10-15 walk from the primary ferry and bus terminal.
Amid the new housing, there will be smaller, shared streets that privilege pedestrians and bicyclist instead of cars, leading to pocket parks and coastal parks, promenades, and bicycle pathways.
Neighborhoods themselves will mimic San Francisco’s urban feel — the “white, gold city.” Architects will follow rigid design standards calling for white buildings. “It will be a light-colored city against rich nature.”
Kevin Conger, FASLA, a founding partner at CMG Landscape Architecture and an integral part of the design team for the islands, said the public spaces were designed with both the 15,000-20,000 full-time residents and the many thousands of expected visitors in mind.
The public spaces had to be thought of as an “attractive destinations for the whole city — a city-wide waterfront park and a regional open space destination, with sports fields, a 20-acre urban farm for local food production, and natural areas, along with facilities for kayaking, sailing, and bicycling.”
CMG thoughtfully designed all the landscape infrastructural systems to be multi-purpose, too. The green spaces ensure that the island manages 100 percent of its stormwater run-off but also create habitat for wildlife. An island waste water treatment plant funnels reclaimed water to wetlands and is used for irrigation. “The goal was to close all these cycles in a self-contained eco-district.”
The large parkland was designed to accommodate future sea level rise as well. “We purposefully set-back developments 350-feet from the shoreline, so we may protect the community now and accommodate further future adaptation.” In the area called the wilds, which is filled with adaptable wetlands in an inter-tidal zone, the park will naturally recede or retreat as waters rise. The designers anticipated sea level rise out beyond 2070, and future adaptation needs are covered in the long-term budget.
Overlaying the ecological elements is a public art master plan, which puts 100 percent of art in the public realm, “increasing the cultural value of the parks.” Conger believes art is an important ingredient in a walkable public realm — “it’s so critical to reward pedestrians with a high-quality walking environment.”
Over on Yerba Buena Island, where CMG devised a comprehensive wildlife habitat management plan that creates “natural landscape patches,” connected habitat for birds and plants. Some 75 percent of the island will be reserved for parks, beaches, and 5 miles of walking and bicycling trails.
Working with the San Francisco department of the environment, the team has already removed invasive species and propagated many thousands of native plants from seeds and then planted them back into the island.
International airports are in fierce competition for passengers and regularly one-up each other with new wow-factor amenities, shops, and restaurants. But Singapore decided to raise its game by going another direction: a plant-filled haven, a gateway consistent with its moniker — “the city in a garden.” The result is an inventive model other airports should copy, if not in form, then certainly in spirit.
The new Jewel Changi airport features a 6-acre indoor forest, walking trails, and the world’s tallest indoor waterfall. This restorative mecca filled with 2,500 trees and 100,000 shrubs not only revitalizes weary international travelers but is also open to the public.
Over the past six years, Safdie Architects has led a team that included PWP Landscape Architecture, Atelier 10, WET, Burohappold, and ICN International to create this bar-raising travel experience.
Jewel Changi provides that nearby natural respite with a 5-story-tall forest encased in a 144,000-square-foot steel and glass donut structure. During rain storms, water pours through an oculus in the roof — creating the 130-foot-tall Rain Vortex, a mesmerizing waterfall sculpture that can accommodate up to 10,000 gallons per minute at peak flow. Stormwater is then recycled throughout the building.
According to Adam Greenspan, ASLA, a partner at PWP, there is a “forest valley” and a “canopy park.” Throughout, the firm used stone and wood to create winding paths that immerse visitors in nature.
The valley is organized into terraces, like you would find in a shade-covered coffee or tree plantation, and features three types of trees: Terminalia, a native to Madagascar; Agathis Borneensis, which is native to Malaysia and Indonesia; and Agathis Robusta, which is native to Australia. Terraced planters are faced with Indonesian lava stone that epiphytic and and other plants can climb.
Amid the canopy park, PWP planted a number of species of wide-spreading Ficus trees that will eventually create shade and a comfortable environment. Up on the fifth level, there’s a topiary walk and horticultural gardens, and an event space for up to 1,000 people.
Throughout the biosphere-like terminal, PWP selected some 200 species of mostly-highland plant species, calibrating them to the giant torus’ unique conditions where temperatures and humidity levels are slightly cooler than outside. “Air movement, humidity, and natural light have all been balanced.”
In addition to hosting some 300 shops and restaurants and a transit hotel, the terminal connects to the city’s public bus system. Pedestrian bridges and an inter-terminal train link passengers and visitors to the airport’s many gates.
With Jewel Changi, Singapore has reinvented what an airport can be, just as they re-imagined what a hospital can be with Khoo Teck Puat Hospital, which is not only a medical facility but also a green hub open to the community. Now let’s hope Singapore’s biophilic design culture spreads around the world, like the planes that leave its terminals.
According to Babcock & Wilcox Vølund, the engineers of the power plant, Copenhill will convert 400,000 tons of waste each year into heat for 250,000 homes and energy for another 62,500 while producing zero toxic air pollution. Some 100,000 pounds of ash collected from the waste incineration process will be reused to build roads; and some 90 percent of the metals in the waste stream will be salvaged.
Two ski lifts take visitors up to the slope, which allows for all types of skiing — alpine and racing — along with snowblading and snowboarding. On the Copenhill website, one can already reserve a time to snow plow or slalom down the slopes for about $20 an hour. Visitors can also rent equipment, take a ski class, or join SKI365, the building’s ski club. The big plus: because the slope is built using specialized artificial turf, people will be able to ski up there year round.
Translating their website from Danish, it’s clear they’ve tried to design the space for everyone: “If you a beginner, a shark on skis, free-styler, fun skier, man, woman, boy, girl, thick, thin, tall or short, then you are part of the community. We have something for everyone. There are both red / black, blue, and green courses. In addition, there is also a slalom course, free-style park, and, of course, an area for the smallest.”
For those who avoid skiing, there are freely-accessible paths sloping up a 5-35 percent grade where one can walk up or take a heart-pounding run. Bjarke Ingels’ firm BIG and landscape architects with SLA planted more than 30 trees in landscaped areas. There, Copenhill invites you to “take a picnic in the shrubbery or just enjoy the view on one of the reclining benches.” There’s also a club for these path enthusiasts — RUN365, with crossfit training options for members.
The facility replaces an older power plant, and the cost of building Copenhill is shared among the five municipalities who will sell Copenhill’s heat and power. But according to Bloomberg, the city government thinks it’s perhaps the tourism money — rather than the heat or power — that will end up offsetting a larger share of the cost of the new plant. Situated just 13 minutes from the airport, it will be hard for first-time visitors — particularly those with kids — to avoid making a stop.
In an interview, BIG told Inhabitatthat the building is expected to blow steam rings at some point. The technology apparently works — they are now fine-tuning.
Building Your Values – Curbed New York, 11/20/18
“The Ford Foundation’s restoration of its landmark building makes a bold statement about what architecture owes the public today.”
It’s High Time to Memorialize the South’s History of Lynching — The Architect’s Newspaper, 11/2018
“According to a new report by The Cultural Landscape Foundation (TCLF) entitled, Landslide 2018: Grounds for Democracy, numerous lynching sites in Shelby County, Tennessee, are virtually unmarked for their historical significance.”
Planning a Neighborhood Square – Western Planner, 11/21/18
“Designing a neighborhood square to fulfill these social functions is not so simple. One of the biggest challenges is to get the proportions of the square right.”
Take a Look at Ambitious Plan to Transform Pease Park– Curbed Austin, 11/2/18
“A year after receiving a $9.7 million Moody Foundation grant to jump-start implementing its long-awaited master plan, the Pease Park Conservancy unveiled new drawings and details about the major transformation in store for the beloved central-city parkland.”
If we want to make the shift to a green economy this century, then we need the workforce with the skills to get us there. If we want to address the crisis of climate change and accelerate our path to future sustainability and resilience, those working in green industries today and in the future continually need new knowledge and skills. At the 2017 Greenbuild in Boston, green building industry education experts discussed employment trends, changes now occurring in higher and vocational education, and what future workplace skills will be needed.
According to Charles Vescoso, American Technical Publishers, in the U.S. renewable energy jobs are now at nearly 800,000 and growing 12 times as fast as other jobs; and there will be 3.3 million jobs in the green building industry by 2018, supporting a $190 billion industry. (In an earlier session, U.S. Green Building Council [USGBC] president Mahesh Ramanujam said the entire “LEED economy,” which includes all employment associated with LEED-certified buildings, now tops 8.4 million jobs and has resulted in $550 billion in investment).
Catholic University architecture professor Patricia Andrasik said universities have been driven to reconsider their missions to meet the market’s demand for employees with practical skills in sustainability and to address climate change, the global ecological crisis, and rising inequality.
In terms of teaching sustainability, Andrasik said there are now even more disciplines involved, with greater interdisciplinary collaboration. Sustainability is now intrinsic to the study of engineering, architecture, landscape architecture, public health, urban planning, real estate, finance, business, policy, and many scientific fields. Because the innovations are coming so fast, Andrasik said curricula are essentially being re-written every year.
Andrasik herself runs the LEED Lab at Catholic University, which offers “applied sustainability education.” Students install and test green building energy meters, read data logs, study dashboards. They are being taught how to “track performance and find mistakes” in operational green buildings, and developing skills in green building management. The course, which was developed in conjunction with the U.S. Green Building Council, is now being used by 25 universities.
Institutions of higher education are also now making even stronger commitments to turn their campuses into showcases of sustainability, using best management practices. Following the birth of the environmental and sustainability movement in the 1970s, universities began staffing up for sustainability in the 1980s and 90s. In the 00s, there was a bump in hiring professionals who can maintain increasingly complex green building systems, but it was really from 2008-2012, as university’s academic priorities evolved to address climate change, where Andrasik saw the greatest jump. “Campus operations are now aligned with academics — efficiency has been driven to a new level.”
Vescoso said outside higher education, in the world of vocational training, there is also a shift towards blending classroom education on sustainability with field training. With these programs, which aim to train building and landscape-related technology installers, technicians, and maintainers, “the focus is now on why we do things a certain way; before it was just how to do something.” For example, the Net Zero Plus Electrical Training Institute in California is a net-zero building that is also a classroom, where students learn about the science and also get hands-on experience with solar panels, micro-grids, and other technologies.
Beyond all the new knowledge and job-related skills, there is also a need for new workplace skills. For Elaine Aye, with Green Building Services, employees in fast-moving green industries need to be “adaptive, independent, collaborative, creative, innovative, and self-directed” in pursuing the triple bottom line: economic, social, and environmental benefits.
Multiple decades into her own career, Aye explained how she has gotten four certifications in the past decade in order to stay up to date. “I have to keep my mind alert and learn to adapt.” And she said more employees are like her and demand training through in person or online tools so they can continually improve their own skills.
The workplace itself is also constantly changing: it’s now “the most diverse ever,” in terms of age, social and cultural differences, and educational backgrounds.