If you work in the realm of landscapes, you cannot ignore the huge rise in
the use of artificial plants, “green” walls and especially, grass. It’s a
booming business and many companies are doing very well from it. But we should
also be hearing warning bells ringing about how damaging these things are, both
to the environment and to our individual well-being.
I’m concerned about this damage, mostly to our inner beings. I wonder if we have become unable to
comprehend that such things show our disconnection from the real. I’ve worked with plants all my life and
always my prime motive has been our connection to nature. Now I design, write, think, talk; always my
concern is for the environment and the well-being of the human spirit. This artificiality
in landscape betrays both these things.
It is not enough to say this, so I must justify it, even though the obligation should really be the other way around; people who purvey such things should have to prove that they don’t cause ill-effects. But such is the state of human consciousness that commercial profit always comes before anything else.
This is not an article about the merits of grass as such, nor what we might use as natural substitutes; that topic has been written about many times. This is about what we do to ourselves when we surround ourselves with fakery – and I don’t mean in politics, although there are parallels, doubtless.
We constantly sell ourselves short on what it is we actually need, as
individuals. This is me, an environmental designer, saying us humans should be
selfish, and demand more. But not more in material terms, in things. More in
Soul, in environmental harmony, in biophilic contact. More respect for the
awesomeness of Nature. How can we substitute the reality of Nature with
plastic, and tell ourselves it’s okay? This is self-deception on a massive scale,
and we need to be aware of it, and reject it.
Before going further on the psychological front, let’s talk about the
environment. Artificial plants are mostly made from plastic (although high end
plants may be silk). Plastic is a one-way route to pollution and there is no
difference between the plastic in a green or artificial grass and the plastic
that’s floating around in our oceans. It’s the same stuff and will end up in
landfill, being burnt or in the sea as microplastics, amongst its peers.
Artificial grass also is responsible for killing off the soil and its
ecosystem in areas that once were living. Even (real) lawns are of
environmental benefit, although other forms of landscape are preferable and
yield higher benefits. Yet a lawn is alive, absorbs rainwater, has a life
within of earthworms, larvae and micro-organisms, and stores a surprising
amount of carbon. Artificial lawns do the inverse of all that and are not even as
low maintenance as people think, requiring regular brushing and hosing. You must
replace it every few years, too, with rubber crumb underlay being especially problematic
to dispose of.
We buy into these products because we think we are being sold an easy life;
in fact, we are being sold a deception, that Nature can be imitated, bettered.
That you don’t have to get involved with it in any way, that the real thing
offers nothing better, that biophilia (your innate need and love of Nature) can
be mimicked. But your inner being is not deceived, just your outer one.
On the whole, we don’t realise just how disconnected we have become, in our modern
societies. Each generation has less contact with natural systems and ecologies
than the last, and each generation perceives its own experience of reality as
normal, how things are. If we could go
back 100 years, I think we’d all be astounded at the verdancy and variety of
life, of just how rich and varied Nature was.
Perhaps then we would wake up to the fact that we have forgotten our
roots and lost our way. Now, we surround ourselves with the artificial and
think that it is okay.
Landscape design doesn’t help in this respect, especially in the public
realm. Commercial space becomes
dominated by hard materials; plants, where they exist, are regimented and
ordered. Water features are devoid of
plants because they are messy, need skilled maintenance and the chemicals in
the water wouldn’t support their growth anyway.
How sad, what an opportunity missed, what absence of life in our urban landscape.
In all our striving, we should remember above all where we came from. A disconnected life allows not only the
artificial to be okay, it switches off our concern from the environmental and climate
crisis, as if we live in a bubble of man-made life, separate from the planet.
So for the sake of you own being, ditch the artificial. Embrace the messiness and verdancy of Nature,
get your hands dirty – the bacteria are good for your health and your
happiness. Let your children experience
this, teach them about that wild and somewhat frightening side of Nature, for
it needs our respect, and our love. And
if we love Nature, we might just find we can finally love ourselves.
Landscapes are all about creating micro-climate, or would be, if designed for that goal. Why is this important and what do I mean?
Almost all life is contained in a thin crust of soil, a wedge of atmospheric gases, and water. Plants are the principal medium that interacts with and regulates all three. Absolutely nothing else does this as well, or at all; think about it.
The way we organise our plants in our urban landscape will determine how well this interaction occurs, how successful it is. Yet I have never heard of a single project that has been developed with this understanding and this goal in mind. With climate change, we urgently need to re-think the way we design our landscapes, and why we design them. Whilst all the human-centric design reasons will always hold true, we need to layer into our thinking this new understanding of how plants interact. To build new ecologies, new ecosystems, we have to design for plants to actually function, rather than just look nice. For when they do this, our environment literally comes alive. More importantly, they might just, if done on sufficient scale, save us from ourselves.
When I use the word treescapes, I don’t just mean trees and grass; we’ve had that for years in the form of parks, and in their traditional form, they’ve done little for us. No, our designs need to build up layers of living material – biomass, for with biomass comes moisture entrapment, shade, food for insects, etc. Think of it in terms of height and depth of microclimate. How much depth is there in a stretch of irrigated grass, maybe 50mm above ground, 200mm below? No species variation, so what we have is little more than a green desert, albeit one that can hold bit a of moisture.
Trees in paved streets are also less able to generate micro-climate, but they are a bit of an exception, as they provide shade for people to walk under. Where width allows, even here we should layer our planting.
If we replace that grass with a range of groundcover plants – not a monoculture – you begin to get a little more variation; different root structures and depth, different foliage shapes, height, form and flower. More variety, more microclimate, more food source, more ecology. Looks good too.
Next we add shrubs and suddenly we are into an new realm, that of woody plants (I’m being simplistic here, many groundcovers are of course woody). Shrubs create three-dimensional space with their frameworks, within which micro-worlds reside. Deciduous plants shed their leaves, as do evergreens, and this begins to build leaf litter – mulch. Don’t tidy it up! We need ecologies in that soil, and microbes need food. Our obsession with tidyness has a lot to answer for. Suddenly, we have height in our micro-climate, three-dimensional form. We humans (for we scale everything according to our own height and perception) can walk amongst these plants, take part, interact. Our microclimate is now two metres high, maybe more. But something is missing and it’s still too hot…
Trees! Now we have a game changer and our micro-environment just became vast, in relative terms, maybe up to 30 metres, though 10-20m may be more average. We now have true diversity of shape, height, leaf, flower and roots. We have shade! Under trees it may be 10°C cooler and we love it. Plants love it too. Moisture now gets retained within the human habitable zone, fungi and microbes thrive in soils, insects and birds abound. This is our urban jungle and we need it. The planet needs it. This tiny sliver of crust we live on can be rich, abundant, in every climate and every place, if we put our minds to it, if we have the will. And when the planet becomes searing, creating livable environments with trees of any type, may be the only thing that keeps us alive, unless we become troglodytes.
This is the next level of landscape design, the new challenge; creating future ecologies and environments that matter, that keep us cool, that give us resources and soothe our souls. We will create new (novel) ecologies that fit the changing environment, trans-migrating parts of ecologies that once lived elswhere. In that place they may be dying out, as might your local ecology. If they now fit where you live, that’s where they need to be. In turn, that place of origin may itself need to adapt and change. In all things and all places, we need microclimate, shade and soil.
The other side of work I undertake in the Middle-East region (other than tree consultancy) is planting design, for creating new landscapes always brings me a special joy. When they are in public spaces, I love the chance it gives to interact (albeit remotely) with many people in place, over time and hopefully, enhance their enjoyment of that place. In the public realm, what that place is, is being questioned and challenged in the light of urbanisation and climate change. Ecology and environment are driving design as never before.
I am about to start working on a collaborative project in Saudi Arabia. It will involve the specification of many trees, shrubs and groundcovers and I get to find out just how many locally-sourced big specimens I can find that are of acceptable quality. Much of this will come down to the application of formative pruning in the nursery and I’ll be on the lookout for the best available in the region. I suspect I’ll be sourcing a lot from neigbouring UAE, simply because of familiarity of sources. Quality remains a challenge, though.
My most pressing concern I have is how to improve on irrigation techniques, which are traditionally massed surface drip lines onto marginally improved sand. This is inefficient and wasteful and I shall be looking at the use of moisture retention mediums and sub-surface irrigation. I believe most watering of landscapes in arid climates could be cut by half, just by more efficient application and retention, in the right place. The picture above shows typical wastage in a Dubai suburban landscape.
Whilst urban planting requires urban plants, I will also be looking at the use of more climate-adaptive species, which I think is important in an era of climate crisis; the Middle-East is going to struggle to cope with every degree of temperature increase. The use of more desert-adapted planting is not new, and not applicable everywhere but I believe there is much scope for experimentation and new thinking.
For me, planting design is about building communities, layering types of plants together in harmonious associations that fit. I don’t mind grouping plants together that come from different geographical regions, but they have to come from a similar ecological niche. Such design is so much more than just nice foliage contrasts and I believe the results can be subtle, but profound.
Landscape must, of course, fit our purpose but I believe we tend to pursue this end to the exclusion of everything else. Nature is the basis of landscape, and so too is ecology, ecosystem and planet. We should not divorce our landscapes from this reality; rather, they should always seek to remind us of these connections. So yes, in town centres and urban streets, we have our eco-bling landscapes; vibrant places, exotic, heady, purfumed, exciting. Nature at it’s most unbelievably flamboyant (cue pic: delonix, the flamboyant tree). Elsewhere, we need more grounded landscapes, more real, more connected to place.
I love this tree, it is everything I have described above, pure eco-bling. Yet it is not appropriate everywhere and because it has become a part of the standard landscape palette, I belive it is overused, and used in places where other species would be more appropriate. I think there are many trees and shrubs that could be used in the region that haven’t been tried yet, from East Africa, for example. The climate there may be more equatorial and more varied but it is not so remote or different as that of some exotics imported from sub-tropical climates (the Delonix mentioned above is from Madagascar, again not too dissimilar).
I think planting design in the Middle-East faces a whole new range of
challenges and opportunities. The changing climate will force new
thinking, to match the new development and the new understanding that is
emerging of our intimate relationship with nature. I’m hoping to
contribute towards that new expression and understanding.
The world is finally, at the last minute, waking up to the impending effects and consequences of climate change. In the scramble to work out what we must do (apart from the obvious cessation of burning fossil fuels), one thing, one factor is looming large: we need to put carbon back into the soil, where it can be stored indefinitely, and we need to reforest the Earth. Much of this is in the agricultural realm but there is a huge amount that can – and must – be done within the landscape and horticultural sectors.
Horticulture has a MISSION, it just doesn’t realise it yet
At the centre of this is good soil husbandry, something that we have largely forgotten about. Modern agriculture bypasses all need of soil health by chemically feeding crops; no need for microbes, nutrients, humus, mycelium or earthworms. Chemical fertilisers and herbicides bypass the lot. Most of our soils now are depleted to the point of useless by chemical farming, exacerbated by the tradition of ploughing, which causes erosion from rain and enables much of the soil carbon to move back into the atmosphere.
So whilst we need current global models of food production to transform into regenerative agriculture and agroforestry, we also need to look at our urban landscapes and gardens, and create a new design ethic, a new paradigm, even. I can’t deal here with agriculture but I have been thinking long and hard on what the landscape and horticulture trades need to do; fortunately, I believe there is a lot that we can do.
We need to envelope our existing horticulture trade within ecology, to create an “environmental horticulture” You could also call it ecological, resilience or regenerative horticulture. We (those of us in the trade) know that as a profession, the training of both horticulture (growing) and landscape (doing) are in decline. Horticultural colleges have shrinking budgets and often get the less ambitious or capable students; after all, who is inspired by the prospect of strimming verges or hedge-trimming another unloved carparking lot? Yet last year’s report by the Ornamental Horticulture Roundtable Group valued horticulture at £24.2 billion in GDP in 2017. That’s not inconsequential, yet it goes unrecognised. Fortunately, there is a way to make it much more enticing to prospective students.
Horticulture has a MISSION, it just doesn’t realise it yet. That mission is to adapt our urban landscapes and gardens to cope with climate change, to mitigate temperatures, water flows, to grow biomass and regenerate soils back to health. Healthy soil is the foundation of life, of all life, including our own. Good soil holds fertility, water and carbon. Yet who amongst us now knows much of soil science? Who designs landscapes as ecologies, as “novel ecosystems”, who chooses plants because they have these abilities, not just for pretty flowers? Who designs plantings for their biomass harvest, for creating mulches to feed the soil?
In this respect, I don’t believe it’s necessary – or right, in fact – to work with native plants only. What is native? What was native? What was here 11,700 years ago when the last glacial period ended and the glaciers retreated? Flora and fauna move around the globe all the time, they are opportunistic, not fixed permanently into some tightly integrated ecosystem. We know there is no “ecological climax”, no ultimate ecosystem for any given place. As temperatures rise, climate zones are now shifting away from the equator quicker than Nature can keep up, although it’ll get there eventually. Maybe we help nature, rather than interfere when we bring in exotic plants that naturalise. Maybe those plants are the start of new ecologies that will adapt to the rapid changes that this climate emergency is bringing us. If plants do well, we need to understand how to enhance and build new ecologies with them. This is how we adapt, how we survive and how we rectify the damage we have done as a species; not by returning to some pristine “before” (which doesn’t exist) but by assisting Nature to heal and adapt. The Earth will do this all by itself, and has done so many times. It doesn’t mind if it takes thousands, or even hundreds of thousands of years to adapt. But we do; we can’t wait that long.
So horticulture needs to stop growing pansies in peat with unrecyclable plastic trays and start sorting out which plants really matter for our future; which ones contribute to new and existing ecologies, which ones are good for biomass, which ones contribute to soil health, which ones give us ecosystem services. We should not enhance one environment at the expense of another.
What’s needed is a very-near future profession of trained eco-warriors, soil saviours, tree patriots and landscape lovers. It needs people who understand soil, who know how to design and use sensors, data and the internet of things, people who see what’s coming and how to mitigate and reverse negative effects, people who really know how to design and install green infrastructure and future automated robotic maintenance systems. Our landscapes can grow food in amongst all the beauty, with urban food forests. We need new knowledge built on old and we need passion, commitment. A wise government would fund this for the returns will be numerous.
This is the enlightenment, that out of dire stress and trouble, we could really learn how to value, connect with and protect this crazy, beautiful world within which we live. Or we can do nothing and watch it all go to hell. I know which I’ll be doing.
Concrete is a wonderfully versatile material, which has been in use since Roman times and with it we can build amazing structures that would otherwise be impossible. Unfortunately it also carries a huge environmental cost, caused mostly in the cement binding used. Whilst gravel extraction is also an issue, for that there are some alternatives such as recycled, crushed concrete.
The production of modern cement (OPC – ordinary portland cement) is a hugely polluting process and produces around 8% of the world’s carbon emissions – at least twice that of the aviation industry. Whilst the Romans used a volcanic dust called pozzolona as their binding agent, until the invention of OPC, we used lime, in various forms. Lime too has to be processed by heat and so is not without it’s environmental cost, but it uses less energy to produce than cement and lime concrete/mortar reabsorbs carbon over its lifetime (if exposed to the air), offsetting some of the initial pollution. Moreover, because it is softer, materials can be disassembled easily, for re-use.
In a landscape, there is ubiquitous use of concrete in a range of structures – walls, paving, sub-bases, ponds etc. some of which could be reduced or avoided altogether. Whilst landscaping will always use an insignificant amount of concrete compared to urban development and infrastructure, there are good reasons to minimise the volume of cement and other hard landscape materials used.
Some of these reasons are for obviously sustainable goals: reducing material/resource input and carbon and other wastes. Equally important in my view, is to increase the soft elements exposed in a garden – soils – and to increase the levels of planting and foliage biomass/diversity. This thinking is about the increase of biophilic benefits.
However, if sustainability is to be given top priority – as it must – then the use of cement has to be reduced as much as possible. This is quite a challenge to us all, as it is not always easy to find an alternative and I don’t suggest for one minute that it should never be used, but it should be reserved for essential structural use only. Even then there may be alternatives. Recycled concrete can make a suitable aggregate (or part of) and low cement alternatives such as CEM 1 reduce the energy and carbon emissions tally.
I have used – and continue to use – concrete in many of my own designs and so this challenge is personal – but then aren’t all sustainability issues.
Let’s look at the different areas of the garden where cement is used:
Many walls use cement, either in mortar or in concrete blocks as well as in cement renders. In this garden (left) we built retaining walls using hollow concrete block construction on concrete footings with cement render and mineral pigments for the final colouring, with concrete paving slabs as coping. As the site was on a chalk hillside, it may have been possible to construct this using rammed chalk or earth. Indeed, we had a surplus of chalk on the site from the house construction and it would have made perfect eco-sense to have used this to build the walls. The walls could have been rendered using lime based mix, and the coping could have been stone. As the chalk hillside is inherently quite stable, rammed chalk could possibly have been used for the footings too. However, there are so many unknowns, and so few UK examples that it is a risk to do this, especially on such structurally critical terracing. Long-term effects of damp creeping into the walls would have been my main concern.
The cost of rammed earth construction may have been cheaper than conventional construction , both in time to do and in material purchase, especially when the removal off site of subsoil is taken into account.
The picture at right shows rammed earth walls in a sustainable landscape I designed for Grand Designs Live, ExCel, 2006. Rammed earth walls are made by compacting subsoil inside timber or metal formwork. The soil must be kept dry so it needs some kind of footing and capping, here provided by cast copings made with recycled aggregates and partial cement substitute (CEM 2 furnace slag). The gravel to the main paving area is a recycled brick/concrete mix, laid through a geo-grid membrane made from recycled plastic. The aim here is to be as carbon neutral as possible. Planting aspired to be edible (you can eat daylily flowers).
Walling alternatives to concrete include:
Cement alternatives/recycled aggregates
Timber walling (railway sleepers etc)
Round pole walling (preferably coppiced hardwood)
Fences & crib-type embankment walls
Brick/stone with lime mortar (brick also has high energy input)
Dry Stone walling
Modern paving is often made from concrete and in some instances it is quite hard to find realistic substitutes. Stone paving is the obvious one but can be expensive. There are many cheaper stone imports available these days, such as Indian Sandstone, which are cost-effective but which carry a high transport and pollution price tag. Reclaimed York paving is highly desirable and of course, reused, so environment friendly but will cost 2-3 times that of cast concrete or Indian Sandstone. Brick is also traditional as paviors but as for walling, still carries a high energy/pollution cost in production, plus is expensive to lay.
For larger areas and drives, self-binding gravels may be one of the better answers, as these form a firm surface, once compacted, without the use of cement. Recycled or local gravels are also acceptable and can be held in place using recycled plastic grids/membranes.
Paving is one of those areas which highlights the question of just what is sustainable. Is it better to use imported sandstone with its high transport miles but relatively low energy production, or locally made concrete paving with cement and aggregate use, but low transport miles? In either case, the (financial) costs may be similar. There are also ethical and human welfare considerations for stone imported from third world countries, especially in terms of working conditions, health & safety and child labour.
Timber decking can be a viable alternative, especially on sites with changes of levels. Local timbers of the more durable softwoods (like Douglas fir or larch), green oak, Sweet chestnut or recycled tropical hardwoods. All new timbers should be FSC (Forest Stewardship Council) certified. New hardwoods should be avoided even if the have an FSC certificate as there is much illegal timber that still gets sold and even managed plantations may still involves some environmental degradation. They certainly have high transport emissions.
Possible paving alternatives:
Recycled stone, brick, cobbles – and concrete slabs
Self binding aggregates don’t need cement
Fired paviors and tile look beautiful, but are still energy intensive
local or recycled aggregates and gravels
Decking can be used where appropriate
Locally produced concrete slabs minimise transport and can have lower carbon footprint than imported stone
Third-world stone may be low energy, but high transport emissions
Even natural looking ponds may use concrete in their construction and formal ponds may be dominated by it. Again choice of alternatives is limited.
Concrete is often used to retain rocks and place protective pads over liners, etc. In many places it may be possible to do without concrete pads, which are often used in a “belt-and-braces” approach to protecting a liner. Felt geomembranes are used as standard as a layer underneath and often inside the liner (this may in fact be degraded by contact with concrete) and in many cases, use of additional layers of felt may eliminate the need for concrete. Felt is usually a synthetic, petroleum based product, so also has its environmental considerations (as do liners!). I have successfully used old carpet as replacement for felt, under the pond (I wouldn’t recommend it inside) but be VERY wary of tacks that may have been used. Non-synthetic carpet will degrade over time, which must be born in mind. Of course, before the advent of felt, liners were simply bedded on a layer of sand.
Where rocks and stones create waterfalls, they are used to form spillways and to prevent stones moving when climbed over or stepped upon (an important safety consideration). It may be possible to use hydraulic lime based concretes for this, although I haven’t tried this out. Perhaps well laid rocks, without the use of cement are the key, which would require a careful re-thinking of the construction method. Nature doesn’t use concrete, but then natural streams don’t retain water within an artificial environment (liner). A more holistic approach to water features, where the roof water and household grey water are recycled and the pond design doesn’t hold a fixed level or amount of water, may be the long term answer.
So looking at alternatives to cement raise as many questions as answers and in the 12 or so years since this article was first written, there has been some progress, but not much. Best advice is to minimise the use wherever possible, recognising the long-term durability and benefits of strength that concrete possesses.
NOTE: This article was first written in 2006, so some aspects have been updated to reflect current realities.
Biomembranes is a term I’m borrowing from biology (the structure bounding a cell) to describe the outer skin of future self-sustaining buildings. I have stated elsewhere that I believe that for the built environment – and therefore our societies – to become sustainable, every building and community must deal with its own wastes, generate its own energy and provide nourishment – both physical and emotional – for the occupiers. Only by the creation of truly independant, carbon neutral buildings can we achieve this.
This would be a subtle and far reaching art, not easy to achieve but I believe that the rewards would be many, not to mention necessary. In this respect, the science of biomimicry will play an important part, for example, in developing paint-on polymers that photosynthesize energy, or tensioned fabric five times stronger than steel or kelvar, made with no heat or pollution, just like a spider’s thread. Whilst we haven’t perfected those products yet, let me list some of the benefits we can look to achieve in the near future:
horizontal and vertical skins of living plants that insulate, filter the air of dust and pollution, dampen noise and attract wildlife. Current living walls are used sparingly as art pieces.
composting and filtration systems that clean the building’s waste and return nutrients and water to the biomembrane and surrounding landscape.
Algal biofuel production using building wastes.
interior landscapes that provide internal cleansing and beauty.
blurring of internal/external space.
energy generation as integral with the building fabric as passive solar/pv/wind.
pedestrianised streets as wooded valleys or urban forest gardens.
SUDS drainage to filter excess water straight back to the local water table.
pedestrian/bike/electric vehicle shared surfaces removing car domination.
increase of social space by good design.
Some of these ideas are becoming well established, such as green (or living) roofs and walls, others are being played with by a few, but as yet, no one is trying to pull all these things together into a cohesive whole system. I am thinking of concepts such as combining vertical greening with greywater filtration, active cooling systems, air purification and algal biofuel from building wastes. I have recently been inspired by the work of the world-renowned architect Ken Yeang (Llewelyn Davies Yeang) based in London and Malaysia. Ken has worked extensively on the concepts of bio-climatic buildings and so his ideas are very close to my heart. Furthermore, one of his main concerns is the organisation of internal space by social structure, rather than by economic return on investment. This very much reminds me of the work of Christopher Alexander (see Pattern Language); despite apparent differences of style, the underlying philosophy is similar, Ken’s work placing it into a modern urban context.
There is a lot to do but the future will need autonomous
bio-buildings that take care of themselves without external input, other
than sunlight and human organisation. The main challenge is then to
retrofit these systems to existing buildings, which will always be the
large majority of available building stock.
Meanwhile, take inspiration from the work of Hundertwasser (top right) and Ken Yeang (bottom right). The application of green technology, biological water filtration and the use of every surface to create living, breathing buildings shows that humanity can and will grow up and see beyond the profit line, which so dominates and limits current thinking.
There are few aspects of our built environment more emotive that that of the entrance door. It can mean shelter, warmth, food, security, friendship. All of life involves the act of entrance, from the earliest caveman to the present day.
How many times per day do we go in and out of buildings and our homes? We scarcely stop to think about it, yet entrances all convey subconscious messages which can affect us on deeper levels, for good or ill. Some doorways are enticing, friendly; some oppressive; some just dingy and neglected. Most are probably functional and non-descript, of itself a message just as powerful as the others.
We move from our homes to cars, to shops, offices or other houses. Each time we do this we experience a subtle shift in light levels, humidity, warmth, expectations and intentions. Our mood shifts and adjusts with our purpose and our expectations. Going to work we might subconsciously don a mask as we enter busy offices or a large railway station. Arriving home again, we relax as we walk up the path, shedding the mask as we close the door behind us.
A Wisteria-covered pergola gives a deep connection between the kitchen door, driveway, outhouse and rear garden
The physical structure of a building and its entrances tell us what to expect: grand doorways with tall columns tell us of status, power and authority. Grim entrances to prisons have an unmistakable message. In public buildings especially, proportion is everything, where tall ceilings and doors give formality. By contrast a humble cottage door or an old garden gate recessed into an ivy-covered wall might look secretive or inviting, asking us to explore the spaces beyond. What do the doors to our homes tell us? Most front doors are rather bland or feel inauthentic, for example the many mock-Georgian style doors on modern houses offer us nothing more than a thin veil of pseudo-style applied over a nondescript structure.
In the home, layout and door position is also important. The front door is our formal entrance to the world, the back for our private comings and goings. Yet how many house layouts truly observe such simple criteria? Some houses have both the front and back doors equally visible, with no clear indication as to which is which. Or the back door opens onto a narrow side passage, rather than directly onto the garden. Many of us live with awkward house layouts.
Overcoming the problem of awkward flow is, however, fundamental to the harmonious functioning of a house and its occupants. On occasions when looking at a house and the way it connects to the garden, I have recommended the re-location of the rear door. It sounds extreme but I have had several clients who were very glad they took my advice. Fundamental problems sometimes need bold solutions and the picture below is one such example. Here, a new connection from kitchen into the garden via a (new) seating area made a big transformation.
New French doors give connection to the garden, creating a new experience in this house
French or patio doors aren’t always the bonus they’re meant to be, though. Sometimes these confuse the traffic-flow and can destroy the usability of the room in which they occur. Lines of movement (inside or out) should not cut through a still-point. Of course, sliding doors which truly open up the house and invite a more relaxed transition can be fantastic. It’s all down to careful thought and good design.
So much for placement, what of the physical act of entering and leaving? All too often it’s a bit, well, abrupt. Ground and wall meet at the perpendicular, at which point, there’s a door. You open it, go in or out. That’s it – all over with. Yet it takes a moment to adjust, from one environment to another, both physically (light and warmth) and mentally (tasks, purpose, relaxation). Ideally therefore, we need a space in which to adjust, to experience transition, even if it’s for just one second. That space becomes an area that is “in-between” – it could be a porch to the front entrance or a pergola to the rear. A covered walkway might lead to the car, a path or set of steps might connect us to the garden.
How this transitional space is styled will of course depend upon its use. For a front door, nothing beats a good porch or recessed doorway. The visitor waits in this transitional space for the door to be opened, the owner pauses to find their keys. Both might be glad to be out of the rain, or bathed in a welcoming light at night. Where possible, the porch should be preceded in the approach by a path and suitable planting, building up the sense of arrival. In these days of open-plan front gardens, attention to these simple things can make a big difference.
Where a door fronts onto a street, a roof canopy over the door and some tubs or wall planters might serve. A step up onto a different level might be frowned upon by planners, but where disabled access is not an issue, a step up, off the pavement can make a huge difference – suddenly we are in stasis, out of the busy flow of the main path.
To the rear, where a door connects you to the garden, there are multiple ways to enrich the experience of transition. A pergola might frame a door and be part of a larger structure which defines an outdoor room. Conservatories and lean-tos might be the connecting space. Loggias and verandas make a great transitional area. Where the back door has to be to the side of the house, perhaps make a shady passage covered by pergola, with ferns, foliage and climbers to give dappled light. Choose a good brick or stone and make it feel like a tunnel leading out into the garden proper.
So think about the way you move in and out of your house. Imagine the use, mood and character you wish to create and then find the structure to answer that need. A good entrance can really root a building into its environment and enhance the user experience considerably. If a building feels settled, like it belongs, you will too. Don’t put up with the merely adequate – enrich that transitional moment and rediscover the lost art of entrance.
This was first published in 2009 and is referred to in Wikipedia.
Curves are an integral element of design and especially of landscape, since they make a connection to nature, which does not use linear form. Curvilinear lines are notoriously difficult to achieve as they are invariably of a freeform nature (ignoring geometric curves which are formed by arcs) and are subject to interpretation “by eye” of the person setting out the design. A few centimetres either way can however, throw a curve out, disrupting its harmonic flow.
As someone who designs a lot with organic, freeform curves, I have seen horrendous attempts at setting out curves by contractors who are nonetheless competent in every other respect. It’s not about ability so much as a certain way of seeing things. Perhaps drawing curves that work is the ultimate test and definition of a good designer, whilst the successful setting out of curves on the ground or in three dimensional form separates the artist from the builder.
It’s easy for me to say there are good and bad curves, quite another to explain and illustrate the difference. I have been wanting to write this article for a number of years, but so far put it off because of the difficulty in describing something so abstract. However, understanding curvilinear form is crucial, so I will try to explain something that is for me instinctive, rather than intellectual.
Let’s take as a starting point the difference between intellectual and instinctive design. Intellectually, you might form a series of circles and form a connecting line whilst instinctively, you might just take a pencil and draw a flowing line. The former is precise, controlled, intellectual, inorganic, whilst the latter is instinctive, free-flowing, emotional, organic. This is illustrated at here: need I say which is which?
The left hand curve would be preferred by any contractor setting out a garden: provided he gets the centre points in the right place, the rest is simple. the right hand curve requires personal judgment of eye; it is subjective and so much harder to translate from paper onto the ground.
The right hand curve is alive; it has rhythm, flow, it feels right. The other curve simply jars the eye, it is dead, with no movement.
It is true, however, that not every freeform curve is successful. In nature, animals (and Man) move in curved paths, plants follow curved movements, water flows in spiral vertical pathways. All these have a natural rhythm, and for our freeform line to succeed, it must do likewise.
A centred line running through the curves with offset measurements is the best way to translate this from paper but it is still easy to get this wrong, in the manner illustrated below.
Curvilinear form – right and wrong
curvilinear form – variations of line
The freeform line at top left shows two possibilities: the red line is smooth, flowing, but the green line flattens across the natural line of the curve. It is still a freeform line but it no longer feels fluid and loses its sense of movement. The variation from the red line might be only a matter of inches/centimetres but it is enough to disrupt the visual flow.
To make matters more complicated, there is seldom just one exact freeform line that is perfect for the situation: in the drawing below left, all of the different lines will do the same job. What determines the correct one is likely to be the relationship of it to other nearby elements. Perhaps the most common mistake is to use too many tight reverse curves – to put in too many “squiggles”, in other words. On the whole, reverse freeform curves should not be too severe or exaggerated.
Plan showing a curvilinear setout
Let’s look at how a predefined space determined the use of curvilinear form.
The example at right is (part of) a beach garden I designed a some years ago. The yellow area is the boundary wall – a massive concrete sea defense wall 700mm thick. The kinks and angles in this wall left a space that provided no internal parallels and could only be fully resolved using curvilinear form. The area adjoining this (not shown) was linear in format, as the space there invited.
Running all the way along the inside of this boundary wall was a seat, again of massive concrete. This needed breaking up with the introduction of planting beds, leaving small sections of seat in between. The red line represents the nearest linear form that could have been used but you can see that what it describes is naturally curvilinear in nature (the green line). Don’t forget that all curves are made up of straight lines (curvi-linear)!
The design uses freeform lines to reflect the boundary wall and a spiral acts as a beginning, or end, at the point where most sitting out occurs. This is what I call a “still point”, whilst the main flow of the paving, leading to the adjacent garden, I call a “line of movement”.
I do not believe that this area could have been resolved so well using linear means. The main point to note, however, it that the lines had to be freeform: geometrically derived curves would not have worked, although the contractor would have preferred them! I had to assist in the setting out, but once done, a superb job of construction was carried out. The walls were rendered with a specially textured cement based render, which was ideal for the tough coastal conditions.
dealing with curvilinear form will always be more problematic than linear, or than curves set out using radii. The rewards are however, subtle and infinitely powerful if you get it right.
I’m pleased to have launched a new website and blog dedicated to this aspect of my work. Over time the blog will become a useful resource to all those interested in the care of trees in the Middle-East. My focus and experience has so far been within the UAE but the tree range is similar in most GCC countries. treecare UAE
On my most recent trip to Dubai, I enjoyed walking through some of the new landscapes that emerge as projects are completed. The UAE, along with most regions of the Middle-east has a rather limited palette of plants to work with (although that is growing as new plants are tried). What struck me, however, was how poor the quality of nursery stock was in some cases and what problems are being created for later, especially with regards trees.
This is not new, nor confined to this part of the world but it bothers me that new areas of urban green are sometimes given a poor start with sub-standard nursery stock, often flown in from other parts of the world.
Simple pruning at an early stage would have improved this tree’s framework, removing crossing and rubbing branches.
Wandering around a residential area in Jumeirah, I came across some newly planted Delonix regia, one of my favourite exotic trees. At first glance it looked nice, a simple planting of trees and groundcover but on closer inspection I was somewhat dismayed at the condition of the them. The problems of poor framework were caused by their time in the nursery, not due to planting, although some of them could have been rectified by a vigilant planting crew.
This tree tie – complete with post – must have been like this from the nursery. The post did not reach the ground.
Many of the dozen or so trees had ties left on which the tree had grown around completely, making them impossible to remove. As the planting is only around two years old (by my estimation), these may have been on the trees from their time in the nursery. Possibly the planting was older and pre-dated the building they were attached to and the trees then grew around the ties after planting. Either way, it’s a strong indication of neglect or lack of care. In the picture below, all the bark ridge above the tie may indicate “included bark” – bark sandwiched against bark, preventing live tissue growth and a strong branch collar formation.
The tree tie is trapped with “included bark” at the branch collar, which indicates a potentially weak branch join.
Several problems are arising here: pre-planting care in the form of correct formative pruning (five minutes with a pair of secateurs) and Post-planting care in terms of releasing planting ties – if they were not simply left over from the nursery days. If there is no way to go back and release the ties, a bio-degradable tie should have been used.
This Ficus nigra was most likely damaged long before it was planted in this location.
Damage to the main trunk or structural framework of a tree might go unnoticed when the trees are small but cause major problems as the tree gets older and puts on size and weight. This can range from the cosmetic to the potentially dangerous in a large tree and at this stage the remedy is costly and the expertise hard to find.
As fast-growing cities like Dubai mature, the needs of landscape shift from creation (in a hurry) to maintenance (at a constant pace). Skills, awareness of the need for – and absence – of skills, will become more and more urgent. If Dubai wants to keep it’s beautiful, green mantle, then there is a whole new phase of arboricultural care awaiting to be discovered and initiated. I have carried out trees assesments and given basic training of correct pruning methods in the UAE, but that has hardly scratched the surface; there is a lot more to be done.
Trees are the urban, biophilic, blanket that clothe and surround the concrete mountains we build. Trees make hot places not just bearable, but unbelievably beautiful. Trees absorb dust, cool the air, add moisture and oxygen and enrich our Souls. We need to honour and look after them, so that they can look after us.