a great publication

Check out World Landscape Architecture for a wondeful collection of contemporary projects by some of the top firms around the globe.

a follow up on the urban ag post

Image credit: The Blue Marble

After posting the last post on the indiviual scale agricultural model, I came across an older post (Nov. 2009) from Landscape + Urbanism on the elements of urban agriculture. It's a very interesting post, and although a bit older, still very relevant in the discussion of the many uses of agricultural systems. Take a look.

the urban ag paradigm [shift?]

Some recent work has catalyzed thoughts about what urban agriculture means in relation to the community scale, city scale and individual family scale. Perhaps the most interesting scale here is at the level of the family, since this indicates one of the biggest changes in perception of agriculture and food production. While the levels of community and city are, of course, crucial to a wholesale revision of agricultural processes and the integration of locally grown food, the centering of agriculture as the framework for the family garden is truly a change in individual attitude and livelihood. When we interact with community gardens or a network of urban agricultural infrastructure, we're connected to the production, however we can choose to not be immersed in it.

If we think about the garden scale, we are immersed in an agricultural system, one that only survives if we put the effort forth to do so. This relies upon a family or, potentially, a group of families, but not an entire community base with a group of organizers or a board to ensure the garden does not fail. From a landscape architecture perspective, the interesting component of this concept is that the notion of the 'garden' is transformed. We've certainly seen productive gardens and organic gardens, but not yet as a widely accepted design route in the residential market. Introducing agricultural systems into the garden can create a completely different and unique experience for its users, as well as a shift in the trajectory of garden design as we progress into the 21st century.

Perhaps one may criticize this concept is not part of an urban agriculture movement or should be classified in, say, suburban agriculture. Ultimately, though, I believe that all scales of 'urban agriculture' are in a symbiotic relationship, where each will function more efficiently and be more powerful if the others do well. Whether this exists in a suburban context or a more highly urban context, an increasing growth of family immersed agricultural endeavors can dramatically change the way neighbors and a community see food production. Of course, not everyone will buy into the idea of a family farm or a greenhouse or an edible, productive garden, but the more that do, the more change we will see in the framework 10, 20, 50 years down the road.

Imagine a suburban image. Imagine that suburban image where 10 or 20 percent of the homes have converted 50 or 75 percent of their green lawn to an orchard, a food forest, a series of row crops or where McMansions have retrofitted greenhouses as an extension of the home, as part of the livable footprint.

I think this shift is exciting and I think as designers it's certainly in our future to push the thinking forward and use agriculture as a mechanism for affecting change in more than just a food production paradigm.

Steve Jobs and landscape beauty

Of course, a broader definition of landscape. One that includes a generalization of human civilization. I recently read an NYT OP-ED, located here, on what Steve Jobs meant to society beyond technology and iEverything. The author linked the notion of Jobs' appreciation for the perfected aesthetic to multiple periods in architecture, planning and design where the focus was not on beauty as much as boring and ugly execution, a disregard for innovation and a lack of productive function.

The big idea is the connection between Jobs and a revived appreciation for beauty and excellence in product design and how this carried over to a societal shift in what we now see and demand around us in the landscape, our architecture and our communities.

Quite an interesting read.

a protest, the landscape and what goal?

The recent growth of the 'Occupy' movement and its lack of a decisive end goal made me think about what landscape is in relation to the concept of 'Occupy.' While the 'Occupy' movement wants to last for two months and have its participants develop their own desired outcome, there won't truly be a way to say it was successful when it ends. Yes, if it lasts two months, then it has been successful for lasting a second on the pop culture clock. But, with no goals set in the beginning, how do you evaluate its success at the end in more than one dimension?

This thinking can be attributed to landscape architecture. The 21st century has been and will continue to be full of complex problems that need to be addressed through a holistic, multi-dimensional approach. I'm thinking on the larger scale here, at the community, regional or city level where we are making decisions that will impact a great number of people. My recent Fulbright proposal looked into analyzing the success of post-industrial reuse by attributing a value to a diverse collection of landscape pieces. Imagine taking your definition of landscape and individually expanding every component that you considered to be part of landscape: environmental factors, cultural perceptions and community organization, needs and desires as well as physical infrastructure, economic structure (the job market, real estate market, land values, etc.) and the notion of beauty, then attribute a way to analyze each of these elements to observe how a proposed design will perform in relation to the existing condition.

Sure, this question was aimed at the post-industrial landscape and generated to identify why creatively inserting new uses into the landscape can be more successful than tearing down and starting from scratch, but it is widely applicable to design on the whole. If we want our landscapes to last the test of time and be successful in positively impacting those who they are designed for, then shouldn't goals be set at the beginning in order to evaluate at the end? If we want to evolve the definition of landscape architecture, then we should be able to show communities, people, developers, politicians, local governments and other consituent groups that what we do has successfully made a difference in bettering an existing landscape.

Does our work need defined goals to proove that is has actually done something? I'm sure, just like the 'Occupy' movement there will be multiple opinions and those that say art has an impact with no goals, it exists to make a difference by being. I belive otherwise, if we can't prove success then how do we actually say we've made a positive difference or a working solution to a complex problem?

on the reading list

About a week ago I read a short essay in the New Yorker titled, "Get Out of Town; has the celebration of cities gone too far?," by Nicholas Lemann. Lemann essentially makes the argument that while cities may certainly be forever praised, the suburban or out-of-city life won't simply disappear. There are qualities of the suburban and town-scale form and living that recall the age old American dream - privacy, a lawn, a peaceful place to raise a family, a small town and close knit community. Many of us, myself included, make the argument that the American dream is irrelevant in the 21st century and instead we will find fulfillment without green lawns, acres of private space and a dominant reliance on the car.

However, Lemann makes a point that many of us in younger generations don't think about when arguing for a revision of the American dream: where will we eventually want to raise a family? Many of us were born and raised in suburbs, played in ultra-wide streets and cul-de-sacs or perceive the notion of community based on our evolution in a suburban setting. We then grow fed up with the suburb and migrate to the city. However, at what point - if there is one for certain individuals - will those who left the suburbs eventually return?

Cities are cool. No doubt about it. They provide unique experiences at every turn of the corner, are home to a creative class, offer proximity for the development of unpredicted friendships, relationships and coversations and are simply fun to be in.

After reading Lemann's essay I have to admit that my admiration of the city and it's idiosyncrasies hasn't faded, though I have significantly re-thought my understanding of what suburban really means. Working on developing an opinion means coming to know all angles of an issue - this certainly includes a multi-generational analysis, which is quite hard to imagine unless you read or listen to the opinions of those from different generations.

Additional reading:

Elijah Anderson, "The Cosmopolitan Canopy: Race and Civility in Everyday Life"

Richard Florida, "The Rise of the Creative Class" and "The Great Reset"

Edward Glaser, "Triumph of the City"

John D. Kasarda/Greg Lindsay, "Aerotropolis"

Doug Saunders, "Arrival City"

James Russel, "The Agile City"

technology is...

Rapid and unpredictable, fun and confusing. It gives us something new to look at, read, play, among a plethora of other things, on a minute by minute basis. So, how much have our brains become wired to crave that same level of newness and unpredictability in the world around us, the landscape that we call home?

After being so far away from anything resembling New York or New Jersey for quite some time now, I've realized that, at least for me, I'm pretty damn wired to need a fast paced, traffic filled landscape to feel something along the lines of normal. Oddly enough, I find it easier to find relaxation in the midst of busyness than I do in the middle of the mountains. From a mental standpoint, my brain is always craving something novel, whether it's people watching or filling a day with numerous and wildly varied activities, because they so abundantly present themselves (in the Jersey context).

It's more fun to do something relaxing when there is so much going on all around. I fall into the category of park and wilderness as refuge more than urban as refuge in the sea of wilderness. There is a sort of over compensation, both consciously and subconsciously, in regards to finding things to do that are constantly changing and unpredictably varying while I'm living in the mountains.

Now, while this may seem like a blatant criticism of extremely rural living, it isn't. It's an analysis of how the brain (in this example, only mine - until I can find a bigger pool of willing participants) has evolved based on the reliance of technology and the general pace of life I've grown used to. I'm used to parks providing a bit of respite from the hectic pace of daily life - a duration that I can choose and, for the most part, the selection of parks is diverse enough that I can find an activity I wish to participate in quite easily. Ultimately, as soon as I've had enough of that activity, I can plug right back into the system I just left and quickly do this, that or the other thing.

It's pretty amazing to think about the power that the landscape can have on the evolution of the individual. So, that makes me wonder, how important parks really are in highly urban environments? At the end of the day, the park or sliver of green space, is a refuge from the hustle and bustle of every day life or it is an escape from the computer screen or any form of technology. It can be a piece of solitude or any arena for reflection or a medium for achieving a desired mental and physical peace.

What happens to kids who have no exposure to parks, to nature, to the understanding of the world outside of concrete and asphalt?

It's rather undeniable that people who have evolved in the context of dense urban or suburban living are losing the understanding of or the ability to exist purely in nature. Many of us need to be occupied with technology minute by minute, or with friends, or just on the move. Nature is a bit different, it requires that you look inside yourself more, that you rely on your own self to keep you occupied.

Not everyone will exist purely in nature in the middle of the mountains or will ever want to. But, the ability to have that sense of refuge or escape from the busyness that surrounds most of us in an urban or suburban environment, is undeniably important.

This ramble was inspired by a talk I saw at the 'Aspen Ideas Fest' by William Powers, author of "Hamlet's Blackberry," which addresses the question of solitude in the digital age.