water, dark, paddles and a big bridge

A few hours after James arrived we applied emergency jet lag defence treatment and whisked him to Pier 40 and a twilight canoeing expedition. We paddled on the east side of the SF shoreline, down Mission Creak, behind the ballpark, under a very low metal tram bridge with a tram going over it, and then back on ourselves and under one of the piers of the enormous Bay Bridge that links SF to Oakland. And from sunset to twilight to complete dark. It’s a wonderful view of downtown; the mosaic lights of the skyscrapers, the floodlight effect of the glow of the Bay bridge way above us, and the searchlight sweeps of the container ships. Also a feeling of being small in a large landscape, a pinpick of light and movement against vertiginous masses of engineering, architecture and harbour activity. And of being a bit giddy, a bit adventurous, a bit tired and a lot glad to see James.

top wildlife sighting so far.

James and I drove back from Mono Lake to SF over the Tioga pass, including a quick detour into Yosemite valley and we saw a bear! OK, we saw a crowd of people lined up with cameras on the side of a winding road and then we saw the bear, so it didn’t really count as an entirely in the nature eyeball to eyeball encounter. But it was still a bear!

 

Eating grass.

impressive decisive incision

Rachel and I went to a Asian Culture Street Fair this afternoon. Rachel struck lucky and took advantage of a Hep B vaccination at a reduced rate. I decided not to partake of the bargin. Unpredicatable things, street fairs!

will he won’t he?

first there was the yes no will we get the house we bid on.

second there was the yes no of whether the paperwork initiating the legal and financial sides of house purchasing could be completed in time

and thirdly the yes no of whether planes were taking off from Leeds airport Saturday morning due to high winds. I got a sad little phone call from Leeds when I was expecting James to be airborn in a transatlantic manner. But he should be taking off 24 hours later, and arriving lunch time Sunday (my tomorrow, your today). Come on James!

freeway park (seattle parks #2)

The long flight of grey concrete steps leading up to Freeway park are both sensational and rather scary. The feeling in me that this entrance provoked turned out to be indicative of my experience in Freeway Park, a controversial beauty or eye sore in the centre of downtown Seattle.

Freeway Park was conceived by Halprin as a dramatic response to the incision of Interstate 5 which had been bulldozed through the heart of the city in the 1960s. Under the project leadership of Angela Danadjieva, the 5ha park stepped up and spanned the interstate, not only covering over the traffic stream but also including elements such as dense vegetation and large scale waterfalls to muffle and the sound. Completed in 1976, it was an iconic modernist design of complex level change, concrete chasms, evergreen trees and rushing water; framing a design ideal of bringing nature into the city, the park as a woodland glade.

Visiting this park was my first experience of a large scale Halprin design (followed a few days later by Ira Keller fountain in Portland. I was impressed by the clarity of design form, the confident handling of a simple palette of materials, the sense of sequence and exploration. It is uplifting to see something seemingly so effortlessly accomplished, where it would be possible to photograph almost any corner as an example of some handling, integration and finishing of design elements. As a walk through sculpture, as an example of abstraction from nature, as an evocative, surprising place, Freeway Park is a worthy case study.

But it’s the social aspect where things get interesting.

Like any of the big downtowns in the US, there’s a significant number of rough sleepers, drinkers, people with mental issues. And Freeway Park, with its enclosed spaces, bushes, comfortable ledges and quiet corners is an attractive place to hang out. And though these park users can co-exist reasonably comfortably with more ‘mainstream’ users in more open parks, the enclosed and intimate nature of the spaces here mean that casual passers through can feel intimidated. I don’t know what the actual record of crime is, low probably, but the possibility of uncertain encounters is a one that discourages many. I visited at about 6ish on a sunny weekday evening, usually a busy time for urban spaces, but the park was sparsely populated. A few benches, grass areas and one of the concrete canyons were occupied by individuals or groups in the male, drinking/ drunk, shabbily dressed category. Two young teenage boys practiced parkour in the non-waterfall waterfall cliffs. Others visitors passed through in a fairly businesslike way, and though I was wandering about circuitously taking photos, I tried to do so fairly briskly.

One of the problems is a lack of legibility about through routes and deadends. Do you have to go close past this group of men or is this an alternative route? I got teased at one point by someone for putting my camera in a pocket as I went past a small gathering… one of those head down and walk on occasions. Why did I put my camera in my pocket? I don’t think I felt that I was going to be attacked… I wouldn’t have been in the park if I had. There were enough people walking through that I was never entirely alone, and the people hanging out seemed benign rather than aggressive. But taking photos of people in public places can be a sensitive issue, especially if you feel that people may not want to have their photo taken for an unknown purpose. So partly it was respect, and partly it was a desire to look normal, not to draw attention to myself.

But that’s a problem isn’t it? People want to be able to relax in parks, not feel a bit anxious about how their actions may be perceived. And the fact that more people weren’t around implies that this might be a general anxiety.

Judging by some of the articles that I’ve read (Seattle newspaper, cultural landscape foundation) and my observations on site, there seems to be a few key civic responses. One that I noted is to make the place seem ‘tamer’: to add more horticultural ‘pretty’ planting near entrances, additional tubs of flowers (in gentler rounder containers than Halprin’s blocks, an odd contrast when they are side by side) and brightly coloured clear signing. A proposal cited in the newspaper is to try and introduce a wider range of possible activities, a café, performances, a play area (for a start they could turn the water cascades again, see Ira Keller in Portland). A third strategy is to increase sightlines and decrease the surprise… cutting back key areas of vegetation and reducing the height of some of the walls.

Reasonable, pragmatic approaches to a problem with social function of the park, or a threat to the essential nature of a historic landscape? Alongside valid issues of safety, legibility and diversity of use there needs to be proper recognition of the original design principles. To whittle away with chips, tweaks and prettification does no justice to the intention of simplicity, of drama, of echos of wilderness. It must be possible to respect these qualities while broadening appeal to new users, making it easy to pass through, pause in or spend a lazy afternoon. A few rounded decorative planters are not good enough.

a trio of talks in Seattle

Talk 1: David Streatfield, retiring professor in Landscape Architecture at the University of Washington. “‘Heroic moments’ and neglected figures in American Landscape Architecture 1856 – 1960”. Couldn’t have asked for a more interesting insignt into some of the principles and pressures on the development and practice of the profession in America. A great talk to go to, and a friendly reception afterwards for this much respected and loved man. I didn’t feel aggrieved that in order to avoid a clash ‘my’ lecture slot got bumped backwards at the last minute to…

Talk 2: Clare Rishbeth. ‘Belonging in new places: experience of locality by first generation migrants’. A lunchtime talk with less than half a day publicity. A small but interested audience, some good questions, should have put a bit more focus on findings and a bit less on setting the scene. But OK, and a cheerful lunch with Landscape and Planning staff afterwards.

Talk 3: Jhumpa Lahiri in conversation with someoneorother, at the Town Hall. A lovely building and an interesting unpretentious chatty author. JL won the Pulitzer prize with her first book of short stories, and her first novel ‘the namesake’ just out as a film. I felt a bit of an imposer as I hadn’t read either of her books but was interested in her themes of living as children of immigrants, and, hey, it was a free gig and not a bad way to spend an evening when you are visiting a city solo. P.S. Have now almost finished ‘The Namesake’… an enjoyable read.

ira keller fountain (portland parks #1)

I arrived at the Ira Keller fountain from above, drawn into this glade-like place with people sitting in small groups or individually, on edges, under trees, legs hanging into the water. You glimpse it first through and under short pine trees, their trunks and branches framing and offsetting the geometric lines of the design. Channels of waters rush towards a series of small irregular rectilinear pools. These deeper pools still and halt the hurry before the water takes its leap over the cliff faces.

I took the steps round the side and perched on the top of one of the lean stacks for a good viewpoint of the main drop. It’s impossible not to be shocked by the sheer audacity of the design. It is breathtaking. Within this context, the scale is as startling as the Yosemite Falls, the water as captivating, the sound, the texture, the detail all draw you into the sensation of a waterfall.

The square was designed by Angela Danadjieva, working for Halprin’s studio in 1971, and you see the characteristic way in which this practice worked with irregular linear forms to echo natural phenomena. This is an excellent example of abstraction from nature, starting with close observation of process, form, interaction of materials and remaining true to these. The water course starts as a fast paced slipstream, poises in a series of stepped pools, throws itself over the edge, broadens into a calmer stretch. In adapting these to urban contexts and human interaction they are simplified, the relationships distilled to their essentials. Use of straight lines absorbs micro permutations of the wilderness, but the volume of the concrete slabs gives shape to the complexity and integrity of topography to waters edge to vegetation.

The park offers many choices of places to sit, a multitude of viewpoints. Dappled shade or sunlight; looking up, down, across; big step, small ledge top of a pillar; feet in the water or a safe distance. And of course, playing in the water.

Even though I had seem photos of this fountain before, I was still taken aback at the scale of the large drops, half thrilled, half nervous that children could play near such dangerous edges. It’s hard concrete, no safety surfaces, no railings. What happens if someone slips?

Later, observing some children playing on the top pools, I realised how cleverly it had been designed, how it is possible to be safe, how there’s no more danger of anyone slipping than from a bridge or a balcony.

First, there are a number of pools to step down before you get to the main drop. These are gradually larger in vertical interval, from less than a foot to almost three. You need to clamber down, a slow and awkward process though cushioned in part by the water.

The second factor I realised when, in the spirit of enquiry, I took my sandals off and had a good old wade. The texture of the floor of the pools isn’t the smoother concrete of the dry slabs, but laid with rounded pebbles. Though not particularly uncomfortable, it makes you walk a little more gingerly.

Finally, the most important trick, is that the pools are not for paddling but for bathing, all the ones near the big edge are deep troughs, with water at about the 3ft level. The drop edge functions as a wall to lean against, not an edge to trip over. Imagine a balcony filled with water. They are like very small swimming pools or very large bathtubs, containing water and people and slowing their movements.

 

The family with young children in swimming costumes had a fantastic time splashing, clambering, exploring behind the waterfall. The group of teenagers in jeans flirted, gossiped, got half soaked and had a waterflight in their version of an al fresco public wash-house. Office workers found a ledge to fit their own leg length, balance of prospect and refuge, and need for shade or sun. I explored, watched, paddled, wrote a postcard, took photos and generally had a grin on my face.

gasworks park (seattle parks #1)

It’s unusual to first encounter Gasworks Parks (Richard Haag, 1975) as a view from a boat. It’s created on a promontory that sticks out into Union Lake and faces straight on the view of the downtown skyscrapers. Their shiny straight forms mirror reverse the rusted twisted metal structure of the old gas workings. These are now defunct industrially but form the centrepiece, the eye catchers, the view frames, space markers of this public park. Seem from the water, they echo ruined castles and fortifications, and link the park to the continuing industry of the Union lake and canal shipyards.

My second experience was in the near dark, 9pm, dropping in with Lynne and her friend on our way home. The structures threw even darker complex silhouettes against the sky, lake and the pinpricked sparkling brilliance of the downtown lights. It was fairly busy, with kids and adults. Less daunting than many other parks by daytime, this busyness was chatty, cheerful, romantic. Two teenagers sat on a bench overlooking the bay looking at their apple mac. Sometimes at night you need extent, and this is a suitably weird urban dramatic place to get that fix.

 

My final visit was late morning, the least busy of all the three times. A few solitary sunbathers and readers finding their own grassy mound, bench, wide view. Mums with tots watching the boats, seaplanes, ducks… the gently paced comings and goings of the waterfront. Round the back of the barn area, some low-key gatherings of homeless and jobless and early hours drinking.

This park is inventive, uplifting, and just fun. With such a dramatic location, a blander, more conventional park would have sufficed, but here the structures and the landform give an appropriate drama and connection to the wider cityscape. You arrive, either from the bike path or the car park, breaking through a line of conifers and out into the light and views. Two main features give you your choice: the large steep hill or the main structures of the gasworks.

Climbing the hill demonstrates how amazingly well circulation networks responds to the topography. Significant but not sharp sloped paths curve up, gaining height and revealing views, making the climb a joy rather than a burden. A small dipped and rimmed mosaic paved area at the top gives a sense of arrival and robust standing and seating opportunities. You can walk down the curve of the landform to the waters edge. I don’t think I’ve ever seen a better example of a designed landform that is huge enough to be exciting and rewarding, but inviting enough for parents with pushchairs to climb up and down.

Keeping the gasworks structures was the seminal distinction of the park design, a decision that seems less shocking now than they did 30 years ago. The monumentality is impressive, especially when up close and under them.

Some have been grafitted (not too much) and the biggest structural mass is fenced off. According to Lynne (who knows Haag as he still works at th Landscape Department at UW) the graffiti doesn’t bother him, but the fencing off is seen as a loss to current safety fears. There is also a ‘play barn’ which brightly painted large industrial components. For me, this was the least effective aspect of the site, somewhat sanitised, especially with ‘do not climb’ stencilled on the structures.

Structural planting is used sparing to good dramatic effect, and much more would start to encroach on the extent of the panorama. I was surprised that the ground cover was nearly all grass, with some hardstanding. This makes the park robust and multi-functional, but possibly in more ecologically sensitive times some rougher areas and diversity of texture might add to rather than detract from to the sense of place.

30 years old is a good length of time to assess a park. It’s a park worth travelling to see, and it’s a park worth living near. The structures of the gasworks give it a vivid iconography, but in many ways it’s the subtleties of the landform, the elegance of the paths and the relationship to the broad span of water that make it so alluring. These ensure it’s popular status, not as an example of landscape architecture land art, but as a place to chat, picnic, sunbathe, fly kites, read, protest, watch fireworks, have festivals, drink tea and rest your mind.

wildlife log

All from the boathouse:

• Great Blue Heron
• A racoon (ran past the sitting room door late at night)
• A seal (which lay out on a pontoon on sunny mornings just 10m or so from me).
• as well as a attractive range of ducks

Most of which are significantly larger than anything I saw at Yosemite!

wandering discoveries in Seattle

So… welcome back to the west coast!

Seattle started inauspiciously (baggage lost in transfer, bus stop lost in roadworks, confession from my academic contact that he hadn’t done any publicity yet for my talk on Monday). The boathouse, the amazing place that I showed you a few posts back, is absolutely amazingly charming, which then triggered something of a ‘wouldn’t it be great to share this with James’ blue.

But, things have got better (my suitcase turned up a mere 8 hours later), and now I’m ready to hit the sack and a busy day tomorrow, so just a few quick impressions and mini adventures from my weekend.

First, Seattle feels more familiar than anywhere else I’ve been in America.

• It’s green, and I can recognise most of the greenery
• It’s hilly, and I can understand the pattern of slopes and water
• It’s got a good smattering of more battered cars
• People cycle
• The accent surprises me less
• The air is fresh, chilly even. (Too chilly when all your extra layers are in a lost suitcase!)
• Sparrows
• Brick buildings

I am staying in Ballard, which is the Scandinavian neighbourhood. I’m really sad I’m not staying on until the 17^th, the Norwegian national day. Bad planning! There are 3-4 story brick warehouse-style buildings, and tree lined streets, and a working dockyard. Also quite a strong artists community, and on the second Saturday of every month they have an ‘Art Walk’ evening event, where all the arty shops and studios are open. Luckily my suitcase got delivered in time to make the last hour of this intriguing form of mooching: friendly, un-pressured, munching snacks and browsing time… an ideal way to spend an evening on your own in a strange city!

Saturday is market day: produce in Ballard, non-produce a few miles down the road in Fremont. Made a few good choices for lunch in the produce: apples and strawberry cake, and a few bad ones: tampale (bland) and hot apple punch (too sweet).

Fremont ‘center of the universe’ is fun, though a little self-conscious in the ‘trendy arty radical’ identity. They do a good line in quirky public art.

I was a little unimpressed with the market, a bit too similar to the kind of stalls you get at festivals. I took time off from being arty and went on an ‘icecream boat cruise’ of the union lake instead. An informative and appropriately cheesy talk, blues brothers music, blankets to wrap up in, a scattering of Moms on their Mother’s Day excursion and a great view of the floating houses, dockyards, Gasworks Park and the underside of Interstate 5. $10 and 1 hour well spent.

The buses deserted me so I walked back to Ballard. A very average light industrial road of little note. But even places of little note are worth noting: a giveaway fridge (Seattle has lots of roadside giveaways… I like this in a place), some isolated but busy eateries, a church with security guards, a shed advertising piano lessons.

And behind the scenes back at Ballard I found a new striking library with a green roof, a stylish and unpretentious new neighbourhood park with a sunken skateboard bowl. I’ve never seen a skateboard park like this before and it was brilliant in combining a challenging venue for skaters with opportunities for safe and unthreatening viewing for people like me and mums with toddlers. Just great.