Accidental amenity

Landscape in Australian multi-unit residential developments has passed through a number of phases. Can we make the successes more intentional than serendipitous? When did the block of flats become renamed "multi-unit residential"? Perhaps it coincided with a realization by Australians that medium - and high-density urban housing was neither an attack on the quarter-acre block nor a synonym for public housing. Higher densities allow people to participate in the city, and the expansion of unit-based housing represents Australians' growing love of cities for their urban and cosmopolitan values. As our attitude to the city has changed, so have the types of multi-unit residential stock changed - in their spatial qualities as well as their role in the landscape.

Engagement

I came here to Münster as the second part of what could have been a four-part grand tour of art. I went to Kassel for Documenta, but couldn't afford to go to Venice for the Biennale or to Basel for its art fair. I hadn't planned to go to Münster for the Sculpture Project '07, but a friend said I may as well go if I was in the Netherlands anyway. I came over the border into Germany through Arnhem, driving at somewhere from 130 to 180 kilometers an hour.

Bike park in Groningen, The Netherlands

Groningen is a city that collects contemporary projects. A trip around town reveals something like a zoo, with examples of all design languages of the last twenty years, many of them now aging and distinctly past their prime. Even though some of these projects are outdated, this collection not only demonstrates a commitment to design (even occasionally lacking judgement) but also serves an archival function: we can consult the Groningen Zoo of Design to determine the design to determine the design preoccupations of the past and how those often theoretical interests (since most of the work by these designers was not built) manifested themselves in material form on the ground.

Art for architecture's sake?

The Architecture, Disciplinarity and the Arts symposium was organised by the Architecture. Theory, Criticism and History (ATCH) research group at the University of Queensland, run by John Macarthur and Antony Moulis, together with Andrew Leach who joined them last year and organised much of the symposium. The symposium ran for three days in a small room at the Institute of Modern Art (IMA) in Fortitude Valley, Brisbane (generously donated by director Robert Leonard), with about 40 people in attendance. Together with a long question time of an hour after every three speakers, the size of the room and the small number of people made it very different from most architecture or design conferences. The intellectual level of the symposium was high, without the speed dating aspect that one often sees at the Society of Architectural Historians, Australia and New Zealand (SAHANZ) meetings, where endless parallel sessions of short papers create an occasionally disorientating cacophony of words. The symposium was deliberately, unapologetically academic and the intimate nature of the forum made the discussion rich and collaborative, with an active audience. The title of the symposium, 'Architecture, Disciplinarity and the Arts', reflects the connection that already exists between the art history and the architectural history community in Brisbane, with both groups regularly attending each other's functions.

Contour house

Set atop a magnificent site on the Bellarine Peninsula, Contour House anchors itself into the landscape with a 5.5 meter-high folding concrete wall. This gesture is both protective and revealing, simultaneously creating an internal courtyard, while extending the spectacular 270- degree views into the living areas. This residence extends our interest in 'the journey' and ideas of place-making, particularly the manner in which it might challenge preconceived ways of living.

Village green

For a communal garden in Copenhagen, Stig L. Andersson uses grasses of varying texture and height, creating a new view or spatial experience from every angle. The idea of vegetation texture being an important constituent of planting design is pervasive. Gardening books tell aspiring designers that "colour, texture and form" are the central aspects of planting arrangements. While these elements contribute to this language, they have tended to limit the language of planting to a singular, two dimensional paradigm, where planting is designed in static elevation. This has developed from a perennial-border approach demonstrated by the early 20th century garden designer Gertrude Jekyll, where the viewer is parallel to the bed, and the planting is layered to address this view. If one were to characterise the difference between a garden design and a landscape architectural approach, the latter would seem self-conscious in its use of space, movement and vision.

The response to dryness in Australia

The drought Australia now faces is leading to shifts in the perception of the continent, of Australians and the world. The ideals of lush green landscapes are making way for landscape designs in which dryness is a quality of the design. On a map of the world, Australia is enormous, and seems empty because development is concentrated around its edges. Its heart must be red, in the cultural projections of the world from images of Uluru, 'the rock', set in a flat desert with no relief. Of course the country is not really all desert - surely? - with low shrubs pretty much throughout. Inhabitation seems to cling to the edges where teh continent feels microclimatic effects from the adjacent oceans and edging mountain ranges, which screen the population from the real state of the environment - dry, harsh, amazing and unique. Australia is rightly proud of this harsh difference from its edges, but prefers the harshness to be 'out there'. At the moment however, the country is pretty much universally in drought, and the contrast between green and brown, that it has celebrated, even built its identity around, is disappearing to become brown throughout. Without the browning of Australia, some areas, such as tropical Queensland, are having their designed public landscapes and gardens revealed as an elaborate mythology, a landscape fraud.

Prags Boulevard in Copenhagen : from run-down strip to boulevard

Prags Boulevard will form a 2km long pedestrian spine running east-west between the historic cities of Copenhagen and Amager. It is located on a some-what run down site, which accommodated illicit functions such as casual drug use and drinking, as well as sheds for squatters. The renovation of this site by the city of Copenhagen forms part of the Holmbladsgade renovation project, and a two-phase competition was held in 2001 to develop a green area and meeting place, transforming it into a place that residents would want to visit rather than avoid. The designer, local landscape architect Kristine Jensens recognises that though the site is linear it ‘has no traffic importance’, though as she notes ‘we like the project because it runs straight east west from the city pulse to the water of Oresund’. In developing the project, she has attempted to allow it to ‘run parallel’ to its existing illicit uses, using a ‘light touch’ of insertions. While it would be hard to describe the project as truly light in its touch (graphically, it is a very bold scheme), there is no doubt that it is parallel: in terms of use it runs alongside rather than against existing uses; in terms of its type it’s all about length, like a boulevard, although it clearly differs from a boulevard in other respects.

4th Biennal Europea De Paisatge Barcelona, Spain March 22-26, 2006

Between the 22nd and the 26th of March 2006, Barcelona hosted the 4th Biennal Europea de Paisatge (European Biennial of Landscape Architecture). It comprised a day of presentations for the Rosa Barba Prize for European Landscape Architecture, a day long symposium, and a half day discussion on IBA park projects. Approximately 300 people attended, including sizable groups from Barcelona, France, The Netherlands, Denmark, and Germany. Only three participants from English speaking countries were present, despite simultaneous translation into English throughout.

Cate Consandine

The interpretation of evidence dominates contemporary television crime shows. Inanimate objects and disparate facts are made to speak; technology and expert opinion wring out their stories. In examining these dead pieces of evidence, the investigators search for patterns, discovering living perpetrators and fugitives. Psychology comes in where the evidence is interpreted; the investigators try to think through perpetrators' minds and presumably perverse rationales. Objects are examined. Banal things become precious, put into bags, marked, date- and time-stamped, and stepped around carefully. After a crime, the objects involved are different. After a crime show, our gaze is different; everything is potentially incriminating, perverse. Bags without people don't make sense. Under this gaze, objects acquire a psychology. When we look at a crime scene, the evidence violates us. The work of Melbourne artist Cate Consandine is about objects and how they occupy the space that they occupy. In her practice as a sculptor and throughout her studies at the Victorian College of the Arts, the Sydney College of the Arts, and now Monash, her work has cultivated violent ambiguity. Consandine's work extends across a range of different media, particularly vidoe, objects and spaces. Like a crime show, it activates a particular type of inquisition from the viewer.

Versatility with flatness

In 2001 the large multinational, though US-born, landscape architecture practice EDAW bought out a small Melbourne-based practice, Paterson & Pettus (P&P), established by Garth Patersona nd Anne T Pettus, who left behind a body of refined landscape projects, mostly accompanying buildings by respected Melbourne architects.

Transactions with chance in the garden

This paper discusses change and chance in order to develop a language that can then be used to discuss change in the garden. In the process, it puts forward the idea that to garden is to meddle with the teleonomy of the plants, their “will” to grow as they should. Different design conceptions of change are discussed, particularly the relation of style to design, suggesting that there is the possibility for a material language that both the discourses of gardening and landscape architecture shares that could negotiate this breach. A model or “transactions” between gardener and garden is put forward to begin to get to grips with the particular methods of “working at a remove”, that is, curating conditions rather than designing objects. The paper finally proposes that landscape architecture has to move away from a paranoid engagement with specifiable objects, to one where the designer grooms conditions and sensibilities, and gets out of the office.

Critical opinion : the Docklands Precinct

Every one and their dog has done a Docklands design studio at university if they were educated in Melbourne. And all designers have an opinion on the idea of Docklands and its potential in the future, but few, apart from the Docklands authority themselves, have a handle on what's going on there now and what constitutes its qualities.

Love at first sight : Sanja Pahoki

I am a landscape architect, a non-photographer, and in reviewing this exhibition, it seems that in a critical discourse on photography the nature of the view and its relation to the observer (presumably the camera) is inevitably a key focus of creative inquiry, in an epistemological sense. In conducting such a review, of 'self-portraits' by 'female photographers' in relation to 'the landscape', one cannot help but ask what priority this critique should allocate to each of these conceptual agendas, quite apart from the simple formal quality of the individual pieces themselves. Analytically, each could form the axes of a matrix that might allow for a number of quite different permutations and therefore differently conclusive commentaries on the others: the view vs landscape; the view vs sexuality; the self-portrait vs the landscape picture. All of these would be productive in their own right and each is alluded to in the works themselves and in the narrative of the catalogue. Considering this range of possible permutations, this show is certainly rich and this richness sits well with the relative formal saturation of the images themselves.

Modern landscape

Landscape is a perennial source of conceptual material for most creative disciplines, and, arguably, everything else, but it is always irritating to landscape architects how it is seized on by architects when their own canon is boring them or their language of form is getting a bit straight. What is frustrating is that while landscape architecture attempts to come to terms with factors, systems and nuances of situations that may result in form, there is a tendency in architecture to make icons of generic 'natural' archetypes. This is not to say that landscape architecture has yet developed a strong formal language that engages with these nuances, just that the struggle with them is at its root, and this struggle with specificity in the face of generic-ness is a noble one. In the face of this, to see architecture describe a 'new' and 'innovative' interest in landscape in 'the ground' seems like a diversion: surely there must be innovation in a real, articulate and sophisticated understanding of the architectural canon.