LANDSCRIPT IS A PUBLICATION ON LANDSCAPE AESTHETICS INVITING AUTHORS FROM DIFFERENT DISCIPLINES TO INVEST THOUGHT ON ESTABLISHED MODES OF PERCEIVING, REPRESENTING AND CONCEIVING NATURE. STEERED BY AN EDITORIAL BOARD COMPRISED OF INTERNATIONAL EXPERTS FROM VARIOUS FIELDS WHICH WILL ENCOURAGE A CRITICAL AND CONTROVERSIAL DIALOGUE, ITS GOAL IS TO ACT AS A REVELATOR OF CONVENTIONAL PERCEPTIONS OF LANDSCAPE AND TO CULTIVATE THE DEBATE ON AESTHETICS AT A SCHOLARLY LEVEL. THIS DISCUSSION PLATFORM AIMS AT REKINDLING A THEORETICAL DEBATE, IN THE HOPE OF FOSTERING A BETTER UNDERSTANDING OF THE IMMANENCE OF LANDSCAPE ARCHITECTURE IN OUR CULTURE, FOCUSING CRITICALLY ON THE WAY WE THINK, LOOK, AND ACT UPON SITES.
Professor Christophe Girot, Albert Kirchengast (Chief Editors)
Institute of Landscape Architecture ILA, D–Arch, ETH Zürich
EDITORIAL BOARD
Annemarie Bucher, ZHdK Zürich
Elena Cogato Lanza, EPF Lausanne
Stanislaus Fung, UNSW Sydney
Dorothée Imbert, Washington University in St. Louis
Hansjörg Küster, Leibniz Universität Hannover
Sébastien Marot, Ecole d’Architecture Marne-la-Vallee, Paris
Volker Pantenburg, Bauhaus-Universität Weimar
Alessandra Ponte, Université de Montréal
Christian Schmid, ETH Zürich
Ralph Ubl, eikones NFS Bildkritik Basel
Charles Waldheim, Harvard GSD
Kongjian Yu, Peking University
SUBMISSION GUIDELINES
Manuscript proposals are welcome in fields appropriate for Landscript. Scholarly submissions should be formatted in accordance with The Chicago Manual of Style and the spelling should follow American convention. The full manuscript must be submitted as a Microsoft Word document, on a CD or disk, accompanied by a hard copy of the text. Accompanying images should be sent as TIFF files with a resolution of at least 300 dpi at 8 × 9-inch print size. Figures should be numbered clearly in the text. Image captions and credits must be included with submissions. It is the responsibility of the author to secure permissions for image use and pay any reproduction fees. A brief letter of inquiry and author biography must also accompany the text.
Acceptance or rejection of submissions is at the discretion of the editors. Please do not send original materials, as submissions will not be returned.
Please direct submissions to this address:
Landscript
Chair of Professor Christophe Girot
Institute of Landscape Architecture ILA, ETH Zürich
Wolfgang-Pauli-Strasse 15, HIL H 54.2
8093 Zurich, Switzerland
Questions about submissions can be emailed to:
kirchengast@arch.ethz.ch
Visit our website for further information:
www.girot.arch.ethz.ch
LANDSCRIPT 3
Topology
LANDSCRIPT 3
CHRISTOPHE GIROT
ANETTE FREYTAG
ALBERT KIRCHENGAST
DUNJA RICHTER (EDS.)
TOPOLOGY
TOPICAL THOUGHTS ON THE CONTEMPORARY LANDSCAPE
In this publication, masculine forms are used in the interest of readability. The feminine participles are implicitly included.
TABLE OF CONTENTS
Foreword
Wilhelm Krull
How (Not) to Read This Book
Albert Kirchengast
Landscape Theories in Transition. Shifting Realities and Multiperspective Perception
Annemarie Bucher
Faith in a Community
Gion A. Caminada
The Elegance of Topology
Christophe Girot
Landscape and Modernity
Stefan Körner
The Relationship between Plants and Landscape Architectural Design — An Attempt at Repositioning
Norbert Kühn
“Landscapology”
Linking Natural Sciences, Humanities, and Aesthetics
Hansjörg Küster
The City Is Not Landscape
Vittorio Magnago Lampugnani
On The Freedom of Designing Nature and the Limitations of The Arbitrary
Lothar Schäfer
The Sensuality of the Engineer
Joseph Schwartz
Landscapes of Nature and Art
Martin Seel
Some Selected Observations on the Work of Peter Joseph Lenné
Michael Seiler
On Designing Infrastructure Systems as Landscape
Antje Stokman
Function, Fiction, Form, and Feeling. On the “Aesthetic of Pleasantness” in Landscape Architecture
Wulf Tessin
Appendix
Foreword
“We have walked through the great outdoors countless times and, with varying degrees of attention, observed trees and bodies of water, meadows and grain fields, hills and houses, and thousands of variations of light and clouds—but looking at one thing, or at these or those things together, does not mean we consciously see a ‘landscape.’ Such fragmented content of our visual field is not what should be capturing our attention. We need to be aware of a new whole, an entity that goes beyond individual elements, that is not bound to their specific meanings, and does not mechanically assemble them into a design—that is when landscape happens.”—1
Choosing a holistic perspective rather than viewing individual elements, as emphasized by Georg Simmel in his “Philosophie der Landschaft,” is also an aspect of the theoretical position asserted by Christophe Girot and his colleagues at the Institute for Landscape Architecture at the ETH Zürich. Many current landscape architecture projects, according to their diagnosis, are defined by economic considerations or ecological fashions. But as the contributions in this book emphasize, landscape architects should neither be satisfied with their role as decorators who spruce up the leftover, open spaces around infrastructure facilities, nor with their role as nature conservationists who try to heal landscape or defend it from interventions. Instead, there should be a design-based approach from the beginning, which understands landscape in all its complexity. The topology concept, the term given to the theory of site and topos, precisely characterizes this approach. Working topologically means examining in detail the planned site of intervention, understanding it in relation to other aspects—such as landscape, infrastructure, or built structures—organizing the space landscape architecturally, and considering people. “Space” in this sense is not understood as a mere physical and geographical dimension, but as a multidimensional network generated by culture and in many respects historically variable.—2 Reintroducing aesthetics is essential to this approach, and equal status must be given to economic and ecological factors. Landscape is more than a functional space; the poetic and symbolic significance it possesses is vital to understanding it holistically.
This approach greatly boosts the status of landscape architecture. It no longer responds to the planning decisions of others, but has a fundamental, integrative— topological—function, by connecting a specific landscape’s different dimensions. It is understood, of course, that this integrative capacity can only result from including all participating disciplines as a “partner-based orchestration of institutions and professions that directly or indirectly design the space giving priority to aesthetics.”—3
Through funding initiatives, the Volkswagen Foundation wants to encourage research focused on emerging, high-risk areas, and to transcend boundaries—whether between science and practice, between specific professional cultures, or between different countries. We are happy to support Professor Christophe Girot’s plan to develop a theoretical position in landscape architecture that uses the topology concept to cross the borders between disciplines and methodologies. This is even more the case, because the declared objective of the project is not only to benefit the discipline through theoretical and critical debates and question its self-image, but also to influence design practice and establish a new and fundamental, “landscape-oriented” attitude in urban planning, which will hopefully have a sustainable effect on the quality of our urban life. The mission statement should be a design concept that is holistic and rooted in our daily life, and which also connects scientific and cultural aspects.
One of the cornerstones for this project was the workshop entitled “Topologie—Zur Gestaltung der gegenwärtigen Landschaft” (Topology—On Designing Landscape Today) held from October 11–13, 2012 in the Semper Aula of the ETH Zürich. The main lectures of the conference, which defined the project, were revised and are now available as collected essays in this book. Numerous experts from various disciplines and professional perspectives—ranging from philosophy to history, garden design, sociology, and architecture—were invited to discuss the integrative effect of landscape architecture. They also proposed ways in which a holistic spatial design that integrates the usefulness and the beauty of landscape on equal terms might be achieved. It became clear that contemporary landscape architecture lacks a theoretical foundation, partly due to the fact that academic training has been deficient since the nineteen-seventies. Theoretical professorships have not been not replaced, while fundamental questions and an analysis of new theoretical approaches and artistic design processes have remained superficial or are lacking completely. The consequences are design concepts that are often scarcely reflected theoretically or scrutinized critically. For this reason, Christophe Girot and his team, first and foremost Anette Freytag, but also her colleagues Albert Kirchengast, Suzanne Krizenecky, and Dunja Richter have taken on the ambitious goal of not only shifting aesthetic issues and design to the core of the theoretical debate, but also of anchoring them in academic curricula and improving university education in professional landscape architecture. For this, it is necessary to promote a theory of landscape architecture, architecture, engineering, and urban design, which considers the relationship between various disciplines and merges economical, ecological, and aesthetic factors.
This publication, Topology, forms the basis for an international conference—also supported by the Volkswagen Foundation—held in June 2013 at Herrenhausen Palace in Hanover, among the unique landscape ensemble of the Herrenhausen gardens. Under the title, “Thinking the Contemporary Landscape. Positions and Oppositions,” scientists and practitioners in landscape architecture and related disciplines participated in an inter-, and transdisciplinary dialogue as well as an exchange of fundamental ideas that go far beyond the design of landscape.
My thanks are due to the speakers at the Zurich event who were willing to revise their essays for this publication, as well as the editors of the book, including Albert Kirchengast who was responsible for editing the contributions. “Nothing thrives without care; and the most admirable things lose their value through inappropriate treatment,” wrote the Prussian landscape architect Peter Joseph Lenné. This statement also undoubtedly applies to landscape architecture in general, and I am sure that the authors of Topology are giving it the very best of care.
Hanover, September 2013
1 Georg Simmel: “Philosophie der Landschaft,” in: Die Güldenkammer, 11/1913, pp. 635–644 (my translation).
2 See Hille von Seggern, Julia Werner: “Entwerfen als integrierender Erkenntnisprozess,” in: Hille von Seggern, Julia Werner, Lucia Grosse-Bächle (eds.): Creating Knowledge, Berlin 2008.
3 See the funding application to the Volkswagen Foundation and the publication: Christophe Girot, Anette Freytag, Albert Kirchengast, Suzanne Krizenecky, Dunja Richter: Topologie / Topology, issue 15 of the publication series “Pamphlet,” Zurich 2012.
How (Not) to Read This Book
The effort of reconstructing all the attempts that have sought to challenge the ideal of a linear flow of reading from the preface to the acknowledgements, undoubtedly deserves attention. This has taken either the form of narration (recently for instance in Jon Fosse’s frugal dialogues and Jonathan Franzen’s complex narrative strategy in his brilliant novel, Freedom), or of a graphic intervention (probably passé among graphic designers), or some “theoretical construct” (which still needs to be seen in print). But the concept of a book in Western culture still maintains that its content, and likewise its physical form should stubbornly unfold accordingly with headings, paragraphs, and other ingredients aimed at keeping the reader on track and entertained.
However, the way in which we understand text is not that linear, nor even direct; we can comprehend things in leaps, do somersaults, and a few loopdidoops too while reading. Some even believe in such a thing as the “decisive moment.” Moreover: what was once practiced half seriously by highbrow hopefuls, as a way of “digesting”, and taking a certain distance from knowledge, may, on the other hand become exposed methodologically, resulting in a break with underlying assumptions. This form of “comprehending” occurs as a paradigm shift, subsequently assuming an absolute distance from what is known, and even has the propensity to reinvent its starting point (see Kuhn).
The potential of such concepts at the onset of what has since become a form of tradition, meaning the constant dismantling and reconstruction of the Old-Modern, Western concept of science, is expressed in roughly the following manner: “Basic scientific and artistic decisions must by nature be made democratically” (Feyerabend, p. 10). Yet, following Paul Feyerabend in his stand, a democratic approach to the ideal of a creative scientist is only one side of the coin. The other side, of course, is the uncertainty brought about when the contours between science, politics, and economics tend to blur (see, for instance: Nowotny, Giddens, Crouch). Which is why Karl Popper decided to follow his own path. He too holds nothing sacred. Yet his Critical Rationalism indeed recognizes a necessity for correct knowledge: “Knowledge is the search for truth—the search for objectively true, enlightening theories” (Popper, p. 12). In order to entertain a suspicion against such “truth,” science was obliged to search again and again for the falsification of theories that were valid in the first place. Skepticism in research is a virtue but, then again a concession is made by Popper to these “piecemeal engineers,” who are allowed to feel reassured with an element of certainty “as if”: as if they were holding on to something tangible. Could this mean that a fundamental longing for certainty, originating in our own Lebenswelt, undermines the research establishment? This would happily be supported by the newer sociology of scientific knowledge at any time. Yet, there is a true challenge in the idea of generating a creative scientific discussion, which would oscillates between relativism dampening the confidence in “useable results,” and a simultaneous openness towards “negotiations” about an own starting point. The question we now face is how can such an approach to theory be pursued in a more or less theory-unfriendly academic world such as that of landscape architecture?
Some believe that the end to systematic thought has been long coming, when anything theoretical must appear episodic and be delivered with belligerent force in order to be noticed at all? In this case, “form” plays a significant role, as much as our reader at this very moment might believe to actually be holding just another (typical) book (see: Girot et al.). Form and comprehension cannot be separated from each other. Ultimately, postmodern forms of communication have become more than mere representatives of content. Rhetoric has now grown immensely in importance—despite being suspected of unfair intentions by some ever since it appeared with the ancient Sophists. The notion of performativity provided a postmodern tactic, still based on a rhetorical repertoire of forms, which survived the collapse of the Grand Narrative (Lyotard) and simply became a new one. This “rhetorical condition” should not be denied. But then, how can theory be pursued today in a market-sensitive design discipline, if one does not want to wholly engage in a non-teleological-political appeal that permeates all performativity? Are we here just to swindle out a better position for ourselves, or better yet, as an alternative, to buy one? After all, recognizing the status quo for the time being could help “to see all areas of culture not as authorities but as tools: as aids in a new description and new design of our egos and our environment” (Rorty, p. 11). Yet, what kind of tool could an anthology be, as one might at first glance consider this book, based on its appearance? What does such a collection of texts mean today; this loose succession of voices that might take on a life of their own in the reader’s head?
First, an anthology is quite literally a “florilegium.” And, as much as the first example of this type of assemblage might have involved the work of an, in this case, irrelevant Greek astronomer, Topology is of course far removed from the cosmic. Moreover, the etymology of florilegium is interesting; it quite figuratively implies that one has just visited a field of flowers. Flowers in a vase still refer to that today, which in turn suggests the beauty of the bouquet—as metaphor of the meadow, a moment enjoyed on a beautiful spring day. Hence, a place is evoked from a mere fragment of nature, full of memory and emotions, yet very real. This correlation of the part and the whole would actually not be the wrong metaphor for this endeavor. But how to arrange the content of this attempt, which contributes to the construction of a contemporary theory in landscape architecture? This is meant without arrogance and with pleasure by the fact, once again, that the first of its kind was also a collection of fragments. It would be more fitting to call this book a Chrestomathy rather than an anthology: chrestos means useful in ancient Greek. This book follows a didactic purpose. The manner in which it has developed its “maieutic dimension” is similar to a Socratic dialogue—in this instance about landscape—according to the often agonizing question of the not-yet, the not-knowing, and the non-assets; which in itself points to a utopian moment, in such a purposeful and result-oriented time as today. But then Socrates was not very appealing beyond his circle of students. Not only because of his looks, but because he touched upon what we call common sense. By simply observing his fellow peers— which they thought was much too banal a method, and thus did not understand nor appreciate—but he apparently hit a nerve. The result for Socrates was lethal. We will not go that far, even if we do take our endeavor very seriously.
Similarly to the way in which Socrates’ considerations found its origins in the common world, Topology did not originate in landscape architecture, but in landscape itself. The “unity” of the modern landscape experience used to be general and aesthetic—until this was lost (Simmel, Ritter). Yet, today we are actually faced with the question of what it needs to integrate. Whether the “old” concept of landscape has to be discarded or not is the question? Not only has our natural landscape disappeared (a paradoxical term in itself), but traditional cultural landscapes as well. Does one have to reluctantly accept products, processes, and projects that do not go well together, but still cater to a historical ideal of life and work, relating to long-gone (agrarian) activities? Can this need be expressed in a different way, other than in the countless prefixes and suffixes currently imposed on the term “landscape”? Topology does not base its question on the finished “image” of a landscape’s possible power of synthesis; it analyzes the process behind the power of reflection itself. In other words: “The unit is thus the product of an active participation in reflections that oscillate between the detail and the whole, in order to capture the relationship between the two” (Bubner, p. 63). In this self-reflexive back-step, which of course is also part of the aesthetic, the question focuses on the possible “details” that might form the basis of a new synthesis. In other words: what first needs to be considered, in order to understand this genesis of theory as a discussion, is to implement it with the purpose of design according to a “landscape model.” We reach once again the (admitted) preconditions of any theoretical construct: where we must first assume certain “topoi” in our speech that become indisputable. These are the building blocks, rediscovered in the form of participants invited to join a discourse organized in the form of a book. Who lead the discussion on design from their respective fields of expertise—do not in effect lead, but rather state their opinion about what they believe to be essential. Selecting those to be admitted to the discussion we encounter quasi-dogmatic positions, that have a strong channeling factor. But let us get back to the beginning, a (democratic) divergence of understanding and reading will be of assistance here: with every book supplied, there will be a new, self-responding synthesis by each reader.
Does this necessarily mean that anything goes? Due to Topology’s core interest in landscape asthetics everything does not go. Following Immanuel Kant, aesthetics involves an access to a “whole” inasmuch as it escapes today’s common reifying and positivistic gaze, concerned only with “functional parts” (see Kant §29, p. 193). “Our reaction to a landscape consists of older layers, which are beyond the human creative impulse. […] This dialog leads to the question of whether and how things fit together. It is based on the hope of a harmonious whole by solving a purely physical problem” (Scruton, pp. 103, 113). In order to avoid misunderstandings, the topological viewpoint that understands aestheticized nature as its core ingredient is powered by homo faber. He, self evidently, does not set nature and culture in conflict (Blumenberg, p. 12). Quite the contrary, the major challenge for sophisticated design still lies in the fact that “within” landscape, those human needs (and products), which have always shaped our environment, can “disappear.” Aesthetics—and more specifically, nature aesthetics—remains the core aspect: maybe this modern category has always formed somewhat of a counterforce in times of contingency. It draws on the peculiar glow that it produced itself to exist in a sober world; an aesthetic appearance, which constantly deals with the mystery of a difference between the factual and the possible. In the convoluted language of Theodor W. Adorno: “The beauty of nature is the trace of the non-identical in things under the spell of a universal identity” (Adorno, p. 114). The moments we experience in beautiful nature, and which are so essential to our daily lives, prove that not everything can be solved by mere facts. These moments are the energy, the fuel behind this project, and yet do not occur implicitely, but rather through the assertion that, as “whole people,” we are ultimately dependent on our aesthetic experiences with nature (see Schiller, Heidegger). Proof of this could be the daily experience of beauty in nature where the beholder feels reassured. We recommend that our readers recall such moments before reading this book—those specific experiences make the texts start to “speak,” and become the selected elements of the topological debate, which still does not exist but is announced in a markedly pragmatic Round Table, where different disciplinary approaches orbit with more or less distance around the single matter of this book. As little as these essays link the act of reading and reflecting to the notion of an “ideal” landscape—after all, they are merely text—so little should the discussion be silenced after reading through this book. And yet, as soon as the protagonists appear, raise their hands to speak, and design is considered, they should vanish behind their answers. Let the landscape architect vanish with them as well. This is not a competition of words.
The act of aesthetic reflection is grasped in a manner strikingly similar to the concept of Topology, within the omnipresent debate on landscape in cultural studies at the moment. Namely, not as a debate “landscape space,” but rather its sense of “spaciousness” as a description of “spatial relations in terms of cultural and media issues” (Günzel, p. 13). Even in this instance it is about defining preconditions. Our discussion under the same key term, starting from the academic and theoretical discourse on landscape architecture, not only contributes to bringing the value of a discourse up to date in this discipline, but is a decisive step meant to redeem the debate on the constitution of landscape space from the point of view of design. The fact that it is preceded by a process of reflection on modern conditions of built space is obvious from the start (see Giddens). This only confirms the concept of landscape as a result of aesthetic reflection, which is based on nothing other than the act of distancing oneself from the object. By redefining this question, landscape architecture topology seeks to find nothing less than the core societal interest in the designed order of our dwelling space.
Consequently, naming this book Topology, rather than the more succinct title Landscape is not just a coquette strategy—a certain aspect of guardedness should be evident in this choice; a bit like circling the target again and again. At the same time, the word “topology” has something in common with its mathematical origins—the constant relation of surfaces to one another—again a wonderful metaphor. Of course, there is the risk of many other conceptual pitfalls. For instance Topology is not concerned with seeking out some genius loci, but is anchored in the informed discussion about a given site. As a contribution to this book shows how the “reading of a site” is now, however, the recourse to tools needed for an on-site, detailed topographic understanding of landscape, the site lays at the very basis of the related debate such as it is suggested paradigmatically in this book. As a theoretical construct in the proper sense it is not a manual. Nonetheless Topology, as a discussion about the understanding and designing of the world we inhabit, validates at the same time landscape architecture as a guiding force, because the discipline no longer stops at merely integrating the architectural. Topology has literally expanded the scale and dimensions of its current tasks—which lends startling virulence to a profession that, up until about one hundred years ago, was still nestled in the garden.
It was Aristotle, and not Socrates, who established the foundations of a discussion concerning “topoi.” He provided the basics for a mutual understanding, which at least allowed for an exchange of content to take place. “First, then, we must see of what parts our inquiry consists. Now if we were to grasp with reference to how many, and what kind of, things arguments take place, and with what materials they start, and how we are to become well supplied with these, we should have sufficiently won our goal” (Aristotle, p. 3). However, one must not forget that Aristotle’s Topics is only one element of his philosophical corpus, which clarifies the conditions for further reflection. At the same time this is fundamental to all: topoi provide agreements that allow for further agreements in a dispute yet to be held. This invitation to discuss such blurred topics today, is made for a discipline whose design knowledge can be traced back to the very roots of culture: to present the notion of topoi to others, without whom landscape architects could not operate today. At the end of the day, what if we could propose tangible results in design that could perhaps reach beyond the fashionable, beyond the personality cult of the designer, beyond plain formalism, in order to attain the wholeness once claimed by such a thing as landscape? Design therefore is understood as the taming of complexity, in other words: enabling the (successful) day-to-day life to unfold before our eyes. Incidentally, there is no need to introduce authors and content in the usual, protracted way here, since the process of appropriating the present texts, inflicted on the reader— texts that should each be read in full—belongs to a tactic that includes the reader. The “topological turn,” as one of the last movements in the carousel of ideas in cultural studies, already attempts to optimistically demonstrate that landscape space is not an absolute—it only develops within a dialogue.
LITERATURE
Adorno, Theodor W.: Ästhetische Theorie, Frankfurt am Main 1973.
Aristotle: Topics, Montana 2004 (translated by W. A . Pickard–Cambridge).
Blumenberg, Hans: Wirklichkeiten in denen wir leben. Aufsätze und eine Rede, Stuttgart 1981.
Bubner, Rüdiger: Ästhetische Erfahrung, Frankfurt am Main 1989.
Crouch, Colin: Post-Democracy, Oxford 2004.
Feyerabend, Paul: Wissenschaft als Kunst, Frankfurt am Main 1984.
Giddens, Anthony: The Consequences of Modernity, Oxford 1990.
Girot, Christophe, Anette Freytag, Albert Kirchengast, Suzanne Krizenecky, Dunja Richter: Topologie / Topology, Zurich 2012.
Günzel, Stephan: Topologie. Zur Raumbeschreibung in den Kultur- und Medienwissenschaften, Bielefeld 2007.
Heidegger, Martin: “The Question Concerning Technology,” in: id.: Basic Writings, edited by David Farrell Krell, London 1993.
Kant, Immanuel: Kritik der Urteilskraft, Frankfurt am Main 1974 (1790).
Kuhn, Thomas S.: The Structure of Scientific Revolutions, Chicago 1962.
Lyotard, Jean-Francois: The Postmodern Condition; Original: La condition postmoderne, Paris 1979.
Nowotny, Helga: Es ist so—es könnte auch anders sein. Über das veränderte Verhältnis von Wissenschaft und Gesellschaft, Frankfurt am Main 1999.
Popper, Karl R.: Auf der Suche nach einer besseren Welt. Vorträge und Aufsätze aus dreissig Jahren, Munich 1994.
Ritter, Joachim: Subjektivität. Sechs Aufsätze, Frankfurt am Main 1974.
Rorty, Richard: Eine Kultur ohne Zentrum. Vier philosophische Essays, Stuttgart 1993.
Schiller, Friedrich: Über die ästhetische Erziehung des Menschen in einer Reihe von Briefen, Stuttgart 2006 (1795).
Scruton, Roger: Beauty, Oxford 2009.
Simmel, Georg: “Philosophie der Landschaft,” in: Die Güldenkammer, 11/1913, pp. 635–644.
The texts of this book are arranged alphabetically by the authors’ last names.
Landscape Theories in Transition Shifting Realities and Multiperspective Perception
Landscape is considered to be the common place par excellence; an open space for thought and action that is, however, subjected to certain laws. The fact that this concept accumulates numerous phenomena, ideas, values, demands, and problems is not usually a problem in day-to-day life. But on the scientific and professional level, different disciplinary-specific concepts have developed around the understanding of landscape, which—because they are based on different systems of reference—have very different scopes, and come into conflict when they seek validity beyond their disciplinary limitations. In practice, this proves more and more a hindrance, because it is essential for planning, design, and development to have a broadly anchored and hence widely accepted understanding of landscape. Understanding landscape is not only fundamental to all those involved, actors and users alike; it is the result of a process of negotiation between the various positions. In the process, landscape theories—1 play a role that is not to be underestimated. They not only offer insights, justifications, descriptions, and explanations for the “landscape phenomenon,” they also create an environment for negotiations by localizing them within a larger intellectual and practical context.
Landscape was long caught in an “either-or” situation of the natural sciences and humanities. Either its natural phenomena were explained or its culturally construed idea interpreted. After the “topological turn,”—2 however, landscape shifted towards the interest of cultural studies, where in particular transdisciplinarity, grounded theory, and methodological triangulation interlinked different explanatory and comprehension attempts. The current space of landscape is therefore no longer merely physical and geographical, but also cultural and social. Its conceptualization connects self-evident concepts and interests beyond disciplinary and methodological borders, and prioritizes relationships and entanglements over facts. Much has been discussed since the late twentieth century regarding the planning and designing of landscape. The discussion relates to wilderness parks as much as urban squares and, in the second instance, to the question of a common denominator. Various natural, suburban and urban, traditional, and post-industrial landscapes compete for quality and sustainability. Against this backdrop, a committed definition of landscape faded. It is uncontested however, that rapid change in use and design—instigated mainly by ecological pressures—greatly undermined any previously accepted concepts, terminologies, and visual images.
In face of this pressure to change, we are attempting to discover the causes and drivers of this change on the one hand, and on the other anticipating future needs and development tendencies through new visions and models. Yet the fundamental question remains: which understanding of landscape—which basis of theory—will form the basis? And what kind of landscape will be produced as a result?
The idea of landscape itself establishing how it should be perceived—and thus designed—is a modern development, which was greatly influenced by painting and painting’s pictorial qualities: the framed picture represents observed landscape and turns it into an object to be viewed from an “aesthetic distance.” The picture consequently becomes the way landscape is perceived (“pictorial vision”), and the gauge against which the reality of landscape is measured. Yet the “beauty” that is frozen in the picture is examined critically, due to the inescapable transformation of physical space and the shift of perspective in the age of postindustrialized, globalized society. It is more relevant at the moment for landscape not be chained to a predetermined aesthetic, but rather experienced casually in movement. It is laced with and structured by a dense network of pathways, streets, and tracks. This network creates a type of visual rhythm, forms points of intersections and a variety of complex relationships. Basing contemporary landscape purely on a traditional, pictorial mode of perception will inevitably fail. Because first of all, the traditional, pictorial perception is qualified when non-visual, sensual experiences are taken into account, and secondly, the processes of change and a multiplicity of perspectives makes the static image more dynamic. Landscape today is a multidimensional phenomenon that needs to integrate the non-visual as well as change, and that also demands different levels of reflection.
Differentiation and Contextualization Rather than Definition
It is now accepted, in the various sciences involved with landscape, that there is no single landscape concept that unifies all disciplines, nor do any representations or ways of presentation exist that are valid across the board. Instead, different ideas and views on landscape have materialized with different ranges and expiry dates.
This almost unimaginable diversity of landscape concepts and definitions reveals far more inconsistencies and contradictions than consensus and contingency. Against the backdrop of a universalizing understanding of landscape, which still shapes the landscape architectural practice, this complicates communication regarding landscape and hinders future negotiations. The ideal notion of landscape fades, becoming a pictorial label and a superficial sales pitch.
A typological understanding of landscape, on the other hand, is based on the specific site and its relationship, and tolerates contradictory definitions and perspectives. Instead of exclusionary general plans, there is an increasing amount of context-specific, temporary, process-based, participatory, design- and planning-related interventions—each with a landscape concept that responds to the specific site. And for this reason, such approaches can neither be right nor wrong (measured against an ideal), but rather plausible and sensible in relation to the actual situation. This reorientation of defining and assessing landscape was announced at the theoretical level: firstly, in a general differentiation of the landscape concept and in the question regarding its visibility; and, secondly, in concrete landscape theory in relation to practice.
Landscape not implying an image, an idea, or a physicalgeographic space has long been a topic of cultural studies (green cultural studies). And the fact that this differentiation has far-reaching consequences on the practice level is an overdue subject of current discussion. The landscape concept has diverse interpretations and contexts of use. Work on the landscape concept—3 has made the following dimensions visible and distinguishable:
I | Landscape as physical, object-based space that exists beyond humans and is understood as object-based (natural perspective). |
II | Landscape as a space of action, space of residence, and social fabric (social perspective). |
III | Landscape as an abstract idea and cultural construct that shape perceptual conditions (ideal perspective). |
IV | Landscape as medium (image, film, text, code, and so on) that communicates the physical reality and or idea (media perspective). |
These four dimensions of landscape—their plausibility based on current scientific theoretical distinctions and philosophies—are not only distinguishable due to their theoretical orientation and conception, they are also interconnected by the complexity of the landscape phenomenon. Image, space, and ideas are inseparable, as the work by René Magritte has shown.
As obviously and frequently as these perspectives shape the intersections of the actual dealings with landscape, the relationships between them are comparatively not sufficiently reflected or discussed. The inflationary employment of beautiful landscape pictures to communicate a variety of implications is clear evidence of this. Traditional landscape pictorial conventions may well address a broad public, yet they also have less and less to do with the actual spatial reality they supposedly use as a point of reference in the first place. Blind spots in relation to these different realities—blind spots in theory—are preprogrammed here. They hinder not only an adequate sifting of the phenomenon, but also of the corresponding theoretical formulations.
As early as the nineteen-nineties, philosopher Wolfgang Welsch described the problem of turning a blind eye—the restriction of aesthetic perception.—4 One of his core theories asserts that every aesthetic contains a conflicting anaesthetic—“a blind spot.” “We do not see, because we are not blind, but rather we see, because we are blind to most.”—5 To see means to make visible—tangible to the senses—and thus it is exclusive. Making something visible is contingent upon making something invisible; it is shifting these things to a different dimension of perception that is not embedded in the consciousness. Because sensual perception is based on traditional patterns of perception, it excludes those things that are not cataloged therein. It declares them as nonexistent within the context of the given sensory concept. However, they are conceivable within the framework of Welsch’s anaesthetic concept, and significant. In relation to landscape, these are the realms not contained within those of traditional perception, but are nonetheless significant within the framework of the overall phenomenon.—6 Hence, landscape should not only be perceived as aesthetic, but should also be considered and questioned critically on other levels.
This multiperspectivity was recognized as early as the second half of the twentieth century and responded to with corresponding conceptual approaches. A number of theories made attempts to capture and identify landscape in its complexity independent of disciplinary borders. They refer to the rapid change in design that was typical of contemporary times, as well as to the dynamization of perception and the problematizing of the models of the pictorial ideal. A sketchy review of exemplary perspectives and concepts on landscape in the second half of the twentieth century would easily demonstrate this fact.
J. B. Jackson: Change of Perspective to the Everyday Landscape
An initial impetus to reconsider landscape realities and the rigid conditions of perception came from the United States. In 1951, John Brinckerhoff Jackson (1909–1996)—7 founded the magazine entitled Landscape, which quickly became an important impetus for a critical and unbiased research of day-to-day cultural landscapes. Consequently, Jackson not only triggered an interdisciplinary debate on landscape, but also laid the foundation stone for cultural landscape studies.
Jackson protested as early as the mid-twentieth century that contemporary American landscape reality was not perceived “correctly.” This led to him to the subject of landscape itself and also to its perception. In the USA, an everyday, vernacular landscape had developed that clearly differed from European cultural landscapes pictorially and structurally, and that also demanded a corresponding modi of perception. Therefore, he critically questioned the cultural history of landscape as a history of an idealized view of landscape, and called for examining landscape reality from an everyday perspective and recording it systematically. He developed a set of tools that would describe and locally anchor the sensorial and symbolic perception of landscape—the perception and meaningproduction of landscape—by placing it in the context of American day-to-day reality.—8 This shift is not a singular phenomenon, but in combination with Pop Art, it is a precursor to postmodern architecture and Robert Venturi, Denise Scott Brown, and Steven Izenour’s Learning from Las Vegas.—9
Jackson joins this cognitive process as a perceiving subject. He identifies other possible perceptual perspectives by reflecting and qualifying his own standpoint. The result of this fundamental critique of perception is, first, the ennoblement of the vernacular landscape, which, as a counterpole to the “Arcadian ideal,” shifts everyday landscape into the center of focus; and, second, the qualification of the perceptual perspective, which is always to be interpreted in context and cannot claim universal validity. Hence, the question of landscape is directed at its cultural construction within a restricted scope.
According to Jackson, the landscape architectural practice was especially burdened by the fact that vernacular landscape is neither a part of the traditional ideal nor is it among the available parameters of perception. The eye is directed at the past, and thus only sees destroyed, formerly “beautiful landscapes” instead of the alive and hence positively charged, day-to-day contemporary landscape. This compels those involved to practice a defensive and conservative politics and design, to struggle against the new, and to preserve or reconstruct the old.