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Sep 17

Minimalism in Landscape Architecture – Why We Could Use a Little More “Less is More”



Article written by Bart Dijk, Senior Landscape Designer – Project Leader at LAOS Landscape Urbanism


 



The significant challenges that a design must address these days, result in a kaleidoscopic appearance of public spaces. Parks and squares are supposed to contribute to biodiversity, battle urban overheating and drought, facilitate mobility, and provide spaces for meeting, staying, exercising, playing, and relaxing. Combined with design trends such as organic forms and complex patterns, this leads to a fragmented view of public space.


About 10 years ago, “Less is more” was still a regularly heard phrase in the field of landscape architecture and urban planning. Mies van der Rohe, borrowing this saying from poet and painter Robert Browning, put minimalism into practice with his architecture. Looking at the challenges both disciplines are expected to face today, it might be beneficial to dust off the “less is more” philosophy.


The foundation for minimalism in landscape architecture was built on other design disciplines. The movement began in the 1960s in New York with sculpture art. Works by Donald Judd and Carl Andre are emblematic of that time, aiming to make a significant impact with minimal means. Geometric shapes and industrial materials were often used to create contrast with the surroundings. The absence of direct references to context or narrative – which we do see in current times – was part of minimalist sculpture. It revolved around the experience of the object or form itself.




Sculpture 43 Roaring forty door Carl Andre, Kröller-Müller Museum Netherlands 1968. Image: Wikimedia commons


This movement is prevalent in architecture as well. Mies van der Rohe is considered the father of minimalist architecture. His Neue Nationalgalerie in Berlin is a prime example of the utilisation of clear geometric lines and industrial material, reminiscent to that in sculpture. But, minimalist architects added a crucial aspect to these principles: defining clear spaces. Tadao Ando, for instance, is a master of minimalist architecture who excels in composing with space and light. His sculptural work perhaps best approaches the minimalist principles used by the sculptors.



Neue Nationalgallerie by Mies van der Rohe, Berlin Germany 1968. Image: Wikimedia commons




Azuma House by Tadao Ando, Osaka Japan 1976. Image: Wikimedia commons


The work of American Peter Walker shows a direct link from minimalist sculpture to landscape architecture. His Tanner Fountain on the Harvard campus reads more like a piece of art than an outdoor space, and his later work showcases more geometric and repetitive patterns used in his designs of parks, gardens, and squares. Examples of this later approach are the Sony Center in Berlin or Burnett Park in Fort Worth, USA. This movement also inspired designers in the Netherlands. The original 1996 design of Schouwburgplein in Rotterdam is a good example of this. It was greened a few years ago, which also illustrates how the appreciation for minimalism among designers has largely been lost. The strict geometric design principles and use of hard materials created clear spaces, but they were also perceived as harsh, stony, and open. However, there are green minimalist designs. In the Netherlands, landscape architect Hein Otto created a series of simple green gardens and grounds. Then there are the works by Danish landscape architect C. Th. Sørensen, like the iconic De Geometriske Haver in Herning, which purely focusses on the experience of the geometric shapes made by hedges. Whether they are green or stony, minimalist designs often prioritise form over function, and although my designer’s heart beats faster for this, these designs often no longer meet the current needs of urban spaces.




De Geometriske Haver by C. Th. Sørensen, Herning Denemarken 1982. Image: Ben ter Mull


Today, outdoor spaces are often designed more organically than geometrically, with a lot of variation, usability, and greenery. This is not a direct reaction to minimalism, instead it’s partly driven by awareness of climate change, biodiversity loss, and the positive effects of an active lifestyle. New public spaces boast a rich variety of (often native) planting, keeping cities cool, enhancing urban biodiversity, and offering a broader range of programs. Where minimalist squares barely had room for just one bench and a sandbox, we now see a multitude of objects for sports and play. The accumulation and sheer amount of functions results in the reduction of clarity and tranquillity of urban spaces.


In rural areas, we see another trend. For several years, provinces, the national government, and municipalities have been working on the Bossenstrategie (forestry strategy), a measure that was implemented following the Paris Climate Agreement of 2016. It’s a fantastic aim, as well as the opportune time to restore landscape diversity that was lost to upscaling through the planting of forests and landscape elements. But, instead of a well-designed national plan for this task, similar to historical land consolidations, the current approach often involves planting a tree in every available nook or corner, even in places where it doesn’t make sense from a cultural-historical and spatial perspective. Moreover, most places choose a similar mix of different tree species to address climate change and biodiversity, resulting in landscape elements that look increasingly similar. This opportunity to make landscapes legible and landscape structures clear, often results in further homogenisation. This example might appear trivial to some, since it’s just a few trees in unused corners. However, this trend has been evident for years in the implementation of solar fields, redevelopments, and the construction of provincial and national roads and business parks.


I don’t think we should or even could return to the expressions of minimalism in landscape architecture as we knew them from the 1960s. However, the simple and clear design principles used back then ensured a lot of structure and especially tranquillity to the streetscape. Today’s work field has concrete objectives (climate adaptive, healthy, inclusive, sustainable, etc.), but clear, implementable design principles are often lacking. While the objectives in urban and rural areas are more significant than they have ever been, direction from the national government is at an all-time low. Seeing as structure and overview are unlikely to come from there, it’s up to us as designers provide calm designs and structure within the given frameworks.


At LAOS, we’re aiming to apply and promote these principles as much as possible. We consider it a compliment if the designer’s hand is not immediately visible. Context, form, and contrast naturally come together. We create places with an exciting sense of harmony. A good example of this is the design for the representation of the former duck decoy in Glimmen. In essence, it’s a minimalist design. A path and a resting place were created with steel, forming a route was that protects the monument of the duck decoy. At the same time, the geometric design and consistent use of industrial materials provide a strong contrast with the natural surroundings.



Duck Decoy by LAOS, Glimmen Netherlands 2013. Image: LAOS



The design for Groningen’s Park Meerstad is another example that addresses contemporary challenges. A strong image was constructed with few ingredients. Ground mounds with native planting provide variety and biodiversity. One path, runs horizontally through the mounds, creating a clear line and tranquillity in the park. Because the entire park program is integrally designed with the same principles, it creates an exciting sense of harmony.



Park Meerstad by LAOS and Jeroen Doorenweerd, Groningen Netherlands 2018. Image: LAOS


For the final example, we revisit Denmark. There, Danish firm SLA created a city forest on a roundabout in Copenhagen through radical design, making a strong statement. With hundreds of different native plant species, they created a mini-biotope on a typical traffic-engineered urban image, enhancing the traffic space with living space for people, animals, and plants. Depending on how you look at it, you could argue that this was also a matter of planting a tree in every available corner, but unlike the forestry strategy examples, this created a strong identity that makes the city more legible and, above all, unique.




Sankt Kjelds Plads by SLA, Copenhagen Denmark 2019. Image: LAOS


The design challenges we face as landscape architects are more complex than ever. Much is demanded of space, while the involvement and expectations of the community are high. It’s not always easy to create a design that offers tranquillity and clarity from the intersection of interests and the information and inspiration cocktail of today’s time. In my opinion, daring to leave things out is the key. Not everything needs to be integrated into one place; tangible space is needed as well. Tangible space has as much value in a harmonious design as mass. Structures and clear lines provide overview, and well-considered compositions create exciting tension. This not only results in a characterful environment but also a readable (urban) landscape through a strong relationship with the context. Less is More.


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