Page 1

Ma te whakaatu ka mohio

By discussion comes understanding

Ma te mohio ka marama

By understanding comes light

Ma te marama ka matau

By light comes wisdom

Ma te matau ka ora

By wisdom comes well-being

REVIEW PROCESS IFLA50 followed a “double blind� peer review policy. Abstracts of papers submitted to IFLA50 2013 went through a double blind peer review process. Authors of selected abstracts were invited to submit full papers or posters. Full papers went through double blind reviews again. Accepted abstracts and papers are included in this document. Please note that a full copy of the proceedings will be made available on the NZILA and IFLA websites. www.NZILA.co.nz www.IFLA.org IFLA encourages academic and practitioner based papers from a diverse range of cultures and countries and as such the papers presented in this proceedings range from fully academic research to project case studies and discussion papers and represent submissions from both English and non English as 1st language authors. Photos and other illustrations courtesy of IFLA50 and contributing authors or as cited.

CREDITS Editors Renee Davies and Dr Diane Menzies IFLA50 logo by Turi Park of Native Graphic design for IFLA50 and cover by Vanessa le Grand Jacob April 2013 ISBN: 978-0-473-24360-9

USB Kindly sponsored by

Conference Committee Renee Davies (Convenor) Rachel de Lambert Sarah Collins Dr Diane Menzies Jan Woodhouse Catherine Hamilton Melissa Davis Alan Titchener Phil Wihongi Stephen Brown Neil Challenger Jacky Bowring

In assciation with


Reviewers Dennis Aitken Mike Barthelmeh Geraldine Bayly Matthew Bradbury Martin Bryant Penny Cliffin Peter Connolly Renee Davies Shannon Davis Peter Griffiths Catherine Hamilton Ian Henderson Michael Howard Daniel Irving David Jones Gini Lee Diane Menzies Nikolay Popov Julian Rennie Simon Swaffield Sue Wake Sue Anne Ware

Hosts New Zealand Institute of Landscape Architects (NZILA) Australian Institute of Landscape Architects (AILA) The Conference and Editorial Committee would like to thank everyone not already mentioned who contributed to IFLA50 - Shared Wisdom in an Age of Change Š IFLA50 2013 The copyright in this proceedings belongs to IFLA. Copyright of the papers contained in this proceedings remains the property of the individual authors. Apart from fair dealing for the purpose of private study, research, criticism or review, as permitted under the Copyright Act, no part of this proceedings may be reproduced by any process without the prior permission of the publishers and authors. Individual authors were responsible for obtaining the appropriate permission to reproduce any and all images in the research papers presented in this proceedings. The Editor and IFLA take no responsibility if any author has not obtained the appropriate permissions. Copyright of images in this publication are the property of the authors or appear with permissions granted to those authors.

In assciation with


FOREWORD Nau mai, Haere mai, Whakatau mai! Nga mihi mahana tenei. Welcome to the 50th International Federation of Landscape Architects (IFLA) Congress. This is the first time that the Congress has been hosted in New Zealand and has been six years in the planning since our successful bid in 2007. “We are made wise not by the recollection of our past, but by the responsibility for our future”. George Bernard Shaw Despite having more knowledge at our disposal than any other period in history, we are still grappling with how to live on and share our World - in many instances we are at a critical crisis point. However, Landscape Architects are well placed to address these issues and provide leadership and guidance. In our daily practice we need to be alert to the need for new knowledge, to changes in technology, climate and social conditions. As designers, we grapple on a daily basis with concepts of change and dynamism. To appropriately respond to this challenge we rely on constant exploration of new knowledge from varied disciplines and a sharing of wisdom that adds value to the understanding of the challenges we face and the potential solutions that will ensure appropriate and innovative management of change. “The desire to reach for the stars is ambitious. The desire to reach hearts is wise.” Maya Angelou We aim for the Congress theme to touch hearts and minds and the programme provides ample opportunity for stimulating debate, combined with a unique parallel session exploring indigenous landscape knowledge. As part of the Congress programme we also have an exciting IFLA student charette during which the next generation of landscape architects will collaborate on ideas to inform the development of a prominent Auckland coastal site for local Maori tribe (Iwi) Ngati Whatua. We have selected an exclusive array of invited keynote speakers from across the globe who each represent a specialist area of knowledge within the Congress subthemes. The future of our world and our landscapes will be determined in part by the quality and sensitivity of those that influence and manage change and safeguard their qualities. We hope that the shared knowledge from this Congress will contribute to our collective sensitivity. We send a warm welcome to you all that have chosen to join us here in on the journey to weave together a rich basket of knowledge to carry us forward.

Tena koutou! Tena koutou! Kia ora tatou katoa.

Renee Davies IFLA50 Convenor Congress convenor and students learning the craft of traditional weaving from Niuean holders of wisdom

In assciation with


Presidential Welcomes IFLA As a welcoming gift, I have brought to you from far away, through time and space, from ancient Mexico, from the region of the Anahuac (place of water), a poem, written by one of the most well-known poets in ancient Mesoamerica. A lover and admirer of nature and its secrets, an ingenious engineer and landscape architect, a man by the name of Netzahualcoyotl, king of Texcoco. In the late 15th and early 16th Centuries, he built one of the most celebrated palaces at Tetzcotzinco, a small hill marking the southern end of the Sierra Nevada (the highest mountain range surrounding the Mexico basin). This palace had a botanical garden, fountains and cascades, but the most amazing feature of all, was that it was the very last installation (the cherry on the cake) of a huge water management system, with watering channels and agricultural terraces along the foothills of the whole SIerra, with dams and cultivation polders in the lake basin that allowed people in the Anáhac to sustain themselves and their culture to flourish. So I have brought a little bit of his wisdom and sensibility contained in this poem, to share it with you, dear attendees but also to honor the Maori culture and its link to our Mother Earth.



Nihualacic ye nican, ye ni Yoyontzin. Za(n) ni xochi ye elehuiya, ni xochintlatlapanaco tlalticpac.

I have arrived here, I,Yoyontzin, yearning only for flowers, cutting flowers here on the earth, precious cocoa flowers.

Noconyatlapana Yn cacahuaxochitl. noconyatlapana ycniuhxochitl. Yetehuan, monacayo, ti tepiltzin!

I cut flowers of friendship for myself. Those are yourself, oh prince!

Ni Nezahualcoyotl teuctli Yohyontzin Cantares Mexicanos #25 (18v-19r)-original in Nahuatl

I am Nezahualcoyot, the Lord Yoyontzin. Cantares Mexicanos #25 (18v-19r)

I invite you to enjoy this landscape celebration that our dear NZILA and AILA colleagues have put together for all of us! Also enjoy the landscape of Auckland and its surroundings, which is a celebration in itself. Feel the fresh wind and the warm sun on your skin! It is time to share, it is time to change, it is time to be one with LANDSCAPE! With a very big hug,

Desiree Martínez IFLA President

In assciation with


NZILA Kia ora. On behalf of the NZ Institute of Landscape Architects it is my privilege to extend a very warm welcome to the international landscape architecture community for IFLA’s 50th Anniversary Congress and celebrations in Auckland. Living and working in one of the World’s far-flung ‘outposts’ this World Congress is particularly significant for Australasia and South-east Asia, and truly reflects the global nature of our profession. Just as important, the content of Congress - with a strong focus on shared knowledge, culture and change - will reinforce the very diversity and multidisciplinary breadth of landscape architecture. In a time of global stress that traverses the social, economic and - perhaps most of all - environmental domains, this conference will reinforce the integrative and visionary role of the profession: far from being purveyors of superficial ‘green’ solutions’ to many of the World’s current problems, landscape architects are fundamental to their resolution. On a slightly less serious note, the World Congress will offer the opportunity for visitors to Auckland and New Zealand to appreciate some of our local landscapes, in particular those of the Hauraki Gulf and its islands, which are the home to a wide range of wildlife, including dolphins, whales, and many of this country’s native birds – together with its largest city. I am sure that those making the most of the field trips and other opportunities outside the Congress venue at Sky City will enjoy the natural attributes of this part of New Zealand, while local landscape architects can offer a gateway to many of Auckland’s more cultural offerings. Again, a sincere welcome to you all,

Stephen Brown NZILA President

In assciation with


World Congress Welcome It is my very great pleasure to welcome the international community of landscape architects to the City of Sails - Tamaki-makau-rau - for both this World Congress and the 50th Anniversary of the International Federation of Landscape Architects. Early Maori navigators called New Zealand Aotaeroa - the land of the long white cloud - attributing it a sense of place and identity derived from the elemental forces acting on its elongated sequence of islands. In fact, New Zealand is still strongly influenced by both sub-tropical and sub-antarctic climatic regimes, while much of its terrain has been shaped by geological processes that date back more than 500 million years. Even so, many of its most spectacular landforms are the much more recent, indeed violent, progeny of the Pacific Ring of Fire and the constant state of hostilities between the Pacific and Australian plates. The 40 odd volcanic cones that still dot the Auckland Isthmus bear testimony to this heritage, while the 2010 and 2011 earthquakes in Christchurch are an eloquent reminder of the tectonic forces still shaping this country. Australians frequently remind us of this by referring to this country as the ‘shaky isles’ - in a not unkind way. Many visitors to New Zealand also comment on our unique plant life: this is hardly surprising, given that Aotearoa’s flora and fauna remained effectively isolated from the rest of the World upon the disintegration of Gondwana - through to the arrival of early Polynesian explorers some 8-900 years ago. As a result, much of the endemic vegetation found throughout New Zealand has stronger connections with that of New Caledonia, Lord Howe Island, even Peru and Chile, than with Australia or Asia: the kahikatea forests of South-westland and even the Waikato first emerged amid primeval swamps some 20 million years, and as a species are little changed from that time. Yet, change across New Zealand’s varied spectrum of natural landscapes accelerated very markedly with the advent of Maori occupation some 8-900 years ago, and increased exponentially after European colonisation, some 170 years ago. Quite appropriately, therefore, this week’s conference is fundamentally about landscapes in a time of accelerated, and exceedingly rapid, change: economic, social, and - perhaps most worrying of all - environmental and ecological. The World has held its breath at the successive economic and banking crises in New York, Portugal, Greece and Cypress, but remains surprisingly muted about climate change, the current sequence of World wide droughts and heat waves, air pollution, forest contraction, arable soil loss and species extinctions. -Even in this far-flung corner of the planet, there remains a strangely ambivalent attitude to the natural systems that actually underpin both our society and economy: New Zealand flogs its 100% Pure, clean green image - through very much the same sort of imagery as you can see behind me now - without any apparent appreciation of the interrelationship between ‘scenery’ and environmental management, let alone a more comprehensive understanding of natural resources and the physical environment as the true economy that ultimately dictates the well-being of us all. Unfortunately, our current government’s recent actions and policies display a remarkable lack of foresight in this area. Erosion of the funding base for the Department of Conservation - which manages that third of New Zealand’s land area most critical in terms of biotic resources - combined with the effective loss of that Department’s conservation advocacy role, and increased ministerial intervention in local planning are obvious manifestations of this change. Rather more insidious has been manipulation of recent appointments to the Environment Court and Boards of Inquiry, while current proposals for the Resource Management Act - once touted as an effects based planning model for the World - appear designed to emasculate key sections that are fundamental to the conservation and protection of this country’s natural resources and landscapes. In the course of a famous Oxford University debate on nuclear proliferation in 1985, the late David Lange – then prime minister of this country quipped - that he could ‘smell the scent of uranium on his opponent’s breath’. Nowadays, there is more than a whiff of hypocrisy in the air every time Tourism NZ comes up with yet another strategy talking about this country’s ‘pristine state’. Much as we live in the 21st century, there is an emerging sense that we are trapped in a time-machine taking us back to the policies and environmental management regimes of the 1950s and ‘60s. All the while, this year’s worst-ever recorded drought and all too evident changes to the ice pack and glaciers of the Southern Alps cast a much darker cloud over Aotearoa. In assciation with


The sort of matters that I have described are far from unique to New Zealand, apart possibly from the scale of self-delusion exhibited by some politicians. And even though they go well beyond the traditional areas of work long associated with landscape architecture, they remain critical in respect of the landscape in a much broader sense affecting our natural heritage, our cultural heritage, life styles, identity and shared values. In New Zealand, Maori - the tangata whenua or people of the land - have been recognised as having a particular affinity with the land, landscape, and landscape features. Yet, I suspect that the concept of kinship or connection with the land remains critical to us all - regardless of race or creed - if only because landscapes define where we have come from and our place in the wider world. Far more than being just about aesthetics or ‘genius loci’, such connections reflect our perceived birthright, heritage and a place of belonging, comfort, even well-being. Yet, for the first time in human history more than half of the Earth’s 7 billion human inhabitants live in its cities and urban environments: far more than just centres for occupation, employment, education and transportation, future conurbations and metropolitan areas may well have to become the focus for self-sustaining food and energy production. This transition will almost certainly give rise to new forms of urban development that challenge longstanding design principles and norms. I believe that landscape architects will play an increasingly important role in the development of urban models that, in addition to being effective and efficient, provide real sustainability, resilience and enduring appeal. Outside the urban arena, landscape architects will have an equally important a role to play in managing the interaction between rural domains that are increasingly hall-marked by mechanised systems of production and those marginal areas that become the last repositories of natural habitats and biota. In addressing many of the issues that I have alluded to, it seems to me that landscape architects will bring three highly important ingredients to the table: a discipline that melds the arts and sciences - integrating, not divorcing them from one another; appreciation of cultural values and diversity; and the ability - indeed proclivity - to work in an integrative or facilitative capacity with one another and with other disciplines. The papers being presented at this conference clearly evoke such skills and reflect the journeys associated with their development and application, by individuals and teams of professionals alike. In many respects, they offer models for future professional practice, integration and cooperation that we simply cannot afford to ignore. In concluding, I also want to briefly comment on this year’s 50th Anniversary celebrations: much of my speech has had an historical context and I am very mindful that 50 years ago landscape architecture did not exist in New Zealand. For that matter, nor did the personal computers, the world wide web or mobile phones - yet they are now central to our everyday lives and work. The profession of landscape architecture has come along way in a relatively short period of time, perhaps nowhere more so than in New Zealand. Despite the many issues confronting us today, I remain optimistic that we are - as a famous war-time statesman once said - not at the ‘beginning of the end’ but rather at the ‘end of the beginning’. We have a long and exciting way to go.

Stephen Brown NZILA President

In assciation with


AILA Hello and Gidday. On behalf of AILA and all its members I would like to extend the warmest welcome to you all. The theme for the fiftieth world congress says it all. In this dawning age of change we need to transcend the barriers and pool our wisdom for the greater good. Landscape architects clearly not only have the skills but also the mindset and passion to design resilient, engaging and healthy urban, regional and rural environments. Lets take this opportunity to provide leadership in the creation and stewardship of sustainable cities and settlements designed in balance with natural and cultural systems. So to the city of volcanos, where the Tasman and Pacific waters nearly kiss, a city geographically blessed, Tamaki (Auckland) where the natives are as friendly as the waters. Come in fellowship, share and enjoy. See you there Cheers

Niall Simpson AILA National President

In assciation with



Page No.’s

Delegate Papers

12 - 14

Poster List


Sponsorship and Exhibition

16 - 18


20 - 32

Keynote Address

34 - 46

Delegate Papers

47 - 520

Local Landscape Rural Landscape Indigenous Wisdom Urban Landscape Radical Change and Resilience Contemporary Issues around Globalisation

Poster Abstracts Local Landscape Rural Landscape Indigenous Wisdom Urban Landscape Radical Change and Resilience Contemporary Issues around Globalisation

In assciation with

47 90 153 264 399 486

521 - 530 522 524 525 526 527 529


Paper No. and Title




A Dichotomy: Conservation and Tourism Parametric Models of Coastal Settlements’ Growth Xsection: Auckland’s Contemporary Landscape Architecture Journal

Cray R, Griffiths C Dove K, Popov N Griffiths C, Aitken D

48 54 59


Landscape Education as a Field of Research. Rethinking the Mediterranean Landscape Voids: The Case of The Medieval Wall and Moat of Chania, Crete

Karamanea P



Designing Africa in Alabama, USA

LeBleu C



Shan-Shui Mountain - and - Water Garden Discussion: Landscape Design Of Jiaoshan Lake Park in Tongshan District Of Xuzhou, Jiangsu Province

Qi L



Co-Occupation Land Management Practices In Southwestern Louisiana Offer Sites For Eco-System And Industry Resilience

Smith K


Corry R Haiyun X, Feng X



Perennial Changes in Ontario’s Farm Landscape


The Ancient Tea-horse Road: Conservation Strategies for the Development of Rural Cultural Landscape


Ecological Determinism in Australia: Tracing the Legacy of McHarg Downunder and its Key Precedents

Jones D



Food Landscapes: A Landscape Model for Intensive Farming

Lawton C, Davies R



Rearticulating the Vernacular Patterns of a Coastal Landscape

Manson C, McDonald C



Landscape Boundaries: An Examination of the Practice of Landscape Assessment in Twenty-First Century Aotearoa/New Zealand

Read M



The Conflicts of the Land-Use Policy to the Effective Conservation of Chinampa Agricultural Diversity in Mexico City

Reyes Plata J, Kanekiyo H


Anderson A



Indigenous Knowledge and Landscape Conservation in the Omani Cloud Forest The Sky from Earth: Landscape as Awareness

Bertol D



How do We as Designers, Design with Cultural Integrity?

Clarke J



Interactions with an Inhospitable Environment - Human Settlements in Greenland During 700-2100 CE Urban Plot for Indigenous Agricultural Practices in Northeast United States

Fryd O


Heavers N


Low Choy D, Jones D


Mackin N, Ruddick J, Kendrick B Mackin N, Thompson J, Wilson B Mellor B



Words, Oral Libraries and Environmental Responses: An Australian Indigenous Perspective to Climate Change Adaptation Berried Treasure: Nisga’a and Tr’öndek Hwech’in Berry Harvests in the Northwest Canadian Permafrost Ethnobotanical Gardens Benefits and Principles: Re-Connecting Indigenous Communities with the Landscape Expressing the Unseen: Representing Máori Heritage in Wellington



Inherent Understanding of Natural Heritage and Cultural Landscapes

Narayanan A




19. 20. 21. 22.

In assciation with




Redeeming Fire: The use of Fire asa Design Tool in the Australian Landscape

Pocock G



Indigenous Knowledge and Climate Change: The Wathaurong and Gadubanud Narrative for the Great Ocean Road Region Con-nect Con-text: Making Research Rooted in the Regional Traditions of the Place Landscape Architecture without Landscape Architects: Innovation in the Shadow Conservation Network of Cultural Landscapes

Roos P


Smith K, Burkett D


Watson J


27. 28.


An Indigenous History, Archaeo-Park in Yenikapi-Istanbul

Aytac G, Kusuluoglu D



Revealing the Cryptic

Bish A, Davies R, Haines L



The Chocolate River and Gardens of Change

Boris S



Green Roofs as Local Habitats in Singapore

Darne S



Green Piece: Awareness Strategy in an Era of Change



Sound in Landscape Architecture: Practice and Education

Hardt L, Hardt C, Hardt M, Hardt V Jarquio S, Nawre A


Kazerani A, Rahmann H


Khansefid M


Li C


Raje S



Design Strategies in Contemporary Open Space Design: From Additive Approaches to Minimal Interventions Applying Landscape Ecological/Urbanist Approaches to Urban Infrastructure Design and Delivery; A Case of EastLink in Melbourne, Australia Regeneration of Nature - Approaches to Building Green Infrastructures in Arid/Semi-Arid Areas of China Safeguarding the Future of Historic Urban Landscapes to Ensure Livable Cities Vaulx-en-Velin, a Suburban City on the Tracks of its Past



Resilience of Cityscapes

Romier A, Marsura S, Dellinger F Scharf B, Pitha U


Preferences for Pedestrian Walkways in Tropical Urban Neighbourhoods of Kuala Lumpur Sustainability, Microclimate and Culture in Post-earthquake Christchurch

Shojaei S, Kamal M.S M


Tavares S, Swaffield S, Stewart E Wain A


Wake S, Cha L


Ward B, Brown D


Qing Xu


Azizul M, Knight-Lenihan S, van Roon M Backhouse D



Sense of Place & Community Empowerment in Bioregional Planning - A Proposed Conceptual Framework Island Corridor Foundation - Our Corridor, Our Island


The Emergent Northwest Passage

Cho L, Jull M



Give and Take: Landscape Flux in Queensland from Pit to Port

Davies W, Renata A


36. 37. 38.

42. 43.

44. 45.

City Spice, Zanzibar! Arresting Decline, Conserving the Worthy and Creating New Spaces in Old Places. Stone Town Seafront - World Heritage Site Recovery, Zanzibar Children’s Contribution to Design for Climate Change Learning: A Student Research-led Design Project Urban Expansion through Industrial Sites: The Changing State of Port Cities Identifying Values: the Historic Urban Landscape Approach to Chinese Historic Cities





In assciation with




Johnston K, Fisher I


Lee G

440 446


Adaptive and Resilient Strategies for Low Lying Coastlines at Risk from Rising Sea Levels Watertrails for Difficult Territory: Strategies for Dry Landscapes in Times of Radical Slowness The Piggyback Yards: A Catalyst for the Future of the Los Angeles River


Water Infrastructure in Transition: Changing the Flow of Water

Lehrer M, Feldmann B, Jacobs M Lehrer M, Jacobs M


Landscape Architecture’s Green Dilemma

MacKenzie A, McKenzie M



Public Space Topology

Pryor M



Urban Trees - Life Cycles

Williams C





Tangshan Nanhu Eco-city Central Park - From Brownfield to Green Park

Hu J



The Persian Garden and its Heavenly Wisdom as a Contribution to Contemporary Landscape Architecture Methods of Estimating Light Pollution in Designed Environments

Jalayeri H, Hassan Taghvaei S


Kim M


Design Strategies for Regional Identity in Contemporary Landscape Architecture: A Case of the Invited Entries of International Competition for Master Plan of the Yongsan Park, Korea, 2012

Seo Y, Pae J


59. 60.

In assciation with


POSTER LIST No. Poster Title



Public Participation toward Successful Sustainability: A Case Study of Zeytinlikoy Ecologic Park, Gökceada, Turkey


Local landscapes. For whom and what for?


Development potential and strategies for threedimensional greening in the industrial building renovation: a case study in Shenzhen, China Protection and utilization of cultural landscape based on eVillage Paths that contribute to the sense of place at relocated settlements


Ozcan B, Nuhoglu A, Ozerk B Arzu Nuhoglu Landscape Design Salmistu S, Nutt N Tallinn University of Technology, Tartu College. Department of Landscape Architecture Tang S, Liu W, He S College of Architecture, Hunan University Tokunaga S1, Tanabe Y2 1 STEP Inc., 2IFLA Japan


Development and Application of Method to Evaluate Tranquility of a Place

Kim K1, Han G2, Kim M3 1 Research Institute for Gangwon, Korea, 2GangneungWonjoo National University, 3Virginia Tech



The “Traditional Eco-region” and the Landscape Form in Lin Y China: A case study on Traditional Human Settlements and School of Architecture, Tsinghua University Nature in Chengdu Plain Remoteness as Crucible: Landscape Practice in the Torres Nash J1, Madill B2 1 Strait QUT University Brisbane, 2University of Melbourne


Plaza Formation and Expression: Montevideo, Uruguay

Woodbury M, LeBleu C Auburn University


Life on the edge of a boom


Urban Farming in Malaysia: A Paradigm or Paradox


Responsive Coal Mines: A vision in China


Drawing Landscape Scenarios for Urban Water balance

Coates F Curvo Design Group Mohd Hussain N, Byrd H The University of Auckland, Pattullo J Student Wenningsted-Torgard R, Braae E, Bergen Jensen M Copenhagen University Science - Forest & Landscape,


Reconstruction Aid for East Japan Great Earthquake


Creative design studios: the challenges between teaching and public engagement


Ecological Strategy of Urban Landscape Planning at the Time of Desertification Survival

In assciation with

Hayashi M University of Hyoto Marques B, Lin Y Tartu College of Tallinn University of Technology, Estonia, Zhang L, Hu J Beijing Tsinghua Tongheng Planning And Design Institute


Sponsorship & Exhibition IFLA50 would like to extend its sincere thanks to the generous supporters of the Congress, without who this wonderful event would not have been possible.

Silver Sponsor

Bronze Sponsor

Welcome Function Sponsor

Internet Station Sponsor

Lanyard Sponsor

Student Charrette Sponsor

USB Sponsor

In assciation with


Student Competition Sponsors

Field Trip Sponsors

Student Prize Sponsor

Dinner Station Sponsors

Stationery Sponsor

Speaker Sponsor

Green Wall Sponsor

Lunch Sponsor


In assciation with


Supporting Partners


Congress Media Partner

In assciation with


Design in a changing world:

Landscape architecture at Unitec Unitec Institute of Technology offers one of only three accredited Bachelor of Landscape Architecture degrees in New Zealand. It’s the only programme based in Auckland – the country’s largest urban centre. Taught by practicing landscape architects, we challenge students to adapt to changing environments. We ask them to create innovative future landscapes while sustainably managing the ones we inherit. For practitioners, we offer a thriving Master of Landscape Architecture - a unique opportunity to explore design research with input from national and international critics. Find out more about our applied programmes and see how our graduates are shaping the world.


Master of Ceremonies Simon Swaffield Biography: Simon Swaffield is Professor of Landscape Architecture at Lincoln University, NZ, where he has been discipline leader since 1985. Simon’s research is focused upon two linked areas - landscape dynamics, values and public policy; and theory and research methodology in landscape architecture. He is editor of a widely used reader on Theory in Landscape Architecture (Penn Press 2002), co-editor of a text on Globalisation and Agricultural Landscapes (Cambridge University Press 2010) and co–author of Landscape Architecture Research: Inquiry/Strategy/Design (John Wiley 2011). Simon is a Fellow of the NZILA, a member of the CELA Academy of Fellows, and Honorary Professor at Copenhagen University.

Speakers Malcolm Paterson Tamaki Makaurau (Auckland desired by many) Biography: Malcolm Paterson is the senior heritage and resource manager for Ngáti Whátua Órákei and also has strong ties to the Kaipara district north of Támaki Makaurau (Auckland). Malcolm will reflect on the landscapes of Auckland and how landscape informs identity and culture. He will confront the disempowerment of iwi and hapú (Máori tribal and sub-tribal groups) in the management of landscapes and natural, cultural and heritage resources in a pro-development statutory milieu that emphasises the authority of government agencies and the agendae of disciplines such as archaeology and engineering - leaving iwi / hapú in the role of ‘stakeholders’. This is not compatible with the ambitions of tribes like Ngáti Whátua whose túpuna (ancestors) looked to establish reciprocal relationships with Pákehá (European, especially British) settlers and their fledgling government – relationships intended to provide mutual benefits and responsibilities, while recognising (through treaty) the authority of each ‘party’. This principle of partnership between mana whenua (Máori groups with local authority) and government agencies has been recognised in New Zealand law but is rarely achieved in practice. Despite much inter-marriage and social mixing, there remains in many ways a divide in understanding, appreciation and sharing between tangata whenua (Máori as the first settlers to establish organised societies) and tauiwi (later immigrants, now social and political majorities in New Zealand). There is however a tension between the concept of ‘national’ integration simply as New Zealanders and the reality of iwi / hapú as distinct, long-standing social / political entities within what is now a multi-cultural country. Malcolm has also organised the Máori contribution to the congress fieldtrips and will introduce these.

Jacky Bowring Head and Heart: Remembering and Resilience in the Ruins of Christchurch In the wake of disaster, memory can become vulnerable to a range of pressing concerns. Yet our ability to remember is a critical component of our attachment to place, our identity. The postearthquake context of Christchurch is a setting for numerous tensions between the desire to retain traces of the past and a sense that other issues are more important. The infamous statement by the Minister for Earthquake Recovery, Gerry Brownlee, that all the ‘old dungers’ need to come down epitomises the core of the conflict – what to some is precious heritage is to others a potential risk that needs to be swiftly brought down. It is a battle of head and heart, where the pragmatic comes into conflict with the less tangible aspects of place. Emotions vie with economics, nostalgia paces off against risk aversion. At centre stage is the fate of Christ Church Cathedral,

In assciation with


where points of view are deeply divided in terms of its place within the identity of the city, versus a belief that it should be demolished. And even a relatively small element of the city, the historic Victoria Street Clock Tower, has attracted a debate over whether the face that shows the time of the 22 February 2011 quake, 12.51pm, should be kept, or whether it should be allowed to ‘fulfil its purpose as a timepiece.’ The fate of ruins throughout the city is a point of tension, with some seeing nostalgia as an unaffordable luxury, and others craving memory as a crucial ligament that ties us to our past. The energy that wells up around memory illustrates how important it is within a city’s resilience. There is a sense that a need for rapid action in a risk averse society has removed the possibility of a slow landscape, for the ruins to rest in the meantime until they gently become part of the city’s fabric, or they can be repaired. For landscape architecture these vivid discussions and debates how powerful landscape is as a concept, especially when it is under threat. Biography: Dr Jacky Bowring is Associate Professor and Head of the School of Landscape Architecture at Lincoln University, Christchurch, New Zealand. Her key areas of interest are design critique, design theory and landscapes of memory. She has published widely in international academic and professional journals, and is the author of A Field Guide to Melancholy (2008) and editor of Landscape Review. Jacky is a registered landscape architect, and has had success in a number of national and international design competitions, including as a member of the winning team, NZ Wood, for last year’s 48 Hour Design Challenge for the Christchurch post-quake rebuild.

Alex Calder ‘Pioneers! O, pioneers!’ : Fencelines, Plotlines, and the Shaping of Rural New Zealand Two great story arcs shape our understanding of the conversion of unsettled land into rural countryside. One is a narrative of progress: Walt Whitman writes exultingly of the westward march of young Americans: ‘We primeval forests felling, We the rivers stemming, We the surface broad surveying, We the virgin soil upheaving, Pioneers! O pioneers!’ Another writer might vary the punctuation and cadence and tell a rueful headshaking story of how pioneers brought ruin to indigenous peoples and degradation to the natural environment: ‘oh, pioneers’. On the whole, practical and political discourse in New Zealand prefers a plotline of necessary yet regrettable development while almost all our well-regarded novels, films and artworks propose a counter plotline of ruin and despoliation. Most of us, I think, reconcile the plausibility and appeal of these contrasting understandings of environmental change through an uneasy compartmentalisation of the two - an ideological fenceline duplicating the spatial division of the countryside into nature reserves and working farmland. This paper finds a complicating example in a little known masterpiece: Tutira by Herbert GuthrieSmith. For over half a century, this farmer and conservationist observed and documented the changes wrought on one remote North Island sheep station by its various human, animal, and vegetable pioneers. He saw beyond the impacted binaries of progress and ruination to a deep appreciation of what he calls the ‘cumulative power of trivialities’ - and an alternative vision of the shaping of rural New Zealand. Biography: Alex Calder is an Associate-Professor of English at the University of Auckland and Associate Dean (Academic) for the Faculty of Arts. He currently teaches courses in New Zealand Literature, the Gothic, Literary Theory and Critical Practice, and the writings of Herman Melville and Joseph Conrad. His research, for which he has received a Marsden award, focuses on processes of cultural contact and settlement, particularly with regard to writings from New Zealand, the Pacific, and the United States. Book length publications include: The Writing of New Zealand, a non-fiction anthology; Voyages and Beaches, a collection of essays on early European-Pacific encounters; and Old New Zealand and other Writings, the first scholarly edition of the writings of the 19th century ‘Pakeha Maori’ author, F. E. Maning. His most recent book is The Settler’s Plot: How Stories Take Place in New Zealand (Auckland University Press, 2011).

In assciation with


Wade Davis The Wayfinders: Why Ancient Wisdom Matters in the Modern World Biography: Wade Davis is an Explorer-in-Residence at the National Geographic Society. Named by the NGS as one of the Explorers for the Millennium, he has been described as “a rare combination of scientist, scholar, poet and passionate defender of all of life’s diversity.” In recent years his work has taken him to East Africa, Borneo, Nepal, Peru, Polynesia, Tibet, Mali, Benin, Togo, New Guinea, Australia, Colombia, Vanuatu, Mongolia and the high Arctic of Nunuvut and Greenland. An ethnographer, writer, photographer, and filmmaker, Davis holds degrees in anthropology and biology and received his Ph.D. in ethnobotany, all from Harvard University. Mostly through the Harvard Botanical Museum, he spent over three years in the Amazon and Andes as a plant explorer, living among fifteen indigenous groups in eight Latin American nations while making some 6000 botanical collections. His work later took him to Haiti to investigate folk preparations implicated in the creation of zombies, an assignment that led to his writing Passage of Darkness (1988) and The Serpent and the Rainbow (1986), an international best seller later released by Universal as a motion picture. Read more.

Rachel de Lambert How We Grow Auckland like many world cities is growing. In some international contexts the additional 1 million residents (400,000 homes) for Auckland in 30 years will seem small but the increase is substantial when at the last census (2006) the city’s population was just 1,303,068 people. The City’s political leaders aspire for Auckland to be the world’s ‘Most Liveable City’ supported by quality growth. The Council’s 30 year vision – The Auckland Plan sets the vision with a compact city model seeking between 60 and 70% of the City’s growth to be contained within the urban boundary. This leaves substantial growth to be accommodated in Greenfield development outside the established urban area. Whilst accommodating significant growth within the urban boundary will create challenges in terms of urban amenity and the long established Kiwi suburban lifestyle model good quality greenfield growth has its own challenges. Opportunities to advance new models for quality urban growth in both contexts face Auckland in the coming 30 years. These are challenges in which landscape architects play an important role, addressing the delivery of quality, locally responsive growth. How prepared are we to engage, what are the skills we bring to the challenge and what are we doing about it here in Auckland? This paper will raise points for discussion and debate in relation to the growth challenge. Biography: Rachel is Director of Design at Boffa Miskell New Zealand’s longest established, multidisciplinary landscape architecture consultancy. The company has over 35 qualified landscape architects as well as urban designers, planners, ecologists, cultural specialists and strong graphic communication, GIS, CAD and 3D capabilities. Rachel’s practice has included wide experience in landscape planning, landscape resource evaluation as well as specific project design and effect assessment. In more recent years she has returned to a greater focus on design and leadership of design within professional services companies. Rachel, who is Christchurch born and bred, recently led the ‘spaces and places’ Anchor Project for the 100 day Blueprint for the Central Christchurch Recovery Plan.

In assciation with


Garth Falconer Transcendence: the work of radical conservatives in New Zealand The short illustrated presentation will traverse the paradoxical Characteristics of landscape design in New Zealand starting with early Enlightenment assumptions of creating a social utopia across a little known land to the late development of a specialised profession. Current works from the presenters studio will address the ongoing concern with a return to ‘nature’ albeit within an increasingly defined human condition. Biography: Garth graduated in landscape architecture from Lincoln University, completed a Masters in urban design from Oxford Brookes (UK) and is fellow of the NZILA. He is founder and director of Reset Urban Design, a specialised design practise focused on taking strategic projects into a realised form. Previously Garth was a founder and director of Isthmus Group from 1988 to 2008. Garth is foremost a designer and has over 24 years’ experience leading design teams on large scale urban projects around New Zealand, Garth has been at the forefront of the development of urban public realm projects such as waterfronts, river edges, parks, streets, plazas and central city environments. He believes landscape architecture has a critical responsibility in improving the quality and sustainability of life for our people and the wider ecology. Garth has received national and international recognition. He has won numerous national design awards and lectures at the landscape architecture schools at Lincoln, Victoria and Unitec . Garth has presented at conferences and universities in Australia, USA,UK, Greece and Italy.

Paul Herzich Acknowledging Aboriginal Country through Transport Infrastructure What initially began as a Department of Planning, Transport and Infrastructure (DPTI) road safety design strategy for an upgrade of a roadside rest area in 2005 has now filtered through into other DPTI road and rail infrastructure projects. The design approach undertaken demonstrates an outstanding process that consults, recognises and acknowledges the Aboriginal people of South Australia and their country, language and culture. These inspiring reconciliation projects are designed to keep Aboriginal languages and cultures strong, alive and on the map, to maintain relationships between the Government of South Australia and the Aboriginal community and to provide visual interest and education for road users. Such projects are also markers of cultural identity and assist Aboriginal people in sustaining their traditional links with creator ancestor and dreamtime stories. The current collection of Acknowledgement of Country Signage in rest areas is progressively extending to all thirty-nine Aboriginal countries of South Australia and they have become very recognisable popular public art installations. From humble beginnings as a safety design strategy for a roadside rest area, the Acknowledgement of Country Signage has evolved across multiple mediums including major artworks, super graphics, landscape and interior design and annual tram wraps. The most significant achievement of this journey has been the repatriation of Aboriginal burial grounds dating back to 6,000 years. These projects have brought about an ongoing commitment to reconciliation initiatives by DPTI and the Government of South Australia for the benefit of its employees and for the wider community. Biography: Paul Herzich is a Registered Landscape Architect and is employed by the Department of Planning, Transport and Infrastructure (DPTI) in Adelaide, South Australia. Paul makes an outstanding contribution to DPTI and the South Australian community by designing road and rail corridor landscapes

In assciation with


and visual art which incorporate aspects of the Aboriginal way of life. Paul is an Ngarrindjeri/Kaurna man. He was the first Aboriginal student to complete a Bachelor of Design Studies in 2000 and a Bachelor of Landscape Architecture in 2002 at the University of Adelaide. For 12 years, Paul held various positions on the Australian Institute of Landscape Architects SA Group Executive Committee. In 2010, Paul received the NAIDOC SA ‘Artist of the Year’ Award, and in 2007 the South Australian Premier’s Award for ‘Outstanding Individual Performance in a Workgroup – Landscapes that Integrate Aboriginal Culture’. Paul is passionate about designing truly enlightening and educational landscapes containing art which combines originality and creative vision.

Adrian McGregor Bionic Urbanism Biography: Adrian McGregor is a Landscape Architecture and Urban Design professional and managing director of McGregor Coxall, a Sydney and Melbourne based environmental design studio. Graduating with a bachelor of landscape architecture in 1988 he began his career in Sydney and then worked in North America and the UK. He founded McGregor Coxall in 1998 and the Biocity Studio in 2006 to combine practice with research and academia. The firm has received more than 50 awards including the prestigious Topos journal International Landscape Architecture Practice of the Year 2009 presented in Reykjav Iceland. He was also selected as one of Sydney’s 100 most creative people on the Creative Catalysts list 2009. In 2012 he won the Prime Minister of Australias Urban Design award. He is currently working on two books relating to city sustainability.

Michael Pawlyn Biomimicry - A New Paradigm in Sustainable Design Biography: Michael Pawlyn established Exploration in 2007 to focus exclusively on biomimicry. In 2008 the company was short-listed for the Young Architect of the Year Award and the internationally renowned Buckminster Fuller Challenge. Prior to setting up the company Michael Pawlyn worked with Grimshaw for ten years and was central to the team that radically re-invented horticultural architecture for the Eden Project. He was responsible for leading the design of the Warm Temperate and Humid Tropics Biomes and the subsequent phases that included proposals for a third Biome for plants from dry tropical regions. He has lectured widely on the subject of sustainable design in the UK and abroad and in May 2005 delivered a talk at the Royal Society of Arts with Ray Anderson, CEO of Interface. In 2007 Michael Pawlyn delivered a talk at Google’s annual ‘Zeitgeist’ conference and, in 2011, became one of only a small handful of architects to have a talk posted on TED.com. In the same year, his book Biomimicry in Architecture was published by the Royal Institute of British Architects. Michael Pawlyn jointly initiated the Sahara Forest Project which is now being built at pilot stage in Qatar. Exploration is currently working on a range of biomimicry-based architectural projects and a book commissioned by TED.

Wannaporn Pui Phornprapha Identity in a non-linear world Landscape architecture has entered a non-linear world. We are now confronted with two strong dynamic forces – the fast-pace capitalist mentality of Asia Pacific and the impermanence of nature. The first force of capitalism in dynamic Asia is fast moving, constantly changing, and extremely complex. The stakeholders and the people that we have to interact with had increased tremendously.

In assciation with


Together with the innovation of technology, we are overwhelmed with information and tools in our work. Both these elements have combined to deepen both the breadth and the depth of our design processes and work environment. The second force of nature is one of impermanence – forever changing and mystifying. As a Landscape architect, we always work within the realms of complexity and ambiguity because we constantly interact and interfere with nature. This complexity is exacerbated by the elements of time. Changes in our work are constant and inevitable. These two forces have now combined to make our work as a landscape architect much more challenging. We no longer work under a simple linear system, but rather under a complex web of non-linear world. It is now much more difficult to keep our own original identity within this new environment. We have to focus more on the process vs. product. We need to be more tolerant of the ambiguities and the constant changes that come with our design processes. These are all factors that inevitably affect our end-products. We need to be more flexible and more adaptive to the new environment. The increased interdependencies mean we have to learn and respond with increasing speed and resilience. All of this while preserving our core values and identity. Biography: Wannaporn holds a bachelor degree in Architecture from Chulalongkorn University and a master degree in Landscape Architecture from Harvard University. Wannaporn is the founder of P Landscape (PLA), a full service landscape architecture firm specializing in high end hotels and resorts throughout the world. Her work spans from Fiji Islands to London, with most of them in Asia Pacific. PLA’s work also includes condominiums, streetscapes, public spaces, and high-end private residences. Prior to starting PLA, Wannaporn worked with honorable professor Decha Boonkam at DSB Associate and Belt Collins Thailand. Her work is contemporary landscape architecture that takes into account the practical integration of art and cultural heritage of the surroundings to maintain and enhance the environment and ecology. Through her work she has grown a stronger interest in the public landscape. This has led her to projects such as Plum Village in Nakhon Ratchasima, Hospice Hua Hin, and The King Memorial Park and Community Center in Yala province. Pui likes to read, enjoy holistic food, exercises and travel.

Damian Powley Ki te whenua t turu - Towards the M ori landscape Biography: Damian is a descendant of Ngai Tai ki Torere - a small haven along the eastern Bay of Plenty coastline of New Zealand. Since training as a Landscape Architect, his personal focus on understanding iwi landscape issues and engagement processes has brought him full circle to uncovering his own roots here in Tamaki Makaurau, and the relationships that extend through whakapapa and landscapes, back to Torere and beyond. For 10 years working in Local Government, and now with the new Auckland Council, he has been responsible for many public open space developments, and leading engagement measures with the diverse communities of South Auckland. “Finding the right balance between project constraints and meaningful outcomes will always vary - however, more and more I find the need to tailor our engagement processes beyond a path of lest resistance - and when we do - the outcomes for some of our communities can literally be life changing, if they are engaged in an appropriate way.”

In assciation with


Jim Sinatra Cultural Design Results from Our Community Consultations over the Years Biography: Jim Sinatra is Honourary Fellow of the AILA and Director of Sinatra Murphy Pty Ltd and, an art and landscape studio based in Melbourne, Australia which focuses its work on landscape approaches that celebrate the culture of people and the spirit of nature. Jim has been a practicing landscape architect since 1966 and is an author and educator and is emeritus Professor at RMIT’s School of Architecture and Design. Jim draws on his extensive experience in commercial, institutional, community development, municipal and residential landscape projects and public art projects - exploring the variety of work presented by Landscape Architecture rather than constrained by traditional practice. Sinatra Murphy Pty Ltd has received numerous awards from the Australian Institute of Landscape Architects in recognition of its contributions to art, design, and research, and public art projects have been widely acclaimed through awards and reviews.

Rana P.B. Singh Sacred Landscapes, Cosmos and Shared Wisdom: The Asian Vision Concept of ‘multifunctionality’ of cultural landscape can help envisioning landscapes that cross urbanrural divides in sustainable and an integrated way – characterised by wholeness and ecospirituality that developed in the cultural history of landscapes. That is how, the idea of ‘wholeness’ (cosmality) is transformed into ‘holiness’ (sacrality) - evolved and represented with sacred ecology and visualised through the cosmic frames of sacredscapes in Asia-Pacific region. In the era of cybernetic, it becomes a global concern to understand and re-revealed the grounds of shared wisdom among various cultures where in spite of all the changes, the inherent roots and instinct spirits are still lie in their roots. The rethinking should be based on the foundational value - the reasoning that underlies the ethical sense of deeper understanding of Man-Nature Interrelatedness, the basic philosophy of coexistence - referred in different cultures in their own ways, like multicultural co-living (‘Oldcomer’) in Korea, harmonious coexistence (tabunka kyosei) in Japan, harmonious society (xiaokang) in China, wahi tapu (sacred places) in Maori’s New Zealand, global family (vasudhaiva kutumbakam) in Indian thought, and African humanism (ubuntu) in South Africa. Of course, the ethical domain is based essentially on foundation value what Aldo Leopold referred to as the sacredness of land. Think universally, see globally, behave regionally, act locally but insightfully; this is an appeal for shared wisdom in making our landscapes mosaic of happy, peaceful and sustainable places. Biography: Rana P.B. Singh (b. 1950), PhD, FJF (Japan), FAAI (Italy), is Professor of Cultural Geography & Heritage Studies, Banaras Hindu University, Varanasi, India, and founding president of the Society of Heritage Planning and Environmental health. He has been involved in studying, performing and promoting the heritage planning, sacred geography & cultural landscapes for the last four decades, as consultant, project director, collaborator and organiser, and as visiting scholar gave seminars on these themes in all parts of the world. His publications include 15 monographs, 26 books, and over 200 research papers. His two recent books (2011) established a fresh vision to landscapes, viz. Sacredscapes, and Heritagescape.

In assciation with


Yuko Tanabe Foodscape: Good Foods bond together the Sustainable Rural Cultural Landscapes and People The Japanese Cultural Landscape Preservation System was established in 2004. Since then, traditional landscapes that were formed by primary industries became subject to the system. Such Japanese rural fishing, farming and forestry villages are facing a crisis of sustainability due to such problems as an aging society, declining birthrate and the resulting depopulation among rapid modernization and economic growth. The authors have been involved in the preservation project of the cultural landscape in Kyushu, and intend to present case examples of ‘Good Food’ that is produced in the area where the authors plan local economic circulation and landscape conservation. The terraced rice-paddy in Warabino, Karatsu-shi, Saga Prefecture and Kasuga, Hirado-shi, Nagasaki Prefecture are situated in remote mountain areas. In these areas they make full use of the cultural landscape to add to the value of locally produced rice, and design packages and plan events that promote sales and the recognition of the local brand as one part of a landscape preservation project. From these examples, outside evaluation and the appeal of ‘Good Food’ raises local motivation for preserving the landscape, and one could argue that this is a pillar for the cultural landscape preservation project. The authors named the endeavor ‘Foodscape’. Coincidently, the pronunciation of ‘food’ is the same as ‘natural features’ in Japanese, and we, the authors, would like to consider the natural features through ‘Good Food’. Biography: After training and gaining work experience as a landscape designer in the UK, Europe and Middle East, Yuko has now returned to her home country, Japan. She joined IFLA Japan in 2011 as the PR Officer. As PR Officer, she enjoys promoting international cultural exchanges for fellow professionals, helping them to present works in international conferences and symposiums and translating civil engineering and landscape architectural essays for many publications. Her recent works includes ‘Foodscape study group’, education, translator/coordinator in the Gardening World Cup, and conference interpreter at Hirado Forum, promoting cultural landscape conservation and World Heritage inscription. Yuko will be presenting on behalf of her collegues, Dr. Tadashi Takao and Mr. Ryota Kito.

Paula Villagra Landscapes for emergency and restoration in earthquake prone cities The open space system of cities contributes to urban resilience, or the capacity of urban systems, including its inhabitants, to adapt to dramatic changes. During emergency periods in urban environments, such is the time after a strong earthquake, the open space system provides areas where people can meet, find information, establish temporal shelter and satisfy water requirements, among other survival needs. However, these areas can also provide restoration, a term described as the process in which people recover physiological, psychological and social resources that have been diminished after a strong disturbance. Landscapes that convey a sense of “being away”, “fascination”, “extent” and which are “compatible” with people’s inclinations and demands can be considered as restorative. During emergency periods, these landscapes need to be perceived as “safe” as well.The “natural” appearance of these landscapes is also helpful during extreme conditions. This presentation will address the quality, distribution, concentration and utility of these types of landscapes in Chilean cities that have been historically threaten by earthquakes. Results of these studies in which both, emergency experts and the local community were interviewed, reveal the shared role of landscapes for emergency and restoration, such as observed in urban wetlands, parks and iconic city areas.The relevance of undertaken this type of studies is discussed to provide insight

In assciation with


for earthquake recovery planning and landscape design in earthquake prone cities. Biography: Paula is an Architect and Landscape Architect from Chile with a Ph.D from the University of Melbourne in Australia. She is a Research Fellow at the Institute of Environmental Science and Evolution, Faculty of Science, Southern University of Chile. Her work includes both practice and research. She is interested in the design of open spaces which contribute to conserve natural ecosystems as well as to provide environmental education for people. With this in mind, she has designed plazas, parks and botanical gardens in Chile. Her research area falls within the discipline of landscape perception, focused on exploring the relationship between people and landscape change due to the effects of disturbances. This is explored in both, the natural and the built environment in order to inform landscape management and design as well as urban and regional planning. Within this area of research, Paula has undertaken studies in landscapes subjected to controlled burnings and earthquakes, in woodland, wetlands and urban environments and in botanical gardens. Paula has presented her work in different conferences (IFLA, EDRA and IUFRO, among others) and published in international journals such as the Journal of Environmental Psychology and Landscape Research. In 2011 she received a grant from the National Commission for Scientific and Technological Research of Chile (CONICYT) to study communities’ perception of landscapes that contribute to urban resilience and earthquake recovery in the cities of Concepción and Valdivia in Chile (FONDECYT N. 11110297). Paula is also the Chilean delegate of IFLA and the Chair of the Communication Committee of IFLA.

Anthony Wain Biography: Anthony is forever traveling, losing luggage and gaining weight whilst trying to define a role for the barefoot Landscape Architect in the emerging, previously third, world. Anthony has successfully practised landscape architecture for over 25 years. He has worked in many diverse fields in more than 17 countries around the world, from Afghanistan to Zanzibar. His work has involved extensive public participation work with local and regional communities, lobby groups, local and international clients, NGO’s, scientists and the natural and cultural heritage communities. His role as a project coordinator including civil, architectural and landscape works has covered all aspects of design and construction; conceptual, Integrated Environmental Management procedure, masterplanning, site protection and resource conservation, cost estimation, budget and programming, and implementation through subsequent site management. Despite this he is seldom boring! As partner in a Town Planning and Landscape Practise, he has been involved in the design of many subdivision applications and designs. These range from low cost, high density housing layouts, to upmarket, eco-estates, game lodge estates, golf estates and marinas. His time spent in the field and exposure to the property development market has become invaluable. The innovation and enthusiasm he has been able to bring to bear have been fundamental in achieving personally held conservation ideals in terms of appropriate development, water conservation and sustainable South African Landscapes. This applies equally to diverse landscape projects worldwide. In 2004 he was appointed as a senior landscape consultant to the Aga Khan Trust for Culture (Historic Cities Support Group) based in Geneva. He worked as Principal Consultant for the restoration of the Phase I, Zanzibar Historic Seafront - World Heritage Site (February 2004 - 2009) and subsequently as Principal Professional Agent for the restoration and masterplaning of Khorog City Park, Tajikistan (2005 - 2008). He was also appointed as a roving consultant for; Parc National du Mali, Bamako, now complete, the restoration of City Park in Nairobi, Kenya, Zarnegar Park, Central Kabul, Afghanistan, and planning a proposed heritage park in Lahore, Pakistan. As a director of Planning Partners he continues to work on landscape and masterplanning projects both locally and worldwide, in addition to lecturing widely and evangelising landscape architecture.

In assciation with


Phil Wihongi Ki te whenua t turu - Towards the M ori landscape Biography: Phil’s whakapapa links are to Ngati Hine and Ngápuhi iwi within Tai Tokerau, alongside his Scottish ancestry which arrived on Aotearoa’s warm and fertile shores in 1853. Phil is a landscape architect/planner whose practice is guided by his taha Máori. Phil considers the most important part of his practice to be working collaboratively to develop and share Máori environmental understandings, and identifying pathways for the safe transfer of traditional knowledge and narrative into the modern context. Another key area of interest is working to encourage the success of Máori landscape architecture students, raising the profile of Máori landscape architects, and fostering a wider awareness of Máori design amongst the design professions.

Thomas Woltz Hybrid Vigor: Beauty, Performance and Resilience in the work of NBW Nelson Byrd Woltz Landscape Architects has been recognized internationally for a collaborative and interdisciplinary design approach that merges design excellence with the allied fields of civil engineering, agriculture, and restoration ecology. The result of these inter-disciplinary collaborations yields highly performative landscapes reshaping the design of urban public space, stormwater management, food cultivation, and wildlife habitat. Their design process begins with a careful reading of the natural qualities of a site including cultural history, hydrology, geology and existing plant and animal communities. Through collaboration with regional experts in wildlife and conservation NBW develops a set of project goals that aim to provide critical ecological services often reaching well beyond the project brief and site boundaries. NBW sees their clients as creative critical partners in their process and many of the clients of the firm have engaged in a design dialogue lasting a decade or more. Woltz will present a number of award winning projects from the United States and New Zealand that demonstrate the firm’s design philosophy as it applies to urban parks, private gardens and agricultural conservation land. He will address how their process uses design aesthetics to interpret and reveal natural systems to the public in a way that engenders a relationship of long-term stewardship. NBW has designed projects in New Zealand over the past 10 years including Eastwoodhill Arboretum, The Farm at Cape Kidnapper’s, and Young Nick’s Head Station. The firm has worked in 25 States and 9 countries and won over 80 national and international design awards. Biography: Thomas Woltz is the owner of Nelson Byrd Woltz Landscape Architects (NBW) with offices in New York City, Charlottesville VA, and San Francisco CA. Hailed as one of the rising stars in the profession of landscape architecture, he was recently awarded the inaugural Thomas N. Armstrong III Award in Landscape Design by the New York School of Interior Design. In 2011, he was invested into the American Society of Landscape Architects Council of Fellows, among the highest honors achieved in the profession. During the past 18 years of practice, Woltz has forged a body of work that integrates the beauty and function of built form and craftsmanship with an understanding of complex biological systems and restoration ecology that has yielded hundreds of acres of reconstructed wetlands, reforested land, native meadows, and flourishing wildlife habitat. His design work infuses places where people live, work, and play with narratives of the land that inspire stewardship. Many of these projects focus on restoration of damaged ecological infrastructure within working farmland and create models of biodiversity and sustainable agriculture. The work of NBW has been recognized with over 80 national and regional awards and been published widely. The firm has worked in 22 states and 9 countries.

In assciation with


Woltz was educated at the University of Virginia in the fields of architecture, landscape architecture, fine art, and architectural history. He holds master degrees in Landscape Architecture and Architecture. After working in Venice Italy and Paris France, he returned to the States to launch his career in landscape architecture. Current work includes projects at Hudson Yards East (NY), Google Corporate Headquarters (CA), Catalina Island (CA), and Devonian Botanic Garden (Edmonton, Canada). Woltz serves on the Boards of Directors of tclf (The Cultural Landscape Foundation) and MAS (New York Municipal Arts Society). He was recently profiled in Elle Decor and Garden Design magazine and is an avid gardener.

In assciation with


Parallel Indigenous Session Antoine Coffin Biography: Antoine Coffin hails from Ngati Ranginui, Ngaiterangi, and Ngati Raukawa iwi of Tauranga. He recently completed the Ngati Ranginui Treaty Settlement and was establishment chairman of the Tauranga Moana Iwi Property Management Company. He has held a number of community and iwi positions including Chair of the Ngati Ranginui Fisheries Trust and Deputy Chair of the Ngati Ranginui Iwi Society, director Moana Communications, and co-chair of the World Indigenous Section of International Association for Impact Assessment (USA). He has particular expertise in indigenous community development and cultural heritage management. Antoine enjoys leading and supporting strategic processes that build community knowledge and capacity. Antoine is a Principal at the NZ-owned environmental consultancy company, Boffa Miskell. Antoine is a qualified Company Director, Independent Commissioner and holds qualifications in Environmental Studies, Máori Language, and Strategic Leadership.

Rau Hoskins Biography: Rau Hoskins is of Ngáti Hau, Ngápuhi, and is a director of the architectural practice, Design Tribe, specialising in kaupapa Máori design. Rau has lectured in Máori architecture at the Auckland and UNITEC Schools of Architecture since 1990 and currently co-heads Te Hononga - The Centre for Máori Architecture and Appropriate Technologies at Unitec. Rau wrote the Máori Housing design guide in 2002 and is chair of the steering group that developed the Te Aranga Máori Cultural Landscape Strategy in 2006. Rau is the Chair of Te Matapihi, the national Máori housing support body and an adviser to the Minister of Housing on the Social Housing Unit and Social housing policy, and remains active in Máori housing advocacy and papakáinga design projects. Rau presented the 13 part Whare Máori television series which screened on Máori Television in 2011. Rau has also worked extensively as an urban and cultural design consultant, as well as in iwi liaison capacities on a range of large public projects.

Haare Williams Biography: Haare Williams was raised by his grandparents in the small coastal settlement of Ohiwa, and is of Te Aitanga-a-Mahaki, Rongowhakaata and Tuhoe. Haare has a long and distinguished career in education, health, broadcasting, and has made considerable contribution to the communities of Aotearoa. Haare has a deep and profound love for his first language Te Reo Máori, and continues to work tirelessly in the promotion and preservation of the language. Amongst his many other accomplishments, Haare is also a poet, author and is an exhibiting artist. Hei paia i te ara e noho tahi ai, e mahi tahi ai nga taha e rua kia tau iawa ai nga oranga ki te katoa. "A broker between two people, two organisations or two communities to gain benefits for members, thus meet their need to belong, to learn, to succeed and to grow."

In assciation with


Josephine Clarke Biography: Josephine connects to Ngáti Porou, Te Rarawa, Te Aupóuri and Ngáti Rangi. A recent Máori Landscape Architecture Graduate, Josephine has a passion for strengthening awareness of Tikanga Máori (Máori practices and protocols) and Mátauranga Máori (traditional Máori knowledge) within the profession of Landscape Architecture. She seeks to develop indigenous ideas and concepts to create novel design solutions which recognise and respect Máori relationships with their environment, which she feels will help to bridge current cross-cultural gaps. Josephine enjoys working closely with communities, particularly local iwi (Máori tribal grouping) and youth of all cultures. Josephine believes strongly in the empowerment of indigenous people through meaningful engagement and appropriate acknowledgement, and looks to identify ways of integrating traditional knowledge to provide a deeper understanding of our environment, with tangible benefits for all.

Diane Menzies Biography: Diane Menzies ties to Ngati Kahungunu and Ngati Whatui Apiti and has recently moved to Auckland. Di has qualifications in landscape architecture, horticulture, business administration and completed a doctorate in resource studies in 1999: Di has run her own consultancy since 2000, and has had over twenty-five years’ experience in landscape planning and management in private and public government in New Zealand and Britain. Di was appointed to the Environment Court of New Zealand as a Commissioner in 2001, and has recently taken up academic positions with Victoria University in Wellington and Unitec Institute of Technology in Auckland. Di is a past president and former Secretary General of the International Federation of Landscape Architects, and a past president of New Zealand Institute of Landscape Architects. Di is also the New Zealand representative on the ICOMOS IFLA international committee on cultural landscapes.

Jacob Scott Biography: Jacob Scott is of Ngáti Kahungunu, Te Arawa, Ngáti Raukawa and Te Atiawa. Jacob is principal of Scott Design and Leader for the Awatoru Masters of Design programme at Unitec. Former Director Te Kura Toi o Te Wananga o Aotearoa and founder and Head of EITs Art & Design School, and is one of our countries pioneers in contemporary Máori Art and Máori Arts Education. Highly regarded as an architectural designer and artist Jacob led the development, accreditation and establishment of the Maunga Kura Toi Degree - New Zealand’s first degree level programme in whakairo (carving) and raranga (weaving). As a past member of the whakaruruhau whakairo (national educational development committee for carving) and honorary holder of the Toi Iho Mark (mark of authenticity and quality for Máori artists) - Jacob is frequently called upon to assist with the development of a wide range of design project throughout the country. Jacob has recently developed Carvex, an exciting new carving process that has the potential for a wide range of applications to help put more of our faces in our places.

In assciation with


Street Furniture and Equipment Urban Pole Systems Street Pedestrian Shelter System Public Artwork and Installations Multi Functional Smart Pole System


KEYNOTE ADDRESS Sacred Landscapes, Cosmos and Shared Wisdom: The Asian Vision Prof. Dr. Rana P.B. Singh Professor of Cultural Geography & Heritage Studies, Banaras Hindu University,Varanasi, INDIA ABSTRACT Concept of ‘multifunctionality’ of cultural landscape can help envisioning landscapes that cross urban-rural divides in sustainable and an integrated way - characterised by wholeness and ecospirituality that developed in the cultural history of landscapes. That is how, the idea of ‘wholeness’ (cosmality) is transformed into ‘holiness’ (sacrality) evolved and represented with sacred ecology and visualised through the cosmic frames of sacredscapes in Asia-Pacific region. In the era of cybernetic, it becomes a global concern to understand and re-revealed the grounds of shared wisdom among various cultures where in spite of all the changes, the inherent roots and instinct spirits are still lie in their roots. The rethinking should be based on the foundational value the reasoning that underlies the ethical sense of deeper understanding of Man-Nature Interrelatedness, the basic philosophy of coexistence referred in different cultures in their own ways, like multicultural co-living (‘Old-comer’) in Korea, harmonious coexistence (tabunka kyosei) in Japan, harmonious society (xiaokang) in China, wahi tapu (sacred places) in Maori’s New Zealand, global family (vasudhaiva kutumbakam) in Indian thought, and African humanism (ubuntu) in South Africa. Of course, the ethical domain is based essentially on foundation value what Aldo Leopold referred to as the sacredness of land. Think universally, see globally, behave regionally, act locally but insightfully; this is an appeal for shared wisdom in making our landscapes mosaic of happy, peaceful and sustainable places. Keywords: Cultural landscape, sacrality, sacredscapes, cosmos, shared vision, heritage ecology. Cultural Landscapes: The Perspectives Concept of ‘multifunctionality’ of cultural landscape can help envisioning landscapes that cross urban-rural divides in sustainable and an integrated way - characterised by wholeness and ecospirituality that developed in the cultural history of landscapes. That is how, the idea of ‘wholeness’ (cosmality) is transformed into ‘holiness’ (sacrality) evolved and represented with sacred ecology and visualised through the cosmic frames of sacredscapes in Asia-Pacific region. In the era of cybernetic, it becomes a global concern to understand and re-revealed the grounds of shared wisdom among various cultures where in spite of all the changes, the inherent roots and instinct spirits are still lie in their roots. Virtually all landscapes have cultural associations, because virtually all landscapes have been affected in some way by human action or perception. Therefore, the phrase “cultural landscape” does not mean a special type of landscape; instead, it reflects upon a way of seeing landscapes and associated attributes that emphasizes the interaction between human beings and nature over time maintaining existence-continuity-transformation and transferability that makes the cultural landscape ecology exposed and practiced in the purview of lifeways and lifeworlds. The cultural landscape is an object of change either by the development of a culture or by a replacement of cultures through human interfaces, interaction and reciprocity. The datum line from which changes are measured is the natural condition of the landscape that has a primordial instinct. As resultant, cultural landscape shows influences worked on people by their institutions, taboos, design preferences, built-up architecture, and system and spatial order, assemblages of cultural features which comprise their cultural landscape, and which support and embrace their civilisations that is how cultural landscape is conceived as an integral part of ecological cosmology. The German geographer Otto Schlüter (1872-1959) is credited with having first formally used “cultural landscape” as an academic term in the early twentieth century (Martin 2005: 175). In 1906, Schlüter argued that by defining geography as a Landschaftskunde (landscape science) this would give geography a logical subject matter shared by no other discipline (Elkins 1989: 27). He defined two forms of landscape: the Urlandschaft (translated as original landscape) or landscape that existed before major human induced changes and the Kulturlandschaft (translated as ‘cultural landscape’) a landscape created by human culture.

In assciation with


The major task of geography was to trace the changes in these two landscapes (Martin 2005: 176). The term “cultural landscape” has been a fundamental concept in geography, and was formally defined as “landscape modified by human activity” by the German geographer Friedrich Ratzel in the 1890s (Jones 2003: 33). Since Schlüter’s first formal use of the term, and Sauer’s effective promotion of the idea, the concept of ‘cultural landscapes’ has been variously used, applied, debated, developed and refined within academia; and when, in 1992, the UNESCO World Heritage Committee elected to convene a meeting of the ‘specialists’ to advise and assist redraft the Committee’s Operational Guidelines to include ‘cultural landscapes’ as an option for heritage listing properties that were neither purely natural nor purely cultural in form (i.e. ‘mixed’ heritage) (cf. Fowler 2003). It was Carl O. Sauer, a human geographer, who was probably the most influential in promoting and developing the idea of cultural landscapes (for critique see Mitchell 2000: 27- 28). Sauer was determined to stress the agency of culture as a force in shaping the visible features of the Earth’s surface in delimited areas. Within his definition, the physical environment retains a central significance, as the medium with and through which human cultures act (Sauer 1925/ 1963). The masterly and classic definition of ‘cultural landscape’ is given by its great progenitor Carl Sauer (1925/ 1963: 343; see the Fig. 1): “The cultural landscape is fashioned from a natural landscape by a cultural group. Culture is the agent, the natural area the medium, the cultural landscape is the result. Under the influence of a given culture, itself changing through time, the landscape undergoes development, passing through phases, and probably reaching ultimately the end of its cycle of development. With the introduction of a different that is, alien culture, a rejuvenation of the cultural landscape sets in, or a new landscape is superimposed on remnants of an older one”. Several aspects of this frequently quoted passage are worth examining, for they reflect not only the intellectual context in which Sauer was working and his own scholarly concerns, but also theoretical issues which have remained critical to discussions of cultural landscape to the present, especially in the context of habitat systems, rural and urban both.

Fig. 1. Natural landscape and Cultural landscape (after Sauer 1925/ 1963).

Sauer’s definition is grounded in a neat distinction between NATURE and CULTURE, reflected in the structure of his diagram, a distinction which few cultural geographers would be so willing to uphold or defend today. Not only is there broad acceptance that the tabula rasa of ‘natural landscape’ upon which ‘culture’ inscribes itself has probably never existed, since its own features are subject to constant change through geophysical, climatic, hydrological and other processes of change, but ‘nature’ itself and the boundaries which separate it from the human are culturally contrived in radically different ways by different groups in different historical contexts (Cronon 1995). Thus, both nature and culture are best regarded together, as co-productions. All landscapes are thus equally natural landscapes and cultural landscapes,

In assciation with


according to the contexts of questions and the processes chosen to examine in relation to understanding evolution; this is the basic notion in landscape ecology. This implies that culture and nature are not mutually exclusive, and that culturescapes do not have to be entirely humancreated, rather they represent reciprocity at different levels, in different degrees, through various perceptions, by creating many images. This again promotes landscape heterogeneity (cf. Wu 2006, and 2008a). Difference or distinctiveness is not deficiency; so-to-say diversity is not divergence. Interaction, reciprocity and symbiosis between natural sciences and humanities, which are designed to synthesize and integrate diverse perspectives, are crucial for deeper understanding. That is how landscape ecology (or architecture) can gain much from transdisciplinary collaborations with social sciences such as cultural geography and design sciences such as landscape architecture and engineering. A stronger emphasis on the cultural dimension will make landscape ecology even more relevant to sustainability (Wu 2010b:1149). Sacred Places vs. Sacredscapes Among the attributes of sacred geography ‘space’ serves as the contextual envelop in which all other processes taken turn. Consideration of ‘space’ together with ‘landscape’ in social and cultural theory, and geography has taken a serious concern by the spatial turn and post-modernistic thoughts since 1980s. Also, spatial sense has opened a fresh insight to understand sacrality and religious notions too. Sacred cartography and sacred geometry together provided spatial vision to sacred geography (cf. Knott 2005: 11-20). The ‘spatial’ is a social construct as many theorists thought, nevertheless it is also a spiritual, visual, contextual and emotional notion that human beings possess inherently. It may be projected metaphorically, metaphysically and mystically, and also all-together what in Greek thought called cosmos. In the prime conception of sacred geography it is believed that divinities are also “born of the earth, of space, of the sea, and of the starry sky, they are still here among us, still alive. Among the inspiring ruins of the great temples, the sleeping gods are always ready to be revived” (cf. Richer 1995: xxi). Three broad areas of research emphasised in the study of sacred geography, especially projecting sacred places are: (a) the ritual-spatial context of sacred place at various levels of social organisations individual, family, society and, cultural group and in different contexts and ways; (b) the growth of meanings and feelings attached to sacred places, taking history as a means to elucidate the sequences of their existence, continuity and’ maintenance; and (c) a typology of sacred places in terms of contrasts, similarities and degrees of manifest powers (cf. Singh 2009: 236-237). Lane (2001: 15) suggests four axioms associated with the character and layout of sacred places; they are particularly useful in understanding the relationship between human beings and environment the frame of sacred geography. These four phenomenological axioms are: 1. Sacred place is not chosen, it chooses. It is a construction of the imagination that affirms the independence of holy. God chooses to reveal himself only where he wills. It is perceived as a place quietly seeking a person out, whispering beyond all the previous efforts to locate and fix the place of power. 2. Sacred place is ordinary place, ritually made extraordinary. The locum sacrum is frequently found to be surprisingly unremarkable, esteemed a strong background for ‘place because of neither its sublime setting nor its consciousness’, as reported by Swan (1991: 9- 10) in the context of functional importance in the life of the community. It becomes recognised as sacred because of certain ritual acts that are performed there, setting it apart as unique. 3. Sacred place can be trodden upon without being entered. Its recognition is existentially, not ontologically discerned identification of sacred place is thus intimately related to states of consciousness. 4. The impulse of sacred place is both centripetal and centrifugal, local and universal. One is recurrently driven to a quest for centredness a focus on the particular place of divine encounter and then at other times driven out from that centre with awareness that God is never confined to a single locate. Since the first step of human evolution the idea of particularity of place, mysterium tremendum, has been part of human environment. Joseph Campbell (1974: 184) asserts that “the idea of a sacred place where the walls and laws of the temporary world may dissolve to reveal a wonder is apparently as old as the human race”. The identification of a place as sacred place is never essentially one of individual recognition; “in actual fact, the place is never ‘chosen’ by man, it is

In assciation with


merely discovered by him” (Eliade 1958: 369). In some way or another the ‘spirit of a place’ attracts and reveals to man, and that is how he merely ‘find’ them but cannot make or select their positions. Axioms for Reading the Sacredscape The following basic and self-evident rules (axioms) are posited by Lewis (1979: 15-26) for reading the landscape which in modified (in Indian context) form are useful in reading the sacredscape (cf. Singh, Rana 1995: 102-103): 1. The Sacredscape is clue to culture. The human impingement trusted upon and cognized by the devotees provide strong evidence of the kind of human culture we possess in the past, preserving in the present, and would continue in the future. In other words, they refer to our processes of becomingness. How in the historical past for their own sake and imitation human being searched the sacred power of place while mytholising them and making them alive through ritualisation process. These activities later converge into a religious tradition. 2. The Sacredscape refers to cultural unity and place equality. All the items and aspects in the sacredscape are no more and no less important than other items in terms of their role as clues to cultural tradition. Sacred journey and circumambulation are as equally important a cultural symbol as the territorial extension, and changes in people’s attitudes and behaviours show the process of “existence-maintenance-transformation-and-adaptation.” This finally converges to make a whole a unity that is how sacredscapes become holy. 3. The common features of Sacredscapes possess the intrinsic meaning. Whatever we see by a common eye is only the outside appearance; however there also lies invisible intrinsic meaning which would be understood only through the faith and deeper feelings in the cultural context. At super-shrine it is believed that religious activity embraces both worlds, with no distinction drawn between the pragmatic and the transcendent: “religious activities at such shrines are both matters for making merit for the eternal life and means of gaining benefits in this world” (Stirrat : 208). 4. For the Sacredscape history matters. Says Lewis (1979: 22): “That is, we do what we do, and make what we make because our doings and our makings are inherited from the past.”The sacredscapes are the cultural heritage resource where history matters. The symbolism, mythology, ritualisation process and the ultimate faithscape evolved all are the subject to the historical process of transformation and human adaptation, therefore they need special care (cf. Verschuuren, et al. 2010). 5. The Sacredscapes make little sense if out from sacred ecology. Human psyche and manifestive power in the sacredscape are the basic elements for making it existent and continue. They have specific location interpreted in a broader context of symbolism and where divine power is perceived by human being in transcendental form of consciousness. They replicate the macrocosm on the earth as mesocosm which is further revealed at the level of microcosm (human mind and faith, or an individual shrine or temple). 6. The messages conveyed by Sacredscapes are obscure. As the human psyche varies from one to another, local to regional, and the “messages” conveyed are so varied that making broad generalization is not possible. For understanding and analysis several set of questions be put before into the habit of asking them simply by doing so: What does it look like? How does it work? Who designed it? Why? When? What does it tell us about the way our society and culture work? To understand the message, one has to be a part of the pilgrimage itself as a pilgrim, avoiding completely looking like a pilgrim. This requires a deep sense for the cultural tradition and also a feeling of faith in the frame the followers follow (cf. Gothóni 2010). The landscape, especially sacredscape, communicates, but only to those who can read its messages (Faulstich 1994: 12). Expressing Sacredscapes as Function Sacredscapes function as a system of communication, power and embody; this multiplicity of character needs to be recognised in various contexts and concepts (cf. Singh 2013). Meinig’s (1979) has proposed the ‘ten versions of the same scene’ which may be taken as important notions expressing sacredscapes (cf. Singh, Rana 1995: 103-104): 1) as Nature. The sky above, the ground beneath, and the horizon binding the two provide the basic frame as theologically expressed: sky the father, earth the mother, thus we all are brothers and sisters. The sacral power perceived by human being in history was in fact a realisation of nature-spirit.

In assciation with


2) as Habitat. Every landscape is a piece of the Earth as Home of Mankind. Man constantly works as a viable agent of transformation and change and creator of resources (like heritage). In short, man is domesticating and cosmicising the earth. 3) as Artefact. Man in the process of transformation and change sets his mark on the landscape. The monuments, shrines, temples and related structure all are the testimony of human’s imprint on the sacred territory visible as artefact in the sacredscape. 4) as System. Man and his interaction with the sacredscape form an intricate system of systems some visible, but many invisible. This system in itself is a part of belief that implies a faith in man as essentially omniscient after all he is also a part of the cosmos and God. In cosmos one is related to other, and everything is related to die other like a ‘Self-regulating system’ what is narrated in the Gaia hypothesis. 5) as Problem. To know more in order to understand better is a notion to achieve the religious merit more perfectly and also to make rituals better for deeper experiences. As human being the performer may incorporate something from all these other views: it evokes a reverence for nature, a deeply felt concern for the earth as habitat, and a conviction that as a child of the divinity we can search our identity in the cosmos. 6) as Wealth. In a broader view, for everything has or affects value within a market economy. As heritage resource sacredscapes and their associated monuments and functions to be appraised as property for monetary transaction like development of pilgrimage-tourism. This view of sacredscape is future-oriented, for market values are always undergoing change and one must assess their trends and demands in future. Of course, this notion is completely a western idea, rooted in American ideology. However for maintenance and preservation of sacredscapes, marketoriented value system to be promoted, of course with care and cautions, as a viable strategy. 7) as Ideology. Seeing and visualising the sacredscape vary from person to person in accordance to the ideology used it may be in the context of only abstract structure or objectivity, or in the context of relative underpinnings or subjectivity. Similarly there also lie disciplinary ideologies, sacred vs. secular and several such dichotomies. Meinig’s remark is notable in this context: “To see landscape as ideology is to think about how it was created but there is another way of doing that which, while at its best is reflective and philosophic, is also much more detailed and concrete (Meinig 1979a: 43). 8) as History. All the underpinnings before our eyes are a complex cumulative record of the work of nature and man in a particular place. The visible feature at a sacred place, or in the sacredscape yields to diligence and inference a great deal of historical past. The physiognomy and chorology both record several layers and facets of change and transformation. In itself a sacredscape is the process and the product in space-place and in time, thus it is an accumulation. However, it is not easy to interpret it in concrete historical context. 9) as Special Place. Sacredscape is a special place, as an individual piece in the infinitely varied mosaic of the Earth where the ‘spirit of place’ (genius loci) plays an important role in making it distinct a mosaic of variety of patterns, relationships, interactions, meanings between human being and divine realm.The specific communicating character of sacredscape is particularity of place, mysterium tremendum. 10) as Aesthetic. The aesthetic view requires a special conscious detachment by the observer. Sacredscape as art form conveys the message for better understating of harmonic relationship between mankind and nature-spirit. In fact, “it seeks a meaning which is not explicit in the ordinary forms. It rests upon the belief that there is something close to the essence, to beauty and truth in the landscape” (Meinig 1979a: 46). It also holds meaning which link us as individual souls and psyches to an ineffable and infinite world (ibid.: 47). The literary evidences show that the ancient Chinese philosophy of “unity of man with nature” and its associated design principles can provide useful guidelines for reciprocity and integrating man and nature that lead to the development of a sustainable landscape architecture. Of course, there appear several regional and sub-cultural visions of Chinese rural cultural landscapes and representing architectures, the three most common and basic framework include “unity of man with nature” or “harmony between man and nature” philosophy, “peach blossom spring” ideal, “world-in-a-pot” model, and Feng-shui theory, and their implications for developing a sustainable landscape architecture (Chen and Wu 2008: 1015).This theme is consistent with the central tenet of Taoism, a celebrated Chinese philosophy developed by Lao Zi, which asserts that humans should harmonize with the rhythms of nature. Harmonious coexistence between

In assciation with


humanity and nature, as a background assumption, has been epitomized in the principles guiding Chinese landscape architecture since its origin. The Chinese philosophy and archetypal construct of man-nature interrelatedness is close to Indian foundation, of course with different ways of narrations (cf. Fig. 2).The Indian thought goes back to at least first century BCE, i.e. the Vedic period, and deals exhaustively about maintenance of order between man and nature through the principles of harmonious reciprocity and interrelatedness (rita). In both, Chinese and Indian thoughts “the pot model”, “peach blooming”, moral imperatives, “Five-Elements” (pancha-mahabhutas), and “eight trigram” (asta dika), “Feng-Shui” (Vastupurusha) are close to identical expositions.

Fig. 2. China and India: Philosophical and cultural foundations of the landscape architecture

The Chinese five-element doctrine (Feng-shui), guided by the Yin-Yang principle, claims that the material world is composed of five kinds of elements (metal, wood, water, fire, and earth), all of which are related to each other by either a creating–being created relationship or a control–being controlled relationship. This is close to Indian five gross elements (panchamahabhutas) doctrine that deals with combinations and ordering among the five elements (space, air, water, fire, and earth. The Korean Pung-su is identical to Chinese Feng-shui, as both of the principles of landscapes refer to breath of life (prana in India, ki in Korea, ch’i in China), and closely related to wind and water. These ideas have been explained in terms of Eum (Yin)-Yang, and Five Elements theory. The basic theory of Pung-su in Korea, in fact, came from ancient China, but Koreans have modified it that befit into their own system. To understand the theory behind Pung-su, it is necessary to understand early Chinese philosophy, which says basically that all things and events of the world are products of two elements, Eum (Yin) and Yang. Chou Tun-i, one of the founders of NeoConfucianism, in his book, An Explanation of the Diagram of the Great Ultimate (T’ai-Chi T’u-shuo) summarized the doctrine of Yin-Yang and the Five Elements that “By the transformation of yang and its union with yin, the Five Agents of Water, Fire, Wood, Metal, and Earth arise. When these five material forces (ch’i [ki]) are distributed in harmonious order, the four seasons run their course.” And, “When the reality of the Ultimate of Non-being and the essence of yin, yang, and the Five Agents [of cosmic organism] come into mysterious union, integration ensues. Ch’ien (the Heaven) constitutes the male element, and k’un (the Earth) constitutes the female element.The interaction of these two material forces engenders and transforms the myriad things. The myriad things produce and reproduce, resulting in an unending transformation” (as in Kim 2013, chapter 2).

In assciation with


Fig. 3. A Conceptual framework for a sustainable Chinese Landscape Architecture (LA) and parallel of Sustainability Science (SS) [after Chen and Wu 2009: 9].

To improve the contemporary situation and also to make applicable to whole of Asia, and so to whole world, Chen and Wu (2009: 9) have proposed a conceptual framework for a sustainable Chinese landscape architecture that is built on the philosophy of Unity of Man with Nature and Chinese landscape and architectural traditions, which also incorporates the principles and methods of landscape ecology (LE) and sustainability science (SS) (cf. Fig. 3). It is felt that sustainable landscapes are more likely to be developed and maintained if the three pillars of sustainability - environment, economy, and society - are simultaneously considered. Musacchio (2009a and b) discussed six elements of landscape sustainability (or six E’s): environment, economy, equity, aesthetics, ethics, and (human) experience - all together to be taken as network and interlinkage in making cultural landscape sustainable and happy habitat. Interlinkage: Shared Sustainability






Broad and more popularly, three broad groups of qualities are used for evaluating landscapes: natural (ecological valuable, geologically distinct, or known for rich flora and fauna), cultural (expression of human imprint, or creative art forms), and aesthetic (panoramic view or landmarks. In different countries these are categorised and characterised by the cultural acceptance and legal jurisdictions. In historical and national contexts, different meanings are also inscribed. In the above context three basic meanings, in historical context, to the understanding of cultural landscapes proposed by Arpin (1993: 553) include: • a political meaning - to assure responsibility for the decisions; • a cultural meaning - to save culture rootedness and sense of continuity; and • a didactic meaning - to promote citizen’s participation. These meanings are associated with deconstructing the cultural value of heritage into its component parts identifying the following six value elements (Throsby 2009: 21): • aesthetic value: the visual beauty of the building, site, and so on; • spiritual value: the significance of the asset in providing understanding or enlightenment or in representing a particular religion or religious tradition;

In assciation with


• social value: the role of the site in forming cultural identity or a sense of connection with others; • historical value: connections with the past; • symbolic value: objects or sites as repositories or conveyors of meaning, and • authenticity value: the uniqueness of visiting ‘the real thing’.

Fig. 4. Habitat ecology and its major characteristics (modified after Wu 2008b: 44).

Taking issues of maintenance of values, existence-and-continuity, structural transformation, appraising vitality and overall sustainability for the future, and all the other resultant and auxiliary issues are relevant at different levels and at varying degrees according to contextuality, regional personality and rational of demands. In the purview of Chinese landscape and its ecological imperative, set-theory is used to explain the interactions, reciprocity and overall “integrative habitat (ruralUrban) ecosystem” between bio-ecologic and socio-ecologic perspectives, which together makes “cultural landscape perspective”.The two sets (Natures: bio-ecologic forms, and Cultures: socio-economic ways) in a way get superimposed that many be better emphasised in the visions and approaches of interdisciplinarity and transdisciplinarity (Fig. 4). The bio-ecologic perspective views habitats (rural and urban settlements) as severely disturbed ecosystems and humans as disturbance agents, which adopts a biology-centred, basic science approach, and offers little interdisciplinarity between natural and social sciences. The socio-ecologic approach, on the other hand, views habitats as socioeconomic systems designed for human welfare, and tends to deemphasize the importance of biodiversity and ecosystem services, thus again discouraging cross-disciplinary interactions between natural and social sciences (cf. Fig. 4). The settlement systems perspective and the integrative habitat ecosystem perspective are centred on the principles and methodology of the systems approach, and consider humans as integral components of the settlement systems, leading to encourage interdisciplinary and problem-solving research. Although the systems approach has proven to be quite powerful in studying feedbacks and process interactions, its ability to deal with spatial heterogeneity of ecological and socioeconomic patterns, which is essential in settlement studies, is limited.The cultural landscape ecology perspective is considered to be the most inclusive approach in which all previous approaches can be integrated together as complementary elements (Wu 2008b: 43) The Vision Vision without Action is Empty. Action without Vision is Blind. Let the Vision be force behind Action, and Action the energy behind Vision. This is the way to understand the interconnectedness between human beings and the Mother Nature. Let us keep the spirit always awakened and pray the Mother Nature (as landscape) to always direct us on the right path of realizing the sense of interconnectedness. This is a call for the nourishment of Soil, Soul and Society where the

In assciation with


Humanity meets to the Divinity. Let us try to Understand it and Feel it, and ultimately get it framed in making ‘sustainable landscapes’.

Fig. 5. Main constituent values of Sacred Natural Sites, SNS. (after Verschuuren 2007: 308).

The most common view shared by institutionalised and indigenous spiritual traditions alike is that the world is a ‘multiple level hierarchic reality’, similar to that of Mircea Eliade’s hierophany. These relationships may be represented with a simplified model showing three different planes that overlap (cf. Fig. 5). It is a way of showing that management of sacred sites should consider all values and stakeholders involved. Therefore, it is necessary to acknowledge that in this world where many different worldviews coexist, each worldview may have its own hierarchy of values. Within these worldviews, different traditional cosmological sciences have evolved over time often in harmony with nature and many of which are still alive in different regions around the world (cf. Verschuuren 2007: 308; for full treatment cf. Verschuuren et al. 2010). Remember what Devereux (1990: 216) said, “Let us hope we will have the sense to seek, the wisdom to listen, and the patience to learn”. Paraphrased Carl Jung’s (cf. 1970 as quoted in Swan 1991: 304) provoking should be taken as a moral and ethical concern for the sacred landscapes: “People of our earth would never find true peace until they could come into a harmonious relationship with the landscapes they live. Learning to encourage, harmonise with and perhaps even converse with the spirit of each place be an essential survival skill to create a future world of peace where people live an ecologically sustainable lifestyle.” Also remember what once Nobel laureate humanist philosopher Albert Schweitzer (1949: 158-159), said: “A man is ethical only when life, as such, is sacred to him, that of plants and animals as that of his fellow men, and when he devotes himself helpfully to all life that in need of help.” Walking on the path of Sacredscapes: Towards Destination Relph (1976: 30) states that ‘the spirit of place lies in its landscape’. Yet at the same time in spite of changes in space and time, the subtle power of a place is retained and can be experienced too. This constitutes the very uniqueness and distinctiveness of place character. Lawrence (1964: 6) wrote: “Different places on the face of the earth have different vital effluence, different vibration, different chemical exhalation, different polarity with different stars; call it what you like. But the spirit of place is a great reality”. If one understand and experience and try to be part of it, I hope one would be a great practitioner of landscape architecture (cf. Singh 1997). The ongoing debate and wide application of the concept of ‘multifunctionality’ of cultural landscape (more empathetically rural) can help to promote landscapes that cross urbanrural divides, are more sustainable, and are planned and implemented in an integrated way - characterised by wholeness and cosmic ecology (cf. Selman 2009). In fact, landscape multifunctionality in Asian vision addresses a broader social-ecological system and entails an understanding of landscape as something that goes ‘beyond the Eurocentric purview’. The Oriental Asia also illustrated the famous Davisian, after William Morris Davis (1850-1934), dictum that ‘landscape is a product of structure, function, and stage’ (ibid. 1899),

In assciation with


which in addition with values and traditions make more applicable in Asia. In Indian tradition, heritage is called ‘dharohara’, which is a combination of two words, i.e. dhara- (‘the mother earth, Prithvi/ Lord Vishnu who holds’), and -ihara (‘endeavour of identity through time’). The word also carries the meaning of ‘bearing’ and ‘preserving’ the surface of the earth. Prithvi is also called dhara, dhri, dharti, dhrithri, meaning that which holds everything (see the Sathapatha Brahmana, a Vedic text: 10.56.6; 10.59.25; 10.68.48). That is how it should also be explained in terms of the ‘root’ (‘shrota’) and ‘identity’ (‘asmita’) a framework of continuity of interconnectedness and a personality of culture, thus in terms of space it combines the microspace, site (sthan), the extended space, habitat (paryavasa, extended as ‘dwellingness’) and the regional projection, territory (parikshetra), and ultimately linking to terrestrial, cosmos (brahmanda). Additionally, it also connotes the tangible, intangible and visual attributes. In other context the word ‘dharohara’ also refers to spatialfunctional symbol that links ‘locality’ and ‘universality’, consisting of four hierarchically covering layers, viz. sthan (site), parikshetra (defined territory), simanta (border transition), and brahmanda (cosmos). The rethinking should be based on the foundational value the reasoning that underlies the ethical sense of deeper understanding of Man-Nature Interrelatedness, which is the basic philosophy of coexistence referred in different culture in their own ways, like harmonious coexistence (tabunka kyosei) in Japan, harmonious society (xiaokang) in China, multicultural co-living (‘Old-comer’) in Korea, wahi tapu (sacred places) in Maori’s New Zealand, African humanism (ubuntu) in South Africa, and global family (vasudhaiva kutumbakam) in Indian thought. The ethical domain is based essentially on foundation value which for Gandhi was ahimsa (non violence), for Schweitzer reverence for life, and for Aldo Leopold the sacredness of land (cf. Skolimowski 1990: 98). Another vision from New Zealand, i.e. Matauranga Maori refers to ‘the knowledge, comprehension, or understanding of everything visible and invisible existing in the universe’, and is often used synonymously with wisdom. Moreover, in the contemporary world, the definition is usually extended to include present-day, historic, local, and traditional knowledge; systems of knowledge transfer and storage; and the goals, aspirations and issues from an indigenous perspective. This altogether makes the holistic frame like cosmic integrity. Nobel laureate humanist philosopher Albert Schweitzer (1949: 158-159), rightly said: “A man is ethical only when life, as such, is sacred to him, that of plants and animals as that of his fellow men, and when he devotes himself helpfully to all life that in need of help.” On this line of thought the habitat unit of Satoyama may be taken as model to represent Asian vision of cultural landscape, as it represents a good integration of complexity of nature and adaptability and continuity by human beings. Think universally, see globally, behave regionally, act locally but insightfully; this is an appeal for cosmic vision, global humanism, and Self realization in making and maintaining of rural cultural landscapes as mosaic of happy, peaceful and sustainable places (cf. Singh 2011: 130). This may be comparable to a deeply rooted indigenous society of Maori (New Zealand). For Maori core cultural values and principles include Kotahitanga (unity, consensus, participation), Urunga-Tu (participation), Kaitiakitanga (environmental guardianship), Tau utu utu (reciprocity, giving back what you take), Wairuatanga (spiritual wellbeing, taking into consideration the spiritual dimension) (for details cf. Harmsworth 2007). Healing the Earth is the message of sacred ecology that envisions the interconnectedness between Man and Nature and further makes a way to environmental and cultural guardianship through making bridge linking realisation and revelation. This process of healing requires a specific mode of conduct or cultural consciousness, a religion in fact a dharma, a moral duty (or to say like sacred duty, virtue that as human beingness one holds). “To hold” means giving the sense of that which holds everything together. The dharma of water is wetness. The dharma of honey is sweetness. The dharma of wind is blowing. The dharma of fire is heat. The dharma of landscape is to sustain the sacred power manifested therein. The dharma of our culture is to save its sacred ecology promoting deeper moral values the gateways of knowing the cosmic identity of human beings. Practicing sacred ecology is the “yoga of landscape” and the sacred journey to the symbol of earth spirit, i.e. heritage (Singh 1995: 196). The pioneer of land-ethic, Leopold’s (1945: 224-225) call is noteworthy in this context: “A thing is right when it tends to preserve the integrity, stability, and beauty of the biotic community (human beings). It is wrong when it tends otherwise”. The challenge for many indigenous organisations and agencies is how to balance aspirations for cultural enrichment (e.g., retaining strong elements of traditional culture such as values, language and knowledge) with more modern elements of advancement, growth, commerce and threatening forces of modern economic development. Of course, in New Zealand, these challenges are being addressed by a large number of Maori groups and similar organisations that emphasise good

In assciation with


governance is required in order to carry out strategies for capacity building, planning, leadership, and accountability in integrated and harmonious way. Maori values are often reflected in the organisation’s goals and objectives, custom and protocols, collective inter-relationships, economic direction and strategic planning that promote common sharing, understanding and practice of spirit of place and associated values. The values are apparent in behaviour, transparency, accountability, participation, ethics, marketing, social and cultural responsibility and performance, and environmental standards that lead to harmonious and happy life through making “happy places” (cf. Harmsworth 2007). Because all the life-forms are interwoven and interconnected, the land and its living creature can be viewed as symbols reciprocally and interactionally responsive to each other, popularly represented as spiral frame of mandala that begins at the centre and expands into infinity. Spirits permeate matter and animate it, so to say there generates the inherent force of terrestrial unity, what we call ecological cosmology. That is how the rich symbolic association brings the sacred as a life-force into everyday life. Each cultural landscape in the visual form of habitat and cosmos, such as a forest, cave, mountain, or even island, is like a chapel for a higher life where lies the deeper human quest to get connected with the spirit of their ancestors through various symbolic natural attributes, including varieties of landscapes, as well as the sun, clouds, moon, or sea. This permeates and encourages human sensitivity to march from realisation (anubhava in Sanskrit) to revelation (anubhuti in Sanskrit). Through the practice and use of sacred ecology a strategy for sustainable development in light of heritage conservation and preservation, reverential development, should be accepted in the service human civilisation and its symbolic identity. Let us come to an end at least at this stage with, the words of the African ecologist Babu Diou (as cited in Singh 1995: 213): In the end We will conserve only what we love. We will love only what we understand. We will understand only what we learn. References Arpin, Roland 1993. Building concordance among World Heritage Towns: a synopsis. Safeguarding Historic Urban Ensembles in a Time of Change. Proceedings of the International Symposium on World Heritage Towns, Quebec City, Canada, July 1991: 551-572. Campbell, Joseph 1974. The Mythic Image. Princeton University Press, Princeton. Chen, Xiangqiao and Wu, Jianguo 2009. Sustainable landscape architecture: implications of the Chinese philosophy of “unity of man with nature” and beyond. Landscape Ecology, 24: 1015-1026. Cronon, William (ed.) 1995. Uncommon Ground: Toward Reinventing Nature. Norton Pub. Co., New York. Devereux, Paul 1990. Places of Power. Blandford, London. Eliade, Mircea 1958. Patterns in Comparative Religion. Sheed & Ward, London. Faulsfich, Paul 1994. Dreaming place: Land and myth at Nyinipi. Environments (Waterloo), 22 (2): 3-12. Fowler, Peter J. 2003. World Heritage Cultural Landscapes 1992–2002. UNESCO, Paris. (World Heritage Papers 6). Gothóni, René (ed.) 2010. Pilgrims and Travellers in Search of the Holy. Peter Lang Publs., Oxford and Bern. Harmsworth, Garth R. 2007. Landscape Research: Manaaki Whenua. Web: http://www.landcareresearch.co.nz/about/ sustainability/voices/matauranga-maori/whatis- matauranga-maori <accessed 13 March 2013> Jones, Michel 2003. The concept of cultural landscape: discourse and narratives; in, Palang, Hannes and Fry, Gary (eds.) Landscape Interfaces: Cultural Heritage in Changing Landscapes. Kluwer, Dordrecht: pp 21-51. Kim, Sung-Kyun 2013. Winding River Village Hahwe: Poetics of a Korean Landscape. ACLA Research Series (SNU Seoul, Korea), Pub. 1. Knott, Kim 2005. The Location of Religion: A Spatial Analysis. Equinox Publishing Ltd., London.

In assciation with


Lane, Belden 2001. Landscapes of the Sacred. Geography and Narrative in American Spirituality. Johns Hopkins University Press, Baltimore. Lawrence, D.H. 1964. Studies in Classical American Literature. Heinemann, London. Leopold, Aldo 1949. A Sand County Almanac. Ballantine, New York. Lewis, Pierce F. 1979. Axioms for reading the landscape; in, Meinig, Donald W. (ed.) The Interpretation of Ordinary Landscapes. Oxford University Press, New York: 11-32. Martin, Geoffrey J. 2005. All Possible Worlds. A History of Geographical Ideas. John Wiley & Sons, New York. 4th Ed. Meinig, Donald W. 1979. The Beholding Eye; in, Meinig, Donald W. (ed.) The Interpretation of Ordinary Landscapes. Oxford University Press, New York: 33-38. Meinig, Donald (ed.) 1979a. The Interpretation of Ordinary Landscapes. Oxford University Press, Oxford and New York. Mitchell, Don 2000. Cultural Geography, A Critical Introduction. Blackwell Publishing, Oxford. Musacchio, Laura R. 2009a. The ecology and culture of landscape sustainability: Emerging knowledge and innovation in landscape research and practice. Landscape Ecology, 24: 989–992. Musacchio, Laura R. 2009b. The scientific basis for the design of landscape sustainability: A conceptual framework for translational landscape research and practice of designed landscapes and the six Es of landscape sustainability. Landscape Ecology, 24: 993– 1013. Relph, Edward C. 1976. Place and Placelessness. Pion Ltd., London. Richer, Jean 1995. Sacred Geography of the Ancient Greeks. Astrological Symbolism in Art, Architecture, and Landscape. SUNY Press, Albany NY. Sauer, Carl O. 1925/ 1963. The Morphology of Landscape. University of California Publications in Geography, 22: 19-53; reprinted in his (1963) Land and Life, A Selection from the Writings of Carl O. Sauer [ed. John Leighly]. University of California Press, Berkeley: 315-350. Schweitzer, Albert 1949. Out of My Life and Thought. Holt, Rinehart and Winston, New York. Selman, Paul 2009. Planning for landscape multifunctionality. Sustainability: Science, Practice, & Policy, an e-journal, 5 (2), Fall: 45-52; web: http://ejournal.nbii.org Singh, Rana P.B. 1995. Heritage Ecology and caring for the Earth: a search for preserving harmony and ethical values. National Geographical Journal of India, 41 (2), June: 191-218. Singh, Rana P.B. 1997. Sacredscape and urban heritage in India: contestation and perspective; in, Shaw, Brian and Jones, Roy (eds.) Contested Urban Heritage: Voices from the Periphery. Ashgate, Aldershot & London, UK: 101-131. Singh, Rana P.B. 2009. Varanasi, the Heritage city of India: Master Plan, JNNURM and issue of inscription in UNESCO WHL; in his, Banaras, the Heritage City of India: Geography, History and Bibliography. Indica Books, Varanasi: 135-182. Singh, Rana P.B. 2011. Indo-Kyosei Global Ordering: Gandhi’s Vision, Harmonious Coexistence, & Ecospirituality. Research Center for Kyosei Philosophy, Toyo University, Japan. Meitoku Publishing, Tokyo. Singh Rana P.B. 2013. Visioning Sacred Landscapes, Envisioning Future: Shared Wisdom: A dialogue. Landscape Architecture NZ (a quarterly from NZILA), March, f.c. Skolimowski, Henryk 1990. Reverence for life; in, Engel, J.R. and Engel, J.G. (eds.) 1990. Ethics of Environment and Development. University of Arizona Press, Tucson: 97-103. Stirrat, Richard L. 1984. Catholics and the riots in historical perspective; in, Manor, James (ed.) Sri Lanka in Change and Crisis. Croom Helm, London & St. Martin Press, New York: 196-213. Swan, James A. (ed.) 1991. The Power of Place. Sacred Ground in Natural & Human Environment. Quest Books, Wheaton, IL. Throsby, David 2009. Tourism, heritage and cultural sustainability: three ‘golden rules’; in, Girard, Luigi F. and Nijkamp, Peter

In assciation with


(eds.) Cultural Tourism and Sustainable Local Development. Ashgate Pub. Ltd., Farnham, Surrey, UK: 13-29. Verschuuren, Bas 2007. An overview of cultural and spiritual values in ecosystem management and conservation strategies; in, Haverkort, B. and Rist, S. (eds.) Endogenous Development and Bio-cultural Diversity, The Interplay of Worldviews, Globalisation and Locality. Compas/CDE, series on Worldviews and Sciences, No. 6, Leusden, The Netherlands: pp. 299-325. Verschuuren, Bas; Wild, Robert; McNeely, Jeffrey A. and Oviedo, Gonzalo (eds.) 2010. Sacred Natural Sites: Conserving Nature and Culture. Earthscan, London. Wu, Jianguo 2006. Landscape ecology, cross-disciplinarity, and sustainability science. Landscape Ecology, 21 (1): 1–4. Wu, Jianguo 2008a. Making the case for landscape ecology: an effective approach to urban sustainability. Landscape Journal, 27 (1): 41–50. Wu, Jianguo 2008b. Making the case for landscape ecology: an effective approach to urban sustainability. Landscape Ecology, 27: 41–50. Wu, Jianguo 2010b. Landscape of culture and culture of landscape: does landscape ecology need culture? Landscape Ecology, 25: 1147–1150.

In assciation with


Local landscape

LOCAL landscape 01. A dichotomy: conservation and tourism Cray R1, Griffiths C2 1 Unitec New Zealand, 2Unitec New Zealand Senior Lecturer ABSTRACT An investigation into the complex relationship that exists between conservation and tourism territories from a landscape based perspective. Trials were performed on the Muriwai Gannet Colony, Otakamiro Headland, West Auckland. The results from this were used to hypothesize on the broader field of conservation and tourism within the landscape architecture discipline. Currently upwards of 1.2million tourists per year visit the gannet colony. The increasing gannet population has resulted in a crossover between gannet nesting territory and tourist tracks, creating challenges associated with both conservation and tourism. The research draws on the work of Robert Riddell’s eco-tourism and sustainable tourism, builds on the theories of Anna Ryan’s work concerned with representation and spatial experience and uses existing ornithological case studies carried out by Brenda Greene. Key findings include the concept of changing and influencing tourist behaviour as a means to address landscape perception. A consideration of how the delineation of territory within landscapes that cater for conflicting territories was also undertaken. Approaching this problem through the lens of familiarity, perception and territory allows for traditional issues associated with these areas to be tackled through a localised design investigation. The conclusions identified the need for fluidity, change, integration and shift as ways in which territorial fluency or a symbiosis in landscapes with conservation and tourism can be achieved. For the broader field of landscape architecture, this research offers new ways of looking at behaviour, territory and relationships within landscape, and how traditional methods of design for these areas might be manipulated to provide for a resilient future. Research Question What key factors enable symbiotic relationships between conservation practice and tourism? Introduction The focus of this paper is an investigation into the complex relationship that exists between conservation and tourism territories from a landscape-based perspective. It is concerned with perceptions and interpretations of what constitutes acceptable human use of conservation landscapes. Anna Dora Saethorsdottir describes in her paper, Adapting to Change: Maintaining a Wilderness Experience in a Popular Tourist Destination that “wildernesses are supposed to offer ‘primitive’ forms of recreation, opportunities to experience solitude as well as for finding freedom away from the constraints of urban living. However, as wilderness areas become known as tourist destinations, maintaining these conditions becomes increasingly difficult” (Saethorsdottir, 2004). In the paper Issues in Applying Carrying Capacity Concepts: Examples for the United Kingdom, Richard Butler agrees that “…ever increasing numbers of visitors to recreation and tourist areas have created concerns…about unwanted impacts” (R.W. Butler, 2004). It is this perceived dichotomy (or incompatibility) that exists between traditional ideas of conservation and tourism that is of particular interest. By its own nature tourism does not conserve, as it is through the introduction of tourists to a sensitive area that there is a potential to endanger the landscape. David Cole explains in his article Carrying Capacity and Visitor Management: Facts,Values and the Role of Science, that “…concerns have been voiced about both the biophysical and experiential impacts of recreational use on parks and protected areas” (Cole, 2003). Researchers including Manning, 1999, and McCool and Lime 2001, debate the usefulness of the term carrying capacity, which explores ways of determining optimum visitor numbers for particular landscapes. “Conservation means different things to different people” (Hambler, 2004). In the context of this research it is important to define the perspective on which these studies were based. I suggest that conservation is the preservation and protection of landscapes, their wildlife, ecosystems and plants. It is about fostering a holistic approach to nature and enabling the components of a landscape to be able to evolve over time on their own accord, minimally affected by the use and impact of humans. This essentially means the retention of elements that are individually indefinable but combined give an experience unique and only relevant to that particular site, what we as landscape architect’s call ‘sense of place.’ As an alternative, this work is an investigation into how a landscape architectural approach to sensitive landscapes might provide the means whereby the territories of conservation and tourism could exist within a singular landscape in a symbiotic way. In this context, symbiosis is used to describe a close prolonged association between the territories of conservation and tourism and the potential for these to respond and change together according to their own fluctuations. Outcomes produced do not necessarily benefit conservation and tourism simultaneously, but address the


LOCAL landscape interplay between these two dynamic territories and strive to maintain their influence on the site’s unique atmosphere and character (Greene, 1999). This paper also draws on the work of Robert Riddell’s eco-tourism and sustainable tourism models, builds on the theories of Anna Ryan’s work concerned with representation and spatial experience and uses existing ornithological case studies carried out by Brenda Greene. Site: Muriwai Gannet Colony, Otakamiro Headland To test these dynamics, trials were performed on the Muriwai Gannet Colony, Otakamiro Headland, West Auckland. The results from these were used to hypothesize on the broader field of conservation and tourism within the landscape architecture discipline. The Muriwai gannet colony presents a number of interesting challenges with regard to conservation and tourism. Currently upwards of 1.2million tourists per year visit the gannet colony, which has an established gannet population of approximately 1,200 breeding pairs (Greene,1999). The problem lies in the increasing gannet population, which has risen steadily since the early 1970s. Today this has resulted in a crossover between gannet nesting territory and tourist tracks, creating challenges in the relationship between its conservation and tourism land uses. Issues of Conservation and Tourism In order to investigate the perceived dichotomy a comparison of current mass tourism, eco tourism and sustainable tourism models was undertaken. It was found that the principles of eco tourism as defined by Rob Riddell (2004),were closely related to a symbiosis between tourists and conservation areas. ‘Experiential and enriching’ is how Riddell describes the basis of eco – tourism, “eco-tourism encounters of the sustainable kind are small-scale, diversified, humanized, stimulating, physically challenging and above all within the absorptive capacity of the culture and environment being visited” (Riddell, 2004). Alison Johnson states that there are significant differences in the perception of what ecotourism should entail, and what it actually provides.The main issues that are arriving from the marketing and subsequent popularity of ecotourism is that far from what its name suggests, it is actually detrimental to the environment, particularly the socio cultural environment being the landscape of the indigenous people (Johnston, 2006). The retention of landscape character is a key factor in addressing the dilemma of tourism versus conservation. Sustainable practice seems to be the only way to serve both sides of this delicate balance effectively. This concept is further echoed by Riddell, “There is a connection to Hardin (1986) ‘Tragedy of the Commons’ maxim which predicates a wear down of the very scenic and cultural ambience the tourists have come to join and enjoy” (Riddell, 2004). Economically mass tourism is the easiest way to make significant financial gain, yet its cost for culture, conservation, social interactions and communities is huge. It could be argued that mass tourism promotes a sense of numbness in that the tourist is buffered from the world they are attempting to engage with through the use of generic experiences and landscape views. Riddell points out that an attention to providing a tailored set of experiences allows flexibility, cultural awareness and less impact on the host town or area. In Conservation: Studies in Biology, Hambler discusses the history of conservation, which includes but is not limited to; spiritual and aesthetic features, animal welfare and preservation and protection of soil and water supplies. He highlights that conservation can also include the protection of geological and archaeological features (Hambler, 2004). These themes fit with the idea of a holistic approach to conservation in the landscape and point to the variety of angles through which conservation can be addressed. This research is therefore less about what the themes are, and more about the ‘angles.’ It is attempting to investigate how the crossover between conservation and tourism can be utilized to offer more connections, or ways of perceiving and responding to the issues created by having these two defining elements within a landscape. For this to be tackled, the existing methods for addressing conservation need to be acknowledged for their role in public perception and the divide which currently exists within the field. Hambler has termed these two existing responses as ‘use value’ and ‘intrinsic value.’ Use value being conservation of a landscape based on its usefulness to humans, such as maintaining the ‘sustainable utilization of species and ecosystems.’1 Intrinsic value is defined as being primarily focused on “protecting nature for its own sake (Hambler, 2004). Methodology From initial research into the topics of conservation and tourism two sets of key factors were formed. The first key factor was familiarity, this set included design investigations for opening subtleties, journeys, entrances and surfaces. The second key factor set encompassed territory, and was further separated into seasonal occupation and gannet habitat shift over time. The methodology used explore the key factors involved two design phases, the first being a mapping, analysis and


LOCAL landscape exploration exercise. This culminated in the development of design interventions that were conceptually trialed within the Muriwai case study site. Key Factors To investigate the tourist and conservation dimensions of the site two sets of key factors were developed, which came directly from an initial analysis of the Muriwai Gannet Colony. The first set of key factors were based on the concept of familiarity, which was formed from the results of a comparative study of local and tourist use of the site. The aim of the familiarity series was to investigate and test ways of improving the tourist relationship with the contextual landscape. Through the use of Anna Ryan’s (2006) Where Land Meets Sea: Coastal Explorations of Landscape, Representation and Spatial Experience design investigations for journeys and opening subtleties within the case study site were undertaken. These were implemented to see if they could offer new ways of manipulating tourist behaviour and perception in favour of the conserved landscape. It was anticipated that by tapping into what these landscape areas do, opportunities to evoke self – awareness, freedom, understanding and a sense of exploration would be created. Throughout Anna Ryan’s literature the landscape’s ability to open subtleties and the notion of a ‘journey’ were what enabled “an awareness and communication of the spatial complexity of everyday experience” (Ryan, 2012). Drawing on these ideas, this investigation endeavoured to uncover what landscape components could be brought together to create a journey where currently ‘gaps’ between destinations exist (see figure 1 below).

Figure 1. Initial design test for the ‘journeys’ key factor.

These were used to engender an awareness of the landscape as a whole, rather than foster the destination-orientated experiences that currently exist on site. This required the consideration of the impact of societal conditions and trends and how they might shape new behaviours and reactions to design. Ryan similarly describes “That this given environment appears as place-full for one group of people and as ‘empty wilderness’ for another reveals how any individual’s attitude towards their physical surroundings could have a strong impact on the way they experience those surroundings” (Ryan, 2012). In light of this, the influence on tourist behaviour when approaching the site became an important consideration. It is critical to note that Muriwai is only accessible to tourists by vehicle. The experience of being driven directly into the site is inversely proportional to how much ‘reading’ of the landscape could be achieved, and then in turn process. It is for these reasons that a meandering pedestrian route was trialled as part of the investigation into ‘journey’. The past and future become irrelevant, or ‘cease to exist’ as an, ‘intensity of awareness of the present’ becomes explored (Ryan, 2012). These concepts derived from Anna Ryan’s work formed the concept of a journey as being one that enables sensory stimulation and freedom of movement. By increasing the time taken to traverse a part of the landscape it was anticipated that subtle landscape elements could be perceived and added to the collective experience. The ‘meandering’ tracks could therefore mean that the tourist reaches a destination point, not feeling that this was the sole experience gained from their visit (see figure 2 below).


LOCAL landscape

Figure 2: A visitor taking time to contemplate and observe the surroundings within the meandering pathways design test for the ‘journeys’ key factor.

By encouraging tourists to spend more time on the journey a shift in focus could be enabled – from singularly looking to reach the gannet lookouts to recognising the importance of the entire landscape and how this contributes to reaching and relating to its wildlife.The most important influences on a journeys’ success are therefore believed to be the notion of time, freedom of movement, explorative elements, contrast, and an understanding of self and surroundings. This trial also contributed to a study of what components of a landscape affect our ability to perceive and interpret its subtleties. This key factor is concerned with people and place, and how people become aware of their connection to a landscape and the potentials it has to offer. It was found that the critical components in maintaining perception of these subtleties were an integration of space, the concept of the journey, societal conditions and trends, scale, provisions for personalisation, materials, and level of visitor engagement (see figure 3 below).

Figure 3. Senses and experiences that contribute to a personalised landscape experience.

As stated in Anna Ryan’s literature, “internal and external worlds have a very fluid dynamic” (Ryan, 2012). Through this idea it was investigated whether opening subtleties could lead to visitors feeling simultaneously empowered and disempowered, surprised, reflective and involved in the landscape.The findings of this test point to conventional tourist based design as being inadequately equipped to deal with such emotive sensibilities. As Riddell suggests, the challenge is re-invent and tailor designs for tourists in order to offer mass – personalisation of landscape. Perhaps the utilisation of a harmonious interplay between space divisions, spatial relationships and different territories could enable the basis for deeper visitor understanding of a landscape. This design exercise has highlighted the importance of direction, distance and levels when bringing visitors into a site, and the importance of design elements such as lookouts, which have large repercussions for the use and perception of empowering landscapes.The importance of the visitor recognising their juxtaposition against the scale of the landscape in order to increase visitor awareness and foster an appreciation of the vastness of the site was also reinforced. This was similar to Ryan’s ‘fear of being overwhelmed or enveloped by the power of the singular surroundings,’ concept (Ryan, 2012). There is a focus on design elements which challenge visitors to see the landscape in relation to themselves, as part of the landscape, and also interwoven with the site in space and time (see figure 4 & 5 below).


LOCAL landscape

Figure 4: Design test demonstrating how a new pedestrian entrance via a winding staircase system could open up and expose new potentials of the site to visitors.

Fig 5: An impression of the visitor experience and ability for the descending staircase to open up subtleties of the site.

The second set of key factors were based on the theme of territory.This investigation stemmed from Brenda Greene’s ornithological studies and trials carried out on the Muriwai Gannet Colony over many years. Greene’s research suggests that “There is some concern that human disturbance may be affecting the productivity of the Muriwai colonies (Greene, 1999). In consideration of this issue the aim of this series was to investigate the conservational qualities of the landscape and how they might inform new territorial relationships within the site. The degree of human impact on the gannet colony depends upon the setting, the type of human behaviour and proximity to the birds (Greene, 1999). These objectives were then linked to the familiarity series in the anticipation that this connection could provide new ways for tourists to relate to both the site and more specifically, conservation territory. Greene’s research also highlighted “… that nesting sites for gannets is a limiting factor for the population” (Greene, 2003). It was from this perspective on territory that gannet increase and decrease, along with seasonal occupation and gannet population spread over time were studied. These looked particularly at how the landscape relationships currently existing at the Muriwai gannet colony might shift or change in the future. The projected outcomes for this series were a greater understanding of gannet nesting patterns and how tourist and gannet territories work together to inform interactions, movement and use of a landscape. In order to consider the conservation demands of the site and the territorial relationships present, the investigation was expanded to consider what methods of design could provide new ways of accommodating for territorial fluency between conservation and tourism. The findings point towards fluidity, change, integration and shift being the key ways in which the dichotomy of tourism and conservation could be explored. The complexity of the tourism conservation relationship means there exists a huge gap between what conservation and tourism need and what design solutions currently offer.


LOCAL landscape Conclusion The approach taken towards conservation and tourism within a given landscape is one which in this instance steered away from management based design and more towards creating ‘experiences’. In this instance, the term ‘experiences’ is used to describe the creation of memorable and unique moments that occur as part of the visitors exploration, engagement, and journey through the site. It was therefore through these ‘experiences’ that mutual benefits for both humans and the conservation of the site were developed and explored. In this research, territory has been used to describe the way in which humans perceive and act based on our interpretation of boundaries. Based on the research and design tests completed for this study, it has been suggested that in order to address the dichotomy of conservation and tourism we must primarily address territorial perceptions to create new tourist behaviours and experiences. These key factors are crucial in enhancing the symbiotic factors and new relationships within current tourist – conservation territory. In terms of addressing tourist behaviour and experience the use of familiarity and the associated concepts of journey and subtleties the design trials completed under this study suggest it could be beneficial to create more holistic tourist experiences in relation to conservation landscapes. This study has suggested that the tourist experience could be altered to provide positive behavioural affects in the enhancement of tourist perception and understanding of conservation landscapes. The journey and a landscape’s subtleties are ways in which tourist perception and understanding can be fostered.They require an integration of space, use of scale, provisions for personalisation, and a level of visitor engagement to be incorporated into the design. By fostering the concept of familiarity through tests that adopted the flowing, less boundary-based behaviour that local’s exhibit, it is believed this can result in greater self- awareness and therefore improved personal connection and understanding of the landscape. By encapsulating this theme, landscape architecture has the potential to re-inform tourist perception, movement, understanding and behaviour. Somehow tourism and conservation almost need to offer mass-personalization, that is, personal and therefore unique experiences of landscape, but for a large amount of people at one time. This could require some landscape subtleties to be seen by fewer people, rather than all ‘subtleties’ being seen by everyone, but critically elements of the site have to offer a sense of familiarity for these experiences to occur. However other investigations suggest that for subtlety in the landscape to be preserved there needs to be a resistance against commonality as this could undermine uniqueness and perceived value. This forms a dichotomy within itself, and to overcome it, requires an acknowledgement of the subjectivity of space and its direct repercussions for personal landscape interpretation. This studies’ analysis of symbiosis between conservation and tourism has developed the notion that tourism does not have to mean the demise or degradation of a significant landscape. In fact it can provide the means whereby tourism becomes the driver for landscape improvement or enhancement.This was demonstrated through the journeys investigation which proposed the introduction of extensive native planting in order to provide a more interesting and explorative landscape experience for the visitor. Subsequent findings also suggest that territorial fluency and an ability to shift over time are new ways in which a strengthening of the symbiosis between conservation and tourism could be achieved through the landscape architecture discipline. Our interpretation of the landscape rests heavily on the portrayal of its essence or underlying character, and how well this is communicated through the design of a landscape’s facilities, accessible land and view shafts that visitor’s use. From this perspective this research has produced an array of elements worth considering in the wider application of landscape architecture to conservation and tourism landscapes. In assuming that all sites in some way deal with boundaries and the segregation or identification of territory, this research demonstrates some alternative approaches. This project also critically has the potential to raise the importance of dealing with territory and boundaries in relation to behavioural response in landscape users. Works Cited Cole, D. (2003). Carrying Capacity and Visitor Management: Facts, Values and the Role of Science. Portecting our diverse heritage: the role of parks, protected areas and cultural sites. , 43-46. Greene, B. (2003). Fence removal benefits gannets (Morus serrator) at Muriwai, northwest Auckland. Notornis: Journal for the Ornithological Society of New Zealand , 10. Greene, B. (1999). Increase of gannets (Morus serrator) at Muriwai, Auckland. Notornis: Journal of the Ornithological Societu of New Zealand 46 , 11. Hambler, C. (2004). Conservation: Studies in Biology. UK: Cambridge University Press. Johnston, A. (2006). Is the Sacred for Sale? Tourism and indigenous peoples. USA & UK: Earthscan.


LOCAL landscape R.W. Butler, H. C. (2004). Issues on Applying Carrying Capacity Concepts: Examples for the United Kingdom. The Challange of Tourism Carrying Capacity Assessment: Theory and Practice , 135. Riddell, R. (2004). Sustainable Urban Planning. UK: Blackwell Publishing Limited. Ryan, A. (2012). Where Land Meets Sea: Coastal Explorations of Landscape, Representation and Spatial Experience. England: Ashgate Publishing Limited. Saethorsdottir, A. (2004). Adapting to Change: Maintaining a Wilderness Experience in a Popular Tourist Destination. The Journal of the College of Tourism and Hotel Management , 52. All images authorâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s own.

02. Parametric Models of Coastal Settlementsâ&#x20AC;&#x2122; Growth Dove K1, Popov N2 NZILA with Unitec Institute of Technology Abstract Parametric design has been widely used by architects. However within landscape architecture and urban design its use has been very limited (Steino, 2012). This paper reports on initial findings of on-going research that aims at investigating the applicability of parametric design concepts when evaluating growth scenarios in small coastal settlements within New Zealand. The objective of this research project is twofold. Firstly, it identifies issues associated with urban growth, alongside current urban design approaches. Secondly, the project aims to take the parametric design discourse out of its academic context and test its applicability on a real site that is under pressure from growth. This is explored by developing parametric urban design systems that operate at different scales. The case study site is Pataua North, Whangarei Heads. This site has an expected growth demand of 5000 people (Liang, A. 2010).The developed parametric urban design system models the interconnections between greenspace, street layout and lot sizes. The advantages and shortcomings of parametric models when compared with canonical top-down urban design approaches are explored through this research. Evaluation criteria for privileging models outputs are also reviewed. The research recommends a range of possible improvements to models and speculates on the future of parametric urban design. Introduction This research reports on the initial findings of the investigation into parametric design and its application into modelling settlement growth in coastal communities for Landscape Architects and Urban Designers. The research case study investigates a coastal settlement to the west of Whangarei, New Zealand - Pataua North. The site currently has approximately 100 houses and is slowly increasing over time. Whangarei District Council expects the growth over the next 50 years to be around 5000 people in the region, with some houses scattering inland into smaller communities (Liang, A. 2010). The research outlines some of the major advantages of using parametric design throughout the various stages of design and experimentation and illustrates how this process can be useful for the profession. A background to parametric design and urban growth will be discussed in order to inform later discussions on techniques and knowledge gained through the research.

Figure 1: Pataua North


LOCAL landscape Aim The overall aim is to explore possible applications of this design technique in the disciplines of landscape architecture and urban design and to identify any outcomes that may benefit, or enhance, the design process in regard to coastal growth modelling. Parametric design is a concept, first discovered in 1963 by Ivan Sutherland in his PhD thesis on computer-aided design. This was one of the first and most influential ideas in computer-aided design. Putting changeable parameters into the Sketchpad system created an exploration of parametric capabilities, which helped shape what parametric design is today. Background Parametric design is the process of designing in an environment where design variations are effortless, thus replacing singularity with multiplicity in the design process (Alrawi, O. 2007). Parametric design is carried out with the aid of Parametric Models. A parametric model is a computer representation of a design, constructed with geometrical entities that have attributes (properties), some of which are fixed and others that can vary. The variable attributes are also called parameters and the fixed attributes are said to be constrained. The designer changes the parameters in the parametric model to search for alternative solutions to a given problem. The parametric model responds to the changes by adapting, or re-configuring, to the new values of the parameters without erasing or redrawing (Slack-Smith, D. 2005). In parametric design designers’ use declared parameters to define a form. This requires rigorous thinking in order to build a sophisticated geometrical structure embedded in a complex model that is flexible enough for doing variations. Therefore, the designer must anticipate which kinds of variations he wants to explore in order to determine the kinds of transformations the parametric model should do.This is a difficult task due of the unpredictable nature of the design process (Hernandez, C. 2006). The parametric models discussed in this paper use (in several ways) the voronoi diagram as an organizational principle. The voronoi diagram is a pattern, which describes the minimal energy pathways between a set of points (Coates, P. 2010).Voronoi patterns occur spontaneously (bottom-up) in nature at a variety of scales.They resemble biological cells, forest canopies, territories of animals, fur and shell patterns, crystal growth and grain growth, cracks in dried mud, etc. The traditional, top-down, analytical method to draw such tessellations looks rather clumsy and does not seem to capture the underlying dynamic of the phenomenon. It is explained by Aranda and Lasch (2006): • Take a set of points. • Construct a bisector between one point and all the others. • The Voronoi cell is bounded by the intersection of these bisectors. • Repeat for each point in the set. The same pattern can be generated from the bottom-up just by using attraction and repulsion iteratively and in a parallel manner (Coates, 2010). The result is again a Voronoi tessellation that shimmers into being, rather than being constructed deliberately. This second method does not use any top-down geometry and seems to capture the underlying dynamic of the phenomenon in a more “natural” way. Regardless of the method used, the Voronoi diagram generates a space-filling topological structure and is one of the most fundamental and useful constructs, emphasizing its excellent applicability in modelling natural phenomena (Coates, et. al. 2005).

Figures 2 and 3:Voronoi Pattern using attraction and repulsion and a Voronoi pattern drawn top-down.


LOCAL landscape There have been many interpretations of the voronoi diagram across architecture, urban design and landscape architecture. One particular example is a waterfront development named the “Majok Project”. This project used the principles of the voronoi diagram to pinpoint specific areas on the site and made them points of attraction and points of repulsion. The points identified were chosen for cultural reasons, hydrological, ecological, traffic, viewpoints, etc., and given a value of importance for the design process. Urban design is the profession of shaping the physical setting for life in cities, towns and communities; a collaborative and multi-disciplinary process does this. Urban design has progressed over the past 50 years and has been gaining certain autonomy. With professions such as urban planning, architecture and, in recent years, landscape architecture becoming more involved, urban design has become a diverse and multi-disciplinary profession. The design process in general terms is seen by a lot of professions as – a brief, a need, a demand - a solution (Lawson, B. 2005). Design solutions are generated and evaluated in a multi-objective parameter space, in which each planning aspect offers a different view on the problem. Typically, such a view is presented as a map, sketch, diagram or calculation, .e. in a static and deterministic manner. Parametric design is capable of changing a design and giving instant feedback, this is most effective in the early stages of conceptual design as investigations are made in a collaborative setting. NZ coastal communities such as Omaha, Pauanui, Marsden Cove and Kaiteriteri (Peart, R. 2009) have seen significant growth in the past few decades. The expansion of coastal urban development places increasing pressure on the natural environment through the effects of land clearing, waste disposal and pollution. Structures built on the coastline can increase erosion, leading to the need for beach replenishment. Building along the foreshore and on sand dunes can affect the coastal landscape, coastal processes and the natural movement of sand. As well as increased erosion, coastal communities are also vulnerable to rising sea levels and a loss of identity. In addition, the discharge of sewage, stormwater, land run-off, river inputs of nutrients and sediments to estuaries and the coastal waters constitutes one of New Zealand’s greatest coastal management challenges. Methodology and Case Study Model Pataua is a rural coastal community with a strong sense of local history.The area is valued in Northland for its recreational opportunities amidst a beautiful setting of safe beaches, native vegetation and farmland. The fact that generations of families have returned to the area to live and to holiday is testament to the natural beauty and community spirit of the area. In recent years Whangarei District Council have been expecting this area to grow by 5000 people within the next 50 years, an increase of over 800%, with a total of roughly 1700 houses. For the past 15 years the growth of the site has been witnessed first hand. Pataua North is about a 31km drive from Whangarei, and there are just over 100 houses. These houses are made up of holiday baches and some that have permanent residents. With the use of GIS data the site was mapped, including contours, hydrology, land-use, slope, aspect, viewpoints and built form. Mapping gave an insight into the spatial characteristic structure of Pataua, which helped determine site constraints and opportunities. The site’s developable areas seemed to be along the coast, with the slopes to the west constraining the development from moving inland. Currently the site has 1 boat ramp in the estuary, a community hall with a camping area, no shops and, as noted before, roughly 100 houses and large land parcels of farmland to the north.

Figure 4: Left to Right: Roads, Flood/Erosion Zones, Slope,Viewpoint, Houses and Greenspace.


LOCAL landscape Earlier in the research studies were conducted into the spatial layout of several Auckland bays, including Castor Bay, Browns Bay and Orewa beach.This helped inform patterns that Auckland coastal communities had in regards to trends of house positioning, road layout and viewpoints. The first parametric design experiment followed the mapping and analysis. The goal was to explore variations of road layouts, generated using Voronoi diagram around points of interest. The points included floodplains, road intersections, knolls, and landscape features.This relatively simple model helped with developing confidence in the concepts and gave insights into the workings of parametric design.

Figure 5: Pilot Parametric Model

The second parametric model used the processes of attraction and repulsion executed iteratively and in parallel. The aim was again to study variations of possible road layouts. The parametric road layout was attracted to certain areas and repulsed from others.These areas included important landscape features, such as floodplains, steep slopes, existing road networks and beaches to name a few. Several parametric models were then created for various parts of the design using attract and repel notions as discussed above. All the models were incorporated together and a series of generations were created. Keeping record of the results enabled reflection and evaluation of the designs (see Figure 6). New parameters and features were then added. These included open space proximity, housing density, and viewshafts.

Figure 6: 10 Developed parametric variations

Some the components of the model will be explored in further detail in this paper. The waterfront is a key component of Pataua, with one of the main attractions being the surf beach. Several points were located along the beach representing coastal features. One of the points was a knoll and another was a depression in the sand dunes, which opened up a view to the beach. This depression opened up the opportunity to locate a green corridor from the floodplain to the beach, creating a visual connection. These points were then used to influence the geometry of the road (shown in red in figure 7). The relationships that were established earlier meant that a slight change in the road could result in dramatic change in several areas of the design, including block sizes, road distances, greenspace sizes, viewshafts and housing densities.


LOCAL landscape

Figure 7: Waterfront iterations

In the greenspace design definition a visibility rule was added.This meant that the road (shown in red in figure 8) could deform only if the deformation increases the visibility of the green space (in green).

Figure 8: Greenspace iterations

Discussion and Conclusion Parametric urban design focuses on the piecing together of subsystems to give rise to a larger system/program. This type of working is useful when multiple parties are involved in the design process because the parametric system allows instant feedback to alternative design scenarios. One of the main challenges is the conceptualization and construction of the parametric system, i.e. what interrelations are depicted and explored, what is fixed and what can vary. Parametric techniques can leave little room for any kind of intuitive, emotional response to design and makes it easy to overlook or exclude vital characteristics that could make a design successful. When it comes to design, the real value of parametric technology is not so much in generating geometry, but in offering instant feedback of design information and analysis during the design process. More options can be tested and their feasibility measured. The parametric systems are history explicit, i.e. the design process is entirely visible. Moreover, there is instantaneous and interactive feedback between design scenario generation and evaluation. These allow more constructive discussions, easy alterations and improvements of both the design process and the set of evaluation criteria. The challenges associated with coastal settlements growth were outlined in the section on Background.The parametric models developed collectively proved how the interdependencies between various elements of the settlements fabric (road network, open spaces, plot sizes, etc.) can be explored and evaluated in order to overcome the challenges in coastal settlementsâ&#x20AC;&#x2122; growth. Following the research discussed in this paper, there are several improvements that would be suitable to explore. The availability of data is key to accurate design decisions. This research had static non-changing information throughout, giving it a lack of variability. The area of further exploration will be an attempt to build a parametric urban design system that operates at more than one level of detail.


LOCAL landscape References Alrawi, O. (2007) ‘Regenerating Architectural elements using A1.’ Proceedings of the 3rd Int’l ASCAAD Conference on Em‘body’ing Virtual Architecture (ASCAAD-07), Alexandria, Egypt. Aranda, B., Lasch, C. (2006). Tooling: Aranda/Lasch. New York, NY: Princeton Archit Press. Coates, P. et al. (2005) ‘Generating architectural spatial configurations. Two approaches using Voronoi tessellations and particle systems.’ Proceedings of the VIII Generative Art International Conference (GA2005) 15-17 December, Milan, Italy. Coates, P. (2004) ‘Rethinking representation’ in Coates, P. Programming. Architecture. London: Routledge, pp.6-23 Hernandez, C. (2006) Thinking parametric design: introducing parametric Gaudi. Massachusetts Institute of Technology, Massachusetts, USA. Lawson, B. (2005) How Designers Think: The Design Process Demystified, 4th edn. London: Architectural Press. Liang, A. (2010). Sense of Place - urban design, amenity, local character and heritage. Whangarei: Whangarei District Council. Peart, R. (2009) Castles in the sand: what’s happening to the New Zealand coast? Nelson, New Zealand: Craig Potton Publishing. Slack-Smith, D. (2009) Structural design, quotation and production support using parametric CAD tools and national/ international standards for fluid storage systems. Unpublished bachelors dissertation, University of Southern Queensland, Queensland, Australia. Steinø, N. (2010). Parametric Thinking in Urban Design: A Geometric Approach. In CAAD, Cities, Sustainability, Morocco

03. xsection: Auckland’s Contemporary Landscape Architecture Journal Griffiths C, Aitken D Unitec Abstract A new landscape journal has been developed called Xsection. This publication calls for articles from landscape practitioners, academics, and students. The journals intent is to promote rigorous discussion about landscape architectural issues from both an academic and professional viewpoint with a particular emphasis on the voice of young landscape architects. The theme evolves each year and is topical to Auckland.The journal has a refereed section. These articles are double blind peer reviewed by a panel comprising local academics, professionals and international academics. The journal is also a credit bearing negotiated study course for Bachelor of Landscape Architecture students. A research question is developed and information is gathered on this topic in the form of articles. This information is then edited and sorted into sections that deal with particular aspects of the theme. Students then develop a response to the data collected and produce a conclusion to the journal that expresses some answers to the question posed. The journal is published and disseminated to 2500 members of the New Zealand Institute of Landscape Architects (NZILA) and is available as an e-journal. The connection to industry is important as the relationships established through the production of the journal help to generate ongoing contacts that feed into teaching and research. The journal is a means whereby the Auckland approach to landscape architecture can be fore grounded and disseminated. The project contributes to the research environment by way of creating a vessel for double blind peer review articles and promotes ongoing contemporary discussion about landscape architecture in Auckland.


LOCAL landscape

Figure 1: Front cover of Xsection journal

Introduction At Unitec Institute of Technology, within the Bachelor of Landscape Architecture Programme, a student driven journal called Xsection has recently been developed and launched. This publication calls for articles from landscape practitioners, academics, and students and aims at providing opportunities for discussion across the boundaries of these different groups. Each year the publication focuses on a particular topic. A section of the journal contains (double blind) peerreviewed articles. The intent of the journal is to promote rigorous discussion about landscape architectural issues from both an academic and professional viewpoint with a particular emphasis on the voice of students and young landscape architects. Context Xsection journal is situated within the context of landscape architecture publications in New Zealand, by specifically focusing on contributing to notions of community and mentorship between academics, professionals and students of landscape architecture and urban design. The journal is different to, yet compliments the New Zealand industry example, Landscape New Zealand, a quarterly published magazine, which, in the words of it’s publisher Michael Barret, “…is a tightly focused publication dedicated to covering this country’s landscape architecture profession.” [Landscape Architecture New Zealand, 2010] The Landscape Architecture Department at Lincoln University produces Landscape Review, a peer reviewed publication, which aims to “provide a forum for scholarly writing and critique on topics, projects and research relevant to landscape studies” [Landscape Review, volume 13]. While both of these examples seek to establish landscape discussion and engagement, they are, almost entirely, driven by practitioners or academics of landscape architecture. Where Xsection differs from this approach, is that students within the Bachelor of Landscape Architecture Programme at Unitec lead the entire process of constructing the journal, from concept to publication and distribution. The production process of Xsection is an important factor that contributes to the success and retention of students directly or indirectly involved in the publication. It operates by creating a forum whereby students of landscape architecture feel that their voices and contributions to the profession are warranted and supported. As a teaching and learning reference point, this type of contribution to existing professional communities serves to blur the boundaries between student and practitioner or student and academic, and helps to generate an inclusive holistic learning environment where all opinions, viewpoints and stages of progression are considered for discussion. Teaching and Learning As well as being a vehicle for discussion around contemporary landscape architectural issues, Xsection plays an


LOCAL landscape important role in the development of the Living Curriculum within the department of Landscape Architecture at Unitec. Innovation in Teaching and Learning is one of Unitec’s key initiatives. The Living Curriculum promotes curriculum as conversation and conceives of programmes holistically rather than as collections of courses. The goal is to nurture graduates who are resilient, independent and creative and who are able to thrive in complex conditions. Unitec’s Learning and Teaching Framework sets out a vision, which sees all at Unitec operating as ‘a dynamic community of learners engaged in a culture of open enquiry’. [Curriculum Design Policy 2012] In light of this, Xsection has been developed as a credit bearing negotiated study course within the Bachelor of Landscape Architecture programme. The journal is a student driven enterprise, whereby the brief is constructed on a yearly basis through negotiation and conversation between lecturer and students. A research question that acts as a theme for the journal is developed and is situated around a topical issue in landscape architecture. The 2012 theme focused on the question ‘what is landscape architecture?’ As Charles Waldheim [2006] states in his book Post Fordist Public Works (a publication which explores landscape urbanism strategies for Milwaukee’s Tower Automotive site) ‘for many, across a range of design disciplines, landscape has recently emerged as both model and medium for constructing a contemporary public realm’. In keeping with this sentiment, Xsection provides a mechanism whereby landscape architecture can form the basis for discussion about Auckland’s landscapes, public open space, and current viewpoints on ways of designing across a range of levels within the discipline. For example, through student studio projects, related disciplinary articles (such as photography or architecture), academic philosophy on landscape practice, and completed or in progress real world projects from landscape practitioners.

Figure 2: Comment

Methodology The students’ first task is to set the scene through a comment piece that introduces the theme of the issue. In line with Unitec’s Curriculum Design Policy, a call for articles is developed through conversations among students, potential employers, and the landscape community. This is then expanded through a range of articles with a focus on curiosity and inquiry led conversations. There is a choice of short articles or a substantial paper put forward for double blind peer review. The review panel consists of local practitioners, academics and international academics in the field of landscape architecture. Articles and full papers from academics and practitioners are inter-dispersed with student viewpoints comprising the body of the journal. At the end of the journal there is a synopsis summing up the content and commenting on the theme of the issue.


LOCAL landscape

Figure 3: Synopsis

During the production of the journal, students arrange to meet with various practitioners to canvass for articles. This provides an opportunity for students to interact with practicing landscape architects and establish relationships with potential employers. In this way students take ownership of the course and their learning. Further to this, students arrange to meet with various printing firms, and set up critique sessions throughout the year with staff from the Bachelor of Landscape Architecture, recent graduates, and practitioners. There is considerable value in students working with the landscape industry in this way. Relationships develop which focus more on equality, sharing of ideas and conversations. This differs from the traditional model of the industry expert imparting knowledge in a lecture or studio based situation. Furthermore, students work in a manner whereby self-sufficiency and collaboration are equally valued. This approach is intended to foster resourcefulness and resilience. Students involved in the production of the journal decide at the outset what the marking procedures will be through the course, for example a series of evaluations at timely intervals throughout the year, or an assessment based on the final product. These negotiations (between team members) help to strengthen the group dynamic and solidify goal setting through the course. In 2012 the theme for the journal was ‘what is landscape architecture’? This developed as the premise used by the Department of Landscape Architecture for a marketing campaign and also became the catch phrase for the annual end of year graduate exhibition. Some of the articles this theme attracted included an outline of what context means for landscape architecture, issues of conservation and tourism, risk aversion, a photographic study entitled ‘Capturing the Feeling’, and an outline of a burgeoning landscape architectural research group called Auckland Ecologies.


LOCAL landscape

Figure 4: Risk Aversion, by Dr Nathan Perkins. Image by Denice Dominguez

A range of articles and imagery produced by students throughout the four years of the degree are also showcased in the journal.

Figures 5 & 6: Unitec BLA year one and two projects, Daniel Pervan, Alice Taylor,Tosh Graham


LOCAL landscape

Figures 7 & 8: Unitec BLA year three and four projects, John Allan, Rhys Pemberton

Conclusion In addition to the connections that students make to the industry of landscape architecture the journal is a means whereby students gain introductions to the Auckland branch of the New Zealand Institute of Landscape Architects. This occurs in a shared Christmas function towards the end of the year where Xsection journal is launched. This is an opportunity for students involved in the production of the journal to meet members of the profession, present the journal to the public and become active participants of the NZILA. Xsection is distributed to 2500 members of the NZILA via a partnership that has been developed with Landscape


LOCAL landscape Architecture New Zealand (the industry magazine). The development of social media surrounding the journal has led to international recognition and readership, for example the 2012 team were invited to participate in an interview conducted by the Landscape Architects Network and is published online. An e-version of the journal is published by Unitec ePress.

Figure 9: Context by FIELD_LA

Xsection provides a means whereby students in the Bachelor of Landscape Architecture can be involved in the process of the construction, delivery and outcomes of a course. Independent and self-sufficient learning is encouraged. As a matter of course, the student voice drives important discussion about landscape architectural issues in Auckland, sharing information in an equitable relationship with professional academics and practicing landscape architects. These aspects are as important, or, if not more important, as viable outcomes of the course, than the production of a professional and valued journal. In this case students own their learning experience. References Barrett. M, ed. Landscape Architecture New Zealand, Spring 2010, p2. Bowring. J, ed. Landscape Review, volume 13 (2) 2011, inside cover. Unitec Institute of Technology, Curriculum Design Policy, 2012. Waldheim. C, Post Fordist Public Works Landscape Urbanism Strategies for Milwaukee’s Tower Automotive Site, Harvard College, 2006, p17. Images All images are supplied with the permission of x-section journal.

04. Landscape education as a field of research. Rethinking the Mediterranean landscape voids: the case of the medieval wall and moat of Chania, Crete Karamanea P Technical University Of Crete, School Of Architecture ABSTRACT The site is a terrain vague, a cultural landscape of heritage dating back in times: the Venetian wall and moat of Chania. An imposing fortification structure that divides the contemporary city, forming a site of big scale, an urban uncanny void. A key landscape for the urban fabric, an outstanding cultural site of memory, a forgotten remnant of the city’s past. How can Landscape architecture assist in the recuperation of such abandoned landscapes? What kind of local Cretan Mediterranean “wisdom” can be shared or regained in order to recuperate and reuse such “broken” sites. In which way the design responds to change over time and reconciles historical layers in a contemporanean sustainable project? How to maintain the genius loci of the site? Using a contemporary language of expression, this semester long design studio researched how the spirit or identity of the wall’s and moat’s past could be re-established by designing. Students studied its relationship to the city in history, its potential qualities and morphological characteristics and gathered specific information about the social needs of the area. The site’s spatial characteristics were explored through mapping, photographic surveys, models, 3d models and sketching. resulting in the development of three categories of concept:


LOCAL landscape (i.) designing with the existing void (ii.) filling the void with a new narrative of urban uses and materiality (iii.) elaborating a dynamic landscape tissue of fluidity and continuity Introduction. The problem. The issue investigated in the Landscape design studio in the School of Architecture in the Technical University of Crete, Chania emerged out of the site of the old Venetian wall and moat. Design as a process of observing, understanding and reinterpreting a site was the point of departure. The identity of a community arises out of the coincidence of a site and all of the forces that have registered on it over time. The studio investigated how we can deal creatively with historical public spaces and reassure that a site’s intense collective memory, doesn’t forbid current new interpretations. The specific fortification infrastructure can become a generator of vital urban events through landscape design. Is the strong local identity affecting the design process in a fertile way? Can local landscapes shape contemporary responses to landscape design? Historical urban voids in Chania-Crete. Description of the site. According to local archaeological excavation’s evidence, the site of the contemporary city of Chania presents continuous habitation since the Minoan (3000bc) to today. The place has witnessed many different historical phases that have left various traces in the urban palimpsest of the contemporary city. The Venetian era of Crete begins more or less in 1210ac, after the 4th Crusade. Cretans and Venetians overcoming early years of struggle, finally manage to get along peacefully and to give birth to a local civilization called the “Cretan Renaissance” of the 16th and the 17th centuries. The local culture succeeds to absorb gradually and creatively the Venetian influences in art, architecture, literature and enrich itself. However, the fear of invasions from hostile troops, leads in the year 1536ac to the construction of a defensive bastion for Chania. By the end of 1590ac the engineer Michele Sanmicheli [1] has surrounded the city according to the fronte bastionate style of the era, with a big scale landscape architecture artefact: the Venetian wall and moat. Through the pass of time and the augmentation of the population, the city expands and its limits go beyond the Venetian wall. Chania gradually surrounded the historical structure which nowadays divides the old quarter from the contemporary city. What was before a strong border is now a vacant place, an urban void full of historicism but empty of current interpretation. It appears to be a big reserve of open space with potentialities to be explored. Attractive, important, a huge fossil of the past, a functional gap, a haunted place the Venetian wall and its moat end being a sublime transcendental landscape for the city that demands solution. Strange and quiet, creating a sense of uncanny offering fugitive glimpses to history, nowadays is a neglected vacant lot where an anonymous cosmic solitude is experienced. A transitory zone of big scale consisting of this sculptural rock wall. However this space is not a non-place. “Place”, Marc Augé (1995) asserts, “can be defined as relational, historical and concerned with identity”. Accordingly, the specificity of a place makes it a reference point and source of identification for citizens. Augé’s concept of place is clearly charged with emotion and memory. Opposed to a place is the concept of a non-place. This is described as a “space which cannot be defined as relational, or historical, or concerned with identity” and is consequently devoid of emotion and memory. In it, social interactions and emotional attachment fail and give way to individualism. An example is a supermarket that is devoid of local identity and might be constructed in any place of the world.This “space of non-place creates neither singular identity nor relations; only solitude”. The need for research on these remaining places where individuals might interact and constitute a common feeling of belonging is more crucial than ever. The Venetian wall and moat of Chania forms a temple of time but of a frozen time that needs to be integrated in the urban sequence of city life. The studio focused on the west part of the site, a lot of almost 3ha.


LOCAL landscape

1.Wall and moat of Chania, 16th century Southeast view [2]

2.Wall and moat of Chania, 17th century. General plan of the city [3]

3.Wall and moat of Chania, 21st century. Southeast view. [4]

Landscape design as a catalyst. Decoding the sense of place. If projects are processes in space and time how can landscape design as process, awake the latent qualities of such given place without disturbing its genius loci? In order to intervene in a place you have to understand it logically and sensorially. Accordingly Dimitris Pikionis in Sentimental Topography cites writes that;


LOCAL landscape “We rejoice in the progress of our body across the uneven surface of the earth. And our spirit is gladdened by the endless interplay of the three dimensions that we encounter in every step…Here the ground is hard, stony, precipitous, and the soil is brittle and dry. There the ground is level, water surges out of mossy patches. Further on, the breeze, the altitude and the configuration of the ground announce the proximity of the sea… You compose the diagrams of this landscape.You are the landscape.You are the Temple that is to crown the precipitous rocks of your own Acropolis. For what else does the Temple do but enact the same twofold law which you serve? ...It is not because of this concordance, because the same laws are at work in both nature and art, that we are able to see forms of life, forms of nature transformed before our very eyes into forms of art and vice versa?...” This visionary Greek landscape architect describes so eloquently in the above paragraph the close sensorial relationship between the creator and the landscape that inspires him. Topos and person becoming one entity, topography and the creator’s compositional sensitivity are the needed substances to give birth to a project. Using a contemporary language of expression, the studio researched how the spirit or identity of the Wall’s and moat’s past could be re-established through design. Landscape projects reinvent the city, a place of the past becomes an alive place for present and future. In this territory so full of symbolism that is our materia prima, we can maintain the sense of place and at the same time add a new layer of meaning. Cine Director Wim Wenders (1989) says that the empty spaces of a city are like its intestines, from there you can stare at the past and reflect on what has happened. Students studied the relationship of the wall and moat with the city through history, its potential qualities and morphological characteristics and gathered specific information about the social needs of the area. Site’s spatial interpretations through mapping, photographic surveys, models, 3d models and sketching were part of the process. Christophe Girot explains the 4 steps to be done in order to approach a project in a site: (I) landing, (II) grounding, (III) finding and (IV) founding. A method implemented during the design process of the studio. Development of concepts and compositional outcomes covered 3 category areas (i.) Designing with the existing void An internal serene landscape that treats the wall as something sacred to maintain at a distance. Here empty space is a virtue to dominate space and spatial perception, a synthesis of land art, an urban acupuncture, an historical topos.

4. Masterplan


LOCAL landscape

5. Internal voids. Looking north. Xanthippi Tzatha, student 2011-12

(ii.) Filling the void with a new narrative of uses and materiality A geometric design device to activate the empty gap. The following project transforms the place to a music concert park of different stages. The Wall here is a new point of reference for the city, an instrument that belongs to a more holistic urban sequence of uses and appropriations. The monument is something to relate to, to focus, to give birth to new social meanings and narratives, a sociotopos.

6. Diagrams


LOCAL landscape

7. Masterplan. Ermis Papakonstantinou,Yannis Prosoparis, students, 2011-12

(ii.) Elaborating a dynamic landscape tissue of fluidity and continuity A new ecology is being implemented in the open space. Indigenous Mediterranean vegetation, topography and fluxes create a park where the Wall is a structural element for this green cosmos. It forms an excuse for the city to generate a biotopos.

8. Masterplan

9.Transversal Section


LOCAL landscape

10.View of the park. Anna Moshouti-Vermer, Marianna Pashidi, students, 2011-12

11.View of the open air amphitheatre


LOCAL landscape

12. Models Anna Moshouti-Vermer, Marianna Pashidi

Xanthippi Tzatha, students, 2011-12

Mediterranean landscape and memory. The meaning of parks. â&#x20AC;&#x153;The past lives on in art and memory, but it is not static: it shifts and changes as the present throws its shadow backwards. The landscape also changes, but far more slowly; it is a living link between what we were and what we have become.This is one of the reasons why we feel such a profound and apparently disproportionate anguish when a loved landscape is altered out of recognition; we lose not only a place, but ourselves, the continuity between the shifting phases of our life.â&#x20AC;? Margaret Drabble (1979). [5] Mediterranean urban landscapes are often registered with a plethora of chrono-traces. It is a challenge to preserve local identities and to find strategies that reveal them. The research undertaken by the students through the design process reveals the following meanings for contemporary parks. (i) Design with the void, with the historicity: the projects that find strength and virtue in the empty space, they design less in order to emphasize the historical weight of the site. They step aside and give the protagonist role-homage to the Wall, creating a poetic artistic atmosphere. (ii) Design with the city, with public space: the projects that create a new public infrastructure in reference to the existing one. They produce an urban space of Wall, moat, park, squares, new functions. A new interwoven public space: the more functional way. (iii) Design with nature: the projects that incorporate the Wall to a whole new landscape system. They create a habitat that surrounds the historical structure in a dynamic bio tissue, an hybrid soft landscape. Towards a contemporary Cretan landscape. Some reflections. Trying to extract out the essence of this historical site, its genius loci, a spectrum of various concepts emerged. All strategies, although through different point of views, create contemporary spaces that produce a more fertile experience of the specific site. In an urbanistic and in a landscape point of view, new types of public spaces based


LOCAL landscape on synergies, were produced. Synergies based on the historical elements of the place combined with new landscape systems that are inserted to the site, as instruments of activation. Vegetation, new uses, paths, the void reinterpret this forgotten place and reveal the latent dynamics of the built and natural landscape. As a result, landscape design is no longer only a means but it becomes the new identity and spatial quality of the place. “The quality of an artist depends upon the quantity of past he bears within him” Jean Gris (1963) once said. In that sense the Venetian wall and moat, a testimony of local history, has performed the role of a catalyst in the design process for the students of the studio. A catalyst that inspired and created new aesthetics of public sustainable and unique space, directed to the local and global community. Notes [1] Καλογεράκη, Στέλλα. (2010). Χανιά. Η πόλη και ο νομός. Αθήνα. Mediterraneo

[2, 3] http://www.chania.gr/city/history-city/venetian-history.html [4] http://www.bing.com/maps/ [5] http://www.international.icomos.org/quebec2008/cd/toindex/77_pdf/77-wrVW-272.pdf References Auge, Marc. (1995). Non Places – Introduction to an Anthropology of Supermodernity London, Verso Καλογεράκη, Στέλλα. (2010). Χανιά. Η πόλη και ο νομός. Αθήνα. Mediterraneo

Pikionis, Dimitris. (1989). Architect 1887-1968. A sentimental topography London , Architectural Association Quaderns d’Arquitectura y Urbanisme no 177. (1989). Hans Kollhoff, Wim Wenders. The City. A conversation. Barcelona. I Biennial of European Landscape Architecture Catalogue. (1999). Remaking Landscapes Barcelona, COAC II Biennial of European Landscape Architecture Catalogue. (2001). Gardens in arms. Barcelona, COAC III Biennial of European Landscape Architecture Catalogue. (2003). Only with nature. Barcelona, COAC http://www.chania.gr/city/history-city/venetian-history.html http://www.unibg.it/walledtowns/chania2_gr.htm http://www.international.icomos.org/quebec2008/cd/toindex/77_pdf/77-wrVW-272.pdf http://www.bing.com/maps/


LOCAL landscape 05. Designing Africa in Alabama, USA LeBleu C Auburn University Landscape Architecture ABSTRACT In July 1860, the ship Clotilde entered Mobile Bay loaded with people from West Africa destined to be enslaved in Mobile County, Alabama, USA.Thirty-two of the Africans were taken to the Meaher Plantation.They were released from slavery at the end of the Civil War and left on their own to survive. The group built shelters of native plants found growing in the Alabama forests, and adapted their hunting to the delta area. They spoke their native language and are known to have remained a distinct community carrying on their tribal traditions as late as 1958.This is the beginning of the community called Africatown, Alabama. This paper reports on a case study that features a remnant ethnic population whose ancestors continue to live in the bayous of Mobile County, Alabama. It discusses the reparation by the State of Alabama to recognize the existence of this population and describes the planning process of a new state park to celebrate their lives and those of their ancestors that will include: 1) an Institute of Ethnic Science and Technology, 2) a visitorâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s center, 3) museum, 4) theatre, 5) library and 6) other facilities for interpretation. Methods include archival research, interviews and site analysis. Main findings show the development of a new state park master plan that will bear significance to the unique cultural history of Africatown, U.S.A. as associated with the historical events relating to the ship Clotilde as recognized by the Alabama Historical Commission in Montgomery, Alabama, USA. THE STORY OF AFRICATOWN The founders of Africa Town (later changed to Africatown, U.S.A.) were a unique group of people whose life story began in West Africa as free men, woman and children and ended in Africatown, Alabama as free men and women, but in between suffered inhuman treatment and enslavement. They were the last recorded group of captive Africans brought to the United States and as such they lived through the Civil War, Jim Crow Laws and the Great Depression. (Diouf, 2007) Unable to return home after emancipation, a group of the young people bought land and founded their own town. Their story has been ignored and denied to this day, but their legacy proves their existence and triumph. Originally the individuals who later settled Africatown came from various villages in West Africa.They were stolen from their homes during raids conducted by coastal slave traders and forced into the prisons of Ouidah. Captain William Foster, captain of the Clotilda and plantation owner, brought the young men, women and children from the Ouidah slave market in 1860 and, after a sickening middle passage journey on the ship Clotilda, illegally smuggled the 110 Africans into Mobile (the international slave trade was outlawed in 1808) (Diouf, 2007). The shipmates embodied the psychological difference between being born into slavery versus being enslaved after having lived a free person. To the other slaves on the various plantations where members of this group worked, they seemed strangely dignified.They formed groups and kept to themselves. Some married within their groups and some married outside of their groups while on the plantations of the men who charted and sailed the Clotilda: Timothy Meaher, a wealthy Mobile shipyard owner and shipper, and Captain William Foster. After the Emancipation Proclamation in 1863 (only three years after the Clotilda sailed), the young men and women who had been brutally shipped to this country to be slaves, found themselves free again. Most of them wanted to return home, but did not have the means, nor did they even know if their villages were still in existence or their family members alive. Some of them now had husbands and wives in Alabama. A number of families started to settle in the marshy delta land around 1866. (Robertson, 2008) They organized as a community and over the next few years purchased approximately eleven acres of land on Three Mile Creek in Mobile County, Alabama. It is here that they established their own community called Africatown (Figure 1).


LOCAL landscape

Figure 1. The State of Alabama and the Africatown State Park site.

Not much of the simple wood cabins with brick chimneys that were built by the original Africatown settlers survive today. However, there is a cemetery and a church, which was built later. The town is now a neighborhood within the city limits of the city of Mobile with about 3,000 inhabitants. Some are descendants of the original shipmates, others are descendants of other African American slaves from the area, and some have no historical tie to the place. There is a strong movement to preserve Africatown by the local African-American community and to increase interest and awareness of African American heritage and genealogy. Africatown and Africatown State Park The historic and current location of Africatown is altogether separate from the state designated lands of Africatown State Park, which is a large pristine wetland area northwest of Prichard, Alabama partially located in the Eight Mile Creek Watershed. The proclamation reads: “In order to preserve and interpret to the public the historic and cultural properties at and near Africatown, U.S.A., the State of Alabama Commissioner of the State Department of Conservation and Natural Resources has given a parcel of land within the city limits of Prichard, Alabama to be known as “The Africatown, U.S.A. State Park.” (Africatown, 1985) This state park land, located along Chickasabogue Creek, is within the city limits of Prichard and just west of Chickasabogue State Park (Figure 2). The land is to be utilized as a park for recreational use by the general public.The park will “recognize the significance of Africatown, U.S.A in American history and culture and commemorate African heritage in the United States of America.” (Africatown, 1985)

Figure 2. Location of Africatown and Africatown State Park.


LOCAL landscape The Planning of Africatown State Park The parcel of land donated to the city of Prichard, Alabama, as Africatown State Park by the State of Alabama is comprised of approximately 150 acres. The proclamation states that the Governor of Alabama is authorized to enter into agreements with the city of Prichard for supervision and maintenance of the park and for construction on a portion of the land, administrative facilities including: 1) the Institute of Ethnic Science and Technology, 2) visitor’s center, 3) museum, 4) theater, 5) library and 6) other facilities for interpretation.The park shall be developed, administered and maintained by the city of Prichard through agreement with the State of Alabama and by standards of interpretation and scientific management for state parks. The State of Alabama, in recognition of the Africatown settlement to American history and culture, has authorized the city of Prichard rights to place commemorative markers and plaques to commemorate historical and cultural sites and landscapes, including natural wetlands, which bear significance to the cultural history of Africatown as associated with the historical events relating to the ship Clotilde as recognized by the Alabama Historical Commission.(Africatown, 1985) State Park Planning Using Historical and Social Phenomenon This case study reports a design of a new state park in Prichard, Alabama, USA, using knowledge gained through process of archival research, interviews and site analysis to reveal the dynamics of a historic resource and social phenomenon of African ancestry. Conservation of a historic resource is not a typical process that is used in state park planning in the USA even though the U.S. National Park system has embraced it since 1992 (Thompson, 1998). Typically state parks receive only minimum environmental and social analysis due to budget constraints. State Park Planning and Service Learning According to the National Service Learning Clearing House (2013), “service-learning is a teaching and learning strategy that integrates meaningful community service with instruction and reflection to enrich the learning experience, teach civic responsibility, and strengthen communities.” It is an alternative teaching model that provides service to disadvantaged communities, and helps landscape architecture students learn the skills necessary to work in an increasingly complex and multi-cultural context (Forsyth et.al., 1999). The 2011, Auburn University Landscape Architecture Studio IV was taught as a service-learning advanced graduate studio emphasizing natural systems analysis as a basis for site planning large-scale community facilities and parks. Complex cultural and ecological processes of place are investigates within a site context and used to bring forth meaningful form and sense of place. The graduate students began the 11-week course with a field studies and site visit trip to Mobile County, Alabama where they documented parts of Africatown and Africatown State Park. Over the next weeks, they conducted intensive mapping of existing conditions on the site, which led to analysis of design opportunities and constraints. From here, they developed potential on-site programs as an impetus for designs and eventually master plans for Africatown State Park. Excerpts of the students’ site mapping work have been compiled in order to convey the context and environmental conditions in and around Africatown State Park.This work was the basis of the students’ designs per the studio goals of emphasizing natural systems analysis. This paper showcases selected master plans, design details and design statements chosen by the city of Prichard to move forward in review. Site Analysis Existing conditions were analyzed as well as the relationship of the proposed park to the surrounding neighborhoods. Soils, hydrology and forest habitats were overlaid and analyzed to reveal sensitive habitats and buildable land. The opportunities and constraints of the site were considered. The site is rich in plant communities and wildlife. However, most of the site is unbuildable due to the flood zone (Figure 3).

Figure 3. Hydrological analysis of flood zone, storm surge and wetlands.


LOCAL landscape Education Through collaborative workshops the city of Prichard will become a part of the Africatown State Park and the richness of the Mobile Delta region.Traditional African culture learned in the workshops will include such things as drum making, jewelry making, canoe building and textiles. Ecological workshops will include such things as creating bird perches, snail platforms, bat houses, sections of boardwalk for the park, historical markers revealing the journey of the Clotilde and removing invasive plants. Master Plans Connecting to the surrounding region is an important component of designing Africatown State Park. Potential connections include University of Mobile, Chickasaw State Park, and the Mobile-Tensaw Delta canoe trail system. North Crystal Springs Road, which borders the park on the west, provides a natural in-put area where the road meets Chickasabogue Creek. (Figure 4). Proposed connections to the locations will include kayak trials, bike trails, walking and horse trails, ecological corridors for wildlife, connection to the local road/bus systems, and connection to organizations throughout the regional such as Youth, Inc., Mobile African American Heritage Organization and National Trade Organizations.

Figure 4. Canoe and Kayak in-put area at the end of North Crystal Spring Road.

Conclusion The summer landscape architecture studio ended with final presentations of the students’ work in July 2011. While the designs have remained on the conceptual level, plans and work for Africatown State Park have progressed. In 2012, an eradication of invasive species was conducted by the city of Prichard Public Works Department and Recreation and Parks Department. The purpose of this was to aid in the preservation of the pristine wetland flora and fauna. Recreationally, in accord with many of the students’ programmatic proposals, bird watching and paddling (kayaking and canoeing) have begun to influence plans for Chickasabogue Creek. As mentioned in a July 2012 blog post by Robert McClendon on AL.com, Chickasabogue State Park proposes to create a blueway, a water trail with directional signs, just east of the Africatown State Park property, the northern border of which is Chickasabogue Creek itself. Extending this blueway through Africatown State Park would create an additional outfitter and in-put area, and would add 1.5 miles to the water trail. It would also connect the blueway to the University of Mobile at the Dwight L. Harrigan Forest Learning Center located along the creek just north of the Africatown State Park property (Figure 5). This opportunity, as well as others revealed by the students’ design work, comprises only a portion of the latent possibilities within the Africatown State Park. The ecological benefits to the community, along with the cultural depth offered by the historical Africatown story, are waiting for the right financial catalyst to build the park so that visitors and residents of the greater Mobile County, Alabama area can experience Africa in Alabama.


LOCAL landscape

Figure 5. A Proposed Africatown State Park Master Plan

References Diouf, S. A. (2007). Dreams of Africa in Alabama. The Slave Ship Clotilda and the Story of the last Africans Brought to America. Oxford, NY: Oxford University Press. 340 p. Forsyth, A., Lu, H. & McGirr (1999). Inside the Service Learning Studio. Landscape Journal 18(2):166-178. Robertson, Natalie S. (2008). The Slave Ship Clotilda and the Making of Africatown, USA. Spirit of Our Ancestors. Westport, CN: Prager. Thompson, C. (1998). Historic American parks and Contemporary Needs. Landscape Journal 17(1): 1-25. What is Service Learning? (2013) Retrieved February 26, 2013, from http://www.servicelearning.org/what-is-service-learning Africatown, U.S.A. State Park to Be Included in Listings of State Parks; Use of Park. (1985). ALA CODE § 41-10-232: Alabama Code - Section 41-10-232; (Acts 1985, 2nd Ex. Sess., No. 85-950, p. 292).

06. Shan-Shui Mountain - and - Water Garden Discussion: Landscape Design of Jiaoshan Lake Park in Tongshan District of Xuzhou, Jiangsu Province Qi L Beijing Tsinghua Tongheng Planning And Design Institute Abstract The purpose of this research paper is to explore design rules for contemporary Chinese Shan-Shui Gardens, studying the legacy of traditional Chinese garden design methods as well as innovation in the contemporary landscape design process, integrating traditional and modern design. The following case study is based on analysis of the process, methods, organization and practice of landscape design for Jiaoshan Lake Park from aspects including site investigation, conception, layout and landscape design. The underlying principles of these aspects and the philosophical belief in ‘Harmony between heaven and man’ in traditional garden design are essentially the same in modern landscape design. The integration of a traditional conception of nature


LOCAL landscape with a different dimension of needs today can be achieved through landscape content and form. The advance in digital and material science technology has provided modern landscape architecture with new tools for site research, design studies and expression and construction technology, as well as innovation within traditional garden design. The research proposes to reflect contemporary society’s needs while absorbing the essence of tradition, organically integrating traditional and modern, rooting contemporary landscape design in local character and culture. It also explores contemporary interpretation of traditional elements in relation to modern technology, social and cultural life, interpreting the charm and artistic conception of traditional spaces with modern design methods and new technologies. Key words: landscape architecture; Chinese Modern Mountain and Water Garden; traditional garden; modern landscape; design method; Jiaoshan Lake Park

Background of the Study Mr. Wang Juyuan once said in The History and Development of Chinese Mountain-and-Water Garden “…after persistent development and evolution over thousands of years, it has finally grown into a unique and typical landscape architecture style for the Chinese nation, i.e. the Chinese Mountain-and-Water Garden…, … and instead of sticking to already existing content and forms, the Chinese Mountain-and-Water Garden has been constantly developing and evolving in accordance with the changes and progress in social life, culture and arts, aesthetic interest and others in different eras. The landscape architecture of a certain period of time under certain historical conditions, on the basis of the previous form and content [1] …” In this study, the Chinese Mountain-and-Water Garden specifically refers to landscape architecture planning and design with mountain and water as primary garden elements.The background of this study covers the aspects outlined in more detail as follows. Aspect of Contemporary Society Along with population explosion and social, economic and cultural development in China, the function and substance of modern landscape architecture has experienced great changes. People have put greater demands on the leisure, sightseeing and recreation functions of a garden. It is essential for Chinese garden design to develop and reinterpret a classical approach in the light of new ideas. The historical natural view of the world has made Mountain and Water relationships the most important form of Chinese landscape architecture. This has been re-interpreted throughout Chinese history.Today’s rapid urbanization of China also makes people long for nature and the development of multi-core cities and organic growth requires more green space in urban areas. Aspect of Multi-disciplinary integration Rapid urbanization in China is accompanied by an unparalleled wave of infrastructure construction. Playing one of the most important roles in Chinese urban growth, the landscape architecture discipline is also presented with extraordinary opportunities for development. Unlike traditional Chinese landscape gardens, especially in terms of a garden’s purpose, form and construction process, the Chinese Modern Mountain-and-Water Garden is more often considered a component of a larger urban or a human habitation environment, closely intertwined with the urban planning and development of a Mountain-and-Water city. As a key element, it should be examined in relationship to urban planning, architecture, environmental science, geographic information science, sociology and economics. Aspect of Ecology As urban problems become worse, the ecological and environmental functions of landscape architecture planning and design have become increasingly important and meaningful in improving the urban ecological environment. Aspect of Technology Advances in digital technology and material science have provided modern landscape architecture with new tools for site research, design study and expression, and construction methods and techniques, becoming a force for innovation in traditional garden design. Through ecological factor analysis, we can more efficiently, effectively and thoroughly take advantage of existing conditions. Through vector-and-parameter-based design technologies, we can change the belief that the traditional gardening approach is difficult to pass on for it never relies on fixed methods and start to combine objective rationality and subjective imagination in garden design to transform the nature of a landscape architect’s work from an “expression of personality’ to ‘imagination based on rationality’. New technologies can significantly improve the preciseness and effectiveness of computation and construction. The development of material technology has also allowed more opportunity for designers to freely express traditional design elements while satisfying demands for modern functionality.


LOCAL landscape Case Study In recent years, constructing urban parks with mountains and water as key elements has already become a major way to promote the development of new urban districts, improve urban ecological environments and raise the value of land around parks. Such parks generally cover a large area and adapt the spirit of the traditional Chinese Mountainand-Water Garden to their own unique mountain and water elements. For modern Chinese landscape architects, they are ideal examples for discussing the integration and application of traditional and modern landscape design ideas. The Landscape Design of Jiaoshan Lake Park in Tongshan District of Xuzhou, Jiangsu Province, is typical in this regard. The remainder of this paper will focus on discussion of the legacy and evolution of traditional garden design approaches in modern Chinese Mountain-and-Water garden practice from several perspectives of Chinese garden design rules, together with the experience gained from this project. Site Investigation According to the Chapter titled Site Investigation of Yuan Ye (written by Jicheng, a unique technical monograph in Chinese garden history), the essential principle of site investigation is ‘only to find a site suitable for a garden in order to design appropriately’. The first step in Chinese traditional garden construction is to find a suitable location and, even if the location isn’t ideal, to carefully study the conditions of the site, trying to make best use of them in garden design, protecting or improving these elements in a selective way in the overall planning. In ancient times, the designer and owner of a Chinese classical garden was usually the same person, providing a great guarantee for the effectiveness of site investigation. In modern times, however, the landscape architect often finds it very difficult to make any change in large scale planning because of the complexity of urban construction, the lack of flexibility in governmental systems, the priority of political and economic interests, the lack of communication and exchange between overall planning at different levels etc. However, landscape architects are gradually being given a larger say in the preliminary planning and decision-making processes, led by government. Jiaoshan Lake Park is located in the southwest new district of Tonshan District, Xuzhou City, Jiangsu Province, south of planned Fenghu Road, east of Fengshan Road, west of Yushan Road and north of Yinghu Road and Yinhe Road, occupying an area of approximately 30 hm2, surrounded by residential and commercial lands. At the beginning of the Park project, the site, design direction, functions and various construction considerations for the Park had already been determined in the overall planning (Figure 1). The site investigation and analysis [4-5] (Figure 2) that was conducted subsequently revealed a series of problems including water use, construction material quantities, local vegetation, mountain-andwater relationship, hydrological situation, local microclimate, land use, etc. The revealed problems made it clear that the project was not to be a stand-alone landscape design. Rather, any decision about the Park should only be made after reevaluating the planning of the surrounding land in order to have a more practical site structure or to provide important parameters for modification of the overall planning of the entire district. For example, it was recommended that the main water area be located in the north to reduce the quantity of earthwork, take advantage of existing vegetation and water in that part of the site and to optimize the mountain-and-water relationship and local microclimate. The project owner was ultimately provided with two site selection proposals (Figure 3). In order to prevent mountains from being blocked by buildings, recommendations were made concerning the other two residential complexes (R2) at the south foot of Phoenix Hill - either to adopt a scattered arrangement for residential houses near the lake shore and limit the height of those buildings to under 4-6 floors, or alternatively, to preserve some area for open sight lines to borrow the view of Phoenix Mountain and create a desirable mountain and water relationship.

Figure 1: The Regulatory Detailed Planning of the Douthwest New District of Tonshan District, Xuzhou City - Land Use Planning Plan (provided by the Owner)


LOCAL landscape

Figure 2: Site Analysis (by QiLing, LiWei)

Figure 3:Two Site Selection Proposals (by QiLing,MengYao)

Concept Following site investigation, concept development is about studying the historical and cultural connotation, or spirit, of the site, creating an aesthetic idea for the site space. Conception consists of two steps - project orientation and conceived theme. The right thematic concept only comes from the right project style, while the right style of a project only comes from the right project orientation. Project Orientation The Park project’s orientation is analyzed in terms of the different roles it plays. First, as virtually a reservoir, it must provide the essential functions of reservoir capacity, flow control and water reserve. Second, as a key water view in an urban area, it must have a reasonable and positive mountain-and-water relationship while recognizing the needs of urban development in order to achieve a balance between landscape preservation and urban construction. Third, as an open public space within the urban area, it must be able to meet citizens’ requirements for open, green, public space that allows for a variety of cultural, leisure and sightseeing activities. Also, it must serve as an important amenity and attraction that will drive surrounding urban development. Finally, as a physical expression of urban culture, it must have a clear cultural expression, which, of course, is based on the careful exploration and understanding of the Greater Xuzhou area cultural orientation. Style and Taste Due to the profound influence that the philosophical belief in ‘Harmony between nature and man’ has on the Chinese view of world, we always have a close and intimate feeling towards the natural world and consciously seek the unity of opposites and the dialectical relation that eventually returns to harmony[5]. Exploding population and urban growth in China demands more and more public space in urban areas. As a result, satisfying social needs must be taken into account as one of most important elements in landscape design. ‘Great mountains and rivers’, one of the typical styles


LOCAL landscape of traditional royal garden design, still means a lot to contemporary gardens with a large amount of space. Since contemporary gardens also make extensive use of small space and private space, the idea of ‘a world in a pot’ that originates from the small spaces in classical private gardens may be applied in quite a number of situations. But such application first requires the coordination of the conception of nature with the different scale of needs in modern life. In other words, space is needed for public activities as well as for individual meditation. A common understanding about the style of mountain and water features in Jiaoshan Lake Park had already been reached. However, there were still some key problems regarding the final layout to be resolved, including how to accommodate a great amount of traffic and activities within the overall scheme of a mountain and water garden, how to coordinate commercial and business needs in the north entrance area, and how to arrange different functional facilities and scenic spots within narrow or limited land area. Features After comparing the Jiaoshan, Yunlong and Dalong Lakes in terms of location, area and shape of water, local vegetation and mountain-and-water relationships, it was found that unlike Yunlong Lake that features extensive space and long views and Dalong Lake that features noble beauty, Jiaoshan Lake has a unique homey but exquisite beauty that, by itself, is suitable for creating simple, humble and distinctive scenic spots. Concept “ Known will the hills be if fairies dwell, no matter high or low, and charmed will the waters be if dragons hidden, no matter deep or shallow.”, is from Liu Yuxi in his famous An Inscription of My Humble Room. This is an exact description of the concept defined for the Jiaoshan Lake Park Project. Although not a high mountain, Phoenix Mountain has flourishing vegetation, an auspicious name (‘Phoenix’) and the honor of being the location of Memorial Garden of Heroes Died in Huai-hai Campaign. So, it is a ‘famous’ mountain. Although not a big lake, Jiaoshan Lake is blessed with a great Mountainand-Water relationship between three mountains, including Phoenix Mountain, embracing it from three different sides. In fact, its mountain-and-water relationship is more compact than that of Yunlong and Dalong Lakes. So, it is a charmed water body. Based on these considerations, the overall concept of the project was defined as “Hidden dragon mirrors flying phoenix; Hidden dragon asking the name of the site; Mountains and waters meandering dependent; A phoenix coming with grace to rest.”. Figuratively, the ‘hidden dragon mirrors flying phoenix’ refers to the image of Phoenix Mountains reflecting on the JiaoShan Lake. Together, they symbolically present an auspicious wish (Figure 4). Layout In contrast to Chinese traditional gardens, the layout of modern landscapes has already moved from a closed and introverted style to an open and extroverted style due to the change in the nature of a garden as well as today’s emphasis on the integration and improvement of garden functions. The general layout principles and methods of traditional garden and modern landscapes, however, are essentially the same. The key to this project layout is space scale and functional requirements. Space Scale The widest part of the site is only about 800 meters (Figure 5) and half of the site is occupied by the water surface in the middle. According to Chinese classical garden theory, it is better to ‘confine or suppress a space before releasing or unfolding it’, i.e. to add more visual layers to a space by partitioning, contrasting, twisting and other methods to create rooms for imagination. Such arrangement of spatial relationship originated from the rules of perspective of Chinese landscape painting, reflecting the unique spatial and aesthetic awareness of Chinese painters.

Figure 4 Concept Plan (by QiLing)

Figure 5 Site Space Scale Analysis(by LiWei,QiLing)


LOCAL landscape Functional Needs The project organization is composed of five functional areas. Area A, or Celestial Jade in the Sky, is a traffic hub located in the north part of the Park. It is a landmark placed at the north entrance, functioning both as a commercial service complex and as a hub of traffic. Area B, or Fragrance above Water, is a wetland located in the west part of the Park, featuring the ecological aspects of a landscape garden. It consists of restaurants and small patches of wetland arranged in accordance with requirements to meet the treatment needs for the Park’s service facilities. Area C, or Hidden Dragon Mirrors Flying Phoenix, is a recreation center located in the south part of the Park. It consists of two parts - an outdoor theater that makes use of natural elevation change, and a dense wooded area, meeting visitors’ needs for leisure, entertainment and recreational activities. In the project plan structure, the theater and the square at the opposite side of the lake constitute the central axis of the Park. In the larger planning scale, they together with Yinshan Mountain landscape to the south and Phoenix Mountain landscape to the north constitute the central axis of the scenic urban landscape for the entire district, making them two perfect places to enjoy the reflection of Phoenix Mountain in the lake. Area D, or Icy Moon in Water and Dragon Lying at Shore, is a complex of two parts, a mid-lake dike and a small island connected to the end of the dike. This complex partitions the water surface. The dike is created by retaining an embankment with very good vegetation, connecting the island with the south part of the Park. A tea house situated in this area provides visitors with a tranquil indoor space and is a perfect spot to enjoy the lake water view and beautiful sunsets. Area E, or a Memorial Wood for a Zhuang Yuan, is a cultural exhibition zone located in the east part of the Park. It is located at the site of an old wood planted by local people in memory of Li Pan, a Zhuang Yuan (a special title for premier scholars in ancient China) from Jiaoshan Village. This area features Chinese traditional poetry culture by displaying the works and life of Li Pan. (Figure 6)

Figure 6 :Master Plan (by Qi Ling)

Landscape Approach Scenic Location Internal and External Spaces In addition to the spacial arrangement in overall planning, the space of every local scenic spot must be considered. In order to enrich the aesthetic experience of a space, traditional gardens would adopt a number of landscape organization approaches in arranging scenic viewing locations, organizing space and creating an artistic concept. Generally speaking, the 18 Methods of Scenery Creation in traditional garden theory can be summarized as ‘add views, create depth of views and expand space by changes between the wide and the narrow, the continuous and the intermittent, the slanting and the upright, as well as the twisted and the straight’. From this perspective, the six scenic spot spaces in the five functional areas can be categorized as three types: open space, introverted space and half-open space. The typical example of open space application includes Ling-Bi-Tai Square (Celestial Jade in the Sky) an earth-sheltered commercial complex in Area A, the traffic hub. Introverted space application includes such garden architecture space as the wetland, mid-lake dike and mid-lake island (Fragrance above Water, Icy Moon in Water and Dragon lying at Shore). Half-open space application includes such half-closed space like


LOCAL landscape the outdoor theater (Hidden Dragon Mirrors Flying Phoenix) and the culture exhibition zone (a Memorial Wood for a Zhuang Yuan). Content and Forms Form design is based on the analysis of site conditions, needs, content and sizes of each functional area to achieve unity between functions and the natural condition of the site. Attention must be paid to ensure the connection, interaction and inter-penetration of neighboring functional areas. All scenic spots in the Park can be categorized as one of three types. Flowing Modern Non-linear Language (parameter application) Platforms are the major architectural feature of You, the earliest garden form recorded in historical documents. It can be said that the prototype for Chinese classical gardens derived from the combination of platforms and the You[6]. Considering the narrow green land around the lake and the elevation difference between green land and the water surface, two locations are presented for enjoying beautiful lake views: Ling-Bi-Tai Platform and Pan-Li Platform (Figure 7), both in the language of modern composition. The recent ‘parameter-based design method’ is extensively used in designing non-linear general shapes, landscape features, walls, structures and even Han-Jian pavement (bamboo slip pavement). The concept of ‘Twisted’ in Chinese classical gardens is also absorbed into the design of this modern landscape garden by converting calligraphic lines that are full of elegance and beauty into concise zigzags and curves that are full of tension and energy. Linear Language Combining the Traditional with the Modern (Figure 8) There is a landscape building complex in the wetland area and the mid-lake dike and island area - wetland restaurant in the Fragrance above Water and the Qianlong Tea House in the Icy Moon in Water. Both these complexes use decorative walls, terrain and water to separate and create multi-layered views. With concise but open space, brisk and spacious arrangement style, changes between closed and open construction, embracing but not closed decorative walls, a sense of flowing space and the interpenetration of neighboring spaces is successfully achieved. Such dynamic visual effects bring great interest to landscape space. Also, the elevation difference at building entrances is an effective design method of highlighting a sense of spacial boundaries.

Figure7: Flowing Modern Non-linear Language: Ling-Bi-Tai Platform, Borrowed Scenery (by He Qiang,Qi Ling)

Following a simple and rational style, all construction is composed of straight lines and rectangular units to create neat plane and space compositions. Changing views are achieved by horizontal and vertical contrast, the front and back contrast of external spaces of construction, and the variation of internal spaces of construction. The architectural patterns of Jiangnan residential houses and Han-style buildings are integrated here to create buildings that are simple but full of the charm of traditional culture, featuring simple and neat gray-tile roofs, overlapping steel frames, interwoven decorative walls and glass curtain walls (Figures 9-10).


LOCAL landscape

Figure 8: Linear Language Combining the Traditional with the Modern (by Qi Ling)

Figure 9: Wetland Restaurant in the Fragrance above Water (by Zhu Yufan)

A Theater that Combines Functions with Nature “Hidden Dragon Mirrors Flying Phoenix”. Outdoor theaters are an important way of meeting cultural activity needs in modern multi-function parks. Outdoor grass theaters are most ideal [8]. An outdoor theater is not only a scenic spot echoing the beautiful view of Ling-Bi-Tai Square at the opposite of the lake, but it also serves as a functional park facility (Figure 11). Materials Planting design highlights the combination of traditional means of artistic expression with modern spirit. The Park’s planting design is created with existing plants as key elements that meet both ecological requirements and visitors’ needs for beautiful vegetative landscape. Accordingly, the Park can be divided into four landscape areas - Spring views, Summer views, Autumn views and Winter views. In each of the four landscape areas, a variety of plant-themed scenic spots are created to express the artistic concept of the Park. According to Chinese traditional garden theory, a garden may do without a hill or mountain but may never do without stone or rockeries. In the Park project, local gray stone rubble, rusty gold rock, sesame white rock and granite is widely used to build decorative walls that are very compatible with the site environment both in color and the sense of texture. In addition, rocks in their original shapes are used to build banks, docks and waterfalls and are used as decorative stones scattered around plants to demonstrate their rough and natural beauty.

Figure10: Qianlong Tea House in the Icy Moon in Water (by Qi Ling) (left) Figure 11: “Hidden Dragon Mirrors Flying Phoenix” Outdoor Theater (by He Qiang) (right)


LOCAL landscape In terms of building materials, the Park project restructured traditional architectural elements with modern architectural language, featuring both the icons of traditional architecture and the functionality of modern architecture. Small gray tiles are used for roofs. Gray light steel frames are used for beam-and-column structure. The facade is intentionally arranged in a non-symmetrical way. In order to achieve a sense of lightness, steel frames are overlapped layer by layer, with rusty gold walls interweaving in between them [7].The same design is applied to handrails. For example, Meiren Kao (a chair called “beauties sitting and leaning by their waist”) in classical gardens is expressed in a simple and modern design language. Wood is extensively used for walkways and platforms and the original color and texture of wood is retained to achieve a sense of rough and natural beauty (Figure 12).

Figure 12: Modern Meiren Kao (by Zhu Yufan,He Qiang)....

Conclusion The tradition and evolution of historical culture is a long term step by step process of careful reflection and summarization. The description of the Jiaoshan Lake Park Landscape Planning process is intended to describe how to integrate Chinese traditional garden and modern landscape design methods and apply them in the construction of contemporary Chinese Mountain-and-Water Gardens. It is proposed as a way to reflect the needs of contemporary society while absorbing the essence of tradition, with an organic integration of the traditional and the modern, rooting contemporary landscape design in local characteristics and culture. It also combines contemporary interpretation of traditional elements with modern technology, links social and cultural life, and interprets the charm of traditional space and artistic concepts with modern design methods and new technologies. Note: This article is intended to be a theoretical discussion based on personal project practice only. The author sincerely acknowledges the support of the Infrastructure Construction Office of Tongshan County Industrial Park, Jiangsu Province. Also, I’d like to thank Professor Wang Shaozeng and Professor Zhu Yufan for their kind instructions and help, as well as all the members of the project team for their hard work. References: Wang Juyuan, The History and Development of Chinese Mountain-and-Water Garden [J], Chinese Gardens, 1985


]Meng Zhaozhen, Theories and Practice of Landscape Gardens [M], The Collected Works of Meng Zhaozhen, Tianjin Municipality, Tianjin University Press, 2011:246 [2

Ji Cheng, Yuan Ye Notes [M], Noted by Chen Zhi, Checked by Yang Buochao, Reviewed by Chen Congzhou, Beijing, China Architecture and Building Press, 1981 [3]

China Academy of Urban Planning and Design, the People’s Government of Tongshan County, The Overall Tongshan Urban Planning (2006-2020) [R], 2006; [4]

Department of Housing and Urban-Rural Development of Jiangsu Province, Old Village Improvement Office of Tongshan County, The Detailed Planning of the Southwest Part of Downtown District of Tongshan County, Xuzhou City [R], 2008 [5]


Zhou Weiquan, The History of Chinese Classical Gardens (2nd edition) [M], Beijing, Tsinghua University Press, 1999

Yi Ji, A Note of Fangta Garden in Songjiang District, Shanghai: A New Culture Genre Surpassing Modernism and Chinese Tradition [J], Time and Architecture, 1989 (3): 30-35 [7]


LOCAL landscape 07. Co-occupation Land Management Practices in Southwestern Louisiana Offer Sites for Eco-system and Industry Resilience Smith K University of Louisiana at Lafayette Abstract The Sabine National Wildlife Refuge (SNWR) and Rockefeller State Wildlife Refuge are two of the most biologically diverse wildlife areas in the United States, providing fresh, intermediate and brackish habitat year-round as well as being an important seasonal habitat for migratory birds. This same marshland is also the site of intensive oil and gas extraction. In this instance, the prosperity of the refuge and industry are intimately tied together, a relationship which dates back to the conception of both Refuges. To understand these territories one must become attuned to the industrial flows and cultural constructs; resisting the tendency to repress or mask the complexities. This paper explores the co-occupation by Public Land Trusts and the Petroleum Industry in the two Refuges. These territories of the Southwestern Louisiana Gulf Coast suggests new landscape, architectural and infrastructural practices through a conceptual reorganization of the territory and offers examples of eco-system and industry resilience. Key Words: Resilience, Co-occupation, Land Management Practices Context West of the Mississippi River Delta, the Louisiana coast is marked by distinctive land formations called cheniers (the word chenier is derived from the French word meaning oak, and refers to the land formation; often populated by oak groves). The Chenier Plain region consists of marshland and is also the site of intensive oil and gas extraction. The 124,511 acre Sabine National Wildlife Refuge (SNWR) and the 76,000 acre Rockefeller Wildlife Refuge wetland ecoregions are, according to the U.S. Fish and Wildlife Services [2012], “one of the most productive and fertile areas of North America,” and have “international habitat importance.” The SNWR, the largest coastal refuge in the National Wildlife Refuge System, was established in 1937 to provide habitat for migratory waterfowl and other avian species. Subsurface mineral ownership is retained by ChevronTexaco oil company, which “retains the right to reasonable access” for exploration and production, as stipulated in the acquisition deed [U.S. Fish and Wildlife Service, 2009]. While the depths of the surface rights of the refuge are elusive, Chevron- Texaco has operated wells to depths of 20,000 feet. At least 107 wells have been drilled within the boundaries of the SNWR. The Comprehensive Conservation Plan written by the U.S. Department of the Interior Fish and Wildlife Service, Southeast Region [2007] stated that there were, at that time, four production facilities and thirtytwo producing wells active. Chevron is also the operator of another project about an hour and a half Southeast at Rockefeller State Wildlife Refuge, which is managed by the Louisiana Department of Wildlife and Fisheries (LDWF). Here, Chevron has set-up one of the largest (200-feet tall) land rigs in the world and has drilled to a depth of 29,000 feet. When the Rockefeller Foundation donated the refuge to the state in 1919, “the terms of the original deed anticipated that development of mineral resources within the refuge could help support the state’s efforts to maintain it [Louisiana Department of Natural Resources (LADNR), 2012].” The deed also placed stipulations on the state’s management of the area that included a contigency that “any mineral revenue from activity within the refuge must first go to pay the costs of maintaining the refuge [LADNR, 2012].” The SNWR and Rockefeller Refuge are two of the most biologically diverse wildlife areas in the nation, providing fresh, intermediate and brackish habitat year-round for mammals, reptiles and fish, as well as being an important seasonal habitat for migratory waterfowl and wading shorebirds from the Mississippi and Central Flyways. Louisiana’s National, State Refuges, and Conservation Areas provide islands of public recreational space along a highly privatized coast. Public access into the Refuges includes wetland walks, fishing piers (including appropriated infrastructural structures), boat launches, canals and roads. Permanent and part-time residents, as well as tourists use the Refuges in a number of wildlife oriented recreational activities including:observation, photography, hiking, paddling, motor boating, fishing, crabbing, cast-netting for shrimp and waterfowl hunting. Discussion Co-occupation land management practices in Southwestern Louisiana offer examples of eco-system and industry resilience. These Refuges offer insight into how seemingly incompatible systems can organize themselves to “maintain their core purpose and integrity” by applying the principle of “clustered diversity” [Zolli & Healy, 2012] from the field of resilience. “Bringing resources in close proximity to one another” [Zolli & Healy, 2012] in this case ensures the resilience of the systems or entities. The clustering of oil and gas exploration, wildlife management, research, and recreation also


LOCAL landscape provide feedback mechanisms and “a greater sense of situational awareness” [Zolli & Healy, 2012] amongst those with a stake in the health of the Refuges. According to the US General Accounting Office, about 14% of the National Wildlife Refuges nationwide had oil or gas activities on their land in the 2000 calendar year. This information was provided to the US General Accounting Office by the Fish and Wildlife Service [2001] which commented that “it lacks a full accounting of all refuges” which have oil and gas activity, and that the list that they provided is incomplete. Given the data provided, the greatest concentration of units was in Texas with 11 units, and Louisiana with 19 units [Hill, 2001]. As a Louisiana Department of Wildlife and Fisheries report states, “the importance of the revenues generated from mineral leases. . . cannot be overstated; they are used for wildlife research, habitat management/enhancement, to purchase/repair refuge equipment, land acquisitions, and salaries.” To view the milieu of Louisiana’s wildlife Refuges as ecological degrading because they do not correspond to the ideal of a wildlife sanctuary is limiting; as is the view that conservation areas must be emancipated of any human activity. We must overcome the view that the co-existence of a wildlife Refuge and oil and gas interests are in conflict with one another. In this instance, the prosperity of the refuge and industry are intimately tied together. Louisiana Department of Natural Resources (DNR) Secretary Scott Angelle noted that the Rockefeller Refuge land rig project is “a prime example of how the state can balance the needs of energy production, economic development, and environmental protection [LADNR, 2012].” To understand these territories one must become attuned to the industrial flows and cultural constructs; resisting the tendency to repress or mask the complexities. Another Southern Louisiana co-occupation land management practice that illustrates “clustered diversity” is the traditional Acadian practice of seeding swampy, flood prone areas with “providence rice”. Two productive landscapes, the natural maraises and a cultivated subsistence crop, occupy the same territory in relative balance. This relationship, of course, is one of scale. As the scale shifted from subsistence consumption to commercial production the landscape relationship was drastically altered. Contemporary Southwestern Louisiana has been substantially altered due to the commercial rice industry. According to the US Department of Agriculture [2013], presently over 400,000 acres of rice are planted and harvested each year. In the Louisiana Coastal zone rice fields are located in close proximity to the freshwater marsh ecosystem. Both the agricultural fields and the freshwater marshes consist of favourable conditions to support migratory waterfowl and wading shorebirds. A once informal relationship between rice fields and opportunistic migratory birds has transformed into a significant management initiative. By the late 1980’s lease agreements to create mini-refuges were under way. More recently, in 2010, the Deepwater Horizon/BP oil spill prompted a new initiative known as the Migratory Bird Habitat Initiative (MBHI). In this initiative, natural resource-conservationists work collaboratively with rice farmers to manage portions of their land to enhance habitat opportunities for migrating birds. Once again, a “clustered diversity” strategy provides greater resilience; in this case for the health of waterfowl and the economic well-being of farmers. Conclusion The re-organization of policy and space in the Sabine National Wildlife Refuge and Rockefeller State Wildlife Refuge and the co-occupation of regional rice production landscapes in two different time and space scales: historical-localsubsistence and contemporary-continental-commercial in Southwestern Louisiana provide vibrant examples of “clustered diversity” and eco-system and industry resilience. As Zolli and Healy [2012] advocate, the “design-and redesign [of] organizations, institutions, and systems to better absorb disruptions, operate under a wider variety of conditions, and shift more fluidly from one circumstance to the next” will be a critical method of operation in the future; suggesting new landscape, architectural and infrastructural practices. Bibliographic References Department of Natural Resources, State of Louisiana. (2012, January 12) DNR Secretary Angelle Reports Record-Breaking South Louisiana Wells: One Cameron Parish Project Deepest Well in State History, with Second Project at Greater Depth,” Retrieved February 28, 2013 from http://dnr.louisiana.gov/index.cfm?md=newsroom&tmp=detail&aid=912. Gosselink, James G. and James M. Coleman, Robert E. Stewart, Jr. (1998). Coastal Louisiana. In Mac, M.J., P.A. Opler, C.E. Puckett Haecker, and P.D. Doran (Eds.) Status and Trends of the Nation’s Biological Resources, Vol. I, (pp. 385-436). Reston: U.S. Department of the Interior, U.S. Geological Survey. Hill, Barry, T. (2001). U.S. Fish and Wildlife Service: Information on Oil and Gas Activities in the National Wildlife Refuge System. United States General Accounting Office. Retrieved March, 19 2013 from http://www.gpo.gov/fdsys/pkg/ GAOREPORTS-GAO-02-64R/html/GAOREPORTS-GAO-02-64R.htm Ignasi de Solà-Morales Rubió. (1995). Terrain Vague. In Cynthia C. Davidson (Ed.), Anyplace, (pp. 118-123). Cambridge: The MIT Press.


LOCAL landscape Keller Easterling. (1999). Organization Space: Landscapes, Highways, and Houses in America . Cambridge, The MIT Press. Lévesque, Luc. (2002). The ‘Terrain Vague’ as Material- Some Observations. Retrieved February 28, 2013 from http://www. amarrages.com/textes_terrain.html. Louisiana Department of Wildlife and Fisheries. Status of Biological and Physical Resources - Coastal Erosion - Marsh Restoration/Reclamation. Retrieved March 19, 2012 from http://www.wlf.louisiana.gov/rockefeller/topics-interest U.S. Department of Agriculture (2013). Six Louisiana Crops Set Record Yields in 2012. Retrieved March 19, 2013 from http://www.nass.usda.gov/Statistics_by_State/Louisiana/Publications/Field_Crop_Press_Releases/cp011113.pdf U.S. Department of the Interior Fish and Wildlife Service Southeast Region. (2007). Sabine National Wildlife Refuge Southwest Louisiana National Wildlife Refuge Complex Comprehensive Conservation Plan. Retrieved February 28, 2013 from http://digitalmedia.fws.gov/cdm/ref/collection/document/id/537. U.S. Fish and Wildlife Service. (2009). Environmental Assessment 2010 Feral Hog Management for Sabine National Wildlife Refuge Cameron Parish, Louisiana. Retrieved February, 28 2013 from http://www.fws.gov/swlarefugecomplex/pdf/ FeralHogEA2010.pdf. U.S. Fish and Wildlife Service. (2012). Sabine National Wildlife Refuge Southwest Louisiana National Wildlife Refuge Complex. Bell City, Louisiana. Zolli, Andrew and Ann Marie Healy.(2012). Resilience: Why Things Bounce Back. New York, NY:Free Press.


RURAL landscape

RURAL landscape    08. Perennial changes in Ontario’s farm landscape Corry R University of Guelph ABSTRACT Farming in Ontario is among Canada’s most-intensive, particularly with respect to concentrations of livestock and row-crop production. As agriculture intensifies, the proportion of the rural landscape devoted to annual vegetation (crops) increases at the expense of perennial vegetation. While farming has traditionally been based upon rotations of annual row crops with perennial forages to maintain or enhance soil structure and fertility, this type of rotation is in decline in intensivelyfarmed regions. Multiple perspectives favour perennial vegetation over annual crop plants: agronomy and pedology for crop production and soil tilth; ecology for better biodiversity and habitat; hydrology as a way to reduce overland flow velocities and filter sediments from runoff; landscape architecture for visible heterogeneity, care, and stewardship.Yet farmers increasingly choose annual row crop plants over perennial cover options with only modest variations. This paper uses agricultural census data to describe changes in crop types and rotation sequences over several decades, and it uses environmental assessments of agriculture to understand implications of changes in crop type and rotation. Information gathered from in-depth conversations with a few innovative Ontario crop and livestock farmers examines common rationales behind changing farm practices. Findings focus on farmers’ preferred and common cropping practices and the drivers for crop choices, sequencing, and management. Identified drivers behind farmland composition change point to ways to provide more perennial cover in rural landscapes with all of the accompanying consequences. Introduction The mid-continental section of North America is the locus of high-intensity agriculture. At a broad scale, nutrients in the form of chemical fertilizers and livestock manures are most-highly concentrated in mid-latitude agriculture [1], where annual row crop production and confined livestock feeding operations are widespread and common. These mid-latitude farm landscapes are among the most-intensively managed in the world: large and complex machinery is employed with suites of chemical crop production and protection to extract optimum productivity from the soil and climate [2]. While agriculture in every part of the world seems to be changing rapidly, the rate at which agriculture in the middle part of North America is intensifying is notable. The American Midwest stretches from the Missouri River to the southern Great Lakes and is known as “the Corn Belt” [3]. The same approaches to agriculture extend into adjacent southern Ontario, where soil quality and climate is among the most favourable for agriculture in Canada. Changes in extent of annual row crops, intensity of farm management, input of chemicals for crop production and protection, and environmental consequences of agriculture across these regions are similar. “Dead” zones (hypoxic conditions) in the Gulf of Mexico and Lake Erie trace their origins to row crop agriculture in the middle of the continent [4]. This paper explores recent changes in agriculture with a focus on landscapes of the mid-continent. It begins with an overview of farmland changes – particularly with respect to perennial and annual vegetation types. The paper notes the implications of different types of vegetation. The design of agricultural landscapes in this region is examined from an inclusive perspective: that is, design as intentional landscape change for achieving societal needs includes drivers of farm policy, technology, regulation, economies, markets, and societal and personal values [5; 6]. Using farm census data I describe specific changes in Ontario farmland and using farm environmental studies I note key consequences of agricultural intensification. I report perspectives from interviews with leading farm operators in Ontario with emphasis on farm changes and their drivers since 2000. The paper concludes with suggestions for how drivers can contribute to re-designing the agricultural landscape to improve environmental performance. Mid-Latitude Farming Agriculture in mid-North America involves big machines, large buildings, storage bins, and structures, and intensive activity in pursuit of profitable crop and livestock production.This region’s traditional agriculture of mixed livestock and crop farming on a the scale of 40-65 ha (100-160 acres) has become specialized and focused over much larger areas with reduced human labour, favouring machines and fossil energy [3]. Crop diversity at fine spatial scales has diminished: where once a farm of 40-65 ha might have grown 4-10 fields of hay, pasture, cereals (oats, barley, wheat, rye), corn, beans, peas, flax, or other crops, now the field sizes have grown to be as large or larger than single tradition farms and the diversity of crops has narrowed [7]. Instead of fields within farms with substantial floral heterogeneity, the farm landscape is now more homogeneous and varies at the scale of the rural block (260-400 ha) rather than within a single farm. The average size of owned farm in Ontario (2011) is 99 ha, similar to Corn Belt Iowa’s (2010) 135 ha average. Farming across the Midwest and Ontario is remarkably similar: corn and soybean crops prevail, livestock is confined, farms are large and efficiently producing only a few commodities, and landscapes are dominated by annual row crop


RURAL landscape production. The Lake Erie lowlands and Corn Belt Iowa are each 83% row crops [2] measured at the county level. On average only 17% of these landscapes are something other than corn, soybeans, or wheat. At finer spatial scales annual crops can be over 90% of landscape area [8]. Farmsteads, roadsides, hayfields, pastures, woodlands, wetlands, or streams – all associated with perennial vegetation – make up very small landscape proportions [9]. Not just the extent, but the intensity of cropping has also increased. Historically crop rotations have been critical to provide nutrients and soil tilth for annual row crops like corn or wheat [10]. Yet rotations have become increasingly simplified. Where historically crops were strategically rotated with perennial hay and legumes, today’s rotations are often corn-soybean (Corn Belt) or corn-soybean-wheat (Lake Erie Lowlands) [11]. Perennial cover is absent from rotations. In the period of 2007-2010 crop rotations ceased in the Corn Belt for many acres, resulting in continuous corn cropping [12], conceivably a result of high corn prices. The increasing annualization of the farm landscape is linked to a number of environmental consequences. The value of perennial vegetation is well-established for soil conservation and erosion prevention [13], increasing plant and animal biodiversity [14; 15], sequestering carbon [16], and providing striking visual diversity [17]. As perennial cover declined in Ontario farmlands, soil and water pollution increased, and wildlife habitat and air quality decreased [18]. These consequences of annual cropping have been well-known and mitigated through conservation incentives. Since 1985 the United States has converted highly-erodible cropland to perennial cover, with up to 14.5 million hectares enrolled in the conservation program that sponsors the change. But outside of conservation programs, perennial cover in farm landscapes is declining [8], and the farmers’ motivations behind the conversion to annual cover are not known. Decades of conservation programs and public spending have not been able to mitigate the conversion of perennial cover to annual crops [2].To better support design that enhance agricultural landscapes with perennials – both composition and environmental consequences – it is necessary to know why farmlands are becoming overwhelmingly dominated by annual vegetation. The drivers behind conversion within agricultural landscapes is critical to the vitality of these landscapes “to sustainably provide ecosystem services [especially desired productive functions in this paper] while recognizably meeting societal needs and respecting societal values” [5; p. 635]. These farm landscapes are designed.They substantially satisfy the definition of design given by Nassauer and Opdam [5] because they are intentionally organized and managed to consistently (sensu sustainably) meet functional productivity goals without violating social expectations for land stewardship and care. The designer is principally the person(s) making land management decisions – often the farmer – but indirectly includes consulting agronomists, bankers, farm equipment manufacturers and dealers, chemical input suppliers, marketing consultants and markets, trade and environmental policy makers, clean land, air, and water agencies, wildlife protection regulators, consumers, and the rural community. Several interests are behind the design of farmland, yet most-directly there are a few principal drivers and a small cadre of designers behind any farm landscape. Farm Landscape Changes Mid-latitude agriculture includes Ontario and the Corn Belt, two regional landscapes where recently proportions of row crops are high [19], conversion of grasslands to croplands is near historic levels [20], and crop rotations are increasingly simple and free of perennial vegetation [11; 12]. These changes in farming are driven by forces interpreted by the farmer-designer. Row crop farming has grown in Ontario at the expense of perennial vegetation. Using agricultural census data from counties across southern Ontario, I calculated a cropping intensity index (CII) that characterizes the area of annual row-crops (including corn, soybeans, wheat, and other annual crops) as proportion of total farm area (including nonworkable land), measured at the county level. Total area of annual row crops , (0 ≤ Cll ≤ 1) Cll = Total area of farmland In the southwestern-most parts of the province, the CII approaches the maximum value of 1 (Table 1); two counties adjacent to Lake Erie have CII values of 0.89 (Essex) and 0.90 (Chatham-Kent). Between 1951 and 2008, 19 of 34 Ontario counties had CII values that grew by more than half, and five of these counties doubled their CII. Four other counties had decreased CII values across the same time period. Since 1950 almost all counties in Ontario increased the intensity of annual row crops at the expense of all other farm cover.The designers have favoured annual crops over perennial hay and pasture.


RURAL landscape Table 1: Changes in Cropping Intensity Index (CII) Values in Ontario Counties, 1951-2006 (Census of Agriculture).


1951 CII

2006 CII


Stormont, Dundas, Glengarry




Prescott, Russell








Leeds, Grenville













Lennox, Addington








Prince Edward












Kawartha Lakes




























































































Note: Light grey tones indicate a CII increase of more than half of 1951 value; dark grey tones indicate a doubling or more of CII.

Recent farm census data reinforce trends in changes from perennial to annual cover. Livestock that consume hay and grass-based forages (especially dairy and beef cattle) have declined by 38% in Ontario over between 1991 and 2011. Domestic grassland area declined by 23% and the number of farms with hay or livestock retreated 31-43%. In the same period the areas of annual crop expanded, at the expense of spring cereals of barley, oats, and mixed grain. Corn, soybean, and wheat area (the common annual crop rotation in Ontario) grew 7 to 63% (Table 2). Farmers have designed for less cattle, forage, and small cereals, replacing them with row crops and wheat.


RURAL landscape Table 2: Changes in Ontario Farm Attributes between 1991 and 2011 (CANSIM).

Attribute class


Per cent Change 1991-2011

Farms and farmers Number of farms


Number of farmers


Age of farmers


Size of farms


Size of owned farm area


Size of rented farm area


Number of farms with hay


Number of farms with cattle


Tame hay




Perennial cover

Annual crop cover Grain corn


Silage corn








Mixed cereal grains




Dairy cows


Livestock Beef cows


Sheep and lambs




Hens and chickens




Finally, farms in Ontario are growing larger while farmers age and number of farms declines: the designers are older and fewer. Simultaneously farms are becoming larger through renting farmland and owned farm area is decreasing. Land tenure has been shown to affect conservation practice application (though not consistently) and the types of rotations used. Rented farmland tends to be less likely to have perennial cover in the crop rotation sequence and is less likely to have conservation practices applied [21]. The farms are more transitional than in the past when land was more commonly owned. Midwestern USA has seen similar outcomes. Perennial cover has decreased throughout the Corn Belt over the years of rapid agricultural development (1937-2002) and in Iowa annual row crops cover up to 93% of farms [19]. Recent analysis shows that grasslands in the western Corn Belt are being converted to row crops â&#x20AC;&#x201C; principally corn and soybeans â&#x20AC;&#x201C; at rates not witnessed for decades (and similar to grassland conversion rates in Brazil or Argentina). In the five years prior to 2011 over 530,000 ha of grassland were converted to row crops across five western Corn Belt states with implications for soil erosion and habitat degradation [20]. The rates of change are 1-5.4% per year, comparable to the rate of loss of tame hay and pasture in Ontario (1.2% and 2.5% per year in the 20 years prior to 2011; Table 2). Within agriculture it is reasonably well-known that farms have been getting larger and more specialized, fewer in number, and the age of farm operators continues to grow older. More-recently, the shift toward increasing annual crops and decline of perennial cover has been notably rapid. The trends broadly captured in census data and empirical investigations require fine-scale study to understand how and why the changes are occurring. Ontario Farming Changes & Drivers To understand changes in Ontario farmlands I engaged with a few leading farm operators and interviewed them about changes on their farms and in their communities. In this section I focus on the results of farmland change principally


RURAL landscape seeking to understand the proportions of farm cover that are perennial or annual, changes in the perennial:annual balance (past and future), and the reasons why the changes have occurred. I interviewed six farmers in Ontario selected because they hold leading elected positions on progressive farm organizations and have demonstrated farm prowess (both livestock and crop production).To maintain confidentiality the farmers are not identified by organization or detailed farm description. Interviewees’ farms represented a range of landscapes across 575 km (east-west) and 650 km (north-south) of southcentral Ontario and have a median farm size (including all rented, owned, share-cropped farm area) of 395 ha. The farms included crop production (all six respondents) and livestock (four of six). All farmers interviewed were directly engaged with farm decision-making; one of them has a tenant who actively manages the farm while the others operate their farms themselves. The most-common cropping practice among farmers is annual row-crop production. It dominates their farm landscapes with an average proportion of worked farm area of 78.3%2.The most typical crop production system is corn-soybeanswheat (in rotation), with smaller and less-common constituents of spring cereals (barley), other oilseeds (canola), and fruit and vegetable production. Of the six farmers interviewed, two did not have any perennial cover in active production; the remaining four produced perennial crops (hay, pasture) along with annuals. Perennial cover proportions on the farms included both hay/pasture production and land not under cultivation (e.g., woodlands, farmsteads, drainage areas). Farmers reported that of the workable portion of their farms, 22.1% was perennial cover (33.2% if eliminating the two farmers with no perennial production). The dominant perennial cover under production was tame hay forage production, primarily to feed dairy cattle but also to feed other livestock or to sell. Pastureland was less common. Perennial cover on non-workable land included woodlands in the greatest proportion (affected by an unusual farm with over 65% of the land as woods). Farms with livestock had dairy cattle, beef cows and calves, and sheep – no livestock farms reported animals typically classed as non-grazing (e.g., swine, poultry). In separate questions farmers were asked to report changes in their farm operations since the year 2000, and changes likely to occur in the next ten years. Three of the farmers reported that the land being farmed now is the same as the past, with changes only in the mix of annual crops grown. The other three farms reported farming more land than they farmed in 2000, with average crop area increases between 40 and 60%. Livestock changes ran counter to the statistical trends with these farms reporting, on average, slight increases in livestock since 2000. One farm reported a change in types of livestock, from dairy cows to beef cattle and sheep. Behind these farm changes were a diverse set of drivers: this paper focuses on the drivers associated with crop choices, sequences, and management.The most-consistently reported driver was profit motive. All farmers described profitability as a driver for expanding or contracting area farmed, crop choices, and changes in livestock. For some the impetus was enhanced profitability from commodity crops in the recent past (since 2000). One farmer noted that corn had become better in recent years through genetic improvement, making it a more-reliable crop at the same time that corn prices had risen. The same farmer said that they believed corn production in Ontario was benefitting from climate change – after a period of warmer-than-normal summers. The US subsidies for ethanol in gasoline was said by one farmer to have driven up prices and profits for corn production. All but one farmer grows corn – and all farms with corn also grow soybeans. Three of the six farms grow the typical corn, soybeans, and wheat. For one farmer who grows only corn-soybeans-wheat in rotation, profitability of the farm enterprises was the overarching driver though it was largely devoted to how the crops and land were managed rather than emphasizing which crops were grown. Dairy farms in Ontario are supply-managed (through a quota licensure system) and the responding dairy farmers noted that milk production has been profitable and stable, despite the limits and expenses associated with the purchase of additional milk-production quota. Quota is currently (ca. 2010-2013) expensive and difficult to obtain in Ontario and this limits opportunities to expand dairy production. Because of this the two active dairy producers (and one former) noted that they had channeled expansion effort into crop production, particularly corn and soybeans – one of these did so at the expense of perennial hay crops and another noted more-intensive management of hay to increase productivity and keep forage areas small on the farm. For the dairy farmers the area and management of hay crops had remained largely stable: pasturing was either not used by the dairies or was limited to small paddocks for exercise or for non-lactating animals. One farmer had accessed additional land suitable only for pasturing and with good fences and a barn that encouraged him to establish a beef cow/calf herd in spite of its variable profitability. 2

Proportions of farmland do not equal 100%. Farmers were asked to report overall land that they farm, then areas of each crop along with uncropped area. The values commonly did not sum to an equivalent value. Because it is not possible to know where the difference lies, I report the proportions as calculated. Differences and discrepancies from 100% are small.


RURAL landscape Two farmers noted that they had made farm choices that were not as profitable as other enterprises but did so because of an affinity for the farm choice (livestock) or as part of their personal aesthetic (like to see cattle grazing). A third emphasized the importance of having a “neat” and “tidy” farm through mown field edges and orderly farm yards within the land they farmed, though this was not profit-driven. After profit motives, the second-most consistent driver in change was availability and expense of additional farmland: rented, owned, and share-cropped. One of the farmers had concerns about the quality of available land; all others noted that land availability and costs had affected their farming. Two farmers had largely unchanged land bases for their farms, though one of these farmers experiences annual variation in farmed area and attempts to meet a target acreage year-by-year in a competitive land market. Three of the farmers had expanded in crops or livestock in the last 13 years because of opportune farm purchases or leases – of these two expanded crop operations and one added a new livestock enterprise (beef cows and calves) because of the additional farmland. As in a previous paragraph, the dairy farms accessed more land but did not expand the livestock operation, instead using the expansion for additional crop production. All of the farmers interviewed reported rotating their crops. Two of the farmers had no perennial crop production in their rotation, though both had cover crops or substantial residue management targets.The other four farmers had hay in their crop rotation and these same four had some area of pasture (average 7.6 ha). A “typical” rotation is difficult to generalize across farmers; Figure 1 illustrates reported rotations. Note that perennials in rotations do not sum to the reported areas of annual and perennial crops (for example, a rotation with perennial crops for two years after two years of annual crops implies that the farm would be 50% perennial at any given time, yet this is not the case). The typical rotations described over-estimate the proportions of perennial vegetation reported by area.

Figure 1: Generalized crop rotations reported by interviewed farmers (C-corn; S-soybeans;W-wheat; b-barley). Solid borders on wedges indicates crop destruction and re-establishment; dashed border indicates continuation of perennial crop from previous year.

Discussion Farm landscapes are designed by farmers as they interpret and respond to drivers that include trade policies and markets, stewardship needs, agronomic advances, personal motivations, and other impetuses. Notable changes in farming have occurred since the green revolution after the 1940s, particularly the expansion of cropping and increased farm specialization while perennial cover and plant diversity diminished. Annual cropping intensity has increased by more than half in most counties in Ontario, and in a few cases has more than doubled since 1951. In the recent past the changes seem to be intensified, especially with a conversion of perennial cover to annual cropland. Ontario farm census data show that farms with cattle or hay, cattle numbers, tame hay, and pasture cover have all contracted, while annual cropping has increased. Farms have become bigger using rented rather than owned acres, and farmers are older than ever before. Annual crops have become more simplified as cereals (oats, barley, spring grains) decreased and corn, soybeans, and wheat expanded. Farm leaders in Ontario are approximately consistent with the census trends: they have become larger, more croporiented, and with a focus on corn, soybeans, and wheat. They have adapted their farming to ensure economic viability and profitability and in response to land costs and availability. When they have expanded their farms, they have done so most-commonly for additional annual crops, partly due to limits associated with supply management (dairy quota availability) so expansion was directed to cropping, and partly because crops have been profitable through improved agronomics, US ethanol subsidies that increased demand and prices, and warmer than average summer weather. Farmers have changed livestock operations more than they have expanded them and managed forage production more intensively, meaning that additional areas of hay have not been necessary. Farmers in Ontario have been limited in accessing affordable land (through rent, ownership, or share-cropping). When


RURAL landscape expansion has occurred it has been for crop production and mostly as a unique opportunity rather than a dedicated pursuit. Dairy production has not expanded because quota is unavailable or prohibitively expensive, so additional land under production has been directed to cropping. The design of the agricultural landscape – its composition and layout, and the vast majority of its expanse – is described as driven predominantly by profit motives and land availability. These drivers functioning in dynamic, interacting ways are leading to functional changes in Ontario farmland. As the described trends continue wildlife habitat degrades, water and soil become more vulnerable to contamination, and greenhouse gas emissions from agriculture have increased. Farmers interpret the drivers to effect changes in farmland. They – for example – rotate crops, sample soil nutrients, and maintain crop residues to decrease the unintended consequences of crop production. The United State’s “Renewable Fuel Standards 2” (RFS2) incentivized ethanol blending into American gasoline and contributes to increasing the demand and price for corn, making it a more profitable crop. Studies have noted that conversions of grassland to cropland are rapid [20], that increased nitrogen fertilization associated with corn cropping can lead to more water pollution [22], and that crop rotations have become simpler with increases in consecutive years of corn production [12]. Cropping is difficult under the changing climate in the Corn Belt [23], yet one farmer reported this as advantaging corn on their farm, rather than leading to growing more resilient perennial cover. RFS2 continues with aggressive goals.While it has encouraged corn production and does so until 2022 it also incentivizes cellulose-based fuels. By 2022 more renewable fuel must come from cellulose than from corn-starch [24]. Cellulosic ethanol can come from crop residues or purposely-grown crops that include perennial grasses and even native prairie vegetation [25]. If it becomes the latter, the trends to annual crops in the agricultural landscape might begin to reverse: while if crop residues are used, the landscape might become even more dominated by annual crops because of additional revenues from residues. Given the drivers behind farm cropping choices and practices, a few other opportunities emerge to encourage perennial cover. Farm products like corn, soybeans, wheat, and milk receive price supports in Canada that encourage their production [26]. Dairy farming requires hay as forage, encouraging greater perennialism in the landscape. Annual crops, though, probably do not need to be vigorously encouraged through subsidies given the consistently-increasing extent that they occupy in the landscape. Along with dairy subsidies, encouraging other livestock that require hay forages (other cattle, sheep, horses, goats) might increase perennial proportions of the landscape. Farmland availability was noted as challenging farm choices. Implicit in farmer comments was that the competitive nature of farm rents or sale prices existed most strongly among those most able to pay higher prices (i.e., crop producers or dairy farmers). If farm rents or mortgages encouraged greater perennialism this would mediate some of the competition among land prices. One farmer interviewed noted that land they operated was required to be farmed with conservation tillage. This was due to landowner preference and written into the access agreement, not any regulatory requirement. Similar requirements for perennials could be incorporated into leases or farm mortgages (e.g., mortgages could flexibly encourage perennialism with interest rate incentives, different durations or capital requirements, or increased backing by government). Conclusion Design for increasing perennial cover in farm landscapes requires acknowledgement of the existing and historical trends in farmland cover types. Perennial vegetation has several advantages over annual crops, including soil and water conservation, carbon sequestration, habitat and biodiversity potential, and visual heterogeneity. Yet trends and drivers continue to lead to increasing annual crop cover at the expense of productive perennial cover like pasture and hay. If these drivers continue much of the pastoral aesthetic of farm landscapes will be threatened [27], and they may become increasingly “ordinary” [6] without meeting societal needs or respecting societal values [5]. Such trends would diminish the perceived value of farm landscapes to residents and society. Opportunities for maintaining or expanding perennial cover are latent in the drivers behind the design decisions made by farmers. Profitability of annual crops is affected by price supports for corn, soybeans, and wheat – crops that have expanded rapidly at the expense of perennial vegetation. Price supports likewise help dairying in Ontario and indirectly encourage dairy hay production. Shifting price-support emphasis to perennials could better achieve societal needs for soil conservation, water quality, stewardship of biodiversity and habitat, and rural visual quality. Market interventions like the RFS2 have long-term objectives that might increase perennial vegetation in farm landscapes, and interventions could also apply to making farmland more affordably accessible through supportive financing incentives. To re-design the farm landscape might require using the same driving forces that are behind current farm design, but with altered trajectories. Not acknowledging the trends or motivations behind the design of farm landscapes would overlook important motivations that might overwhelm efforts to encourage greater perennialism. Acknowledging the designer (the farmer) and their drivers means that more-sustainable farm landscapes can be encouraged through informed design interventions.


RURAL landscape REFERENCES 1. Potter, P., N. Ramankutty, et al. (2010). “Characterizing the Spatial Patterns of Global Fertilizer Application and Manure Production.” Earth Interactions 14. 2. Corry, R. C. (Accepted). “Landscapes of intersecting trade and environmental policies: Intensive Canadian and American farmlands.” Landscape Research. 3. Hudson, J. C. (1992). Crossing the Heartland: Chicago to Denver. New Brunswick, New Jersey, Rutgers University Press. 4. Nassauer, J. I., M. V. Santelmann, et al., Eds. (2007). From the Corn Belt to the Gulf: Societal and Environmental Implications of Alternative Agricultural Futures. Washington, DC, Resources for the Future Press. 5. Nassauer, J. and P. Opdam (2008). “Design in science: extending the landscape ecology paradigm.” Landscape Ecology 23(6): 633-644. 6. Domon, G. (2011). “Landscape as resource: Consequences, challenges and opportunities for rural development.” Landscape & Urban Planning 100: 338-340. 7. Hart, J. F. (1998). The Rural Landscape. Baltimore, Maryland, Johns Hopkins University Press. 8. Schulte, L. A., M. Liebman, et al. (2006). “Agroecosystem restoration through strategic integration of perennials.” Journal of Soil and Water Conservation 61(6): 165A-169A. 9. Nassauer, J. I. and R. Westmacott (1987). Progressiveness Among Farmers as a Factor in Heterogeneity of Farmed Landscapes. Landscape Heterogeneity and Disturbance. M. G. Turner. New York, New York, Springer-Verlag. 64: 199-210. 10. Waters, H. J. (1915). The Essentials of Agriculture. Boston, USA, Ginn and Company. 11. Christensen, L. A. (2002). Soil, Nutrient, and Water Management Systems Used in U.S. Corn Production. Washington, DC, United States Department of Agriculture, Economic Research Service: 54. 12. Plourde, J. D., B. C. Pijanowski, et al. (2013). “Evidence for increased monoculture cropping in the Central United States.” Agriculture Ecosystems & Environment 165: 50-59. 13. Steiner, F. R. (1990). Soil Conservation in the United States: Policy and Planning. Baltimore, Maryland., Johns Hopkins University Press. 14. Dunn, C. P., F. Stearns, et al. (1993). “Ecological benefits of the Conservation Reserve Program.” Conservation Biology 7(1): 132-139. 15. Swanson, D. A., D. P. Scott, et al. (1999). “Wildlife benefits of the Conservation Reserve Program in Ohio.” Journal of Soil and Water Conservation 54(1): 390-394. 16. Chan, K. Y. (2001). “Soil particulate organic carbon under different land use and management.” Soil Use and Management 17(4): 217-221. 17. Nassauer, J. I. (1989). “Agricultural policy and aesthetic objectives.” Journal of Soil and Water Conservation 44(5): 384387. 18. Eilers, W., R. MacKay, et al., Eds. (2010). Environmental Sustainability of Canadian Agriculture, Report #3. AgriEnvironmental Indicator Report Series. Ottawa, Ontario, Agriculture and AgriFood Canada. 19. Brown, P. W. and L. A. Schulte (2011). “Agricultural landscape change (1937-2002) in three townships in Iowa, USA.” Landscape & Urban Planning 100(3): 202-212. 20. Wright, C. K. and M. C. Wimberly (2013). “Recent land use change in the Western Corn Belt threatens grasslands and wetlands.” Proceedings of the National Academy of Sciences. 21. Soule, M. J., K. D. Wiebe, et al. (2000). “Land tenure and the adoption of conservation practices.” American Journal of Agricultural Economics 82(4): 993-1005. 22. Syswerda, S. P., B. Basso, et al. (2012). “Long-term nitrate loss along an agricultural intensity gradient in the Upper Midwest USA.” Agriculture, Ecosystems & Environment 149(0): 10-19. 23. Rogovska, N. P. and R. M. Cruse (2011). Climate Change Consequences for Agriculture in Iowa. Climate Change Impacts on Iowa 2010. Iowa Climate Change Impacts Committee. Ames, Iowa, Iowa Climate Change Impacts Committee: 33. 24. Schnepf, R. and B. D. Yacobucci (2010). Renewable Fuel Standard (RFS): Overview and Issues. Washington, DC, Congressional Research Service: 29. 25. Tilman, D., R. Socolow, et al. (2009). “Beneficial Biofuels - The Food, Energy, and Environment Trilemma.” Science 325(270-271).


RURAL landscape 26. Organization for Economic Co-operation and Development (2010). Agricultural Policies in OECD Countries - At a Glance, OECD: 41. 27. Schauman, S. (1998). “The garden and the red barn: The pervasive pastoral and its environmental consequences.” The Journal of Aesthetics and Art Criticism 56(2): 181-190.

09. The Ancient Tea-horse Road: Conservation Strategies for the Development of Rural Cultural Landscape Haiyun X, Feng X China Agricultural University£¬Department of Landscape Architecture and Ornamental Horticulture ABSTRACT The Ancient Tea-horse Road, linking southwest China including Tibet, then passing through the Himalayas to Nepal and Northern India, is one of the most valuable culture routes in the world.The route earned the name ‘Tea-Horse Road’ because there were barters which Tibetan horses were exchanged for Chinese tea in ancient time. It owns a history of more than 1500 years dating back to the Tang Dynasty (618-917 BC). As main artery of transportation in southwest China and other countries of south Asia, the Ancient Tea-horse Road was essential for the cross-regional economic exchange and cultural communication and became a corridor of ancient civilizations.Thus, the landscape along the route is distinct-cum-diversified in its religions, culture, society and economy – altogether making mosaic rural cultural landscapes. However, due to globalization and urban sprawl, traditions are changing. More and more individualism and consumerism are accepted as life-philosophy that vitally influences the landscape scenario. Once cherubic rural people are now exposed to market economy which money talks. The variety of ecological systems (human and natural) sustains a huge amount of pressures when culture, landscape and environment are transforming. Thus, there is an urgent need to re-vitalize the local rural landscape, make conservation planning strategies for re-establishing the human-nature harmony with promoting civic sense and public participation and coordinate with various institutions for the sustainable future of local rural cultural landscape aiming at making traditions and modernity harmony together. Key words: Ya’an part,The Ancient Tea-Horse Road, Rural Cultural Landscape conservation, Heritage Corridor Introduction The Ancient Tea-horse Road, linking southwest China including Tibet, then passing through the Himalayas to Nepal and Northern India, is one of the most valuable culture routes in the world [1].The route earned the name ‘Tea-Horse Road’ because there were barters which Tibetan horses were exchanged for Chinese tea in ancient time. It owns a history of more than 1500 years dating back to the Tang Dynasty (618-917 BC). There are two main routes of the Ancient Tea-Horse Road in China, one starts from Ya’an in Sichuan province, called Sichuan-Tibet Route, with the length of 3100 kilometres, and the other one starts from Pu’er in Yunnan province, with the length of 3800 kilometres [2](Fig.1). These two start points are both famous for its tea production and two routes meet same destination, Lasa in Tibet. After converging, the Ancient Tea-Horse Road then makes it way to south Asia.

Fig.1: Main routes of the Ancient Tea-Horse Road in China

As the main artery of transportation between southwest inner land of China and countries in south Asia, the Ancient Tea-Horse Road was essential for the cross-regional economic exchange and cultural communication among various


RURAL landscape countries [3]. As a result the local landscape along the route is distinct-cum-diversified in its religion, culture, society and economy â&#x20AC;&#x201C; altogether making a rural cultural landscape mosaic. The Rural Cultural Landscape of the Ancient Tea-Horse Road Emergance and evolution of village settlements along the Ancient Tea-Horse Road Areas covered by the Ancient Tea-Horse Road consist of a variety of terrains including plains, plateaus, valleys, basins and hills, which lead to a remarkable difference in vertical climate patterns.The special geographical condition along the Ancient Tea-Horse Road results in a rich flora and fauna as well as water resource, which provides the a diverse range of environments for the settlement of villages. Convergence of trade and transportation The evolution of villages along the Ancient Tea-Horse Road is not a closed loop; it needs the exchange of material with the outside world [4]. Developing as the ancient trade road, traditional producing areas gradually formed geographical relationships based on commodity economy. Ancient land transportation mainly relied on horses and other animals, which required transfer stations for rest and food supplement during transporting. So, residential areas along the Road gradually evolved into distributing centres where businessmen consumed and exchanged commodities, in turn, these villages flourished. At the same time, the Road also brought new patterns for village settlements: some villages that were originally far away from roads were moved to places where roads converged, resulting in new settlements that gradually formed towns. Above all, the regional traffic and commercial advantages were significant factors in the evolution of village settlement along the Ancient Tea-Horse Road, explaining the current phenomena of villages located around roads with different nationalities living in them. Communication and converge of culture Village settlement is a form as well as a sign of area influenced by culture [5]. The development of the Ancient TeaHorse Road brought migration of different nationalities of people in to form settlements. These settlements are more complex comparing to those with traditional single kin relationship [6] (Fig.2).

New settlement

Original settlement

The Ancient Tea-Horse Road

Fig.2: Communication and converge of culture

System and types of rural cultural landscape in the Ancient Tea-Horse Road The rural cultural landscape in the Ancient Tea-Horse Road systematically combines relationships between humans and nature. It contains valuable and particular cultural heritage life styles which have diminished or are diminishing among native residents. Here, we classify landscape in types below: (Fig.3)


RURAL landscape Natural Landscape

Rural cultural landscape in the Ancient Tea-Horse Road

Surroundings, scene, natural elements

Regional agriculture, traditional village Material culture landscape

settlement, historic culture heritage, traditional transportation tools, national dress

Intangible cultural landscape

Traditional lifestyle, celebration activities, art, customs, skills, producing ways

Fig.3: System and types of rural cultural landscape in the Ancient Tea-Horse Road

The natural landscape is the basis of the local culture and ecology environment.The Road passes through Tibet Plateau, Hengduan Mountains locating in Tibet, Sichuan and Yunnan provinces, West Sichuan Plain, Jinsha River, Lancang River and Nu River areas [7]. These areas are full of a variety of landscapes including swamp, lake, river, valley, forest, grassland. In addition, as the earliest tea planting area, there is abundant tea resource plantings and even now we can find communities of untamed tea trees, which can be viewed alongside the Road. The material cultural landscape is the real reflection of local rural cultural landscape, including regional agriculture, traditional village settlement, historical culture heritage, traditional transportation tools, national dress & accessories.. The Road passes through many special farming areas such as the Tea Plantations in Ya’an and the Terrace in Yuanyang, Sichuan Province. Plenty of ancient villages, roads, caravan stations developed with business activities along the Road. With commodity trading, multiple culture and religions disseminated very quickly, leaving a lot of stone sculptures and temples [8]. At the same time, nationalities along the Road influenced each other, for example, we now can distinguish several particular nationalities sewing patterns on one person’s skirt in just one certain village. The intangible cultural landscape of the Ancient Tea-Horse Road includes local residents’ ideology, life and way of production, customs, performing arts and crafts, The Ancient Tea-Horse Road is an important passage for cultural exchange of Han, Tibet, Na’xi and many other nationalities as well as for the dissemination of Lamaism and other religions preaching [9]. Nowadays, the intangible cultural landscape consists of customs, like the Torch Festival, one of the special celebration activities, the Chuan Drama, an ethnical drama, many ballads, and crafts such as local farming product baking, which build a intoxicating and variable intangible cultural landscape. Status and Problems Original trait loss of the Ancient Tea-Horse Road With development of social economy the traditional function and original traits of the Ancient Tea-Horse Road have been gradually disappearing. Residents along the Ancient Tea-Horse Road, whose inner feelings, religion beliefs, traditional traits, and ways of working have been dramatically influenced by globalization, have changed the cultural landscape in this area. In addition, changes of natural environment have also burdened the Ancient Tea-Horse Road with erosion of water and weathering, resulting in acceleration of historical and cultural trait loss. The fragmentation of traditional culture landscape in rural area and the islanding As a whole reflection of rural regional human ecological system, it contains a high importance for the action in protecting traditional rural area culture landscape for its integrity and continuity. However, the rural landscape along the Ancient Tea-Horse Road is gradually being fragmented under the heavy impact of civilization.. Rural landscape which used to have integrity now emerges in a new, fragmented pattern, where three phenomena of ancient village, modern town and modern industries alternate with each other. Modern urbanization fragments the landscape of the traditional rural cultural landscape which makes the latter a ‘landscape island’, accelerating transition and extinction of traditional cultural landscape. Cause analysis and conservation strategies Decline of traditional rural landscape With the decline of the Ancient Tea-Horse Road, villages that used to flourish are now becoming marginalization. Rural cultural landscape containing intangible and tangible heritage is not yet transforming into viable economic incomes.


RURAL landscape The influx of youth labour to more urbanized areas means that residents once used to life in a village move out, which results in farm fields and houses being abandoned, and the subsequent decline of the function and structure of the landscape. The loss of traditional craft and living styles accelerates this decline. Improper exploitation of tourism In addition to the above, the improper exploitation of tourism causes significant change to the traditional landscape, what is more, the inner value of rural cultural landscape is now being lost as its traditional traits change. Some actions lack insight, for instance, overdevelopment of cultural heritage sites, facilities built out of harmony with the ara, and man-made historical villages mimicking certain dynasties (catering to the tastes of tourists) without respecting the dynamic disciplines of the rural cultural landscape. Those uninformed decisions have exacerbated loss of the original and precious traits owned by the Ancient Tea-Horse Road. The limitation of views in protection Mainly based on the â&#x20AC;&#x2DC;National Relic Protection Actâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;, government agencies limit the protection of relics to three levels. These are; cultural relics, historic cultural districts and historic cultural cities. However, it is far from enough to protect cultural heritages like the Ancient Tea-Horse Road that owns characteristics of multiple administrative regions, huge branches, complicated natural geography and rich cultural connotations. It is necessary to protect each distinct fragment along the Ancient Tea-Horse Road by taking a sporadic protection strategy, which means, it must have differential, targeted ways based on the specific condition of certain area. Strategies layout: heritage corridor construction of the Ancient Tea-Horse Road Targeting on the reasons above, the construction of a heritage corridor could be used as a strategy to protect rural cultural landscape along the Road. Heritage corridor, a regional protection method, is defined as a linear landscape which owns special cultural resources. It can be a canal, a road, a railway or a corridor consisting of some single heritage sites. It accentuates not only the cultural meaning of a series heritage protection, but also the ecological and economic meaning. It aims to achieve successes of heritage protection, entertainment, education and ecological function. The important feature of heritage corridor is that it can combine multiple interesting cultural tourism sites with those facilities, so it can bring a broad view of both diversity and typicality of local rural cultural landscape as well as improving the prosperity of tourism and economy. Heritage corridor: renovation of traditional rural landscape The decline of traditional rural landscape is attributed to loss of labour and the abandonment of land. When trades on the Road gradually fade away, rural landscape along the Road could not bring enough economic benefits to local residents. Intensified by the trend of working in cities, the loss of labor and the abandonment of the land changed the structure of the traditional rural landscape and subsequently craft and other arts inevitably declined too. As a new form of tourism, the heritage corridor makes the local rural cultural landscape a product in the market, providing jobs and profit for local residents. Integrative protection of natural environment, tangible and intangible cultural heritage which the heritage corridor brings makes local residents realize the unique culture and intrigues their passion to protect it as well as renovate it. At the same time, the corridor could bring opportunity to industries like farming, food and beverage. As an example, with a rising fame of rural cultural landscape, Puâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;er Tea and Mending Tea are now highly valued, which promotes a return back to the land and eventually a renovation of the whole rural landscape. Heritage corridor: constrain proper development of tourism The improper development of the Road neglects the need for protection. The rural cultural landscape is an integrity closely relating to land, its protection should not be focused on individual cultural elements such as old buildings or old village gate, but on the integrated cultural environment, otherwise it will eliminate the basis of cultural value. The layout of the heritage corridor should respect integrity and authenticity of the rural cultural landscape, planned with the protection of a buffer zone, which provides the basis for tourism development and constrains the threat of construction. Heritage corridor: expand old protection thoughts. The old mechanisms for protection restrain the protection to single heritage sites and elements, which results in a focus on certain areas but leaving the rest resource unprotected. The heritage corridor integrates the original spread into a logical and linked integrity, which alleviates the fragmented situation of the existing rural cultural landscape.


RURAL landscape Case study:The Ya’an part of Ancient Tea-Horse Road heritage corridor planning The Ya’an part of Ancient Tea-Horse Road is at the start of the Road and is 324km in length [10], it is located in the Ya’an City of Sichuan Province. Ya’an City is an important tea origin which is famous for Mengding tea and its title of the ‘Cradle of Chinese tea culture’. As the earliest region of wild tea cultivation in the world in record, it can be dated back to Han Dynasty. Quality of tea in Ya’an is among the best: the Mount Mengding Tea, a kind of green tea coming from Ya’an had been selected as royal tribute from Tang Dynasty to Qing Dynasty. As the center of transportation, commerce, business and culture,Ya’an is the place where a trading authority located in many dynasties and tea merchant and caravans distributed. Ya’an part of the Ancient Tea-Horse Road owns a high value of rural cultural landscape. The trade of tea left totally 45 relics of old transportation facilities, temples, stone sculptures, tombs, flourishing villages, and tea factories [10]. With economic communication and cultural dissemination, those performance arts, celebrating customs, crafts gradually emerged. For now, there still exist about 13 intangible cultural landscapes such as the producing process of tea as tribute, the ceremony for celebrating Tea God, the Guozhuang Dance, a kind of Tibet dance and many other fantastic songs. The forest coverage rate of Ya’an is 50.79%, including 8 scenic spots, 1 natural habitat, 1 wetland reserve, 1 national geographic park and 3 forest parks in it [11]. Livable natural environment and large amounts of tea gardens and farmlands constitute the layout of its rural landscape. The strategy for heritage corridor layout in Ya’an part of Ancient Tea-Horse Road Various rural cultural landscapes in Ya’an part of the Ancient Tea-Horse Road is a historical brand which combines natural environment, agricultural production, commercial communication, nationalities’ migration and cultural exchange. So we set steps for constructing this heritage corridor strategy in following a certain sequence. The definition of conservative theme The first task for the heritage corridor planning is defining the conservative theme, which could reflect local cultural traits and integrated value of heritage, judge the inter-correlation of heritage among local cultural landscapes, and set basis for interpretation, entertainment, education projects about the corridor in the future. With historical data and reference of remote sensing maps, we reviewed information of both local history and geography, and then analyzed the evolution process and core traits of local rural cultural landscape. According to the core traits, we sorted out the historical landscape framework to defining the conservative theme for one of several districts in heritage corridor. For example, based on one region with numbers of ancient tea plantations, we can then define its conservative theme as tea culture. The sorting and survey of resources The survey of local rural cultural landscape resources is the basis for heritage corridor planning. Using GIS, we constructed the information database for local heritage and landscape space, first forming heritage list of the Ya’an part of Ancient Tea-Horse Road. After the construction of an information database, we matched local spatial patterns to information in the database to achieve non-spatial information search, retrieval, graphic expression and other functions. Thus, it can directly reveal characteristics and evolution principles of local rural cultural landscape while help us understand the constitution of heritage resources. This achievement provided direct basis for heritage judging and evaluation, and built solid working platform for later heritage corridor planning. The Evaluation and grading of the heritage The integrated scope of a heritage corridor has a close relation with every important resource in it. It is necessary to evaluate every single heritage in the management list so can we then grade those heritage resources and define their important level. During the construction of heritage corridor in Ya’an part, we take AHP and Dlephi as main means to evaluate and grade local heritages. With the help of AHP, we set up the system for evaluating, dissected every element of defining heritage value into several evaluation factors for quantitative analysis. Firstly, the relative importance of the evaluation factors with application of Delphi method (Table1) is determined. Questionnaires were distributed (200 copies), effective 180, questionnaire recovery well.From table 1,we received judgment matrix A = ( aij ) (table1)and computed λmax with Matlab software. After comparison matrix consistency test, we achieved the comparison matrix feature


RURAL landscape vectors Wi =(0.2551,0.4514,0.0383,0.0354,0.0921,0.1277)T as the weight of evaluation indexes and constructed the evaluation system(Table 2). Table1: Importance comparison for evaluation factors of heritage corridor Evaluation standard

Historical value

Cultural value

Scientific value

Artistic value

Social value








Historical value


Cultural value







Scientific value







Artistic value







Social value







Conservation situation







Table2 Evaluation system for heritage corridor Evaluation goals

Evaluation factors


Evaluation targets

Historical value


49 heritage sites in Yaâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;an part of the Tea-Horse Road

Cultural value


Science value


Art value


Society value


Conservation situation


Evaluation of heritage corridor

Each of evaluation factors above were assigned to the five levels from highest to lowest, sored them with 9, 7, 5, 3, 0. With the standard,we used Delphi method to score the heritages of the Ancient-tea Horse Road in Yaâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;an part (Table3).According to the sores results ,We graded the heritages into 3 levels: level I(7-10), level II(4-7), level III(0-4) (Table3). Table3 Heritage grading results level


Level I

Mingshan post road(9.650), tea-horse division site(9.252), royal tea garden(8.814), Mingshan ancient tea farm(8.646), Ganxipo stage site, Xintian stage(7.587), Han dynasty post road site, Tang dynasty pass site(7.446), Zishi stone fort, Fuhe tea factory, Shouxiang bridge(7.413), royal tea warehouse(7.370),Yandao former city site(7.361), Hejunzun plank road and stone carvin(7.355), Mount Mengding ancient architectural complex(7.352), Shangli ancient town(7.274) ,Shimian Tibetan ancient villages (7.231)


Level II 4-7 Level III0-4

Shifu Temple(6.893), Wangyu ancient town(6.616), Qingxi ancient town(6.506), QIngxi former city site(5.872),Yangquanmen ancient post road(5.821),Xinwenchun ancient post road(5.802), Stone village(5.603),Qingxi pass site(5.592),Qinglong pass site(5.458),Feixian pass site(5.441), Shangli bridge(4.610),Jiangjia manor(4.267) Hengtai tea factory(3.784), Tianquan tea factory(3.521),Congxingqian tea factory(3.410), Tianzhengong tea factory(3.262), Southgate site(3.243), Jianguo bridge,Qianfuya Buddhist sculptures(3.128),Hanyuan stone craving, Shangli stone carving(2.842)

The evaluation and grading of heritages provided basis for defining the conservative scope, and it provided benefits for conservative strategies which are suitable for all levels of heritages (Fig.4).


RURAL landscape For level: strictly protect it for its origin and integrity

Core conservation region For level: allowed to be repaired or extended in condition of not wrecking its integrity

Control conservation region For level : allowed to build facilities for entertain or commercial activities in condition of not wrecking its integrity

Control developing region

Fig.4 conservative strategies which are suitable for all levels of heritages

The designation of the conservative scope Based on GIS mapping of local heritage and landscape spaces, the spatial distribution patterns of heritage sites was analyzed, and then the combined results of the heritage grading with conservation scopes of all levels of heritage, brought out proper principles for defining heritage corridor conservation scope. Dispersal trends of every heritage site were calculated based on their distance to the Road by using GIS mapping and found that within a distance of 1km from the Road, the amount of heritage sites takes a proportion of 78.6% among all sites. So 1km should be considered as a important reference when designing the width of the heritage corridor. The planning of spatial pattern (Fig. 5) The planning of heritage corridor spatial pattern focused on four factors: heritage, green way, visiting trail and interpretation system, and heritage is the key factor among all these factors. The planning of greenway provides matrix with good connectivity for isolated heritage and fragmentized rural landscape by applying uninterrupted green space system [12]. It is very important to protect vegetation and habitats along routes and focus on old trees, ancient gardens that have long history. Especially in those weak vegetation sections, we suggested to plant native species to improve ecological structure. Based on the existing traffic system we designed slow path system, such as scenic trails, bicycle lanes and other paths. Government agency could create various tour ways such as hiking and riding lanes for public to experience the rural cultural landscape along the Yaâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;an part of Ancient Tea-Horse Road. The interpretation system was planed around intersections of important heritage settlement and was based on the conservative themes of cultural landscapes of different towns and villages. For instance, royal tea culture in Mingshan County, ancient tea firm culture in Tianquan County, etc (Fig. 6). Various interpretation ways with intangible cultural heritage shows and public participation experience facilities could provide a service platform for tourism, propaganda of the Ancient Tea-Horse Road.


RURAL landscape

Fig. 5 The Yaâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;an part of the Ancient Tea-Horse Road Heritage Corridor spatial pattern

Fig. 6 Conservative themes along corridors

The control of implementation process According to the pattern and scope of the heritage corridor, we formulated different strategies for heritage in each conservation level. This measure protected centre conservation regions of landscape from interference from tourism development, and allowed the peripheral buffer regions to develop tourism, cultural and commercial activities. These can promote sustainable development of the regional economy. In addition the administration should ground conservation measures, improve regulations as well as public participation and propaganda, and deepen the consciousness of conservation and rational exploitation among local people. By doing a win-win situation is established, which protects the local rural cultural landscape and at the same time, improves the benign interaction between tourism industries and the protection mechanism, in order to realize a sustainable development of both the heritage corridor and local rural cultural landscapes. Conclusion The Ancient Tea-Horse Road is a precious heritage with a history of thousands of years of agricultural, commercial and


RURAL landscape cultural layers, which result in a varied and magnificent rural cultural landscape. The condition of global urbanization is heavily influencing the traditional rural cultural landscape, introduction of a heritage corridor concept may provide an alternative approach to protecting the rural cultural landscape of the Road.The integrated protection and layout which the heritage corridor can bring to all layers including nature, economy history and culture, can satisfy the needs for rural cultural landscape protection and providing an economically viable living for local residents. In addition an appropriate tourism development will provide a long lasting and sustainable regeneration of the local rural cultural landscape. Reference: [1] Jeff Fuchs. The Ancient Tea Horse Road: Travels With the Last of the Himalayan Muleteers [M]. Renouf Pub Co Ltd, 2008. [2] Mu JH, Chen BY, et al. Exploration of ‘Yunnan-Tibet-Sichuan’ cultural triangle. Yunnan University Press, 1992. (Chinese) [3] Selena Ahmed, Michael Freeman. The Tea Horse Road: China’s Ancient Trade Road to Tibet. River Books Press Dist AC, 2011. (Chinese) [4] Wu JP. A discussion: cultural influence of geographical feature of nationality settlement and types of cultural settlement. Geographical Research, 1992, 11(3): 50-57. (Chinese) [5] Sun YH, Chen T., Wang YC. Research advance of traditional rural regional landscape. Geographical Science Advance, 2008, 27(6): 90-96. (Chinese) [6] Peng YG. A analysis of traditional village settlement landscape. China Construction Industrial Press, 1992. (Chinese) [7] Ren XJ. Evolution and temporary function of the Ancient Tea-Horse Road. Chinese Cultural Forum. 2010, (4): 24-27. (Chinese) [8] Yang NN. Inner-culture discussion of the Ancient Tea-Horse Road. Journal of South-western Nationality University, 2011, (1): 58-62. (Chinese) [14] Xiong Y. Religion culture communication on the Ancient Tea-Horse Road. Today Nationality. 2006, (11): 55-60. (Chinese) [9] Li BZ, Pan HB.The Treasure of the The Ancient Tea-horse Road (Ya’an). Sichuan Cultural Relics, 2010(3): 96-102. (Chinese) [10] Jiang YX. Ya’an and the Ancient Tea-horse Road. The Ancient Tea-horse Road (Ya’an) Cultural Heritage Conversation Forum, Cultural Relics Publishing House, 2011: 77-88. (Chinese) [11] Xu HY, Xu F. Construction of the Ya’an District of Ancient Tea and Horses Road. Chinese Culture Forum, 2012, (6): 100-105. (Chinese) [12] Fabos, JG. Introduction and overview: The greenway movement, uses and potentials of greenways. Landscape and Urban Planning, 1995, 33: 1-13.

10. Ecological determinism in Australia: tracing the legacy of McHarg downunder and its key precedents Jones D Deakin University

ABSTRACT Ecological planning, as advocated by Ian McHarg, filtered extensively through North America following the publication of Design with Nature (1965). The integrated design and planning approach was also advanced by numerous graduates of McHarg’s studios at the University of Pennsylvania where this approach was extensively trialled and proven. While a clear synthesis and theoretical framework was articulated and reinforced through a plethora of projects, monographs, and articles, the majority of these perspectives were North American, lacked clarity about the translation of the approach into legal strategic and statutory planning instruments, nor shed light upon what transpired in Australia. This paper reviews the development of the Conservation Plan created for the southern Mornington Peninsula in Victoria, Australia, as well as its intent, structure and internal workings as a successful model of ecological statutory planning, in the context of the wider WPRPA activities that draws directly from the McHarg theory. Known as the Conservation Plan for the southern Mornington Peninsula in Victoria; a revolutionary planning structure devised in the early 1970s by several Australian proponents. The Conservation Plan continues in operation today curating a high scenic valued landscape protecting it from intrusion from the growing metropolitan city of Melbourne thus fulfilling its objectives of landscape quality conservation whilst still permitting sympathetic building and land use growth. Contextually, the Conservation Plan appears to be only statutory equivalent translation of the approach internationally other than the Pinelands Commission planning processes in New Jersey.


RURAL landscape Introduction Landscape planning in the state of Victoria in Australia has always followed a conventional model that sought to guide land uses rather than the scientific and aesthetic qualities and attributes of land. Socio-democratic theories were not relevant here as efficiency of land use was more important than the common good that allowed a laissezfaire approach. Under state Premier Hamer the “common good approach” pervaded his philosophical approach to governance and planning (Hamer 1965: 130-133), and the southern Mornington Peninsula Conservation Plan (WPRPA 1975) is a practical demonstration of this theory.

Figures 1 & 2:WPRPA 1975, Conservation Plan, Mornington Peninsula, Hastings,Vic.:WPRPA, 1975, pp. cover. 2.

Figure 3: Mornington Peninsula: Source: Google 2011

This paper focuses upon the nature, structure and rationale of the landscape planning system devised as part of the Conservation Plan (WPRPA 1975) and not about the community and planning politics that transpired in the lead-up and subsequent to the release of the Western Port Interim Development Order Amendment’s No. 1 (WPRPA 1975) and No. 1A (TCPB 1976). The political saga associated with the imposition of this landscape planning system explored elsewhere in Logan (1981), Rodan (2006), Morrison (1979), Sandercock (1977) and Bate & Marles (1978) in greater detail.


RURAL landscape Victoria’s planning system in the 1960s-70s was overseen by the State Planning Council (SPC) and administered by the Town & Country Planning Board (TCPB) that established planning systems in Victoria for and on behalf of the Minister and the SPC as prescribed under the Victorian Town and Country Planning Act 1961. The TCPB specifically established the Western Port Regional Planning Authority (WPRPA) as a regional planning authority with responsibility to plan the region comprising the Western Port catchment and the southern Mornington Peninsula. Statutory and strategic planning instruments at the time, comprised statements of planning policy (SPPs), strategic planning documents, and planning schemes (PS) (occasionally called development plans in other Australian states) being statutory planning documents often comprising an ordinance with accompanying maps. As a device, the relevant Minister of Local Government (and Planning) had at his/her discretion the ability to impose interim development orders (IDOs) as blanket planning controls pending the preparation and gazettal of a PS and to proscribe any rule or allied document, including a SPP, as being a performance measure for the approval of any ‘development’ as defined under the IDO and Act. The Western Port area is defined as “including the bay of the same name, particularly the portion between Mornington Peninsula and French Island, and the area of land adjoining,” and the southern Mornington Peninsula (Peninsula) that was subject to the Conservation Plan and subsequent planning instruments.The location of the Peninsula and its relationship to Melbourne is depicted in Figure 2. The Peninsula itself is a broad expanse of land sandwiched between Port Phillip Bay and the Western Port Bay, and is a favoured summer beachside resort area for Melbournians. The Peninsula, at the time was managed by three shire councils (Mornington and Hastings centred upon these respective settlements, and Flinders). All three councils were later merged into the Shire of Mornington Peninsula with local council amalgamations in Victoria.

Figures 4-7: Images of the Mornington Peninsula landscape. Source: author

Landscape and Regional Planning in Victoria The TCPB was required to pay particular attention to: (a) demographic, social and economic factors and influences (b) conservation of natural resources for social, economic, environmental, ecological and scientific purposes (c) characteristics of land; (d) characteristics and disposition of land use;


RURAL landscape (e) amenity and environment; (f) communications; and (g) development requirements of public authorities (TCPB 1970a: 1; 1970b: 1). From the early 1960s in Victoria, the planning system witnessed a change in government policy and planning, in both private and public land deliberations that sought to respect and better appreciate its natural and aesthetic qualities resulting in a shift towards integrated land use planning and management through independent entities like regional planning authorities and the Land Conservation Council (Roden 2006: 295-297). As state Premier, Hamer’s perspective of landscape planning was that it “… was a natural reflection of his view of the role of the state. Government was entitled to intervene, for the greater good, to preserve historical, environmental, recreation and science assets, even if this left individual property-owners disadvantaged” (Hamer in Roden 2006: 300). This was very much an altruist view that contradicted the individualist liberal viewpoint, and one that linked landscape planning, urban planning and socialism together, thus placing him in conflict with many of his ministers and party representatives (Morrison 1979: 153). As a demonstration of this ethos, Clause (1) of SSP No. 2 (Mornington Peninsula, 1970) places conservation as an imperative in this planning. Thus, there was a clear desire to undertake “long range reservation and acquisition,” protect urban fringe areas “in advance of urban settlement” and provide “an authoritative concept of the broad location of future urban settlement” (TCPB 1970b: 1). Hamer also expressed this ethos in a directive to the TCPB in 1966, while discussing the ‘Future Growth of Melbourne’, that “It must be strongly emphasised that future planning should take full account of the surrounding countryside as a vital part of the metropolitan environment” (Hamer 1966 cited in TCPB 1970b: 3). SPP No. 1 (Western Port 1970): … was prepared after a careful analysis of the Western Port area both in terms of local resources and the wider implications of the potential development of the area. … The same area referred to as the Western Port area includes the bay of the same name, particularly the portion between Mornington Peninsula and French Island, and the area of land adjoining (TCPB 1970a: 2). SPP No. 2 (Mornington Peninsula 1970) contained: … a directive that the Mornington Peninsula shall be planned primarily as a conservation area for recreation. It applies to that part of the Peninsula generally to the south of the existing urban settlements of Mornington and Hastings (TCPB 1970b: 2). Synergistically both quoted SPPs are relevant here as both directed the aims and objectives of the WPRPA, but it is the latter SPP that is more relevant as it embraced the southern Mornington Peninsula and thus the Conservation Plan. The main environmental components of the Peninsula, identified, were: (a) the deep valleys and steep slopes of the volcanic and granitic hill masses of the Red Hill-Main Ridge-Merricks area (b) the open Moorooduc and Emu Plains … (c) the undulating rural areas around Balnarring and those fringing the rugged cliffs and headlands the beaches of the Balnarring coastline... (d) the area known as the Cups consists of curious rounded hummocks; (f) From Gunnamatta to Portsea, the character changes to storm-swept surf beaches backed by extensive sand dunes; (g) On the Port Phillip shore long safe beaches, then sheltered bays and bluffs are backed by promenades and a variety of holiday and retirements resorts (TCPB 1970b: 8-10). Hamer’s concern, shared by many fore-thinking planners, landscape architects, several fellow politicians, and residents in Victoria and on the Peninsula, was that the intrinsic qualities of the Peninsula were being placed at risk, demonstrating early signs of environmental, ecological and aesthetic deterioration, and that something needed to be done to address the incremental onslaught before it became a rush. In 1966 some 10,350 unoccupied dwellings existed in this region, with more than 7,000 in Flinders being 62% of all dwellings in that municipality (TCPB 1970b: 13). This ethos was repeated by Alan Hunt MLC in in his Ministerial Statement on Planning for Westernport Region in 1971 as Minister for Local Government (Hunt 1971: 2498-2508) who eloquently express the problem and need for ecologically informed planning as: Prospective development in the Westernport region poses planning in Victoria with its greatest challenge to date.The pressures both for development and for conservation of the area are great. Is our course to be preferred to the other? Or can careful


RURAL landscape planning achieve a balance between differing claims in the long-term interests of Victoria and its citizens? The clear challenge facing planners is to attain and maintain the best possible balance—and to do so in a way which will achieve acceptance from, and protection for, both present and future generations (Hunt 1971: 2498).

Figure 8: Images of the Mornington Peninsula bushland matrix landscape. Source: Google 2011

The Western Port Regional Planning Authority (WPRPA) Inaugurated in 1969, the WPRPA comprises a quasi-government entity, it consisted of a council of two councillors per local municipality and a cohort of professionally qualified staff. The WPRPA was empowered by Statement of Planning Policy: No. 1 (Western Port 1970) and Statement of Planning Policy: No. 2 (Mornington Peninsula 1970) to undertake research and prepare plans to address and satisfy the aims and objectives of these two policies of which the Conservation Plan became the landscape planning instrument. Thus, one authority rather than two for each policy as it enabled a holistic and very coordinated planning framework and set of systems to be drafted, debated, and gazetted. Landscape architecture academic George Seddon summarised the ‘situation’ as: The Mornington Peninsula is an adjunct of the city of Melbourne. Its special values and special dangers both stem from this fact (given clear commercial recognition by the latest edition of the Melways Street Directory for Greater Melbourne, which has extended its coverage from Melbourne to Portsea.) Much of the money earned and spent in the region comes either directly or indirectly from Melbourne – directly from holiday visitors, weekend cottagers, weekend famers, and the retirement continent from the city; indirectly from those farm ventures such as market gardens and chicken brooders whose commercial success depends on proximity to urban consumers, and indirectly also from those large, well-managed and economically viable agricultural holdings that are nevertheless not the main or sole source of income for those who own them (Seddon et al 1974: 11). As its first action, the WPRPA successfully had gazetted a “blanket” interim development order over the southern Mornington Peninsula in October 1970. Blanket implies full and complete whereby “any development” may be subject to assessment and approval by the WPRPA during the period that the formal Conservation Plan was prepared and drafted, thus providing a safety net to pre-empt inappropriate developments and land investments. The Conservation Plan was exhibited in May 1975 as the Western Port Region Interim Development Order Amendment No. 1. Conservation Plan The essential challenge presented to the WPRPA was to re-invent town planning logic in Victoria and invest it robustly with scientific validity distancing itself from the ‘politics of planning’ in word and decision-making process. To validate this action, the landscape planning team prepared principal concepts or theory for embedding in the Conservation Plan and thereupon “sets of policies for the use of land, for making provision for the human activities that occur and for on-going development” rather than “concentrating on … [establishing] a spatial pattern of land uses”. Thus, “an image of a future state of the area being planned” was the theory (WPRPA 1975: 9). To this theory, a set of objectives were prepared and each impediment thereto identified and policies prepared to address each impediment. Thus, a rationalist decision-making model that robustly engaged with the “science of lan”. Under this model, “alternative possibilities” were considered and debated, “the consequences” of each “course of action’ measured, and the best


RURAL landscape alternatives that resulted in the least consequences and ‘the most valued ends” were identified and adopted (WPRPA 1975: 9). Interestingly, a holistic definition was applied to “pollution” so that it encompassed not just the conventionally understood deliberate despoliation or poisoning of a place, but it also included human and wildlife actions that could result in “ecological pollution” such as erosion but also aesthetic or visual pollution that might detract from the character and amenity quality of the micro- or overall landscape. This was perhaps a unique re-definition of the word “pollution” that was not understood by the public (WPRPA 1975: 15-26). Avenues to eliminate or delimit ‘basic problems or impediments’, once identified, were drafted into a set of policies having regard to various environmental, sociological and landscape consultant recommendations and studies. In devising a plan, each plan objective was mapped in a matrix format against each policy to ascertain how it best addressed the objective. A basic distinction drawn early in the Conservation Plan making process was that there were “natural systems” and “cultural systems.” Each was perceived as being interdependent. The approach thereupon influenced the nature and scope of consultancy tasks set and is very evident in the final ordinance text and mapping approach devised (WPRPA 1975: 11). Thus, three separate aspects were identified, mapped, and translated, as quoted in Table 1. Table 1: Conservation Plan Strategy 1.

Basic activity controls, similar to a conventional zoning plan. The zones used are based on the physical and cultural determinants and are the land units as defined in the landscape study undertaken by Professor Seddon, with basic uses either permitted as of right, prohibited or subject to consent. Land unit provisions relate to broad land use matters and control intensity of development as well as use.


A set of natural system constraints intended to constrain permitted development to a form compatible with the natural environment. Natural systems provisions are the plan’s mechanism for the protection of elements of the natural environment and the landscape.


A set of cultural element constraints intended to further constrain permitted development where visual or operational detriment would otherwise result. Cultural element provisions relate to existing man-made environments or areas of scientific interest which are sensitive to development or use.

Source:WPRPA, Conservation Plan, Mornington Peninsula, Hastings,Vic.:WPRPA, 1975: 37.

This approach demonstrates the importance of the environmental translation and mapping process recommended and employed by Seddon. In addition, it also demonstrates the significant importance in the way Seddon’s land unit formulation and mapping system was re-invented and transposed as the unique primary and ‘underlay’ mapping system. It needs to be noted that this was the first use of the now commonly used ‘overlay’ planning mapping system in Victoria, and indeed around Australia, although the terms ‘overlay’ or ‘underlay’ were not used in IDO No. 1 and general WPRPA literature. Some 13 non-urban land units were proposed. These were tracts of land, as defined and mapped by Seddon, and Environmental Resources Australia (ERA), that possessed “generally common geology, topography, soil, micro-climate, land-use, vegetation and cultural landscape.” While slight modifications to the positions of actual lines was undertaken in their translation onto transparent 1:1000 orthogonal map sheets, according to extant property boundaries and land uses, boundaries remained true to the Seddon recommendations and were expressed that way in the final 1:10,000 planning scheme maps exhibited and gazetted. To each land unit could be ascribed common characteristics but it also enabled a consistent future land use, land density and land character to be expressed, envisioned, and thereupon planned for.There is an analogy in this approach to the precinct strategy employed by George Clarke of Urban Systems Corporation when formulating the City of Adelaide Plan (Forster & McCaskill 1986: 93). Table 2 summarises the actual 13 land units, their unique nomenclature that was also adopted as the zone nomenclature, and a summation of their basic characteristics. Figure 9 spatially depicts the land units, or final zones applied.


RURAL landscape Table 2: Southern Mornington Peninsula Land Units


Land Unit / Zone nomenclature

Land Unit / Zone intent and characteristics


Central Peninsula


Kangerong Basin


Eastern Peninsula


South-eastern Peninsula


South-eastern Basalt Slopes


Southern Basalt Slopes


Arthurâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s Seat Escarpment and Southern Slopes


Tideway Uplift


Cape Schanck Hinterland


Tideway-Boneo Flats


The Cups


Upland Basalt Slopes

To be maintained as an area of low intensity occupation with no commercial activity. 40 hectares minimum subdivision To be maintained as an open grazing area. 40 hectares minimum subdivision. Development for the poultry industry to be permitted provided that sheds can be properly sited in the landscape. 20 hectares minimum subdivision with provision for 10 hectares excision for a poultry farm. To be maintained in its present character but with provision for limited recreational developments, including well-sited housing groups. 20 hectares minimum subdivision. To retain present farming character by preventing subdivision less than 25 hectares. An area of broad agricultural vistas and magnificent coastal scenery. Its character is to be maintained by preventing large buildings and subdivision less than 80 hectares in area. Areas of great vulnerability to development but which require careful consideration for their recreational and extractive industrial potential. Important also for bushland. 20 hectares minimum subdivision. An area which has maintained much of its natural character because of its poor quality agricultural soils. Contains Greenâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s Bush. 20 hectare minimum subdivision. Suitable for limited recreational development. Akin to the southern basalt slopes and the Cups. Contains unstable sand dunes and requires management in large land holdings. 80 hectare minimum subdivision. Suitable for limited recreational development. A diverse area with market gardening becoming important because of good soils and groundwater. 20 hectares minimum subdivision with provision for an 8 hectare excision for a market garden. Unique semi-consolidated sand dune country. Must be properly managed in large land holdings. 80 hectare minimum subdivision with provision for limited development for recreational housing purposes. In contrast to the southern basalt slopes, it is an area of complex and intensive land use with a highly textured and intimate landscape, an area where large numbers of hobby farms can be provided without adverse effects on the environment. Poultry sheds could establish in the area provided that they are well-suited. To provide for hobby farms minimum subdivision is 10 hectares with provision for a 1 hectare to 2 hectare excision.

Source:WPRPA, Conservation Plan, Mornington Peninsula, Hastings,Vic.:WPRPA, 1975, p. 37.


RURAL landscape

Figure 9: Land Units for the Conservation Plan. Source:WPRPA, Conservation Plan, Mornington Peninsula, Hastings,Vic.:WPRPA, 1975, p. 39.

The spatial delineation of land units and their translation into the over-arching zones established the first strategy. The second strategy was to translate the natural systems research and mapping into some form of planning tool. The intent was to take each natural systems component, recognising that it possessed varying qualities and attributes that should be taken into account of when considering development or “works” so to minimise any impact upon such component itself, its natural systems context as well as the larger ecological system it existed within.This was a question that had been somewhat addressed by McHarg in Design with Nature (1965) by mapping specific environmental and ecological characteristics and patterns, assigning them weighted values, and then measuring their compatibility to sustain human development and peri-urban expansion.

Figures 10 and 11: Extracts from the Natural Systems map and Cultural Elements map for the same tract of land between Flinders and Shoreham townships on the Western Port Bay flank of the southern Mornington Peninsula. Note the underlying use of contours and property boundaries as a spatial orientation guide. Source:WPRPA, Conservation Plan, Mornington Peninsula, Hastings,Vic.:WPRPA, 1975, pp. 43, 45.

Typical natural systems components ecologically and spatial identified, comprehended and mapped, were quite varied yet holistic in their ambit. Components like cliff and beach areas, active and semi-stabilized dunes, swamps, erosion prone slopes in excess of 25%, unstable slopes in excess of 35%, streamlines, alluvial plains or tracts associated with streamlines were translated. In addition extant natural and exotic vegetation was mapped as “bushland” and “significant


RURAL landscape treelines” with the former being categorised into 4 ‘classes’ having regard to quality, value, significance, integrity, and capacity to sustain change and accommodate ‘bushland lifestyles’ enabling with a reduction of the zone subdivision minimum to between 4-10 hectares depending upon the class (WPRPA 1975: 15-18, 41-44; WPRPA 1980). The inclusion of “significant treelines” in the natural systems mapping is interesting as it demonstrates the difficulty of categorising an evident and valuable natural component that hosts fauna, enables habitat corridors and wind-breaks, and provides soil stability yet may possess important cultural values as to species, spatial alignment and high aesthetic presence in landscape, yet may be an exotic and or noxious species such as the Radiata Pine (Pinus radiata) (WPRPA 1975: 41-44). Table 3 summarises the Natural Systems and Cultural Elements devised having regard to the research, mapping and recommendations of the consultants; the term ‘undifferentiated land’ was applied to explain land that was not affected by a particular natural systems or cultural elements component. Table 3: Summary of Natural Systems Components and Cultural Element Components

Natural Systems:

Cultural Elements:

Cliff and Beach


Coastal Hinterland


Dunes – Active

Coastal Landscape

Semi Stabilized Dunes

Recorded Landscape (National Trust)


Tourist Resort


Picnic and Recreation Area

Fluviatile Deposits

Scenic Vantage Point

Unstable Slopes

Scientific Site – Archaeological

Erosion Prone Slopes

Scientific Site – Botanical

Significant Treelines

Scientific Site – Geological

Bushland Class A

Scientific Site – Zoological

Bushland Class B

Historic Site

Bushland Class C


Bushland Class D

Arterial Road

Undifferentiated Land

Scenic Arterial Road Scenic Road Access Road Recreation Route Undifferentiated Land

For each component a set of ‘performance standards,’ or ‘performance policies,’ was drafted, Most of the controls proposed are obvious and include, as mentioned, protection of streams and wetlands and other important habitat, and the prevention of erosion and pollution. The proposed controls are so structured as to make it easier to carry out any development in a location which suits it, and introduce into the [planning] scheme a “design with nature” concept (WPRPA 1975: 44). The ‘design with nature’ concept expression was quietly inserted into the text of the WPRPA public literature demonstrating the clear reliance of the WPRPA planning staff and Seddon upon the McHarg’s (1965) philosophy, that McHarg also later expressed in a lecture tour of Australia. In terms of cultural elements, this was both uncharted territory in Victorian planning as well as laden with human perceptions and values. This was clearly an area that possessed special human interest and thereupon often resulted in voices about compromise, despoliation and destruction of intrinsic tangible and non-tangible elements. While the term “amenity” could easily explain this realm, it was only one part of this scope and as a result the WPRPA sought direct


RURAL landscape community and expert advice as to what was important or significant and where spatially it was located including buildings, views, and recreational access routes by commissioning studies and inviting public submissions. For each element a set of “performance standards,” or “performance policies,” was also drafted. As stated, a raft of expert scientific studies informed the deliberations of the WPRPA. Of these, the following are most relevant to the formulation of the Conservation Plan. The Conservation Council of Victoria (CCV), Environmental Resources of Australia (ERA), the Centre for Environmental Studies at the University of Melbourne then under Professor George Seddon, with Stephen Millard and Winty Calder were engaged as principal consultants to formulate the scientific evidence and justification as well as the planning parameters to underpin the actual Conservation Plan. The role and impact of McHarg’s treatise should not be under-estimated. It was a text that enlivened planning debates in Melbourne in the 1960s-70s, and an approach that offered clear guidance to the Monarto Development Corporation (MDC) in South Australia whom were going through a similar process in 1970-75 of devising a new town development and model that was ecologically and landscape aesthetic responsive (Hutchings 1977: 124-127; Jones 1998: 71-88; Forster & McCaskill 1998: 95-97). The MDC, through state premier Don Dunstan, even issued a letter of invitation to serve as a consultant to the MDC to McHarg that was later withdrawn while he was actually en route to Adelaide via South Africa. In terms of work tasks, the Conservation Council of Victoria (CCV) prepared a major review of the environmental systems of the southern Mornington Peninsula and the Western Port with an emphasis upon the latter rather than the former (Randell Champion 1974). Environmental Resources of Australia (ERA) prepared a detailed ecologically-biased natural systems study to “delineate the natural systems … [and] to describe their behaviour in a way useful for land use planning” (ERA 1974). The Centre for Environmental Studies at the University of Melbourne, under Professor George Seddon, undertook a landscape assessment of the southern Mornington Peninsula drawing upon the fore-going two study projects but bringing to bear a holistic appreciation of landscape development and change establishing the sensitivity parameters (Seddon et al 1974: 11-12). As expressed by the WPRPA, … Seddon examined the physical and cultural environment, suggested certain landscape principles, delineated areas where the basic physical conditions and cultural response to those conditions were sufficiently unified to be treated as landscape units, and made recommendations regarding roads and the built environment (WPRPA 1975: 12). It is the Landscape Assessment (1975) that is the corner-stone of the Conservation Plan and one that robustly interrogated Design with Nature (1965) in providing answers of how to successfully translate the ‘science’ of land into a cogent and relevant town planning system (WRPRA 1975: 12). To assist these consultancy projects, the National Trust of Victoria also brought forward their translation of the landscape of the southern Mornington Peninsula (NT(V) 1975). Their detailed methodological assessment concluded with clear recommendations as to landscape tracts to be classified and recorded in the same manner as their conventional classification system for houses and structures; such recommendations were directly drawn into Seddon’s deliberations and the Conservation Plan IDO No. 1. To translate these technical reports, and the unconventional or unusualness of the Conservation Plan and its IDO No. 1, the WPRPA released the Conservation Plan, Mornington Peninsula (1975) in an effort to communicate the ‘science’ and rationale of the Conservation Plan in plain English (WPRPA 1975).

Figures 12-15: Built form quality design improvements undertaken on the Mornington Peninsula. Source: author, 2010-2011.


RURAL landscape

Figures 16-19: Roadscape and visual quality design improvements undertaken on the Mornington Peninsula. Source: author, 2010-2011.

Legacy, Impact and Significance Hamer launched Conservation Plan IDO No. 1 in May 1975 observing: I don’t see that people should be upset by these controls. The controls give an assurance that the land will be preserved for the uses we need: after all, control is only irksome to people who want to change the land in some way (Hamer 1975) While this altruistic perspective underpinned much of the SPP and IDO No. 1, it was a view not shared by many southern Mornington Peninsula land owners and prospective developers who were suddenly told: [P]ermits would be needed before native trees and vegetation could be cleared, new houses would have to meet specific conditions for external appearance and siting, and future sub-divisions would be subject to stringent controls (Hamer 1976: 87). This level and type of ‘control’ was totally foreign to conventional planning schemes in Victoria, at that time, as it then sought to regulate land use principally and stayed clear of minute detail as to specific trees, where aesthetics and colour were to be regulated and proscribed, and where subdivision proposals had to address environmental performance criteria and not simply the normal spatial and circulation guidelines. A key outcome of the adoption of the Conservation Plan and its translation into the Western Port Region IDO No. 1A, and subsequentially the respective planning schemes for the Shires of Flinders, Hastings and Mornington, and thereupon into the overarching extant Shire of Mornington Peninsula Planning Scheme, is that the type of strategic and statutory planning regime was radically different than that previously applied in Victoria. It was a marked departure from the legacy of the Gutteridge Haskins Davey planning scheme model devised in the late 1950s and drafted into the rationale, structure and logic of most gazetted Victorian planning schemes in the early 1960s. Logan has concluded that the Conservation Plan, despite its creative and innovative intentions in “devising the best pattern of land use controls for an area according to expert judgement on objective criteria,” it was compromised by not addressing and realising a relevant community consultative process that empowered and reduced local interest group aspirations and values (Logan 1981 72-73). In truth, the Conservation Plan was the most radical and objective-based environmental planning venture of the 1970s in Australia. Significantly it demonstrated that McHarg’s theory of land capability and carrying capacity could be successfully translated and applied in a regulatory planning and design-performance system, and the maintenance of this credibility through its 1978 gazettal and incorporation as IDO No. 1A and thereupon into the respective three planning schemes, and now within the current planning scheme for the Peninsula.The fact that it has not been cast aside, in a planning and legislative sense, demonstrates its validity and relevance. Further, the fact that the inherent high landscape character and aesthetic and biological quality of the southern Mornington Peninsula remains today with so much integrity unfettered by rampant development and associative visual “pollution” is a testament to the success of the model but also the “vision” and strength of purpose of Hamer and Hunt and the team of WPRPA planners with Seddon in crafting an instrument that could robustly yet sensitively achieve this


RURAL landscape outcome. In addition, the decision to structure subdivision size provisions (10, 20, 25, 40, 80 hectares) arising from the agricultural carrying capacity of the land precinct in addition to performance criteria linked to the landscape attributes appears to have a major beneficial impact upon impeding undue disintegration and over-use of the landscape as what typically occurs in suburbia with the need to increase the density on allotments. Acknowledgements The thoughts of Robin Dunstone, Alan Hutchings, Ross Bateup and Michael Llewellyn-Smith are gratefully acknowledged, as also Helen Thomson, Manager Copyright & Information Policy at the University of Melbourne, Nick Bastow, Corporate Communications Unit of the Department of Planning and Community Development, and Alice Gregor in the Victorian Parliamentary Library. Some of these thoughts have also being drawn from the author’s discussions with McHarg in 1990-91. Copyright Permission to reproduced text and illustrations in this paper from cited publications and documents has been kindly permitted by the Victorian Department of Planning and Community Development as successor in law to the Western Port Regional Planning Authority, and the University of Melbourne within which the former Centre for Environmental Studies led by Professor George Seddon was located. References Bate W. & F. Marles, Dilemma at Westernport: A case study in land use conflicts and the growth of the planning imperative, Malvern, Vic: Sorrett Publishing, 1978. Calder, W., Peninsula Perspectives: Vegetation on the Mornington Peninsula, Victoria, Melbourne, Vic: Centre for Environmental Studies, University of Melbourne, 1975. Environmental Resources of Australia, A Natural Systems Study of the Southern Mornington Peninsula, Victoria, Vols 1 & 2, Port Melbourne, Vic.: WPRPA, 1974. Forster, C. & M. McCaskill, The modern period: managing metropolitan Adelaide, in A. Hutchings & R. Bunker (eds.), With Conscious Purpose: A history of town planning in South Australia, Adelaide, SA: Wakefield Press in association with Royal Australian Planning Institute (South Australian Division), 1986. Forster, C., & M. McCaskill, ‘The modern period: managing metropolitan Adelaide’, in Hutchings & Bunker (eds.), With Conscious Purpose: A history of town planning in South Australia, Adelaide, SA: Wakefield Press in association with Royal Australian Planning Institute (South Australian Division), 1986,, pp. 95-97. Hamer, R., ‘Town and Country Planning in Victoria’, Australian Planning Institute Journal, April 1965, pp. 130-133. Hamer, R., Minister of Local Government, letter to TCPB dated 3 May 1966, cited in TCPB, Statement of Planning Policy: No. 2, p. 3. Hamer, R., in ‘Political Chronicle: Victoria’, Australian Journal of Politics and History 22 (1), 1976, p. 87. Hamer, R., in The Age, 25 September 1975. Hunt, A., ‘Administrator’s Speech’, Victorian Parliamentary Debates (Legislative Council), 1 August 1961, pp. 6-8; Hunt, A., ‘Ministerial Statement: Planning for Westernport Region’, Victorian Parliamentary Debates (Legislative Council), 16 November 1971, pp. 2498-2508. Hutchings, A., ‘Just a bit better’, Royal Australian Planning Institute Journal, November 1977, pp. 124-127. Jones, D., ‘Planning a place in the sun: Monarto, South Australia’, Urban Design Studies 4, 1998, pp. 71-88. Logan, T., Urban and Regional Planning in Victoria, South Yarra, Vic.: Shillington House, 1981, pp. 60-81. McHarg, I., Design With Nature, Garden City, NY: Natural History Press, 1965. Morrison, D.,‘Factions toy with Western Port plans’, RAPIJ, May 1979, pp. 152-154. National Trust of Australia (Victoria), The Preservation of the Mornington Peninsula and Western Port, Melbourne, Vic.: NTA(V), 1974. Randell Champion Conservation Planning, Westernport Region Conservation Survey, Melbourne, Vic.: Conservation Council of Victoria, 1974. Roden, P., ‘Rupert “Dick” Hamer: The Urbane Liberal’, The Victorian Premiers 1856-2006, Annandale NSW: Federation Press, 2006, pp. 295-297. Sandercock, L. 1977, Cities for Sale: Property, politics and urban planning in Australia. Melbourne, Vic: Melbourne University


RURAL landscape Press, pp. 169-171, 217, 232-236. Seddon, G., with W.B. Calder & M. Davis, A Landscape Assessment of the Southern Mornington Peninsula, Victoria, Melbourne: Centre for Environmental Studies, University of Melbourne, p. I:1; also, Seddon quoted in WPRPA, Conservation Plan, p. 4. TCPB 1970, Statement of Planning Policy: No. 1 (Western Port 1970), Melbourne, Vic: TCPB. TCPB 1970, Statement of Planning Policy: No. 2 (Mornington Peninsula 1970), Melbourne, Vic: TCPB. Western Port Interim Development Order Amendment No. 1, Melbourne, Vic: TCPB, 1975; Western Port Interim Development Order Amendment No. 1A, Melbourne, Vic: TCPB, 1976. WPRPA, Conservation of Bushland on the Mornington Peninsula, Hastings, Vic.: WPRPA, 1980. WPRPA, Conservation Plan, Mornington Peninsula, Hastings, Vic.: WPRPA, 1975. WPRPA, Walking Trails on the Mornington Peninsula, Hastings, Vic.: WPRPA, 1975.

11. Food Landscapes: A landscape model for intensive farming Lawton C, Davies R Unitec Institute of Technology ABSTRACT With rising meat consumption worldwide, particularly in developing countries, there is a need to explore new approaches in designing farms to assist with affordable meat production within a framework of improved environmental sustainability. New Zealand (NZ) has a strong agricultural history. As world leaders in research and development, agriculture shaped our nation structurally and socially and will continue to do so into the future.To facilitate the continued supply of affordable meat, exploration of initiatives in design to support sustainable agriculture is required. This paper presents a research project that has used landscape design methodology to anlayse and quantify existing intensive farming models for chicken meat production (broiler shed farms) and explores potential design interventions that can contribute to improved quadruple bottom line outcomes in intensive farming practice in NZ. System approaches such as industrial ecology, cradle to cradle, permaculture and zero energy buildings informed a design model that reduces the intensive farming footprint while improving the interconnections between the multiple inputs and outputs required for such farming practices, within the site and broader environment. Comparison of quantitative data on aspects such as water, energy, biodiversity and waste between the existing intensive farm model and the proposed sustainable design model has shown that the inclusion of landscape architectural design methodology informing intensive farm development can improve sustainability in an economically viable way and contribute to a more appropriate approach to food production and land use. Introduction Intensive farming is a controversial topic worldwide. These farming types continue to expand throughout the world and in NZ as the demand for affordable meat continues to grow. The expansion of this farming method is due to their effectiveness in producing affordable meat. Affordability being a key driver for providing protein through meat to less affluent members of society. Although these farms are effective in producing affordable meat, they are highly debated as environmental and animal welfare issues accompany them. Technology within this industry is improving and changing, however, if these farms are not constructed, designed or maintained appropriately they can have detrimental impacts on the environment, affecting the health of the communities surrounding them. NZ has a strong dependency on the agriculture sector economically, and our presence within the world of intensive farming is also prominent. In 2011 NZ produced 90 million chickens (Statistics NZ, 2010) and in 2007 we produced 760,000 pigs (Statistics NZ, 2010), this intensity of production highlights the need for such systems to achieve a more sustainable approach in order to facilitate continued supply of food within a more environmentally responsible landuse framework. There are currently a number of disadvantages associated with intensive farming but their one very strong point is their confined use of land area. Unlike traditional sheep and cattle farming throughout New Zealand that requires large land footprints. However the full potential of intensive farms are not being realised. This paper illustrates that by utilising ecological services (eco- services) negative impacts of intensive farms can be eliminated and/or reduced and that they can contribute in a positive way to the environment and society.


RURAL landscape According to a number of statistical surveys, world poultry has expanded 11 million tons to 63 million from 1965 to 1999 (Sheikh, 2012). In addition to this, the growth of super markets, alongside fast food retail outlets has also generated a major impact on poultry sales worldwide (Sheikh, 2012). The FAO (Food and Agriculture Organisation of United Nations) has also stated poultry is the second most consumed meat in the world, with 33% of meat consumption being chicken (FAO, 2013). Throughout this research animal welfare had a strong influence. Landscape design methodology (in particular ecoservices) and systems approaches have the ability to improve the environment not only outside the sheds but also within the sheds, thereby improving animal conditions within the buildings. Potential to improve efficiency of the farms themselves through design interventions that assist in reducing energy costs was also explored. With the incorporation of eco-services within this project, multiple benefits for farmers/owners, animals, end purchasers of the product and the environment were achieved. Food supply, animal welfare, environment and human health are intricately inter-linked through factory farming and the outcomes of this research show that landscape architects can contribute to addressing the current concerns linked to agricultural landscapes. Aim The aim for this research project was to develop a design model that improves the overall sustainability of broiler shed farms throughout New Zealand using existing broiler shed sites. The model encapsulates the cradle to cradle, industrial ecology, permaculture and ZEB’s (Zero Energy Building) principles and decreases the demands intensive farming has on nonrenewable resources and results in a farm that produces very little waste. The model facilitates the continuation of affordable meat production, improved profitably for the farmers, and amelioration of the environmental conditions in and surrounding the farms while positively affecting the health of animals within the broiler sheds. Irrespective of whether it is through organic or non-organic approaches, the food demands of the world require more intensive approaches to farming and this does not necessarily equate to non-sustainable approaches. Intensive farming will be required to feed the world and the real question to be answered is how can we make intensive farming a positive and sustainable contributor to the supply of food? This research was driven by the question: How can landscape design improve the overall sustainability of intensive farming in New Zealand, highlighting the contribution landscape architecture can make to agro-economics? Methodology This research project comprised three stages: research and analysis, design model development and then testing. Research and analysis of the quadruple bottom line issues, systems approaches, case studies and existing broiler farming methods was undertaken to develop criteria for a design model of intensive broiler farms. The development of the design model was undertaken using an existing site in Christchurch. The model was developed utilising landscape architectural design methodologies to create an intensive farm that achieves the goal of improving quadruple bottom line issues (environment, economics, animal welfare and social). This was then calculated, quantified and compared with the running costs of the sheds that already exist on the site. This determined that improvements could be made to the existing costs and ecology in and surrounding the site. The design model was then tested on another site in South Head, Auckland to demonstrate how it can successfully be adapted to different site conditions/parameters while still achieving the desired improved quadruple bottom line outcomes. NZ has a strong agricultural history that has shaped our nation structurally and socially helping form NZ into the nation that it is today (Cross, 1990). According to the Selwyn District Council about 90% of NZ insects, 80% of trees, ferns and flowering plants, 25% of bird species, all 60 reptile species, four remaining frogs and two species of bat, are found nowhere else on earth. This is remarkable internationally; Britain in contrast has only two endemic species, one plant and one animal. Although NZ is dependent on our agriculture sector, NZ has also become highly reliant on our tourism and filming industries for our pristine, unique, natural environment. If our farming methods continue to negatively impact our environment these economic sectors will be adversely affected. Farming needs to start “Working with intensification to identify environmental and social gains at the same time as capturing economic efficiencies as this is more likely to support biodiversity than simply attempting to stem or reverse intensification” (Moller et al, 2008). Results Investigation into the background of farming and animal welfare identified four intricately linked aspects for improvement, these were the environment, economics, animal welfare and social (the Quadruple Bottom Line issues). Case studies including: the Ford Factory, Dearborne, Michigan, USA; Nick’s Head Station, Poverty Bay, New Zealand; Zero Energy House, Pt Chev, Auckland, New Zealand; Kulundborg, Copenhagen, Denmark; Greening Waipara, Canterbury, New


RURAL landscape Zealand; Pig City, Netherlands and Ashof Hen Unit, Rothenfluf, Switzerland along with analysis of quadruple bottom line issues, allowed development of a research analysis table of the positive and negative issues linked to existing broiler shed farm sites (fig.1).

Fig. 1

This table provided an in-depth analysis of how quadruple bottom line issues impact on the main issues of intensive farming, those being health, handling, stock densities, air temperature, transportation, size, biodiversity, pollution, waste management, gas emissions and profit. The table allowed the analysis and comparison of these issues and established a comparative benchmark for testing the outcomes of the design model in shifting negatives to positive. The coloured boxes indicate whether the issue has a positive of negative impact on the quadruple bottom line issue. Further development of this table identified landscape design interventions that could inform the design model to mitigate most, if not all negative aspects of intensive farming. They included livings roofs, swales/rain gardens/wetlands, vegetation, amenity, structural layout, micro-climates and eco-services. These landscape design interventions were then used as a tool to explore ways to address these negative aspects of intensive farming through the model case studies (fig.2). 7.1 Design Intervention Table

Issues Health

Design Intervention Opportunities to address Quadruple Bottom Line Issues

Living roofs

Swales/rain gardens/wetlands



Structural layout

Micro-climates Eco-services


Stock densities

Air temperatures Transportation Size

Biodiversity Pollution

Waste management Gas emissions 7YVĂ&#x201E;[


As a result of the September 2010 earthquakes, broiler shed farms in Christchurch were damaged and are currently being redesigned and reconstructed. This provided a key opportunity to explore particular sites and a site in the Waimakariri District was selected as a case study to test a design model. GIS analysis of the site and surrounding areas was carried out and highlighted the current conditions. There was a lack of vegetation, vast areas of agricultural farming land and the site contained friable soil conditions. GIS mapping highlighted the ecological context surrounding the site and confirmed the design model could and should contribute to ecological connections to the region.


RURAL landscape


The main issue with existing standard broiler shed farm design is the disorganized and sporadic layout as seen in fig. 3. The sheds are also highly visible within the environment and they consume a majority of the site, making them the dominant feature. A majority of these sites not only produce chickens they also have livestock like sheep, cows, horses, pigs and goats in a small-holding style. As such, permaculture systems approach was seen as a beneficial option as it could build on the desire of landowners to become self-sufficient and the land holding as a whole to become more environmentally sustainable. Other influences in the design model included the catchment of natural energies like sunlight and warm winds to heat buildings in winter and deflection of hot summer sun and winds. Site analysis was carried out to determine the location of the sheds to maximize natural energy catchment whilst allowing the continued use of the site as a lifestyle block. It allowed the site to be divided into zones that addressed the quadruple bottom line issues of intensive farming by acknowledging the economic, social, environmental and cultural aspects of the site. Fig. 4 illustrates the completed design model that: • Utilizes rain gardens between the sheds to collect and filter water from the washout of the sheds. • Combines living roofs and solar panels to maximize catchment of the sun’s energy for power.The solar power system will be connected to the grid so the farm can export excess electricity to the national grid and be credited for the same rate they pay for power. Through calculations it was determined this farm would require 110 solar panels in order to create a zero energy farm. • Collects water from the living roofs to irrigate plants in the warmer months.



RURAL landscape â&#x20AC;˘ The friable soils allowed for permeable asphalt. It is located at the ends of sheds to provide access for heavy vehicles when removing or delivering wood chips and birds. The remainder of the drives are to be constructed with compacted lose metal. â&#x20AC;˘ Utilises skylights within living roofs to provide natural lighting for the chickens. â&#x20AC;˘ Employs deciduous planting to protect the broiler sheds, orchards, the house and livestock from the hot summer sun and winds whilst letting the warm winds and sun through in winter. â&#x20AC;˘ Places intensive horticulture, livestock and orchards within close proximity of both dwellings. â&#x20AC;˘ Provides easy access for larger vehicles throughout the site and an alternative entrance for the trucks to reduce interruptions for the residents. â&#x20AC;˘ Removes the nonrenewable LPG heating for renewable biomass heating facilities. It was essential to change the current heating systems to biomass heating as it utilizes woodchips, a renewable organic matter that also doubles as waste from another industry (timber). â&#x20AC;˘ Vegetation increases the amenity value of the site whilst improving the biodiversity within the site and region. â&#x20AC;˘ Changes the currently common green coloured walls to white mimicking the polar icecaps and the way they reflect sunlight back into space


& "  &      %##$" $ &"     %##

Visualisation shows the improved aesthetics possible for these intensive farms and the positive impacts it would therefore have on the quadruple bottom line issues â&#x20AC;&#x201C; in particular the social and environmental issues.

Fig. 5

A visualization (fig.5) showing the improved aesthetics possible for intensive farms. Shade analysis was undertaken to determine the height of the deciduous trees in order to protect the sheds on the northern boundary. This height was calculated at a maximum of 10m. The trees need to maintain this height, if they exceed this they will impact on the catchment of solar energy from solar panels. As New Zealandâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s native deciduous trees donâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;t suit these requirements and the site conditions, exotic deciduous species were selected based on the following guidelines. â&#x20AC;˘ Prevent monocultural farm landscapes by selecting deciduous plant species that are not commonly used in the Canterbury Plains farming regions. â&#x20AC;˘ If other intensive farms in this region were to utilize this same model, it is important that plant species are not repeated on mass as the aim of this design is to create heterogeneous landscapes that increase biodiversity. The objective of this design model was to improve ecological connections and biodiversity throughout farming regions. Because of this the following criteria was created to select plant species for the remainder of the site: â&#x20AC;˘ Toleration of site conditions (including rain gardens, swales, living roofs and wetlands).


RURAL landscape • Introduce invertebrates and insects onto the site. • Select plants from the ecological district of the site to improve landscape ecology. • Provide habitats. • Enhance aesthetics and amenity. By following these criteria the design model contributed almost half of the site (3 hectares) in native vegetation to the region. If this design model were to be applied to other intensive farms throughout the area surrounding the site it would contribute 31 hectares of native vegetation to a region that is currently predominantly un-vegetated farmland. This exposed one of the potentials of intensive farms. It condenses land area use allowing more land to be returned to nature, thus contributing to biodiversity improvements.


Running cost information was supplied from a current broiler shed farm in Christchurch. Currently on average throughout New Zealand it takes 22.23kwh or $6.57 per m2 per year to power; and 63.83kwh or $11.97 per m2 per year to heat using LPG. Figure 6 reveals the design model has the potential to save this farm considerable costs. Comparison of metabolisms (fig.7) on existing broiler-shed sites and the design model was undertaken. This highlighted the lineal metabolism, of existing farms when compared with the design model’s metabolism that reduces the inputs and outputs and metabolism footprint of the farm site. The design model achieved a major shift to inputs and outputs being retained within the site and shed zones, thus creating a system that works within the site rather than relying on significant external influences.


The design model established a set of guiding principles which were then developed for intensive broiler shed farms. • Change existing district plans and RMA objectives for farming by creating practical and achievable guidelines for the improvement of intensive farms.


RURAL landscape • Minimize the impact of existing intensive farming. • In-depth site analysis to capture natural energies. • Improve shed environment for the chickens by optimizing and improving the environment outside the sheds. • Increasing vegetation on these small footprint farms to improve ecological connections. • Decrease the demands intensive farming has on power and nonrenewable resources by utilizing eco-services and renewable energies. • Improve site interconnections and shift to maximize on site systems. • A design model that can be implemented within a realistic budget that continues to yield profits for property owners. • Maintain and enhance the typical land use of properties, a lifestyle block or smallholding. • Provide a rich soft-engineered landscape that is attractive to the public and local community whilst increasing land value for the property owners. • Achievable design interventions using current best practice and accessible technology. • Continue the supply of affordable meat to the world by minimizing the costs of running intensive farms through use of renewable resources and eco-services. To test the applicability of these principles the design of another site in South Head, Auckland was undertaken with significantly different environmental influences and site conditions. GIS mapping proved it was better ecologically connected, hydrology is dominant feature with a femoral stream and swampland surrounding the northern end of the site boundary, and the soils are less permeable than Waimakariri. The same design interventions were then applied to this broiler shed farm, however there were other landscape characteristics that needed to be addressed like topography and water. Analysis of this site defined the northern end of the site as being suitable for the location of the sheds as the gradient was less and the catchment of natural energies was higher. Another issue for this site was the proposed six sheds, although this scenario is more economical for the site it impacted highly on the other 3 quadruple bottom line issues, so it was more appropriate to limit the site to 4 sheds. As seen in fig 7 the design on the South Head broiler site achieves the same outcomes as the Waimakariri site with a few differences because of the site conditions. They included utilization of lower regions for wetlands and three collection ponds to cleanse water before entering the femoral stream and swampland; retiring steep slopes into native vegetation; location of concrete pads at the ends of sheds as permeable asphalt is not suited to this region; livestock areas located in the remaining leveled areas of the site; limiting the access to one route because of site constraints; changing existing contours to maximize catchment or renewable energies; selections of deciduous plants on the north and northwest boundaries that tolerate wet feet. The same calculations were applied to this site and determined that if this design model was applied to this site it could potentially save the owners $127,238.40 per year. Although the site constraints of this region were very different to the site in Waimakariri, it was discovered that the design model could be implemented within other locations in New Zealand. Each design model needs to be retrofitted to the region in which the site is located. Irrespective of location, the principles and their implementation still have the potential to improve the quadruple bottom line issues associated with intensive broiler shed farming.


RURAL landscape

Conclusion New Zealand has a high dependence on Agriculture for employment and exports and landscape architects have had minimal or no input into the design of intensive farms. In depth discussions with poultry industry members confirmed that they too realise the impacts their unsustainable meat production is having on the environment; and the importance of continued supply of affordable meat to the growing world population. There are complex issues surrounding intensive farms with animal welfare being one of the main issues. This highlights the importance of implementing landscape design interventions in a systematic manner to achieve a design model that improves quadruple bottom line issues. Improvements in the design model could achieve interconnections and profitability of the intensive farming sites at the same time successfully mitigating the on-site issues of intensive broiler shed farming, could also produce positive impacts on the surrounding communities and biodiversity. Intensive farming is a complex web of functions and services that contribute to the final meat product. Within the poultry meat industry there are breeder sheds, hatcheries, broiler sheds, processing plants and the food supply for all poultry. This design model is a model that deals with individual sites and has the potential to be implemented within other sectors of poultry farming or even other intensive farming sectors (i.e. pig farming). By implementing this model throughout all sites that are involved within the intensive farming process, landscape architects could contribute to the improved sustainability of these farms. This could lead to a better public perception of the contribution that intensive farming can make to sustainable agricultural approaches. Currently the government is initiating the National Science Challenge. This is a movement that seeks to utilise sciences to intensifying agriculture to earn more money off the land. Although sciences play an important role in agriculture, by employing aholistic landscape systems approach into intensive farming we could achieve even more beneficial improvements to the quadruple bottom line issues of intensive farming. Helen Clark recently attended the Rio + 20 conference and foresees a future for New Zealand in sustainable environmental management. It is our history and expertise in land based production that could lead the world into sustainable food production. She believes “you can’t deal with the environment if the people are poor and the world is inequitable...you have to deal with these things together” (McNicholas, 2012). The development of this design model values the farmers and industry’s perspective and ensures continuation of economically viable farms. It creates employment opportunities, improves quadruple bottom line issues whilst assuring the continued supply of affordable meat to the world. Intensive farming is not the only solution to the world food crisis, but it is here to stay for the foreseeable future. This model highlights that through incorporation of design methodology improvements to the sustainability of intensive farms in New Zealand can be achieved. New Zealanders alone consume over 70 million chickens every year, so improved approaches to the production


RURAL landscape of this meat resource is required. As landscape architects we can play a much larger role in working with design of agricultural landscapes to achieve positive contributions to sustainability and improved production outcomes. This is a design model for Food Landscapes: it encapsulates a smart, profitable design model for improved sustainability in intensive farming. References Cross, P., (1990). New Zealand Agriculture. A story of the past 150 years. New Zealand Rural Press Limited, Auckland, New Zealand. FAO, (2013). Sources of Meat. Retrieved January 20, 2013 from: http://www.fao.org /ag/againfo/themes/en/meat/backgr_sources.html McNicholas, M., (2012). New Zealand Farmers Weekly, Risk and potential for NZ on Clarkâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s radar, (p20) Moller, H., Macleod, C., Haggerty, J., Rosin, C., Blackwell, G., Perley, C.,Meadows, S., Weller, F. & Gradwhol, M. (2008). New Zealand Journal of Agricultural Research, Intensification of New Zealand Agriculture: implications for biodiversity, Vol. 51, No. 3, (p253-263) Selwyn District Council, (2012). Biodiversity - What is it?. Retrieved April 20, 2012 from: http://www.selwyn.govt.nz/services/ planning/biodiversity/biodiversity-what-is-it Statistics NZ, (2010). Agricultural Production Statistics: June 2010 (final). Retrieved April 20, 2011 from: http://www.stats. govt.nz/browse_for_stats/industry_sectors/agric ulture-horticulture-forestry/AgriculturalProduction_HOTPJun10final/Commentary.aspx Sheikh, F., (2012). The Effect of Technical and Non-Technical Barriers to Global Poultry Trade. Retrieved January 20, 2013 from: http://thepoultryguide.com/barriers-in-global-poultry-trade/

12. Rearticulating the vernacular patterns of a coastal landscape Manson C, McDonald C Victoria University of Wellington, NZ abstract This research proposes a response to the ingrained ideas of landscape architecture in coastal environments of privileging the unmodified environment and focusing on ecological concerns.This response is developed through the study of vernacular environments in coastal locations and seeks to incorporate these patterns within spatial design. A coastal definition is sought specifically in relation to the Kaikoura coastline which has qualities that set it apart from the rest of New Zealand. It could be suggested that there is a vernacular pattern to Kaikoura or the New Zealand coast in general; this research argues that the vernacular environment is more specific than this. It is proposed that within Kaikoura, the individual bays and settlements have conditions that distinguish them. The importance of context is affirmed through fieldwork study that unveils these specific vernacular qualities. Rearticulating the built traditions found in these coastal environments suggests ways in which innovation can strengthen and reassert this relationship, between vernacular landscape and designed landscape. Three coastal environments are the focus of the fieldwork. Despite sharing a common regional context, the influences of the coast affects these sites in specific ways and therefore they display unique landscape qualities. This research explores how these observed vernacular patterns may be tested in a design project. Design could be used to determine whether these environments are as unique as this proposal suggests. Testing through design will measure how effective these vernacular references may be, and aim to answer whether such design can produce landscape architecture that has a legible relationship with the vernacular environment. Background Coastal environments are highly valued in New Zealand. The coast was the first part of New Zealand to be charted, and the first part to be settled. Today it plays a large part in the New Zealand way of life, both in terms of livelihood and identity. The coastal environment itself is complex, it is the result of an accumulation of influences, both natural and cultural. Within the field of landscape architecture there is a tendency to prioritise the natural values of coastal environments. Ecology is a similarly key motivator in landscape architecture. This natural and ecological focus values unspoilt coastal


RURAL landscape environments: unmodified landscapes without cultural influence. However, New Zealand’s coastal environment is largely shaped by cultural factors, and as such there is a strong case for cultural influence to be regarded more highly in New Zealand’s coastal landscape architecture.The way people build and modify the landscape, especially where people live, can be viewed as a cultural landscape. Although reacting to a strong ecological focus in landscape architecture is the driver for this research, the use of ecology in landscape architecture is not being argued against. Landscape architecture outcomes should by all means be ecologically responsible and respond to the natural context. This research will however prioritise an exploration of vernacular patterns over the ecological requirements of the explored sites. Coastal definition Coastal refers to the environment in which the land meets the sea. How this interface occurs varies across environments, resulting in alternate descriptions of the coast. Although the physical interaction between the land and sea may occur where the tide meets the beach, the coastal environment is broader than this. The coastal environment includes the beach but also the area to the seaward and landward stretches of this. The extent of this landward context is variable, it is this understanding of the coast that will be the focus of this research. An empirical understanding will be required to relate such a definition of coastal to vernacular; this is resolved through the field work undertaken in Kaikōura. Definitions of the coast typically depend on the use for which they are given. ‘...the coast may be grasped and experienced both as an edge and a boundary, as a line and a zone, as a shore and a region, and as both continuous and different. These incompatibilities are conceptual, not experiential. Our perception changes with the kind of presence we have in the coastal environment, and what is logically incompatible becomes aesthetically accessible’ (Berleant, 2005). Berleant suggests immersion within the coast in order to understand it.The broad nature of this definition of the coast can be balanced by an immediate experience, engaging with the coast to make a personal definition.

Figure 1: The coastal environment as it understood by the Ministry of the Environment. Image recreated from Land and Sea Boundaries, Territories and Zones Around the Coastline of New Zealand (1988). Ministry of the Environment.

The diagram in Figure 1 illustrates the coast as a section, the zones have height and topographical references. These zones are also noted by changes in habitat and environment. Case Study Area Kaikóura was chosen in this study for its range of coastal climates within the broader region. For instance, the ability to demonstrate vernacular patterns operating in a north-facing bay as opposed to a south facing bay. Kaikóura is a small township on the northern section of the South Islands east coast. Located two hours north of Christchurch it is a self-supporting coastal township. The geography defines Kaikóura with northern stretches of the Southern Alps as a backdrop and a limestone peninsula jutting out into the Pacific Ocean. The Kaikóura coastal environment is highly valued in New Zealand, it has qualities that make it unique from the rest of the country’s coastline. It experiences some of the most intense coastal conditions in New Zealand and displays


RURAL landscape various levels of this exposure to the coast. In an effort to provide a wider palette of existing vernacular cues, several sites have been chosen across the region, each bringing their own unique qualities to the overall analysis of the coastal environment Kaikóura offers. The definition of the coast needs to be understood in relation to the specific environment of Kaikóura and to the research of the vernacular landscape. The first piece of field work creates a measure of how this coastal influence operates within the vernacular landscape. Vernacular definition Vernacular is a term that references the built traditions of a specific location.These are often architectural, in being built forms or the use of particular materials, but it is also related to the landscape, in observing a tradition of gardening and managing such spaces. Vernacular has been looked to in this research because of the relationship these environments have with their context. Having an understated nature, something that is vernacular is able to sit comfortably in an existing environment. Vernacular ‘...show(s) an instinctive command of particular materials … which the trained architect, by his very sophistication, is unable to equal.’ (Hitchcock, 1963). Hitchcock’s statement draws distinction of the undesigned vernacular and the designed spaces created by the architect. Vernacular is in essence the built products of local tradition. It is the outcome of social and cultural process and it responds innately to a locality in both the use of materials and building techniques. Vernacular is discussed in terms of tradition and its relationship to designed environments Vernacular tradition ‘Vernacular traditions are dynamic and generated through a continuous and dialectic interplay of stasis and change, precedent and creativity, stability and innovation.’ (Asquith & Vellinga, 2006). Vernacular traditions need to be considered as a process of time and not merely for their current physical and material presence. In many ways vernacular operates at the convergence of influences in a not so different way to ecology. Recognition of the way vernacular environments have evolved and are consistently changing is crucial to understanding and predicting in future ways in which they may grow. “Tradition is important when it contains moments of change, when it is not just outward form and when it implies an idea of what goes on inside a building, of conflicts and a potential for innovation. Otherwise tradition just means being stuck in a rut.” (Siza, Bouman, & van Toorn, 2011). Reiterating Asquith and Vellinga’s statement, Siza’s view gives a way forward, to suggest innovation through the interpretation of the traditional, vernacular spaces. Looking backwards is often the first step to moving forwards. This serves as a reminder that vernacular patterns need to be reimagined and made applicable for their use in landscape architecture. Vernacular environments are produced as a tradition of incremental changes to an environment that create a recognisable pattern. It is a patient adjustment to changing dynamics; there is not the fixation on long-term goals as there is in landscape architecture. This process of change responds to sometimes quite specific and small changes in the environment. It is the nature of these adaptations and the grooming and maintenance to upkeep them that distinguishes a vernacular landscape from a designed landscape. The traditions of a vernacular environment are linked to local techniques and cultural process. These traditions bring together ideas across time and as a process have been compared to ecology. Traditions also suggest innovation. Innovation is important when considering these processes in relation to design. The vernacular landscape and designed space The vernacular landscape is understood as being an undesigned environment. As a concept, vernacular relies on such a definition, but in reality is a designed landscape not contributing to shaping a vernacular environment just as much as an undesigned landscape? It also raises the issue of how can this distinction be observed in the environment. Some designed creations may appear to be more vernacular than those that are undesigned. The most useful definition for understanding such an environment is in the set of consistencies that can be found within such an environment. ‘The important point in attempting to create regionally recognizable cultural landscapes is not that vernacular design is created without architects, but rather that vernacular design is achieved through a system of shared rules ... by being culture and place specific’. (Heath, 2009) It is these consistencies across an environment that must be analysed within a vernacular study. Understanding the patterns in relation to specific environments will suggest as to why those changes have been made. The vernacular landscape encompasses a broad scope of environments, built elements, planting and infrastructure. To distinguish what


RURAL landscape is designed and what is not in the poses a difficult challenge. Focusing on consistencies that are found across the vernacular landscape to formalise patterns will allow for stronger conclusions to be made.

Figure 2: Selected regional responses of a mobile home in southwestern Montana based on photographic field data. Heath/Weiss 1991 (Heath, 2009).

The vernacular dwelling is thought of as an architectural blank Figure ).The regional vernacular is the dwellings response to its environment, understood through the elements that connect it to the landscape. These elements and patterns result in a regional adjustment. (Heath, 2009). In the context of landscape architecture, vernacular patterns do not need to refer to the houses themselves. What has been established as more relevant is how these houses and their surrounds, the landscape, are adapted to their particular environments. John Dixon Hunt and Joachim Wolschke-Bulmahn pose a fundamental question. Does ‘...the vernacular garden continue to be vernacular once its potential has been recognized and professionally exploited?’ (Dixon Hunt & Wolschke-Bulmahn, 1993). When vernacular patterns are taken from one context and applied to another then they are no longer vernacular. Even the reapplication of vernacular patterns in the same environment from which they originates can no longer be vernacular once a designer has influenced it. This identifies one of the most problematic understandings within which this research has been shaped. Vernacular by definition is not a designed creation. The outcomes of this research will not be vernacular and claims to having designed vernacular architecture or vernacular landscape are unfounded. This research seeks to understand a coastal specific vernacular and in turn rearticulate these patterns in the design of landscape architecture. Site analysis methodology Sites were visited three times, each visit over several days.The methodology of the research was shaped through these visits, gaining clarity after the initial investigations had been undertaken. This was due to the subtlety of the subject. Initially the vernacular patterns were hard to decipher, (consistent with its definitions as being a background, almost invisible, and difficult to define element). The findings of the field work began as observations and photography and developed into sketches and diagrams. These were organised to address multiple scales. A methodology has also been constructed to account for the coastal influence of vernacular patterns. This is the way in which the concept of coastal is defined in this research. Coastal influence To create a measure of coastal influence in Kaikóura, (what it means in terms of vernacular landscapes), a series of transects were photographed to physically explore this definition.These give an insight to the relationship of influences that shape a coastal environment. These influences were identified from changes in the photographs. These sections were photographed in elevation while walking and driving along roads. To sample this change the photographs were taken at consistent intervals. The outcome was a series of levels of coastal influence and these have been referred to throughout the consequential analysis.This gathered a specific understanding of where in Kaikóura the coast had influence over patterns of experience,


RURAL landscape of built form, of residential development and of the planted landscape. This method was also used to identify sites for the remainder of this research.

Figure 3: Section A Hawthorn Road. This section illustrates the changing level of influence the coast has in a coastal environment. It picks up on qualities of experience, built form, proximity and vegetation.

Taking the photographic transects and referencing these to aerial photography put this information into a plan-based form. The aerial images work as sections of the coast in this wider mapping of the region. In this mapping bands of influence were drawn, referencing both the sections where they were taken and further field work to establish the remainder.

Figure 4: Coastal influence mapping.This produced a wider analysis of the region based on the information gathered in the photographs.

The resulting mapping as shown in Figure 4 identified several sites where influences were meeting and demonstrated particular relationships, whether it was a dominant zone of experiential influence or if the road fell on the seaward or the landward side of the built environment. Typically these sites were areas that demonstrated a level of built and habitation influence. Conversely the entire coast had a margin of coastal vegetation. Investigated sites Initially five sites were selected. Each was chosen for having a unique set of coastal influences compared with others. They also each had potential for both public and private space development. Three sites were taken further in this research. Wakatu Quay as the north facing site on the Peninsula, South Bay as the opposing south facing site on the peninsula, and Peketa which offers a different scale of settlement further south along the coast, with flat topography compared to the other sites and a strongly rural aesthetic.


RURAL landscape

Figure 5: Wakatu Quay settlement. Analysis of the settlement in relation to the levels of coastal influence, the structure of the built form and the existing public space.

Field work In distinguishing what constitutes vernacular landscape, a different lens must be applied to the way landscapes are viewed. The subtle informal conditions that are usually ignored, (often by designers), were accounted for in this study. â&#x20AC;&#x2DC;What we must look for in the vernacular garden are precisely those qualities which the expensive professional pleasure garden rejects.â&#x20AC;&#x2122;These qualities are of personal involvement, maintenance, and the role of image and approval by the passersby. (Dixon Hunt & Wolschke-Bulmahn, 1993).

Figure 6:Wakatu Quay sketch analysis, displaying the spatial nature of the dwellings and the exterior property, particularly how the boundaries are formed.

Detail analysis This finest scale gives value to the existential qualities of vernacular, the patterns that provide the highest influence to someone inhabiting these spaces.These details take reference from both public and private space.The public spaces are rarely mown and meadow like, often reserves and the edges of beaches. They have soft edges and minimal furnishings. The private spaces are more commonly well maintained with strong edges and exotic planting. These are personal statements of their residents. The analysis of vernacular detail produced a palette of finishes. This included beach transects, plant species, material, edges, built elements and ornamentation.


RURAL landscape

Figure 7:Wakatu Quay detail palette

Towards design The three investigated sites displayed qualities that distinguish themselves from each other. The planting forms were similar in some cases but there are qualities that are unique to each site. Some of these findings will be readily applicable to a designed space, others will need to be rearticulated from their original form. Vernacular is understood as an undesigned creation, therefore a landscape architect cannot create it. As such the design can only refer to these vernacular conditions, it will not propose to design vernacular. This requires a distillation of the vernacular patterns to a form in which they can be rearticulated for a work of considered design. Such a distillation accounts for the vernacular patterns as they are found, maintaining the unique, site specific essence of what makes these vernacular within their environment, while allowing them to be used to enhance a landscape architecture design.

Figure 8: Wakatu Quay design. This design tests three aspects of the local vernacular. The existing typology of the current buildings, the interface between the built and landscape form on the timber deck, and the experience provided of a boat slipway.

Conclusion This research sets out to give value to the coastal vernacular environment in relation to landscape architecture. This vernacular environment is commonly seen as subsidiary or it may not be recognised at all, particularly in relation to a design process. This research sought to challenge this. Such a proposition also stems from the way that landscape architecture often privileges ecology and the unmodified coastal environment. The importance of the vernacular environment was established as it contributed to our understanding of the cultural landscape. The New Zealand coast often being an inhabited environment has strong vernacular traditions. What is needed is a way for this to be recognised through the landscape architecture design process. The Kaik贸ura coast was explored as a vernacular environment, patterns were observed in relation to these built traditions. As an environment responsive to its conditions, the changes in along the coast were reflected in the vernacular qualities. This suggested that between different settlements, even within the Kaik贸ura region, patterns could be concluded to be of different natures.This was proven through the field work, the three settlements of Wakatu Quay, South Bay and Peketa each produced different findings. The vernacular environment of Kaik贸ura as a complete region cannot be distinguished when each bay or group of dwellings responds to the coastal environment individually.


RURAL landscape In a coastal environment that requires sensitivity, if the design can be articulated in a way that aligns itself to such built traditions of the coast, it proves that a delicate response does not need to be limited to the assumed ideal of being unmodified. A responsive and suitable response can emerge through a designed connection to the processes of vernacular. REFERENCES Asquith, L., & Vellinga, M. (2006). Vernacular architecture in the 21st century: theory, education and practice. (pp. 19). New York: Taylor and Francis. Berleant, A. (2005). An aesthetics of the coastal environment. In A. Berleant, Aesthetics and environment: Variations on a theme (pp. 49-55). Aldershot, England: Ashgate Publishing Ltd. Dixon Hunt, J., & Wolschke-Bulmahn, J. (1993). The Vernacular Garden: Dumbarton Oaks Colloquium on the History of Landscape Architecture. (pp. 9-16). Washington, D.C.: Dumbarton Oaks. Heath, K. W. (2009). Vernacular Architecture and Regional Design. (pp. 24-40). Oxford: Architectural Press. Hitchcock, H. R. (1963). Introduction. In T. Coppleston, World Architecture - An illustrated history (pp. 11-13). London: Hamlyn. Siza, A., Bouman, O., & van Toorn, R. (n.d.). (2011). A conversation with Alvaro Siza Vieira. Desperately Seeking Siza. Retrieved 2011 1-September from Architect Alvaro Siza Vieira: http://alvarosizavieira.com/articles/A-conversation-with-Alvaro-SizaVieira.html Te Korowai o Te Tai o Marokura. (2007). Kaikóura Coastal Marine Values and Uses: A Characterisation Report. (pp. 86) Kaikóura.

13. Landscape boundaries: an examination of the practice of landscape assessment in twenty-first century Aotearoa/New Zealand Read M Lakes Environmental Limited ABSTRACT Landscape assessment has become a key tool in the management of rural landscapes in Aotearoa/New Zealand. Since 1991 the management of these landscapes has been undertaken under the auspices of Resource Management Act, the key planning legislation in this country. The purpose of the Act is to achieve the sustainable management of our natural and physical resources. Landscape management features highly in the priorities of this Act which requires ‘the protection of outstanding natural features and landscapes from inappropriate subdivision, use and development’ (S6(b)RMA91). As a consequence landscape architecture has several key roles to play within this statutory framework. One of these roles is that of the landscape assessor and subsequent expert witness within the Environment Court, the court established to adjudicate cases brought under the RMA91. This paper seeks to examine this role and the dynamics of the relationship between the profession and the Environment Court. Specifically it seeks to examine the influence which the Court has had on landscape architectural practice in general, and on landscape assessment practice in particular. It identifies that as a profession we do not share quite as many concepts and assumptions as we may first believe, and that we fail to access and effectively utilise all the resources which are available to us. A consequence of this is that we rely heavily on the Court to direct our practice, rather than on our own professional and academic resources. Introduction: The Resource Management Act 1991, the Environment Court and Landscape Planning The move to the planning and management of landscape change on private lands through the direct application of legislation and regulation has become a trend, internationally, over the past fifty or so years. Zube, Sell and Taylor (1982) trace its advent to legislative changes in the 1960’s and 70’s to manage scenic beauty in Britain, and to manage wild and scenic rivers, scenic and recreational trails, scenic highways and development in the United States of America. In New Zealand a similar impetus for the development of landscape planning occurred with the development of the scenery preservation movement in the 1960s, largely arising from the ‘Save Manapouri’ campaign. This was an early, and successful, environmental campaign to prevent the raising of the level of Lake Manapouri for hydroelectricity generation. Swaffield (1993) directly links this campaign with the impetus to formalise landscape architecture as a profession in New Zealand. This occurred with the establishment of the New Zealand Institute of Landscape Architects (NZILA) in 1972. The Resource Management Act of 1991 (RMA91) legislated specifically for the management of landscape and determined it to be a matter of national importance within New Zealand’s statutory planning frameworks. This


RURAL landscape provided a further boost to the development and influence of the landscape architecture profession in this country. The RMA91 has been widely described as a radical document (Freeman, 2004; Furuseth, 1995; Gleeson & Grundy, 1997; Miller, 2011). There are a number of clear reasons for this. Over fifty pieces of environmental legislation were repealed by its passing. Additionally, it replaced a planning regime based on land-use planning with one based on the notion of ‘sustainable management’ derived from the concept of sustainable development that arose from the IUCN’s Conservation Strategy of 1970 and the WCED’s Brundtland Report of 1987 (Gleeson & Grundy, 1997). It also entailed a somewhat unholy alliance between neo-liberalism and environmentalism, at once freeing up development opportunities and imposing means to provide environmental protection. This sea-change in the national approach to environmental management was undertaken in concert with a radical restructuring of local government establishing 12 regional authorities and 72 district and urban councils (Miller, 2011). The responsibility for the management of landscapes falls, under this Act, on the district and urban councils. The planning framework established by the RMA91 requires the district and urban councils to develop plans by which they are expected to manage the natural and physical resources within their area in a sustainable manner. Landscape architects have been involved in this process through the provision of landscape assessments at varying scales which have then been used to form the basis of parts of these plans. Once established, these plans determine either environmental standards or activity types and categorise them as permitted, controlled, limited discretionary, discretionary, non-complying or prohibited activities. Any activity which is not permitted must gain resource consent from the local authority (excluding prohibited activities which cannot be consented). Landscape architects may be involved in the development of the proposal for resource consent, and also in the assessment of its effects on behalf of the local authority or other interested parties. Public consultation is required as a part of plan development, and the public may make submissions on proposed plans and plan changes. If final decisions at the council level do not satisfy any of these submitters then they may appeal the decision to the Environment Court, an expert tribunal established under the RMA91 specifically to adjudicate environmental cases. Further, resource consent applications, other than for controlled activities, may be declined if the effects of the proposal on the environment are considered by the consenting authority to be more than minor. Should this occur, the applicant retains a right of appeal to the Environment Court. Landscape Architects may be involved in either type of appeal to the Environment Court providing expert evidence in regard to the subject of the appeal. The Environment Court is constituted by a judge, providing legal expertise, and commissioners selected from a wide range of environmental professions, including landscape architecture. It is the final arbiter of fact in matters of environmental law, and appeals against its decisions can only be made in regard to matters of law (Whiting, 2013). Appeal hearings generally entail the presentation of the case for the appeal led by a lawyer and explicated in the evidence of numbers of witnesses followed by the presentation of the opposing case, usually in a similar manner. The hearing may also involve the presentation of adjunct arguments from other interested parties which commonly involve both lay and expert witnesses. Evidence in the sense that it is used in the Court system is ‘…the means by which a decision-maker is provided with material on which findings of fact necessary to the decision can be made’ (Skelton, 2000, p. 19). There are two classes of evidence, that about factual matters and that which is opinion based upon factual matters. Generally lay witnesses are restricted to the provision of purely factual evidence. Expert witnesses may provide both factual and opinion evidence. An ‘expert’ in this regard is defined by Section 4 of the Evidence Act 2006 as ‘a person who has specialised knowledge or skill based on training, study or experience’. When landscape architects appear in relevant appeals to the Environment Court as expert witnesses they qualify themselves as expert by presenting their qualifications, experience, and membership of a professional association, usually the NZILA. Landscape architects have been providing such expert evidence in the Environment Court since its inception. Concerns have been expressed, periodically, from both within the profession and from external sources, however, regarding the quality of the landscape assessments undertaken within this role, and the quality of the subsequent evidence. These resulted in the calling of professional conference in 1999 focusing on landscape assessment practice and, again, in 2008, in a series of workshops being held for senior practitioners to discuss the ‘problem of landscape assessment’. These latter workshops were in particular response to concern within the profession that landscape planning decisions did not necessarily reflect best practice (F Boffa, Pers Comm) and, from the Environment Court that consistency in approach between landscape practitioners was lacking. The possession of a generalised and systematic body of knowledge is one of the generally accepted defining features of a profession. Professions are also expected to demonstrate a sense of social responsibility and a high level of selfregulation particularly in regard to training, licensing and quality of work (Dzur, 2008; Freidson, 2001). This implies that the arbiter of best practice within a profession is that profession and thus any change in practice should be expected to come from the within, even when in response to external forces. As disquiet had been expressed by both the profession and the Court, each concerning the other’s performance, an examination of the boundary between the


RURAL landscape court and the profession could shed some light on nature of this ‘problem of landscape assessment’. While the examination of both sides would be valuable, the research on which this paper is based focuses on the landscape architecture side of the boundary. This research was undertaken in 2010 and 2011 aiming to answer the specific research question, ‘What influences have Environment Court decisions had on the practice of landscape assessment?’ The research entailed semi-structured interviews with eleven key landscape architecture practitioners, selected by a process of criterion sampling (Bradshaw & Stratford, 2010), and the analysis of twelve briefs of evidence provided by eight respondents in regard to cases in the Environment Court. In all instances the landscape aspects of these cases focused on the determination and delineation of outstanding natural landscapes, the protection of which from inappropriate subdivision, use and development is a requirement of Section 6(b) of the RMA91. All respondents are referred to in the text by pseudonyms. The information gained from both sources of data was analysed using qualitative methods. Some of the results of this research are presented here. Research results Of the respondents in the study six graduated in landscape architecture in the 1970s, two in the 1980s, one in the 1990s and two in the first decade of this century. All but three were graduates of Lincoln University, the others being from European universities. It is clear from the Lincoln graduates that training in landscape assessment has increased in scope and focus over the years. The early Lincoln graduates remembered a strong focus on the work of McHarg as forming a basis for limited landscape assessment training. By the 1980s training in landscape assessment at Lincoln was based upon studies of landscape perception, and this continues. Of the European graduates, one received no training in landscape assessment, but the other two received extensive training. Despite training, however, practical experience was reported by most as the means by which their methods of landscape assessment had developed. A key tool in assessing the quality of landscapes specifically referred to by eight of the eleven respondents is what is known as the ‘Pigeon Bay Factors’. These factors, often referred to as criteria, were originally posited (in 1993) by landscape architects as aspects of landscape which should be considered in identifying outstanding natural landscapes as required by Section 6(b) of the RMA911 . These factors first were adopted by the Environment Court as a tool for identifying these landscapes in the Pigeon Bay aquaculture case (C32/99)2, which is where the name comes from. The original factors were modified at this point to exclude soils (as this case related to aquaculture) and soils have never been reincorporated. The Environment Court again applied and adapted these criteria in the decision relating to the landscapes of the Queenstown Lakes District (C180/99). In this case ecology was specifically added as an aspect of the biophysical to be considered, an aspect which had been specifically excluded from the original factors as it is dealt with under Section 6(c) of the RMA91. These have become known as the ‘modified Pigeon Bay criteria’. Since this decision these factors have been included within the Queenstown Lakes District Plan and, most recently, incorporated into the New Zealand Coastal Policy Statement (2010). On the one hand this could be seen as indicating a high level of influence by the profession on the planning framework. On the other, however, it also can be seen as indicating that these factors have been taken from the control of the profession. 1

These factors are too long to be included here but the full text can be found in the Canterbury Regional Landscape Study (1993), Boffa Miskell Assocs Ltd & Lucas Associates, P28. 2

Most of the (few) cases referred to in this paper are not ones published in the law journals. Consequently I have used the reference system used by the Courts themselves. In Environment Court cases the first letter refers to the division of the Court, either Christchurch, Wellington or Auckland, with a C, W, or A. The first number is simply the number of the decision, issued sequentially by that division of the Court. The second number is the year in which the case was heard, which may not be the same as the year in which the decision was issued.

Respondent’s opinions about the worth of these factors was widely various. Bailey considered them to be ‘quite helpful’ because they cover ‘a lot of aspects of landscape’ and because it means that the landscape architects involved in a case will be using the same criteria. Taylor considered that while they were ‘pretty good at covering the things we should be thinking about’ she was cautious in her use of them as ‘they were derived by a judge…we shouldn’t have a judge telling us what should be in there…’ Cameron voiced the strongest criticisms of the Pigeon Bay factors considering that they were simply a list of aspects of landscape which was not exhaustive, many of which lacked a robust theoretical basis, and which lacked any thresholds necessary to be considered criteria. Rowan described himself as ‘forced into using’ the Pigeon Bay factors and Quinn complained that if he did not use the Pigeon Bay factors ‘I just get into trouble with the judge for being incomplete’. Jessie and Bailey both described being required to apply them in their assessments by client’s lawyers. These comments indicate that the second interpretation of the institutionalisation of these factors, that the profession has lost control of this process, is the more accurate. More explicit influence by the Environment Court on landscape assessment practice was also articulated by respondents. This had both positive and negative aspects, in their views. It was considered positive that the scrutiny applied to landscape assessments by the Court, and by people in related roles such as lawyers, had resulted in more thorough and methodologically sound approaches. This has resulted, in Jamie’s opinion, in more consistency between landscape


RURAL landscape architects and Pat commented that ‘no longer can you just do this overview’. From a more negative perspective, the adversarial approach of the court system was considered to be problematic by some. While landscape architects in New Zealand have been criticised for a lack of consistency within the profession, it is the nature of the adversarial system to focus on differences. Bailey commented that ‘Because the lawyer’s focused, they almost try to push you onto the extreme of your opinion’ which she did not consider to be a good thing. Pat raised instances, one resisted, one to which he acquiesced, where he had been told to change the concepts he was applying in his assessment by the client’s lawyer. Nine of the eleven respondents discussed the influence of Environment Court decisions on their practice. In its most basic form this influence was seen as strong, a simple matter of responding to praise and criticism and Lesley said in this regard: That’s what happens in the decisions. The Court prefers your evidence or dismisses it. Of course each case is different but you will see more global approaches to things and you will behave accordingly. Swaffield and Foster (2000) went further stating that acceptance by the Environment Court was one of two arbiters of best practice available to landscape practitioners. This creates a paradox, however. The Environment Court accepts witnesses as expert on the basis of the assumption that their training, experience and membership of a professional body means that they have access to specialised knowledge. If the profession then considers the Environment Court’s acceptance of their evidence as an indication of the veracity of that specialised knowledge then it has surrendered its responsibility as the arbiter of its own practice. The other arbiter of best practice identified by Swaffield and Foster, becoming more widely used, is peer review, and this is an appropriate means of both ensuring quality and retaining control of the profession’s knowledge and practices. No respondents mentioned its use, however. On a more complex level, the influence of the Environment Court was experienced through ‘case law’, previous decisions of the Court. This was considered to render landscape assessment a ‘tick box’ exercise (Bailey), useful for gaining consistency (Lee), and for telling you what to do (Jamie). The examination of the briefs of evidence found that previous Environment Court Decisions were the most common external reference used occurring 24 times in twelve briefs of evidence and forming 37% of all references included. It was noted by Drew, however, that ‘the Court doesn’t like people to place too much reliance on case law’ and Cameron went further, pointing out that court decisions are not, in fact, case law at all. The term ‘case’ law is used widely in the interview data and it is to be found within the NZILA’s landscape assessment guide. Essentially what is usually meant in these references to ‘case law’ is that there are decisions or aspects of decisions of the Court which must be followed and applied in future situations. This is a misunderstanding of both the term and the relationship between the landscape architecture profession and the legal system. ‘Case law’ has a narrow and particular meaning and is a part of the system of jurisprudence based on judicial precedents. It is made up of a body of reported cases and the interpretations of the law in those cases become binding on lower courts. It is certainly a fundamental part of the New Zealand legal system ensuring consistency of approach between levels and divisions of the wider court system. The key point, however, is that it focuses on the correct interpretation and application of the law. The role of the landscape architect is to assist the Court in the determination of the facts. There are certainly examples of case law that have relevance to the process of landscape assessment, the Hawthorn decision, for example (CIV 2004-485-001445)3 . This decision became case law because it was a determination of the High Court as to the correct interpretation of the law as it should be applied by the Environment Court, and other decision makers, below. The majority of decisions relating to landscape issues are not ‘case law’ in this sense, and placing a reliance on past decisions to justify professional opinions is a further indicator of a loss of self-regulation within the profession. The profession itself was a further source of direction for practitioners, but perhaps not as strong or definitive as might be expected. Jamie noted that conferences and workshops had been an important source of learning for him regarding landscape assessment, and Quinn also considered continuing professional development as having been important to him. Drew saw the development of landscape assessment practice as being more of an ‘evolutionary process’ within the profession. The, then intended, development of best practice guidelines for the practice of landscape assessment by the NZILA was considered positive. 3

The Hawthorn case relates to an application to subdivide an area of land within the Wakatipu Basin for residential development. The case was argued on the basis of the effects which the proposed development would have on the landscape of the vicinity. One of the key issues determined by the High Court which impacts on landscape assessment was to do with the need to include the effects of consented but not yet realised development in the consideration of the proposed development. This has clear implications for landscape assessment practice.

Many respondents complained about the lack of agreement on basic principles between members of the profession and about landscape architects being ‘in a very conflict ridden profession’ (Rowan). Jamie considered that it would be desirable for agreement to be reached within the profession regarding terminology and definitions. He also considered that it would be desirable to agree to an assessment method. He said:


RURAL landscape You make [landscape assessments] robust and reliable through consistency. If each practitioner is using methodologies and definitions that are consistent then we’re going to get robust assessments. We get wild readings, wild findings when people are using inconsistent methods between landscape architects. The more the profession can work towards that the better I think. This sentiment was echoed repeatedly throughout the interview data (Rowan, Jamie, Quinn, Bailey, Jessie). Jessie went so far as to say: I’ve heard of some lawyers whose perception is that you get two or three landscape architects coming in on a case on different sides of the case. Their approaches to assessment and their decision are just so wildly different that the Court just says, ‘Oh we’ll ignore those and make our own decision’. It would seem then, that there is a shared concern among a number of practitioners, and a desire to see an improvement in the quality and consistency of work within the profession. Lee, on the other hand, felt there was much more agreement than was given credit for. The interview data indicates that levels of agreement between these key practitioners regarding process, or at least regarding the veracity of their processes, was actually limited. While a certain level of consistency might be achieved through the common application of the Pigeon Bay Criteria to the determination of outstanding natural landscapes this was effectively enforced by the Court rather than the product of agreement from within the profession. The analysis of the briefs of evidence raised several interesting features. All bar one of the statements of evidence presented assessments that were either exclusively or predominantly expert in approach in the terms of the typology of landscape assessment methodologies developed by Uzzel (1991) and more recently modified by Swaffield and Foster (2000). That is, they were based on the expert’s evaluation of the visual and physical attributes of the site and proposal based largely on aesthetic, but also ecological and other biophysical, principles. One, based on a comprehensive district wide assessment, entailed the characterisation of the landscapes by expert analysis but the evaluations of landscape significance were based upon ‘expert specialist assessment (albeit informed by wider stakeholder involvement) and public preference testing to illuminate the values (Riley). Rowan took a different approach using the conclusions of Fairweather and Swaffield’s (2007, 2008; 1999; 2001; 2000; 2003) empirical research on landscape preferences within New Zealand to create a framework upon which to undertake his own expert analysis focusing on popular, rather than formal, aesthetics. As there is a discernible thread in contemporary landscape research which is critical of the use of the expert approach to landscape assessment the overwhelming dependence on it is of concern. Read (2005), Stephenson (2008, 2010) and Collier and Scott (2009), for example, all identify the application of the expert approach as privileging the assessment of landscape as a visual resource over landscape as lived experience. Vouligny et al (2009) confirmed this, comparing an expert assessment of a landscape with an experiential assessment of the same landscape by its residents. They found that the criteria used by the expert were more like those of a tourist passing through than the criteria of the residents which were more related to the landscape as place. Wolsink (2010) compared public and expert assessments of a wind farm proposal and found that the lack of consideration of public preferences and reliance on the expert assessment in the development of the proposal resulted in its abandonment under public pressure. Swaffield and Foster noted that ‘The most defensible approach, where possible, is to combine two or more approaches.’ (2000, p. 43) but, with the exception noted, this recommendation does not seem to have been adopted. All briefs of evidence referred to external references to support their analyses. The reference to previous Environment Court decisions was the most common and has been discussed above. The next most common external reference was to published and unpublished reports and these were used, in the main, to provide empirical material but also to provide support for assessment processes in one case, and for the interpretation of concepts in two other instances. Previous landscape assessments were the next most common external reference. Six landscape assessment reports were referred to a total of nine times by eight respondents, but only two of these references were made by practitioners apparently uninvolved in their original production. Five references were made to academic papers by three respondents, although one of these was to a body of work, rather than a single paper (the Fairweather & Swaffield research reports referred to above). Given the rich and reasonably extensive academic literature on landscape assessment it is of concern that so little use is made of this work to form and guide professional practice. Conference papers, published guidelines, books and other references (the ICOMOS charter, the Quality Planning website and an undergraduate paper) were the next most common external references, followed by literature. It can be seen, then, that there is a tension between the Environment Court and the Landscape Architecture profession in terms of process but that while there is resistance evident amongst practitioners to having the Court tell them what to do, there is a simultaneous deferral to its perceived authority. An examination of some of the key concepts at play suggests that an underlying lack of consensus and clarity within the profession may underlie this paradox. The term ‘landscape’ is one which is both open to varied interpretations and is so widely and commonly used as to be


RURAL landscape commonly adopted into metaphor - the ‘political landscape’, the ‘emotional landscape’ and so on. Within the field of landscape architecture and landscape studies Swaffield and Foster have noted: The understanding of ‘landscape’ ranges from scenery, or the visual appearance of land, to a comprehensive description of the biophysical environment (for example, soil-landscape systems, or ‘cultural’ landscapes), and on to the human experience of particular environments; integrated land-human systems; and the conceptualisation of environments as culturally meaningful ideals. (2000, p. 8) How ‘landscape’ is defined is important because it determines what we can actually know about it and thus how we can investigate and assess it. If it has biophysical and cultural features then knowledge of ecology and geomorphology, agriculture and forestry may all be relevant to understanding landscape. If landscape is about the appreciation of scenery then a knowledge of aesthetics may be needed. If it is about the interrelationship between human perception and the land then we need to study people. If it is a combination of these things then we require a means to balance the contributing factors. The predominant conception of ‘landscape’ amongst the respondents was of a biophysical reality which is then perceived by people. The relative importance of these aspects of landscape varied from Bailey 4 who felt that the biophysical was more important to Cameron who considered the biophysical to be entirely the preserve of the natural scientists, and Jamie who considered that, ‘All landscapes are imaginary…just things that exist in your mind. If there were no humans there’d be no landscapes. There’d be land’ an entirely sociological conception. Given such a variety of positions it is then surprising that there was not greater variation in the approaches to assessing landscape apparent in the evidence. Most respondents considered that ‘landscape’ has particular spatial qualities, Quinn and Lesley considered it to be a cohesive area with a definable set of characteristics. Most also thought a landscape had to be an area of some size but this was contested by Jessie who considered the landscape to be continuous, and by Lee, at the opposite end of the spectrum, who considered that landscapes could be described, ‘…at almost any level that you like as long as you’re clear what it is [you are talking about]’. 4

All respondents are referred to by pseudonym.

These variations in the conception of ‘landscape’, and in the determination of the scale and boundaries of landscapes (and landscape features), clearly cause tensions, both within the profession and in relation to the management of landscapes under the RMA91. Section 6(b) of the Act requires the delineation of outstanding natural landscapes and features. This imposes the idea that landscapes are of a definable size and with determinable boundaries. This is another example of a tension point in the profession’s boundary with the Court. Section 6(b) of the RMA91 also requires the determination of ‘outstandingness’ in regard to landscapes and features. It would seem likely in the light of the research discussed above, that depending on the assessing landscape architect’s leaning towards the relative importance of the biophysical or sociological differing conclusions are likely of the status of the same landscape. While differences occurred, they were not this predictable. The majority of the respondents (eight of the eleven) considered that ‘outstanding’ meant preeminent, extraordinary, or top quality, with several referring to a decision of the Environment Court where it stated in a decision that: …ascertaining an area of outstanding natural landscape should not (normally) require experts. Usually an outstanding natural landscape should be so obvious (in general terms) that there is no need for expert analysis. (C180/99, Para 99, Pp 56-57) This tends to lean towards a sociological conception of ‘landscape’ but only two respondents actually felt that public preferences should be taken into account in the determination of ‘outstandingness’ (although more thought the involvement of public opinion was important for landscape assessment generally). Only one of the assessments on which the briefs of evidence were based incorporated stake holder consultation and public surveys. Cameron, who saw the perceptual aspects of landscape as the preserve of the landscape architect, was opposed to the idea of basing determinations of ‘outstandingness’ on public preferences as he considered that it was necessary to not only know what is preferred but also what is preferable. Quinn, in a similar vein, considered the very concept unhelpful as the focus on ‘outstandingness’ failed to deal with the issue of degraded landscapes. Pat similarly found the concept unhelpful. Section 6(b) refers to outstanding natural landscapes only. ‘Naturalness’ was seen by all respondents as being something which extends along a continuum from pristine to urban. This was expressed simply, as the amount of modification the landscape had undergone, or more complexly, as the extent to which natural patterns and processes predominated, strongly, but not exclusively, referring to indigeneity. Four of the respondents considered that there were two aspects to ‘naturalness’, objective naturalness and perceived naturalness. The former is (predominantly) the sphere of the physical and biological sciences. The latter is the common, public, view of nature. The respondents leant heavily towards the requirement that landscapes should be natural in the objective sense, that is, closer to the pristine end of the continuum, in order that they also are considered as outstanding.


RURAL landscape The leaning towards a requirement, among practitioners, that a landscape must be objectively natural in order to be outstanding in the terms of S6(b)RMA91 is interesting. The vast majority of New Zealand’s most pristine natural landscapes are protected by our system of National Parks. It seems, then, unlikely that the intention of the drafters of the legislation was that more of the same needed protection under the RMA91. The Environment Court has, in fact, leant more strongly to the perceptual view of naturalness. For example, in the Harrison case, referred to by a number of respondents, the Court stated: The word ‘natural’ does not necessarily equate with the word ‘pristine’ except in so far as landscape in a pristine state is probably rarer and of more value than landscape in a natural state. The word ‘natural’ is a word indicating a product of nature and can include such things as pasture, exotic tree species (pine), wildlife…and many other things of that ilk as opposed to manmade structures, roads, machinery. (W43/93, P5) More recently the Court has again discussed ‘naturalness’ (in A78/2008) raising the research undertaken by Swaffield and Fairweather mentioned previously. This research shows that in the public view there are two kinds of nature, ‘cultured nature’, which is similar to the view put forward in the Harrison case, and ‘wild nature’ which is more akin to the idea of pristine nature. Either, in the Court’s assessment, was sufficient qualification for protection under the Act as an outstanding landscape. It is interesting to speculate if the focus on objective naturalness by a profession which is often accused of subjectivity is, unconsciously, seen as a way of legitimising its opinions. Discussion and Conclusion It is clear from the forgoing discussion that the Environment Court has had a strong influence on the practice of landscape assessment in Aotearoa/New Zealand. This is perhaps unsurprising. It is the case that the boundary which has been examined here is that between an old, established and esteemed profession (the judiciary and legal professions) and the relatively new (particularly in New Zealand) profession of landscape architecture. The power dynamic in this relationship has been clearly tilted towards the judiciary. This disequilibrium has impacted on the development of the profession, and of the practices and concepts it uses. The gaining of maturity by landscape architecture as a profession and the exertion of its control over its own concepts and processes is likely to answer the criticisms to the Environment Court. A strong profession with clear concepts and robust practices is most likely to provide useful evidence to the Court. The profession, then, needs to step up and reassert control. A key concern arising from this material is the common lack of an explicit connection between the practitioners’ conceptions of landscape and the methods used to assess it. A related concern is the strong reliance on the expert approach to assessment. While a user independent expert assessment may be appropriate if the landscape is seen as a purely biophysical or aesthetic phenomenon, if a sociological conception of landscape, or one of its qualities, is used then other sorts of approaches become necessary. As noted above, combined methods are more reliable and robust. An increased focus on providing reliable and appropriate external references to support assessments would also be positive, demonstrating that the assessor is not simply expressing a personal opinion and is in touch with academic and professional opinions. At a more prosaic level, the publication of the Best Practice Guide by the NZILA is a positive move. It is also interesting to note, however, that concepts which have been included in the RMA91 are not necessarily those of the landscape architecture profession. For example, neither ‘outstanding’ nor ‘natural’ occurs in the index of either the Guidelines for Landscape and Visual Impact Assessment (Landscape Institute & Institute of Environmental Management and Assessment, 2002) or in Landscape Character Assessment: Guidance for England and Scotland (Swanwick, 2002) two contemporary professional guides. The European Landscape Convention stresses that the Convention applies to all landscapes: urban, rural, outstanding and ordinary, and defines landscape planning as the ‘strong forward-looking action to enhance, restore or create landscapes’, a much broader approach than that enshrined in the RMA91, and one which resonates strongly with the design aspects of the profession. It may be that in order to establish robust and appropriate methods of landscape assessment within New Zealand requires a review of our approach to landscape management and planning at a legislative level. This may require the profession to also become advocates for legislative change. References Bradshaw, M., & Stratford, E. (2010). Qualitative Research Design and Rigour. In I. Hay (Ed.), Qualitative Research Methods in Human Geography. Toronto: Oxford University Press. Collier, M. J., & Scott, M. (2009). Conflicting rationalities, knowledge and values in scarred landscapes. Journal of Rural Studies, 25, 267 - 277. Dzur, A. W. (2008). Democratic Professionalism: Citizen Participation and the Reconstruction of Professional Ethics, Identity, and Practice. University Park: Pennsylvania State University Press. Fairweather, J. R. (2007). Visitors’ and locals’ experiences of Westland, New Zealand:


RURAL landscape Lincoln University. Tourism Recreation Research and Education Centre. Fairweather, J. R. (2008). Public perceptions of outstanding natural landscapes in the Auckland region: Lincoln University. Agribusiness and Economics Research Unit. Fairweather, J. R., & Swaffield, S. R. (1999). Public Perceptions of Natural and Modified Landscapes of the Coromandel Peninsula, New Zealand. Agribusiness and Economics Research Unit, Lincoln University. Fairweather, J. R., & Swaffield, S. R. (2001). Visitor experiences of Kaikoura, New Zealand: an interpretive study using photographs of landscapes and Q method. Tourism Management, 22, 219 - 228. Fairweather, J. R., Swaffield, S. R., & Simmons, D. G. (2000). Understanding Visitors’ and Locals’ Experiences of Rotorua Using Photographs of Landscapes and Q Method. Lincoln University. Freeman, C. (2004). Sustainable Development From Rhetoric to Practice? A New Zealand Perspective. International Planning Studies, 9(4), 307 - 326. Freidson, E. (2001). Professionalism: The Third Logic. Chicago: University of Chicago Press. Furuseth, O. (1995). Regional Perspectives on Resource Policy: Implementing Sustainable Management in New Zealand. Journal of Environmental Planning and Management, 38(2), 181 - 200. Gleeson, B. J., & Grundy, K. J. (1997). New Zealand’s Planning Revolution Five Years On: A Preliminary Assessment. Journal of Environmental Planning and Management, 40(3), 293 - 313. Landscape Institute & Institute of Environmental Management and Assessment. (2002). Guidelines for Landscape and Visual Impact Assessment. London: Spon Press. Miller, C. L. (2011). Implementing Sustainability: The New Zealand Experience. London: Routledge. Read, M. (2005). Planning and the Picturesque: a case study of the Dunedin District Plan and its application to the management of the landscape of the Otago Peninsula. Landscape Research, 30(3), 337 - 359. Skelton, P. (2000). Being and Expert Witness under the Resource Management Act: Lincoln University. Stephenson, J. (2008). The Cultural Values Model: An Integrated Approach to Values in Landscapes. Landscape and Urban Planning, 84, 127 - 139. Stephenson, J. (2010). The Dimensional Landscape Model: Exploring Differences in Expressing and Locating Landscape Qualities. Landscape Research, 35(3), 299 - 318. Swaffield, S. R. (1993). Naming the Rose: observations on ‘Landscape’ usage and professional identity. Landscape Review, 18(2), 58-64. Swaffield, S. R., & Fairweather, J. R. (2003). Contemporary Public Attitudes to Landscape. Paper presented at the The New Zealand Landscape Conference, Auckland. Swaffield, S. R., & Foster, R. J. (2000). Community perceptions of landscape values in the South Island High Country. Department of Conservation. Swanwick, C. (2002). Landscape Character Assessment - Guidance for England and Scotland: The Countryside Agency and Scottish National Heritage. Uzzell, D. L. (1991). Environmental Psychological Perspecitves on Landscape. Landscape Research, 16(1), 3 - 10. Vouligny, E., Domon, G., & Ruiz, J. (2009). An assessment of ordinary landscapes by an expert and by its residents: Landscape values in an area of intensive agricultural use. Land Use Policy, 26, 890 - 900. Whiting, G. (2013). Environmental law and the expert witness. Resource Management: Theory and Practice, 290 - 306. Wolsink, M. (2010). Near-shore wind power - Protected seascapes, environmentalist’s attitudes, and the technocratic planning perspective. Land Use Policy, 27, 195 - 203. Zube, E. H., Sell, J. L., & Taylor, J. G. (1982). Landscape Perception: Research, Application and Theory. Landscape Planning, 9, 1-33. Websites: (http://conventions.coe.int/Treaty/Commun/QueVoulezVous.asp?NT=176&CL=ENG)


RURAL landscape 14. The conflicts of the land-use policy to the effective conservation of chinampa agricultural diversity in Mexico City Reyes Plata J 1, Kanekiyo H 2 1 Kyushu University, Graduate School of Design, 2 Kyushu University, Faculty of Design Abstract Chinamperia is an agricultural landscape in the southeast of Mexico City. While chinamperia used to be naturally fed by springs and dependent on the exploitation of locally available natural resources; today’s urbanizing pressure, agriculture changes, environmental issues and loss of livelihood of people depending on chinamperia have transformed its land use, accelerating the demise of its outstanding attributes.The Spanish term Chinamperia refers to the assemblage of “chinampa”, a native land-reclamation method for agricultural purposes, presently seen on the ancient lakes of the basin of Mexico. Chinamperia spans about 1,950 ha. Chinampa possesses multiples special designations of national and international importance that touch on the ecological, rural, urban, heritage, and human right spheres. Hence, current conditions require the consideration of new approaches to the conservation of chinamperia, especially when it involves the transformation of rural life. This paper analyses the conflicts among land-use policies in the conservation of chinamperia agricultural diversity in Mexico City. The focus is on the agriculture diversity related to local patterns of water management and land occupation, involving the relation between the changes of chinamperia land use with its value as a landscape resource. Additionally, this paper tries to discern the issues that would allow using the chinamperia as a driving force on the on-going restructuring of rural land in Mexico City. As a result, this paper argues that chinamperia still constitutes an important component of the rural diversification in Mexico City’s rural land. However, the present unsustainable exploitation is driving the reconfiguration and substitution of sustainable land use for a system highly dependent on external sources of agriculture supplies and basic natural resources. It implies a change of potential land use and the loss of traditional chinampa agriculture diversity and, as a consequence, its use as a landscape resource. Land-use policy has been inconsistent in responding challenges to the transformation of chinamperia. Possible conflicts lie in planning approaches that separately run urban and rural development, and which are subject of political interference in their implementation. Land-use policy has also failed to provide models of development that support chinampero’s lifestyle, who is the owner of chinampa and who should receive the benefits from chinamperia use.Therefore, land-use policy should focus on providing opportunities in using efficiently chinampa to regain chinamperia on the on-going restructuring of rural life in Mexico City. Introduction Chinamperia is an agricultural landscape composed of “chinampa”, a native land-reclamation method in the Mexican central highlands.Visually, chinampa is a plot of land surrounded by water and solidly seated to the bottom by “ahuejote” (chinampa tree; Salix bonplandiana) rooted in the edges (Figure 1). Chinamperia spans about 1,950 ha on five towns in two Delegations (or Districts), the Xochimilco Delegation and Tlahuac Delegation, in the southeast of the Federal District (or Mexico City). Chinamperia is a World Heritage Site, a National Heritage Zone, a Ramsar Site, a Protected Natural Area, and a Candidacy to Globally Important Agriculture Heritage System (Figure 2). However, urbanizing pressure, agricultural changes, environmental issues and the loss of livelihood of people depending on chinamperia has been transforming its land use and accelerating the demise of its outstanding attributes. That requires the consideration of new approaches to the evaluation of city planning policies for conserving chinamperia, especially when it involves the transformation of rural life. Therefore, this paper analyses the conflicts among land-use policies in the conservation of chinamperia agricultural diversity in Mexico City. The focus is on the agriculture diversity related to local patterns of water management and land occupation, involving the relationship between the changes of chinamperia land use and its value as a landscape resource. Moreover, it tries to discern the issues that would allow using the chinamperia as a driving force on the ongoing restructuring of rural land in Mexico City.


RURAL landscape

Figure 1: Chinampas in Xochimilco. Source: Author, 2006.

Figure 2: Location of chinamperia zones. Source: Author, based on UNESCO, 2006.

Since its origin, natural and human forces have shaped chinamperia. First, humans transformed wetlands of Central Mexico into land suitable for agriculture, the chinamperia. The Xochimilco-Tlahuac district was the core area of chinampa horticulture, playing a relevant role in the consolidation of the Aztec Empire [Armillas, 1971]. Today, natural events (see 1 below), special designations (see 2 below), and management plans and executive projects (see 3 below) continue re-drawing chinamperia, and, as a consequence, its role as a component of traditional rural life and a landscape resource in Mexico City (Table 1).


RURAL landscape Year Events

Spatial imprints or designation reasons

(1) Natural events 1985 The big earthquake of Mexico City (2) Special designations 1986 National Heritage Zone


World Heritage Site


Protected Natural Area

2004 2011

Provisionally dried up of a wide section in the Xochimilco canal area Surface of 86.63 km2. Protection of civil and religious properties, an aqueduct and archaeological chinampas Chinampa universal outstanding value relies on being part of a ‘cultural system’ of land utilization in the lacustrine zone Surface of 2,657.08 ha (1,312.57 ha of chinamperia) Conservation of ecological process and wetland environment Surface of 2,657.08 ha. Last relict of ancient lakes Polyculture system (maize and roots crops) of global importance to conserve agro-biodiversity.

Ramsar Site Candidacy to Globally Important Agriculture Heritage System (3) Management plans and remarkable executive plans 1987 Designation of Separation and delimitation of urban and rural land “conservation land edge” zoning in the Federal District 1989 Rescue Ecological plan for Creation of water management facilities and Xochimilco recreation facilities in Xochimilco 2000 General Program for First Ecological Planning Program to rule land-use in Ecological Planning Rural land in counterweight to urban development programs 2006 Management Program for First specific plan for restoration and conservation the Protected Natural Area of traditional chinampa practices and chinamperia in Xochimilco cultural landscape elements Management Plan for the Plan requires participative management to attain World Heritage Site sustainability of the chinampa cultural landscape Modification of Protected Reduction of chinamperia surface to 1,178.02 ha, Natural Area boundaries presence of informal human settlements Table 1 Categories of events associated with chinamperia.

UNESCO [2006] stresses five categories that embrace the system of values and attributes in chinamperia (Table 2). That include cultural properties, dwelling zones, tourism facilities, markets and other agriculture zones create significant environments that interrelate ecological and cultural complexity. Chinamperia is the core area of a cultural landscape that requires awareness of the ancient techniques of sustainable land-use that can contribute to present sustainable land-use, enhancing its value in the landscape and maintaining its biological diversity [UNESCO, 2009].


RURAL landscape Value


Environmental values Beauty of landscape

“Typical view” composed of wetland, canal network, chinampa, crops, “ahuejote”(Salix bonplandiana) and hills in background.


Habitat for 180 florae species and 139 fauna species Endemic species: “ajolote”(Ambystoma mexicanum), “ninfa”(Nyphaea mexicana) and “ahuejote” (Salix bonplandiana).

Water bodies

Provision of drinking water, protection against flooding hazards

Cultural values Popular religiosity

Rituals of ancient origin (e.g. Ninopa tradition)

Cultural properties

Historic centre, 83 cultural properties, archaeological remains

Social value Recreation space

Five parks, sport facilities and seven tourism facilities.

Working space

Working space for chinampa farmer living in surrounding towns

Technological value Scientific

Four centres of research, forest and environmental Education

Water management

Three sewage treatment plants, groundwater abstraction wells

Ancestral agriculture

Chinampa agricultural system with ancestral techniques

Economic value Agriculture merchandise

Four flower and two food markets


Two annual flower expositions, five food fairs, one carnival Table 2 Values and attributes associated with chinamperia and surrounding areas.

Water management and possible effects on land use Chinamperia water management is related to aquifer exploitation in the Valley of Mexico, the most densely populated hydraulic region in Mexico. The region uses 173% of its water resources; it is 1.73 times the local natural recharging rate [Oswald, 2011]. Chinamperia extends across the Xochimilco-Chalco lacustrine plain, in the south of the Valley of Mexico; at an elevation of 2,240 m. The local region receives water flows from the Sierra de Chichinautzin and the Sierra del Ajusco mountain ranges in the south. Gentle slopes on the piedmont highly favour aquifer recharge. The runoff rate is less than 200 mm per year, the lowest in the rural land [Programa General de Ordenamiento Ecologico del Distrito Federal, 2000; Secretaria del Medio Ambiente & Procuraduria Ambiental y del Ordenamiento Territorial, 2012]. Mexico City receives about 31.2 m3/s of water supply. 16.6 m3/s (53.20%) come from outside the Federal District. 14.6 m3/s (46.79%) are withdrawn from local wells, springs and rivers. 98.53 % of water is destined to human consumption. The rest is for agriculture use. In 2011, four hundred and thirty wells abstracted about 13.91 m3/s of groundwater in Mexico City. In the Xochimilco and Tlahuac Districts, 107 wells have been drilled during the last fifty years. Since 1980, 3.40 m3/s of groundwater per year have been pulled out. Peak extraction reached 3.65 m3/s in 1992. Yet in 2011, eighty wells between 200 and 400 meter in depth abstracted approximately 3.29 m3/s of groundwater. This represented 23.65% of drinking water taken from Mexico City’s ground (Figure 3). The average period of well usage is thirty years. However, 37 wells have already surpassed that period of usage in Xochimilco and Tlahuac.


RURAL landscape

Figure 3 Volume of groundwater extracted in Xochimilco and Tlahuac. Source: Own calculation from official data (SACM, 2011).

The pumping policies related to land subsidence and degradation of groundwater quality has been widely investigated [Excurra & Mazari-Hiriart,1996; Gonzalez-Moran, Rodriguez & Cortes, 1999, Mazari & Mackay, 1993; SACM, 2012], but not their effect on the use and conservation of land. Land subsidence varies between six cm/year and thirty cm/year in Mexico City. It cannot be stopped, only controlled [SACM, 2012]. Groundwater extraction implies permanent as well as temporary flooding hazards. In the Xochimilco-Tlahuac district, topographic depressions have contributed to the appearance of new lakes that pose flooding risks to urban areas in Tlahuac [Ortiz & Ortega, 2007] and damage to chinampa agriculture in Xochimilco. Research on Xochimilco Lake prognosticates possible flooding-drying events over chinamperia resulting from the expansion-reduction of the water body surface [PAOT, 2012]. In terms of land-use potential, that dynamic would result in the reduction of the area dedicated to agriculture, challenging plans for preventing hazards and the maintenance of water control structures. Flooding events also associate land subsidence with the introduction of excavation material to level chinampa. Between 2002 and 2012 it required the use of more than 258,000 m3 of material to level 120 ha of chinamperia. Levelling chinampa involves the integration of canal networks, water availability and soil quality in the potential land use of traditional chinampa agriculture and the agriculture itself. Both appearance of new water bodies and change of level of chinampas may cause areas with risk of flooding and areas with water scarcity. The canal network articulates chinamperia into an ensemble that used to be naturally fed by springs. Since 1971 chinamperia has been receiving treated sewage waters. In 2010, Xochimilco chinamperia received 1,725,957 m3 of treated water per month.That was close to 20% of treated water in Mexico City. 28 sewage treatment plants operate in Mexico City. Water management relies on an intricate arrangement of water level rules, spillways, barriers, water dischargers and pumps outside and inside the canal network. In Xochimilco chinamperia, the differences of water depth between the north and south sides require spillways to release the excess water to Canal de Chalco, located to the north of chinamperia, and drain water to the city drainage system. Meanwhile, from the south of chinamperia, water discharges supply canals when water reaches the minimum critical level. Lock gates and barriers along the canals close or open to control water levels. Chinamperia are divided into five sections for water administration purposes as shown in figure 4. Administrative water management involves negotiation among four parties in the local and state levels. The Water System of Mexico City (or SACM) is in charge of the overall water management, the groundwater extraction and sewage waters. However, it shares the work of monitoring water levels and distribution with the Secretary of Rural Development (or SEDEREC) and local authorities in the Xochimilco and Tlahuac Delegations.


RURAL landscape

Figure 4 Water management system related to chinamperia. Source: Author, based on SACM, 2011 and UNESCO, 2006.

Agriculture diversity Chinampa is the agricultural system per excellence in the lacustrine zone and the genesis of chinamperia. Together with agriculture systems in terraces (nopal production) and valleys (tuna production), chinamperia features in the rural landscape in Mexico City [Losada, Rivera, Cortes & Vieyra, 2011]. The Candidacy to Globally Important Agriculture Heritage System [GIAHS-FAO, 2012] argued that the traditional chinampa agriculture system is outstanding due to the use of â&#x20AC;&#x153;almacigoâ&#x20AC;?. It is a seedbed that allows quick growth of seeds in a small portion of land. Therefore the chinampa farmer (or chinampero) can be growing the next crop while waiting to harvest the current one. Almacigo uses mud enriched naturally with organic matter from the canal bottom. Almacigo is frequently used in vegetable production. Research show that vegetable production results to be the most efficient traditional chinampa agriculture system due to the use of techniques that make the agriculture system work using the chinampa plotâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s own materials [SorianoRoble, Arias & Rivera, 2010]. The General Census of Agriculture and Livestock [INEGI, 2007] shows that chinampa include agriculture systems for maize, vegetables and flowers. Crops correspond to water management sections in distribution. As shown in figure 5, agriculture is mixed with livestock activity in the water section for Xochimilco chinamperia, where the major concentration of informal human settlements is found. All water management sections observe the presence of human settlements, therefore, the analysis of available data suggests a possible relation between diversity of agriculture system and land occupancy. Also, the presence of livestock may show loss of chinampa agriculture and indicate a future change in the use of land. Traditional agricultural systems also share space with greenhouses, especially where the soil has been drastically modified. Greenhouse agriculture may replace traditional agriculture practices such as almacigo, reducing intensity of crop cultivation and changing from polyculture to monoculture. Agriculture and forestry marginally occupied economic activities in the Federal District in 2000. Out of a population of 8.65 million of people, only 20,600 carried out activities in the primary sector. That equates to 0.6% of the occupied labour force. In Tlahuac and Xochimilco, the rate rises to 2.1% and 3.1% respectively [INEGI, 2000]. More than 3,000 people were occupied in chinampa agriculture in 2007 [INEGI, 2007]. It would represent about 763 families depending on chinampa activities. The chinampa productive chain reaches local and regional markets in Mexico City. Moreover, chinampa agriculture features local identity. UNESCO [2006] suggests that local values such as solidarity and religiosity have relation with agriculture activities.That includes traditions and festivities of remote origin such as Ninopa, Virgen de Dolores and Dia de Muertos (Day of death).


RURAL landscape

Figure 5 Agriculture diversity and land occupation in chinamperia Source: Author, from census data (INEGI, 2007)

Land occupation and complexity of city plans Functionality of chinampas is dependent on the wise use of land, water and natural vegetation. Land is controlled by the State through national plans for urban, ecological and rural development. The 27th article of the Constitution of Mexico establishes the framework for the use of land in relation to land and territory, natural resources and natural elements [Cotler, Sotelo, Domiguez, Zorrilla, Cortina & Quinones, 2007]. Local governments have the facility to address their own local legal legislation and plans for using and protecting the natural resources within their territories. In the case of Mexico City, the General Program of Urban Development (2003) regulates urban land use to deal with the social pressures of land occupancy. From that, the specific Urban Development Programs for Delegations is derived. The General Program for Ecological Planning (2000) is in charge of rural land, establishing the potential of land use based on the analysis of environmental units. It follows more restrictive and prohibitive forms of planning and zoning to control urban sprawl and natural resource exploitation in the rural areas. Additionally, it adheres to the Natural Protected Area land-use, the strictest category of environmental control, whose purpose is to protect representative environments for the conservation of biological diversity and the restoration of environmentally deteriorated priority areas. The Local Environmental Law forbids the use of land for dwelling purposes within Natural Protected Zones, conditioning the introduction of basic public services [Programa General de Ordenamiento Ecologico del Distrito Federal, 2000; Programa de Manejo del Area Natural Protegida, 2006]. Under these approaches, the sphere of urban and rural development separately runs legal and technical instruments on the same territories.


RURAL landscape Comparable attributes of chinamperia zoning Xochimilco Delegation Urban Development Program for Xochimilco (Term launched: 2005) Zoning category

Rural and agro industrial production


Boost agriculture, livestock and agro industrial activities that contribute to water recharge and catchment

Focus areas

Agriculture, livestock, agroindustry, ecotourism

Management Program for Protected Natural Area (Term launched: 2006) Zoning category

Chinampa and rain-fed agriculture


Protection of cultural richness through the enhancement of traditional agriculture in chinampa

Focus areas

Water, restoration, traditional agriculture, landscape, ecotourism

Tlahuac Delegation Urban Development Program for Tlahuac (Term launched:2008) Zoning category

Rural and agro industrial production


Boost agriculture, livestock and agro industrial activities

Focus areas

Agriculture, livestock, forestry, aquiculture, agroindustry, tourism

Zoning category

Ecological for restoration


Boost agriculture, livestock and agro industrial activities

Focus areas

Agriculture, livestock, forestry, aquiculture, agroindustry, tourism

Zoning category

Ecological for restoration


Restoration of original conditions for self-support activities

Focus areas

Soil, reforestation

The General Program for Ecological Planning (Term launched 2003) Zoning category

Agro ecology/especial


Conservation of ecological, traditional and cultural features in highly vulnerable wetland and chinampa areas

Focus areas

Agriculture, forestry, livestock, wildlife, tourism, aquiculture, facilities Table 3 General attributes of specific zoning to chinamperia.

The urban land and conservation land (or rural land) constitutes the primary land-use zoning in the Federal District. Urban land covers 41% (61,082 ha) and conservation land expands 59% (88,442 ha). In fact, conservation land corresponds to more than 75 % (16,576 ha) of Tlahuac and Xochimilco surfaces. Chinamperia covers 11.76% of conservation land. In Xochimilco chinamperia is 1,178 ha. In Tlahuac, that spans 772 ha. Chinamperia land-use policy works under the aforementioned planning framework. Environmental plans assign zoning categories to aim for ecological and biological conservation. Meanwhile, specific Urban Development Programs additionally allocate urban zoning categories related to land occupancy (Table 3). Hence, chinamperia districts possess overlapping land zoning categories that concede different levels of land-use regulation, which implies conflicts in implementing comprehensive land-use policies. While certain activities such as livestock may be desirable in one zoning, it also can constitute a sensitive issue for the opposite one. That condition challenges the land-use policy to find efficient instruments of exchanging information and assessment of chinampa conservation. Here, the lack on well-defined sets of indicators within the planning instruments is a concern. The population of Mexico City maintained a slow pace of growth rate at 0.28 between 2000 and 2010. In the same period, Xochimilco and Tlahuac population had a growth rate of 1.16 and 1.75 respectively.That shows a higher growth rate in the peripheral Delegations of the Federal District. In terms of concentration, rural population rated between 0.49 and 1.39 % in 2000 (Figure 6). Population growth is much linked to the expansion of informal human settlements on areas of high environmental value [Aguilar & Santos, 2011]. According to the Environmental Attorney for the Federal District (or PAOT) the number of informal human settlements on conservation land reached 835 in 2010 [PAOT, 2011]. Previous reports had identified 93 settlements occupying 411 ha of Tlahuac conservation land in 2008. 10 of them were scattered on 24.64 ha of chinamperia. In Xochimilco, 571.21 ha of conservation land contained 308 informal human settlements in 2010. 34 settlements spanned 68.13 ha in chinamperia.


RURAL landscape

Figure 6 Population growth rate in Mexico City. Source: Own calculations from census data (INEGI, 2000; INEGI, 2010).

In 2006, 134.55 ha (10.25%) of informal settlements in chinamperia changed their land-use status from Natural Protected Area to Urban Area. This was after a long period of especial designations and the proclamation of the Management Program for the Natural Protected Zone. The regularization of human informal settlements derived from the Local Urban Development Plan lacks a strategy for the integration of chinamperia to urban land, but this is explained as a consequence of environmental deterioration and loss of land use attributes.This exhibits the institutional incapability to deal with the causes of the urban informality, focusing regularization on the consequences of inefficient land-use policies. In fact, in 2012, the Commission on Human Rights in the Federal District emitted the recommendation 19/2012 to fix the violation on human rights of owners and people dwelling in chinamperia on the matter of healthy environment, decent housing and enjoyment of heritage in Xochimilco Chinamperia [CDHDF, 2012]. It discussed the inefficiency of local authorities at state and district levels to offer an appropriate solution to the presence of informal human settlements. The same recommendation suggests the possible existence of â&#x20AC;&#x153;agreementsâ&#x20AC;? between the local authorities and inhabitants to tolerate the informal occupation of chinampa land.That situation seems to strengthen the hypothesis about the use of a planning framework highly susceptible to political interference to take advantage of the inhabitants informally occupying the conservation land of Mexico City [Aguilar & Santos, 2011; Wigle, 2010]. It is noted that land-use policy in chinamperia is subject to a complex planning approach, involving political negotiation in the change of chinampa land use and outstanding attributes.That exhibits weakness of planning policies to comprehensively implement land use policy in chinamperia. Conclusion This paper has described the processes related to the transformation of chinamperia territory through the analysis of the conflicts among land-use policies to conserve chinamperia at local and regional scales. Groundwater extraction has caused land subsidence, and as a consequence, the appearance of water bodies and the reduction of land available for traditional chinampa agriculture. The expansion of human settlements may be the last straw in the change of chinampa land use toward the urbanization. Both issues involve the modification of the land use potential and may imply a reduction of agricultural diversity, and loss of landscape resource. Special designations argue the national and international importance of chinamperia and highlight the role of traditional agriculture to conserve biological diversity, outstanding land use and local culture. However, the separation of urban and rural spheres to run chinamperia development exhibits the complexity and weakness of land-use policy in dealing with challenges to the reconfiguration and substitution of sustainable land use for a system highly dependent on external sources of agriculture supplies and basic natural resources. The loss of chinampa activities or the presence of unsustainable productive schemes would be only the consequences of city land-use policy that have discouraged chinampero from continuing chinampa agriculture. Therefore, land-use policy will require providing models of development that support chinamperoâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s lifestyle to effectively contribute to the conservation of chinamperia. Local planning approach might consider that chinamperia transformation is desirable whether that contributes to enhance and protect its outstanding values. The focus on using efficiently chinampa require to establish local development programs for chinampero, who is the owner of chinampa


RURAL landscape and who should receive the benefits from chinamperia use. Land-use policy should guide the process of transformation, generating alternatives to boost agricultural potential as well as to deal with expansion of informal human settlements. As long as chinampero is considered the main agent in sustaining the chinamperia, the effectiveness of land-use policy would be achieved. References 1. Armillas, P. (1971). Garden on Swamps. Science. 174 (4010), 653. 2. Aguilar, A.G., & Santos, C. (2011). Informal settlements’ needs and environmental conservation in Mexico City: An unsolved challenge for land-use policy. Land Use Policy,48,661. doi:10.1016/j.landusepol.2010.11.002 3. CDHDF, Comision de Derechos Humanos del Distrito Federal (Commission on Human Rights in the Federal District). Recommendation 19/2012, CDHDF/III/122/XOCH/12/D0169. Retrieved December 20th, 2012 from http://www. cdhdf.org.mx/images/pdfs/ recomendasiones/2012/reco_1912.pdf 4. Cotler, H. Sotelo, E., Dominguez, J., Zorrilla, M., Cortina, S., & Quinones, L. (2007). La conservacion de suelos: un asunto de interes publico (Conservation of soil: a matter of public interest). Gaceta Ecologica INE-SEMARNAT Mexico, 83, 1223. 5. Decreto que modifica el Poligono del Area Natural Protegida con Caracter de Zona de Conservacion Ecologica “Ejidos de Xochimilco y San Gregorio Atlapulco” (Declaration to Modify the boundaries of the Protected Natural Area under Ecological Conservation Category so called “Ejidos de Xochimilco y San Gregorio Atlapulco”). (December 8th, 2006). Retrieved January 20th, 2012 from http://www.sma.df.gob.mx/ corena/descargas /conservacion_restauracion_recursos_ naturales/anp/decretos/MODIFICACION_ANP_ZSCE_ XOCHIMILCO _1ra.pdf 6. Ezcurra, E., & Mazari-Hiriat, M. (1996). Are mega cities viable? A tale from Mexico City. Environment, 38 (1), 11-16. 7. GIAHS-FAO. Chinampa in the list of Globally Important Agriculture Heritage. Retrieved January 20th, 2012, from http:// www.fao.org/nr/giahs/candidate-system/candidate/chinampa-agricultural/chinampa-detailed/en/ 8. Gonzalez-Moran, T., Rodriguez, R. & Cortes, S.A. (1999). The basin of Mexico and its metropolitan area: water abstraction and related environmental problems. Journal of South American Earth Sciences, 12, 607-613. 9. INEGI (Instituto Nacional de Estadistica, Geografia e Informacion). (2007). Sistema de Consulta de Informacion Geoestadistica Agropecuaria. Censo Agropecuario 2007. (Agriculture and livestock Infomration System. General Census of Agriculture and Livestock 2007). Retrieved June 16th, 2012, from http://gaia.inegi.org.mx/sciga/viewer.html 10. INEGI (Instituto Nacional de Estadistica, Geografia e Informacion). (2000). Censo de Poblacion y Vivienda. Principales resultados por localidad. Distrito Federal. XII Censo General de Población y Vivienda 2000 (General Census of Population and Housing for the Federal District). Retrieved June 16th, 2012, from http://www. inegi.org.mx/sistemas/ biblioteca/detalle.aspx?c=14051&upc=0&s=est&tg=55&f=2&cl=0&pf=Pob&ef=0 11. INEGI (Instituto Nacional de Estadistica, Geografia e Informacion). (2010). Principales resultados por AGEB y manzana urbana. Censo General de Población y Vivienda 2010 (General Census of Population and Housing 2010). Retrieved June 16th, 2012, from http://www.inegi.org.mx/est/contenidos/proyectos/ccpv/cpv2010/Default.aspx 12. Mazari, M. & Mackay, D. (1993). Potential for groundwater contamination in Mexico City. Environmental Science & Technology, 27 (5), 794-801. 13. Losada, H., Rivera, J., Cortes, J. & Vieyra, J. (2011). Urban agriculture in the metropolitan area of Mexico City. Field Actions Science Reports, 5, 3. 14. Ortiz, D., & Ortega, M.A. (2007). Origen y evolucion de un Nuevo lago en la planicie de Chalco: implicaciones de peligro por subsidencia e inundacion de areas urbanas en Valle de Chalco (Estado de Mexico) y Tlahuac (Distrito Federal) (Origin and evolution of a new lake in the Chalco plain: implications for land subsidence and flooding hazards to the urban areas of Valle de Chalco (State of Mexico) and Tlahuac (Federal District)). Investigaciones Geograficas, Boletin del Insituto de Geografia, UNAM, 24, 36-41. 15. Oswald, U. (2011). Aquatic systems and water security in the Metropolitan Valley. Current Opinion in Environmental Sustainability, 3, 500. 16. PAOT (Procuraduría Ambiental y del Ordenamiento Territorial del Distrito Federal). (2011). Distribucion espacial de los asentamiento humanos irregulars ubicados en el suelo de conservacion del Distrito Federal en relacion al proyecto del Programa General de Ordenamiento Ecologico y Zonas de Valor Ambiental del Distrito Federal (Distribution of informal human settlements within the conservation land and its relationship with the proposal of General Ecological Planning and Environmental Value Zones in the Federal District) Retrieved January 20th, 2013 from http://www.paot.org.mx/ centro/ ceidoc/ archivos /pdf/IOT-01-2011.pdf


RURAL landscape 17. PAOT (Procuraduría Ambiental y del Ordenamiento Territorial del Distrito Federal). (2012). Informe Final “Taller seminario: temas ambientales ”. Tendencias y propuestas sobre el hundimiento de la zona del ANP “Ejidos de Xochimilco y San Gregorio Atlapulco” (Final report “Seminary-workshop on environmental subjects”. Trends and proposals about the subsidence in the Natural Protected Area so-called Ejidos de Xochimilco and San Gregorio Atlapulco) Retrieved Febraury, 23th, 2013, from http://www.paot.org. mx/paot_docs/banner/ pdf/ PAOT_ Informe_ Final_Dic_11.pdf 18. Programa Delegacional de Desarrollo Urbano para la Delegacion del Distrito Federal en Xochimilco, 2005 (Urban Development Program for Xochimilco Delegation in the Federal District, 2005). (May 6th, 2005). Retrieved January 20th, 2012 from http://www.seduvi.df.gob. mx/portal/files/PDDU _Gacetas/ 2005/PDDU% 0 Xochimilco.pdf 19. Programa Delegacional de Desarrollo Urbano para la Delegacion Tlahuac, 2008 [Urban Development Program for Tlahuac Delegation, 2008]. (2008). Retrieved January 20th, 2012 from http://www.seduvi.df. gob.mx/ portal/ files/ PDDU _ Gacetas/2008/ PDDU% 20Tlahuac.pdf 20. Programa General de Desarrollo Urbano del Distrtio Federal, 2003 (General Program of Urban Development for the Distrito Federal, 2003). (December 31st, 2003). Retrieved September, 12th, 2012, from http://www. seduvi. df.gob.mx/ portal/files/ PGDU_GODF.pdf 21. Programa General de Ordenamiento Ecologico del Distrito Federal (General Program of Ecological Planning for the Federal District). (2000). Retrieved September, 12th, 2012, from http://www.paot.org.mx/centro /programas/pgoedf.pdf 22. Programa de Manejo del Area Natural Protegida con Caracter de Zona de Conservacion Ecologica “Ejidos de Xochimilco y San Gregorio Atlapulco” (Management Program for the Protected Natural Area under Ecological Conservation Category so called Ejidos de Xochimilco y San Gregorio Atlapulco). (January 11th, 2006). Retrieved January 20th, 2012, from http://www.sma.df.gob.mx/corena/descargas/conservacion_restauracion_recursos_ naturales/ anp/decretos/DECRETO_PM_ANP_ZSCE_XOCHIMILCO.pdf 23. Secretaria del Medio Ambiente & Procuraduría Ambiental y del Ordenamiento Territorial del Distrito Federal. (2012). Atlas geografico del suelo de conservacion del Distrito Federal [Geographical atlas of the conservation land in the Federal District]. Retrieved September 9th, 2012, from http:// www .sma.df.gob.mx/sma/index.php?opcion=26&id=798 24. SACM (Sistema de Aguas del Distrito Federal). (2012). El gran reto del agua en la ciudad de Mexico. Pasado, presente y prospectivas de solucion para una de las ciudades mas complejas del mundo [The great challenge of water in Mexico City. Past, present and prospective solutions for one of the most complex cities in the world]. Mexico City: Water System of the Federal District. 25. SACM (Sistema de Aguas del Distrito Federal). (2011). Informacion de descargas de agua tratada y manejo de niveles de agua en las Delegaciones Xochimilco y Tlahuac (Information about the sewage water discharges and management of water levels in Xochimilco and Tlahuac Delegation). Retrieved January 27th, 2012, from INFOMEX, GDF-SMASACM-DEO-DDTR-STYR-10-2452 26. Soriano-Robles, R., Arias, L., & Rivera, L. (2010). Energy balance in a suburban chinampa agroecosystem in the southeast of Mexico City. Urban Agriculture Magazine, 23, 42. 27. UNESCO (Unites Nations Educational, Scientific and Cultural Organization). (2006). Xochimilco: un sistema de valores patrimoniales, atributos y amenazas. Xochimilco: un proceso de gestion participative (Xochimilco: a process for participative gestion). Puebla, Mexico: UNESCO-Mexico 28. UNESCO (Unites Nations Educational, Scientific and Cultural Organization). (2009). World Heritage Cultural Landscapes. A handbook for conservation and Management. UNESCO. 29. Wigle, J. (2010). The “Xochimilco model” for managing irregular settlements in conservation land in Mexico City. Cities, 27, 346. doi: 10.1016/j.cities.2010.04.003


Indigenous wisdom

Indigenous wisdom 15. Indigenous Knowledge and Landscape Conservation in the Omani Cloud Forest Anderson A Oman Botanic Garden Abstract Once famous for the fabled frankincense trees whose coveted resin wafted its way around the world for millennia, the enigmatic and beguiling cloud forest of southern Oman is now recognized as a globally significant and threatened ecosystem. This dramatic landscape, with cliffs that rise precipitously out of the Arabian Sea, is home to the indigenous Jibbali people, whose traditional ecological knowledge runs deep and whose language predates Arabic with no written form.With high levels of endemism, this spectacular landscape is also home to some of the world’s rarest and most intriguing plant species. Due to its dramatic geography and orientation, the cloud forest owes its existence to the seasonal monsoon, whose fog and rains are trapped by the cliffs, inundating this tiny green fragment of Arabian with moisture and cloud for three months of the year. After the monsoon has passed, the hot desert winds return this ancient landscape to hyper-arid conditions. In the face of extreme threats to this globally unique landscape caused by over-grazing, unsustainable land management practices and climate change, this paper will present the findings of field research conducted in the Omani cloud forest during the monsoon season of 2011. Research focused on the connections between the indigenous ecological knowledge of the Jibbali people, native plant use and value, and perceived ecological change.The paper will conclude by presenting recommendations for the conservation of the Omani cloud forest ecosystem, combining a contemporary landscape architectural approach together with the indigenous knowledge of the Jibbali people. Introduction The story of the southern Omani governorate of Dhofar and its globally unique escarpment cloud forest – a tiny, lush and fragile ecosystem seemingly clinging to the edge of the Arabian Peninsula in southern Oman – has been the proverbial stuff of legends and has captured the imagination of people around the world for thousands of years. The mystique of Dhofar has always been indelibly linked with its most famous export and a seemingly unlikely source: a gnarled and wizened shrub botanically identified as Boswellia sacra, but better known as frankincense. While technically not a plant species found in the escarpment cloud forest itself, the aromatic milky resin of frankincense was at one time more highly valued than gold and its influence reached every corner of the ancient world. Dhofari frankincense was even found in Tutankhamen’s tomb, intended to guide him on his way to the next world. Like so many before, the lure of frankincense led the author to the escarpment cloud forest of Dhofar, but with a modern and urgent objective: to conduct research into the connections between indigenous plant use and landscape conservation in this, one of the world’s most unique and endangered landscapes. The author was immersed in the cloud forest in 2011 – the United Nations International Year of the Forests. Because of the direct relevance of biodiversity conservation in general and plant conservation in particular to the United Nations Millennium Goals, along with an acknowledgement of the critical role of indigenous peoples in sustainable management and conservation, there could be no more relevant, important and fascinating research area than the cloud forest. The ethnobotanical wisdom and traditional ecological knowledge of the indigenous Jibbali people may hold the key – in tandem with interdisciplinary scientific research – to saving this highly threatened ecosystem that is a hotspot of biodiversity, an area of high endemism, and a place of natural beauty without equal in all of Arabia (Figure 1).

Figure 1:The Dhofar escarpment cloud forest © Oman Botanic Garden


Indigenous wisdom Every culture on earth is a dynamic and ever changing experiment that cannot remain static. As stated by McClatchey (2005, p. 3), “there is no reason to lament that cultures evolve;” however, the speed of the evolution is a matter of concern. Cultural diversity is a fundamental attribute of human life since “change, creation and re-creation, interpretation and re-interpretation, are all parts of the fabric of everyday existence” [Gray 1999, p. 61]. The cultural diversity of indigenous peoples is grounded in territory and locality, “drawing together their social and natural worlds” [Gray 1999, p. 61]. Posey poetically advances this thought, stating that “. . . in societies with no written language or edifices, hills, mountains and valleys become the libraries and cathedrals that reflect cultural achievement” [Posey 1999, p. 3]. Any research into the relationship between indigenous peoples and their environment must take into account the values that indigenous peoples attach to place [Labadi 2007, p.164], and that a traditional sense of stewardship “constantly informs the manner in which they exploit their environment” [Brosius 1997, p. 57]. There is a strong and intrinsic connection between ecology and culture, with correlations between biodiversity, linguistic diversity and cultural diversity [Lertzman & Vredenburg 2005, p. 244]. The areas of richest global biodiversity correlate with the highest levels of cultural diversity [Posey 1999, p.3]. The lives and traditional ecological knowledge of indigenous peoples are inextricably intertwined with invisible spiritual dimensions that are derived from an intimate relationship with their environment that transcends modern concepts of time and place [Davis & Wagner 2003, p.464]. The post modern concepts of biodiversity and conservation are largely alien to indigenous peoples, as they traditionally view biodiversity not as something to conserve, but as “an integral part of human existence, in which utilization is part of the celebration of life” [Posey 1999, p. 6; Hames 2007, p. 181]. The ongoing accumulation of traditional ecological knowledge is an intuitive process that connects individuals with their families, extended communities, and the land that surrounds them [Parlee & Berkes 2006, p. 516]. Traditional ecological knowledge and biodiversity conservation are intrinsically linked, sharing the common goal of ensuring environmental resiliency to allow ecosystems to absorb change, continually evolve, and provide ecological services [Gadgil, Berkes and Folke 1993, p. 155]. Traditional ecological knowledge addresses the inherently dynamic nature of culture that is embedded in a knowledge system that evolves and changes over time [Slikkerveer 1999, p. 171]. As articulately stated by Rose [2005, p.303], “Rather than humans deciding autonomously to act in the world, humans are called into action by the world. The result is that . . . nature, far from being an object to be acted upon, is a self-organizing system that brings people and other living things into being, into action, into sentience itself. The connections between and among living things are the basis for how ecosystems are understood to work . . .” An understanding of – and appreciation for – traditional ecological knowledge is essential for the development of culturally appropriate management models that are based on local, multidimensional and intrinsically place-based knowledge [Hollowell & Nicholas 2009, p. 142]. The connection between ethnobotanical research and biocultural conservation is widely recognized within the ethnobotanical scientific community. It is clear that indigenous peoples typically have a complex, richly intimate personal relationship with the environment and plant species that surround them that is largely invisible and inaudible to other people [Alcorn 2003, p.425; Jain 2000, p. 459]. The link between the natural and spiritual worlds contributes to indigenous peoples’ sense of place, and researchers must recognize that indigenous peoples “ . . . value nature differently than ecologically-trained conservationists and biologists” [Cocks 2006, p. 187]. Ethnobotanical research – simply defined as the relationship between people and plants – in the past has focused on lists of plants and what they are used for, but now it is more important than ever to look at the larger landscape perspective and apply quantifiable value to ethnobotanical results. As concisely stated by Sophia Labadi in a recent article on heritage conservation, “It is self evident that no society makes an effort to conserve what it does not value” [Labadi 2007, p. 148]. However, while some researchers feel that the concept of modern intellectual property rights must be applied carefully to all research, intellectual property rights are matters of global society economics and are rarely interpreted the same way by indigenous peoples [McClatchey 2005, p. 3]. The Site Located in the southwest corner of the Arabian Peninsula, Oman is a comparatively large, coastal country that is a modern union of two historically disparate regions: northern Oman and the culturally and geographically distinct southern governorate of Dhofar. The mountains of the north and the escarpment of the south are separated by a vast gravel desert and the “Empty Quarter” whose iconic sand dunes disappear undefined into Saudi Arabia. Despite having one of the hottest climates on Earth, the varied topography of Oman results in surprisingly varied precipitation patterns and ecosystems [Peterson 2004, p. 254]. The remarkable variety of topography and environmental conditions of Oman is perhaps most eloquently summed up by the 18th century explorer, Carsten Niebuhr, who was the leader and only member of a group of explorers representing the King of Denmark to survive an ill-fated expedition into the Arabian Peninsula in 1772: “Intersected by sandy deserts and vast ranges of mountains it presents on one side nothing but desolation in its most frightful form, while the other is adorned with all beauties of the most fertile regions. Such is its position that it enjoys at once all


Indigenous wisdom the advantages of hot and temperate climates. The peculiar productions of regions the most distant from one another are produced here in equal perfection.” [Ghazanfar & Fisher 1998, p. 2]. Oman is one of the most geologically significant countries in the world with over 800 million years of geological history visible across its dramatic landscape [Glennie 2006, p. 16]. Millennia of global plate movement have seen the conditions of what is now Oman change from sub-polar to tropical to the current mostly arid conditions with the resultant changes in biodiversity [Glennie 2006, p. 16]. The plants of Arabia are the least documented in the entire Northern Hemisphere [Serjeant 1989, p. 338]. There are approximately 1,295 native plant species in Oman, with more being documented every year. The native plants of Oman include a remarkably high percentage of highly specialized endemic plant species that are found nowhere else on earth [Patzelt 2010, p.1]. By far the highest levels of endemism occur in the Dhofar escarpment cloud forest. Dhofar is located at a “phytogeographical crossroads” where two great floristic kingdoms meet: the Holarctic and the Paleotropical [Boulos et al 1984, p. 295]. Dhofar is the most floristically rich area of all of Arabia, and it is part of the Somali-Masai Regional Centre of Endemism [Boulos et al 1984, p. 295] which includes a significant portion of tropical north east Africa and an isolated corner of the Arabian Peninsula [Boulos et al 1984, p. 300]. This fragile crescent of green is now included as part of the world’s 35 biodiversity “hotspots” [Patzelt 2010, p.1]. Cloud forests are unique ecosystems that are characterized by an exceptional microclimate, a cool, humid environment, moist soils, and low transpiration rates. The tree canopies intercept moisture from low level clouds, thereby enhancing moisture levels in the soil. While cloud forests are all generally hotspots of species endemism, most consist of evergreen trees where water is not a limiting factor for plant growth. The Dhofar escarpment cloud forest, however, is globally unique due to the seasonal nature of the summer monsoons that only last for four months of the year, returning the cloud forest to hyper-arid conditions for the remainder of the year. It is no coincidence that these unique conditions occur in some of the most arresting landscapes on earth. The entire cloud forest ecosystem encompasses a relatively compact area of 100,000 ha, and is located on the southfacing slopes of the Dhofar escarpment, extending west towards the Yemen border for approximately 290km [AlZidjani 1996, p. 9]. The forest is 20km wide at its widest, and only 3km wide at its narrowest [Hildebrandt & Eltahir 2007, p. 2]. The Dhofar escarpment cloud forest is surrounded by desert to the north, and the Arabian Sea to the south (Figure 2, Figure 3).

Saudi Arabia


Dhofar Escarpment Cloud Forest


Figure 2: Location of the Dhofar escarpment cloud forest Source: Hildebrandt et al 2007

The Dhofar escarpment cloud forest is comprised of a deciduous broadleaf canopy with a herbaceous ground storey layer of grasses and herbaceous plant material [Hildebrandt & Eltahir 2007, p.3]. The dominant species is the endemic drought-resistant deciduous tree Anogeissus dhofarica, and many of the other plant species of the forest are also


Indigenous wisdom endemic [Miller & Morris 1988, p. xi]. The forests of the central Jebel Qara area have the most diverse vegetation [Shamass 2007, p. 39], and the lush vegetation during the khareef monsoon and in the three months following the khareef give the impression that the entire ecosystem is much more moist than it actually is [Hildebrandt et al 2007, p. 1]. The vegetation and landscape of the escarpment cloud forest during the khareef is almost unrecognizable at other times of the year.The escarpment cliffs provide refugia for the unique plant species of the cloud forest, and the cliff faces are permeated by freshwater springs [Shamass 2007, p. 39].

Figure 3: Dhofar escarpment topographical cross section. Source: Miller & Morris 1988

While the soils of the grasslands to the north of the escarpment cloud forest are generally shallow and prone to erosion, the wooded cloud forest slopes have deeper soil profiles [Ministry of Environment and Climate Affairs 2010, p. 15]. The soils of the cloud forest play a key role in helping to sustain the plant communities by storing moisture from the khareef season for up to three months after the end of the khareef and making it available to plants long after the rains and fog have ended [Hildebrandt & Eltahir 2007, p. 1]. The hydrology of the Dhofar escarpment cloud forest plays a key role in the survival of plant species, the overall success of the ecosystem and aquifer recharge of the adjacent Salalah Plain [Hildebrandt & Eltahir 2007, p. 1; Shamass 2007, p. 39]. During the khareef, continuous fog, mist, drizzle and light rain cause high humidity. Low evaporation as a result of cloud cover results in much of the fog water that is collected by the vegetation of the cloud forest being returned to the ground to recharge the aquifer [Shamass 2007, p. 41]. According to Shamass, 60-80% of subsurface recharge is from horizontal precipitation that is wholly dependent upon the canopy of the escarpment cloud forest (and to a lesser extent the grasslands immediately to the north of the cloud forest) [Shamass 2007, p. 41)]. With the dramatically different physical environments of the inland desert and coastal escarpment, it follows that Dhofar has two different climatic zones: the dry, clear, hyper-arid desert conditions, and the unique seasonal monsoon that creates the conditions that allow the specialized plant species and cultural traditions of Dhofar to endure. From June to September, the cloud forest of Dhofar is blanketed in swirling fog, with persistent drizzle and heavy cloud cover that make it almost impossible to believe that this is part of the Arabian Peninsula (Figure 4). Moisture drips from the trees, intermittent watercourses fill with fresh water, and underground aquifers are recharged. The khareef winds


Indigenous wisdom originate in eastern Africa as hot dry winds [Miller & Morris 1988, p. xi]. These warm winds blow across the cool moist Indian Ocean and hit the coastal Dhofar escarpment, leading to orthographic clouds and drizzle, with vertical cloud cover extent limited by an overlaying inversion caused by hot, dry winds blowing southwards off the adjacent desert [Hildebrandt & Eltahir 2006, p. 1; Miller & Morris 1988, p. xi]. The monsoon moisture does not reach past the top of the escarpment, and the unique forest conditions end abruptly at the limit of the watershed. This is where the Dhofari frankincense trees thrive – away from the moisture but within the reach of the cooling winds of the monsoon.

Figure 4:The Dhofar escarpment cloud forest during khareef monsoon © The author

Indigenous Wisdom of the Landscape The Dhofar escarpment cloud forest is home to the indigenous Jibbali people: seasonally migrating nomads who traditionally relied on cattle herding and subsistence agriculture. The complex political, social and historical context of the Jibbli people influences their way of life and must always be considered. While modern technology and new access to manufactured goods is dramatically altering their way of life, the Jibbali people still rely on the ecosystem services of the cloud forest and its unique plant species. While many Jibbali people can understand Arabic, theirs is an ancient oral language that has no written form. Throughout the course of this research, the Jibbali people showed their sacred landscapes, and shared their rich and deeply embedded traditional ecological knowledge. Through the invaluable help of two local Jibbali experts – Abdullah Al-Kathiri and Dr. Mahaad Shamass – trips were made to the escarpment cloud forest on four separate occasions and a series of five semi-structured group interviews were conducted with a cross section of Jibbali farmers in situ. Without exception, the interviewees provided interesting, relevant and timely data about the plants that are important to their everyday life, what they are used for, and – most importantly – how they are valued differently. The interviewees also provided invaluable information about how the landscape is changing, what the perceived causes for these changes are, and what they are doing about it. It is telling that every single respondent agreed that the escarpment cloud forest landscape is changing and that the important plant species are becoming more difficult to find. A variety of perceived causes were given, but all can be connected directly back to over grazing by livestock and the resultant deforestation (Figure 5).


Indigenous wisdom

Figure 5: Severe over-grazing and livestock tracks during the dry season © The author

Methodology Five research sites were selected, and each of the five sites was located in or adjacent to the Dhofar escarpment cloud forest and within an area of high endemism and species diversity. The sites were indigenous Jibbali villages and were located in various areas of the Dhofar Mountain Range from Jebel Qama in the west to Jebel Qara in the east. The research question was defined as: “What are the most important plant species to the indigenous Jibbali people of the Dhofar escarpment cloud forest, what are these plant species used for, and how can the Jibbali traditional ecological knowledge contribute to a contemporary landscape conservation strategy for the escarpment cloud forest of Dhofar?” A total of 26 local experts were interviewed, in five semi-structured group interviews. Twenty interviewees were male (76%) and six interviewees were female (24%). The average age of the interviewees was forty four, with the oldest interviewees being approximately eighty years old and the youngest being fourteen years old. Ages are approximate, based on the approximation of the interviewees. The prepared interview questions were asked, and responses were recorded in writing. Important plant species were identified in the Jibbali language and were transliterated phonetically at a later date. The botanical and Dhofari Arabic names of the identified plant species were later confirmed by referencing Plants of Dhofar [Miller & Morris 1988]. Results and Discussion It is impossible not to be swept away by the magical and inimitable landscapes, plants and mysteries of Dhofar. Alarmingly, the Dhofar escarpment cloud forest and its unique flora and fauna are in decline and in many instances critically endangered. More than half of the forest canopy has been lost in the past thirty years due to rampant overgrazing by livestock – mostly camels – and formerly closed canopies in most areas are now largely fragmented (Figure 5). A total of twenty one plant species were named as being most important to the Jibbali people; three quarters of the plants were trees, which corresponds with the species composition of the escarpment cloud forest, and a remarkable 33% of the most important plant species to the Jibbali people are endemic to this tiny fragment of the Arabian Peninsula and occur nowhere else on earth. A truly remarkable seventy-three different uses for these plant species were provided, with the majority of uses relating to livestock care, food preparation and construction. By comparing the frequency of mention of each plant species with the importance value of each plant species, a mean importance value comparison was developed that counter intuitively indicates that the number of uses for any given plant species does not correlate to how much value is placed on that plant species. While there was some variation between interview results, significant overlap in the most important plant species lists indicates a general uniformity of the unique escarpment cloud forest habitat conditions. Seventeen different perceived causes for the dramatic decline in the Dhofar escarpment cloud forest were presented during the interviews, but there is consensus that the core cause is that the vast numbers of cattle and camels are well beyond the carrying capacity of the ecosystem. The perceived environmental causes for the changes in the forest conditions all relate to water availability, illustrating the important role that water plays in the ecology of the ecosystem and the lives of the Jibbali people. As in so many places around the world, the biggest challenge facing the future of the escarpment cloud forest ecosystem,


Indigenous wisdom the livelihood of the Jibbali people and the integrity of the landscape lies in achieving a balance between the ways of life of the Jibbali people and the endurance of the ecosystem on which their ways of life depend. The intimate traditional knowledge of the Jibbali people – deeply rooted in time and place – is not simply local knowledge, but “ … knowledge of the universal as expressed in the local” [Posey 1999, p. 4] and exemplifies the inherent biocultural connections and the critical role that indigenous peoples play in the conservation of global biological diversity. The ecological, social and political complexities of the challenges facing the conservation of the Dhofar escarpment cloud forest are enormous. The escarpment cloud forest of Dhofar is one of the rarest and most fragile ecosystems in the world, with high biodiversity and high numbers of endemic plant species that have adapted to the specific physical and climatic conditions of this niche environment over millennia. The indigenous Jibbali people who inhabit this surprising and beguiling landscape have also adapted to life in this environment and are dependent on the unique plant species for their livelihoods and ways of life. While the lives of the Jibbali are being irrevocably changed by the influences of modern technology and new ways of life, the connections between the Jibbali people and the plant species of the escarpment cloud forest remain strong and deeply spiritual; the plants are considered as spiritually alive as the Jibbali people themselves [Chapeskie 1999, p. 76]. Ethnobotany focuses of the knowledge, use and management of plants by people, and provides insight into environmental management challenges and the need for conservation [Dalle & Potvin 2004, p. 39]. The entire ecosystem, from soil to water to flora to fauna, is dependent upon the integrity of the cloud forest canopy. Without its canopy of trees, the Dhofar cloud forest will not be able to regenerate naturally and will cease to exist. Conservation action and a sustainable management solution for this biodiversity hotspot and area of high endemism are urgently required before it is too late. The results of this research clearly indicate that the Dhofar escarpment cloud forest is an area rich with potential for further research. Given the rapid rate of deterioration of the forest canopy and the cloud forest ecosystem as a whole, time is of the essence. Due to the complexity and richness of the escarpment cloud forest, the areas of potential future research transcend many disciplines and areas of expertise, including landscape management, ethnobotany, botany, population ecology, forest ecology, conservation biology, hydrology, soil science, climatology, agriculture, agroeconomics, anthropology, ethnography, linguistics, cultural studies, conservation management, and tourism management. Future research in Dhofar has the potential to break down traditional divisions of research disciplines and provides opportunities for multidisciplinary, collaborative and cross-sectoral study [Balick & O’Brien 2004, p. 87]. Dhofar has emerged from generations of geographical, societal and political isolation, but it has not emerged unscathed. This area of almost unimaginable physical contrasts - from the nearly lifeless sand desert of the “Empty Quarter” to the lush richness of life in the most biologically diverse region in all of Arabia: the escarpment cloud forest – has been the subject of tales and legends for millennia, and must now become the subject of urgent local, regional, and international conservation action and cooperation. With a remarkable diversity of landscapes, habitats and species, the Sultanate of Oman is as surprising as it is beautiful. Endowed with a near embarrassment of environmental riches, Oman has been recognized internationally for its regionally progressive commitment to cultural and natural heritage conservation. The momentum from past and ongoing successes must be maintained and applied to the conservation of the Dhofar escarpment cloud forest. While geopolitically situated in the Middle East, Oman looks back over both shoulders, sharing strong physical, phytogeographical and anthropological links with Asia and Africa. Conservation cannot occur and endure in isolation, and regional links must be established to further scientific knowledge about the similarities between the two phytogeographical regions and the shared biodiversity hotspots which intersect in this remote corner of Arabia. As simply but powerfully stated by Sheil et al [2006, p. 22], “everyone must be seen as potential allies for conservation.” Summary The landscape of the Dhofar escarpment and its unique cloud forest is the result of millennia of highly complex interactions and influences related to geography, geology, geomorphology, climate, soils, hydrology, phytogeography, ecology, culture, history, time and place. The intimate Jibbali knowledge of – and deep attachment to – the remarkable plant species and landscapes of the Dhofar escarpment cloud forest exemplifies the inherent biocultural connections and the critical role that indigenous peoples play in the conservation of global biological diversity. The Dhofar escarpment cloud forest is extremely remote and was for millennia known only to the rest of the world through myths and legends. Its reputation wafted around the world as the white smoke from frankincense carried thoughts and prayers swirling up into the sky. As a result of fiercely protective secrecy and geographic isolation – compounded in more recent generations by political isolation and war – the Dhofar escarpment cloud forest is relatively understudied by modern science, but it is an area that is rich with potential for future research. Due to the complexity and richness of the cloud forest, future research must transcend disciplines and break down traditional divisions of research.


Indigenous wisdom Landscape architects are particularly well-suited to lead multidisciplinary study of the Dhofar escarpment cloud forest and numerous threatened ecosystems worldwide, through the application of a participatory research approach that is focused on shared learning, collaborative relationships and the validation of traditional ecological knowledge (McClatchey & Gollin 2005, p. 310; Medley & Kalibo 2005, p. 303). Our skills of observation, our understanding of ecological processes at a landscape and regional scale, our sensitivity to culture and place, and our appreciation of the individual and collective beauty and value of plant material and landscapes as a whole are desperately needed. These skills must continue to be nurtured in all landscape architects as our profession assumes its rightful place at the forefront of conservation efforts to protect the world’s special places. And in my books, the Dhofar escarpment cloud forest is at the top of the list.  References Alcorn, J 1993, ‘Indigenous peoples and conservation’, Conservation Biology, vol. 7, no. 2, pp. 424-426. Al-Zidjali T 1996, Oman: Country Report to the FAO International Technical Conference on Plant Genetic Resources, Muscat, Oman. Balick, M & O’Brien, H 2004, ‘Ethnobotanical and floristic research in Belize: accomplishments, challenges and lessons learned’, Ethnobotany Research & Applications, vol. 2, pp. 77-88. Boulos, L, Miller, A & Mill, Robert, 1994, ‘Regional overview: southwest Asia and the Middle East’, in Centres of plant diversity: a guide and strategy for their conservation, volume I, Europe, Africa, Southwest Asia and the Middle East, World Wide Fund for Nature & IUCN, pp. 293-311. Brosius, J 1997, ‘Endangered forest, endangered people: environmentalist representations of indigenous knowledge’, Human Ecology, vol. 25, no. 1, pp. 47-69. Chapeskie, A 1999, ‘Culture, landscape and diversity’, in Posey, D (ed.), Cultural and spiritual values of biodiversity: a complementary contribution to the global biodiversity assessment, United Nations Environment Programme (UNEP), Nairobi, pp. 76-79. Cocks, M 2006, ‘Biocultural diversity: moving beyond the realm of ‘indigenous’ and ‘local’ people’, Human Ecology, vol. 34, no. 2, pp. 185-200. Dalle, S & Potvin, C 2004, ‘Conservation of useful plants: an evaluation of local priorities from two indigenous communities in eastern Panama’, Economic Botany, vol. 58, no. 1, pp. 38-57. Davis, A & Wagner, J 2003, ‘Who knows? On the importance of identifying “experts” when researching local ecological knowledge’, Human Ecology, vol. 31, pp. 464-489. Gadgil, M & Berkes, F & Folke, C 1993, ‘Indigenous knowledge for biodiversity conservation’, Ambio, vol. 22, no. 2-3, pp. 151156. Ghazanfar, S & Fisher, M (eds.) 1998, Vegetation of the Arabian Peninsula, Kluwer Academic Publishers, Dordrecht, The Netherlands. Glennie , K (ed.) 2006, Oman’s Geological Heritage, Petroleum Development Oman, Muscat, Sultanate of Oman. Gray, A 1999, ‘Indigenous peoples, their environments and territories’, in Posey, D (ed.), Cultural and spiritual values of biodiversity: a complementary contribution to the global biodiversity assessment, United Nations Environment Programme (UNEP), Nairobi, pp. 61-66. Hames, R 2007, ‘The ecologically noble savage debate’, Annual Review of Anthropology, vol. 36, pp. 177-190. Hildebrandt, A, Al Aufi, M, Amerjeed, M, Shammas, M, Eltahir, EAB 2007, ‘Ecohydrology of a seasonal cloud forest in Dhofar: 1. field experiment’, Water Resources Research, Vol. 43, No. 1, pp. 1-13. Hildebrandt, A & Eltahir, E 2007, ‘Ecohydrology of a seasonal cloud forest in Dhofar: 2. role of clouds, soil type, and rooting depth in tree-grass competition’, Water Resources Research, Vol. 43, No. 1, pp. 1-13. Hollowell, J. & Nicholas, G. (2009) Using Ethnographic Methods to Articulate Community-Based Conceptions of Cultural Heritage Management. Public archaeology: archaeological ethnographies, Vol. 8, No. 2–3, 141-160. Jain, S 2000, ‘Human aspects of plant diversity’, Economic Botany, vol. 54, no. 4, pp. 459-470. Labadi, S 2007, ‘Representations of the nation and cultural diversity in discourses on world heritage’, Journal of Social Archaeology, vol. 7, no. 2, pp. 147-170. Lertzman, D & Vredenburg, H 2005, ‘Indigenous peoples, resource extraction and sustainable development: an ethical approach’, Journal of Business Ethics, vol. 56, no. 3, pp. 239-254.


Indigenous wisdom Limbert, M 2001, ‘The senses of water in an Omani town’, Social Text, vol. 19, no. 3, pp. 35-55. McClatchey, W 2005, ‘Exorcizing misleading terms from ethnobotany’, Ethnobotany Research & Applications, vol.3, pp. 1-4. McClatchey, W & Gollin, L 2005, ‘ An ethnobotany research training workshop in Madagascar’, Ethnobotany Research & Applications, vol.3, pp. 309-327. Medley, K & Kalibo, H 2005, ‘An ecological framework for participatory ethnobotanical research at Mt. Kasigau, Kenya’, Field Methods, vol. 17, no. 3, pp. 302-314. Miller, A & Morris, M 1988, Plants of Dhofar, The Office for the Advisor for Conservation of the Environment, Diwan of Royal Court, Sultanate of Oman. Ministry of Environment and Climate Affairs 2010, Fourth national report to the convention on biological diversity, Directorate-General of Nature Conservation, Sultanate of Oman. Morris, M 2007, The pre-literate, non-Arabic languages of Oman and Yemen: their current situation and uncertain future. Retrieved March 5, 2011, from http://www.al-bab.com/bys/articles/morris07.htm. Parlee, B & Berkes, F 2006, ‘Indigenous knowledge of ecological variability and commons management: a case study on berry harvesting from northern Canada’, Human Ecology, vol. 34, no. 4, pp. 515-528. Patzelt, A 2010, ‘Status of in situ and ex situ plant conservation in the Sultanate of Oman, Southern Arabia’, Proceedings of the 3rd Global Botanic Gardens Congress, Botanical Gardens Conservation International, pp. 1-5. Peterson, J 2004, ‘Oman’s diverse society: southern Oman’, Middle East Journal, vol. 58, no. 2, pp. 254-269. Posey, D 1999, ‘Introduction: culture and nature – the inextricable link’, in Posey, D (ed.), Cultural and spiritual values of biodiversity: a complementary contribution to the global biodiversity assessment, United Nations Environment Programme (UNEP), Nairobi, pp. 3-16. Rhind, PM 2010, Plant Formations in the Omanian Bioprovince. Retrieved on 21 March 2011 from http://www.terrestrialbiozones.net/Paleotropic%20Vegetation/Omanian%20Vegetation.pdf. Rose, D 2005, ‘An indigenous philosophical ecology: situating the human’, Australian Journal of Anthropology, vol. 16, pp. 294305. Serjeant RB 1989, ‘Review: Plants of Dhofar’, Journal of the Royal Asiatic Society of Great Britain and Ireland, Vol. 2, pp. 338340. Retrieved on March 8, 2011 from JStor electronic data base. Shamass, M 2007, ‘Impact of the Al-Qara mountain fogwater forest on groundwater recharge in the Salalah coastal aquifer, Sultanate of Oman’, Ecohydrology & Hydrology, Vol. 7, No. 1, pp. 37-49. Sheil, D et al 2006, ‘Recognizing local people’s priorities for tropical forest biodiversity’, Ambio, vol. 35, no. 1, pp. 17-24. Slikkerveer, L 1999, ‘Ethnoscience, ‘TEK’ and its application to conservation’, in Posey, D (ed.), Cultural and spiritual values of biodiversity: a complementary contribution to the global biodiversity assessment, United Nations Environment Programme (UNEP), Nairobi, pp. 169-177.

16. The Sky from Earth: Landscape as Awareness Bertol D Deakin University ABSTRACT For thousands of years mankind has looked at the sky above to engage with the surrounding environment. The observation of solar, lunar and other celestial events guided settlements as well as human movements and activities, just as the cycle of the seasons influenced agricultural crops or dwelling. Archaeoastronomy includes many examples of fabrications in the landscape, constructed solely to observe the sky. The awareness of the sky can be particularly important in the contemporary landscape where the design of a sustainable environment has taken on a sense of urgency. This paper features a survey of several international and Australian archaeoastronomical examples and presents a vocabulary of contemporary interventions in the landscape designed to bring awareness of the sky from observation of celestial events. Some of the contemporary interventions are realized while others are design proposals; in all the examples the viewer is engaged in time-based perceptions of different landscapes aided by minimal constructions, which facilitate the observation of the daily sun path, lunar phases and star trails. A symbiosis between the land, the sky and the observer is established, bringing awareness of how the sky above engages the life on earth.


Indigenous wisdom This paper offers a fresh insight, drawing upon Indigenous wisdom as well as contemporary debates and literature, to appreciate the social and cultural significance of these places. By reading and appreciating these examples, and the cultures they are party to, new insights and avenues can be offered as to better design and manage our human environments.

Figure 1:The sun rising behind Isola di Vivara, from 40°44’7.75”N, 13°57’23.64”E, 10 April 2012 The island serves as a “natural” reference point for the apparent path of the sun

Introduction Nature is aware of the transition between light and darkness: the sun rising and setting and the change in color of the sky is observed by almost every living being. For a stationary observer on earth, the sun, stars and planets rise and set in different locations on the horizon throughout the year; the sun’s apparent path defines yearlong cyclical patterns. For thousands of years, humankind has been observing and recording the patterns created by the apparent movement of the sun against the background of the sky. The observation and understanding of sun cycles throughout the day and year had several applications related to timekeeping, calendars and orientation. Some applications were of a pragmatic nature, such as the optimization of agriculture and the understanding of weather patterns, while others were used in ceremonies and rituals.

Figure 2:The yearly earth revolution around the sun

Archeoastronomy is the study of skywatching in ancient cultures and often utilizes methodologies borrowed from anthropology and archeology as it relies on the interpretation of ancient artifacts in their cultural meaning [Aveni, 1992, 1997, 2001, Krupp 1983, 1997]. The Sky, Across Space and Time: the Worldwide Presence of Archeoastronomy Skywatching in ancient cultures was often aided by the marking of the landscape with built fabrications of different materials, morphologies and scales. These interventions in the landscape were connecting a static location on earth


Indigenous wisdom with “moving” events in the sky: as naked-eye observatories establishing a presence of the remote space of the sky in the local space of the built environment. Simple megaliths and stone alignments are found from prehistoric ages throughout the world. These rudimentary monuments were often oriented to celestial events. Several examples in Europe include the Carnac Stones in France (4500 B.C.), Newgrange tomb in Ireland (3200 B.C.) [O’Kelly, 1995] and Stonehenge, in southern England, built in different phases between 3000 and 2000 B.C. [Thurston, 1994] The presence of megalithic arrangements with astronomical purposes is found also on the other side of the Atlantic Ocean: Native Americans erected the Big Horn Medicine Wheel on a mountain in Wyoming [Eddy, 1974], and the Aztecs built Teotihuacán and Monte Albán, towns oriented along solar and stellar alignments [Aveni, 1997]. The Mayan towns of Chichén Itzá and Uxmal exhibited alignments to the planet Venus and to solar solstices [Krupp, 1997]. Traversing the planet eastward, Chinese astronomy dates back several thousand years [Krupp, 1983]; 3D solar calendars and almanacs were built based on vertical posts, for observation of the Sun’s altitude and azimuth throughout the year. A more recent example of astronomical instrument at architectural scale is the Jantar Mantar, a series of observatories built in several Indian cities in the 18th century; the most outstanding structures are found in Jaipur and were used as sundials or other observation instruments for measurements of the positions of the Sun, stars and planets [Volwahsen, 2001, Rajawat, 1989]. In the other hemisphere aboriginal astronomy developed in Australia; the most outstanding built example is the Wurdi Youang stone arrangements in Victoria [Norris, Hamacher, Abrahams 2012]. Morphologies of Interventions Astronomical stone arrangements are organized in different forms and scales. Stonehenge is one of the largest surviving megalithic monuments with the diameter of the outer circle of standing stones measuring 33 metres (108 ft) and its tallest surviving thrilithon standing 6.7 metres (22 ft) above ground [Thurston, 1994]. The Wurdi Youang stones are much smaller, extending only to waist height. The formal geometric arrangement also varies, from straight lines to arcs, circles, ovals, radial lines or combination of the above. The geometry of the stone configurations is determined by their function of providing orientation to a celestial event. A characteristic shared by all the different arrangements is that stones —usually amorphous elements in the landscape— become pointers, providing direction and orientation. Some rocks stand alone while others create enclosures. Some stone alignments act like an arrow on earth pointing to a celestial object in the sky; in other arrangements stones can be assembled to create a frame or even an enclosure surrounding the recurring passing of the sun, other stars or planets. Particularly intriguing from a perceptual standpoint is the changing relationship between figure and ground, established by the visual field created by the celestial objects in the sky and the stone configurations in the landscape. Interpreted through Norberg-Schulz’s (1980) emphasis on the figure-ground relationship where “ any enclosure becomes manifest as a “figure” in relation to the extended ground of the landscape” (p. 12), the celestial object is a figure in the sky background just as the stones are figure in the landscape background. The landscape itself can become a figure in the sky background. The figure-ground becomes a dynamic complex relationship connecting remote space and local place as the “local” static stones in the landscape interact with the dynamic celestial phenomena transiting in the remote sky background. Stones of Meaning The notion of ancient wisdom has become part of a contemporary discourse in a “system thinking” approach to knowledge and practices, and of the numerous archeoastronomical stone arrangements spanning many geographic locations and times, I will focus on a few examples: the Aboriginal stone arrangements of Wurdi Youang (Victoria, Australia), the Big Horn Medicine Wheel (Wyoming, USA), and Sun Farm (New York, USA). Archeoastronomical monuments show how mankind has integrated and transformed local space to observe and interpret the remote inaccessible space of stars and planets, transforming organic knowledge of the cosmos into pragmatic needs. More specifically, the perception of the sky from earth creates an awareness which can be incorporated in a series of actions or activities. Aboriginal stones arrangement of Wurdi Youang (Victoria, Australia) The connection between mankind and earth as part of a cosmological system has been clearly summarized in Chatwin’s novel “The Songlines” [Chatwin, 1988] : “The Aboriginals had an earthbound philosophy. The earth gave life to a man; gave him his food, language and intelligence; and the earth took him back when he died. A man’s ‘own country’, even an empty stretch of spinifex, was itself a sacred ikon that must remain unscarred.


Indigenous wisdom ‘Unscarred, you mean, by roads or mines or railways?’ ‘To wound the earth’, he answered earnestly, ‘is to wound yourself, and if others wound the earth, they are wounding you. The land should be left untouched: as it was in the Dreamtime when the Ancestors sang the world into existence “ (p. 16) According to this weltanschauung, skywatching, as well as the observation of other natural events on the land, is obviously an important component of the aboriginal culture. The knowledge developed from the sky and land observations was not recorded in the traditional western methodologies but communicated through art, dance and storytelling [Hamacher, Norris 2011]. Beyond timekeeping, skywatching was also used in many practical applications as navigation and as well as for ritualistic purposes [Norris, Hamacher, Abrahams 2012]. The sun and moon also assumed human connotations as male (moon) and female (sun) in Aboriginal storytelling [Hamacher, Norris 2011]. In this context, at least some of the hundreds of Aboriginal stone alignments can be interpreted to have astronomical significance. Of particular relevance for solar alignments is the Wurdi Youang stone arrangement composed of about 100 basalt stones. Wurdi Youang is located at the Mount Rothwell Archaeological Site, in the town of Little River, between Melbourne and Geelong; its precise location is not disclosed for protection purposes. Wurdi Youang is shaped as an irregular egg, with the tallest stones waist-high; its major axis measures about 50 meters and forms an East-West alignment correspondent to the sun rising and setting during the Equinoxes. An accurate survey is described in the latest publication on Wurdi Youang [Norris, 2012], where it is demonstrated with computational and statistical methods that the stone alignments to the sun setting during the equinoxes and solstices are not coincidental.

Figure 3:Wurdi Youang site looking north-west. David Jones, 2012. Permission for reproduction granted by the author.

These results are in agreement with the organic holistic view of the Aboriginal cultures where knowing and making intersects with spiritual beliefs and life practices. Dancing the Stones: Medicine Wheels Medicine wheels are stone arrangements located in North America, built by nomadic tribes of native Americans, including Sioux, Cheyenne, Crow, Blackfoot, Arapaho, Cree, Shoshoni, Comanche, and Pawnee [http://solar-center. stanford.edu/AO/overview-who.html]. Medicine wheels are found in geographic regions spanning from Canada to Wyoming. According to the archeologist John Brumley, a medicine wheel consists of a central cairn (stack of stones), one or two more concentric stone circles, and/or two or more radial stone arrangements outward from a central point [Vickers, 1992]. The term ‘medicine’ was used by native Americans to denote supernatural or magic events and medicine wheels were often places for rituals and ceremonies. The arrangement of the stones is very similar to the floor plan of sun lodges [Kehoe, 1977] with the central cairn in the same location as the pole at the centre of the lodge; this suggests the possibility of the medicine wheel as a two-dimensional projection of the three-dimensional sun lodge structure [Eddy, 1974]. Therefore medicine wheels could have been erected to perform the Sun Dance [Neihardt, 1979]. The ritualistic Sun Dance was traditionally performed around the summer solstice, when the sun is at its highest angle from the horizon; the performers danced while staring at the sun, often incurring self-inflicted wounds while asking for harmony, rebirth and renewal [Walker, 1917]. The ages of medicine wheels varies by many centuries. The Majorville Medicine Wheel, the oldest medicine wheel


Indigenous wisdom known so far, was discovered recently (1971) in the Vulcan County, Alberta (Canada); it is composed by a central cairn nine meters in diameter and linked by 28 spokes about 27 meters long. The central cairn dates to about 4,500 years ago [Freeman, 2008].

Figure 4: Majorville Medicine Wheel, 50°35’6.40”N 112°24’37.47”W

A relatively new structure, only 200 years old, yet impressive for its formal arrangement, is the Big Horn Medicine Wheel located at an altitude of about 2938 meters in the Medicine Mountain of Big Horn Forest (Wyoming, USA). The stone arrangement consists of a circle of stones, about 25 meters in diameter, surrounding a 4-meter diameter cairn. The two concentric circles are connected by 28 spokes which connect to the rim. The astronomer John Eddy in 1974 published his research about the possibility that three cairns were aligned to the summer solstice [Eddy, 1974]. Medicine wheels represent an outstanding expression of a holistic view of the world; the merging of landscape-based sun observations with the performance of dance rituals is an example of the ancient search for harmony between mankind, the land and the sky.

Figure 5: Big Horn Medicine Wheel, 44°49’34.98”N 107°55’18.81”W

Skywatching and Contemporary Art In the last five decades archeoastronomy has had a revival within the art discourse. Many of the art projects related to archeoastronomy emerged from the Land Art movement which began in the 1960’s. Several artists, including James Turrell, Robert Morris, Nancy Holt, Charles Ross and Robert Smithson, incorporate skywatching as part of their projects [Beardsley, 1998 Sofist, 1983]. These artists often use bulldozers and other heavy machines in the permanent transformation of the landscape, producing massive earthworks which are often not in harmony with the existing ecology. Although he does not make explicit cosmological references in his work, British artist Richard Long continues the holistic traditions of the archeoastronomical examples presented earlier. His interventions in the landscape are based on stone lines and circles - ephemeral signs on the land generated by the act of walking [Long 2002].


Indigenous wisdom Sun Farm: Virtual Meets Physical, Sky Meets the Earth

Figure 6: Sun Farm aerial view showing east alignment, 42°10’21.08”N 73°40’24.29”W

Another example of contemporary environmental art is Sun Farm —an experiential place and built vision, and a multidisciplinary, multimedia project encompassing several thought processes, theories, disciplines as well as “practice” of making [Bertol, 2008]. Sun Farm located in the Hudson Valley (New York, USA) was greatly inspired by cosmography [Apianus, 1524], the discipline concerned with the position of all celestial bodies and terrestrial places. Cosmography illustrated cosmological theories, sun diagrams and moon phases but it also extended to practical applications such as three-dimensional constructions, astronomical instruments and survey tools in a holistic approach to human knowledge, integrating scientific methodologies with artistic intuitions, in conformance with the Renaissance tradition. Drawing from cosmography [Madhu, 2003, Vogel 2006], cosmology [Cornford, 1937] observational astronomy [Aveni, 2001] and philosophy [Heidegger, 1962, Kepler, 1997], Sun Farm consists of excavated earthworks, large scale environments as well as above-ground constructions. Art becomes a catalyst to channel different perceptions of the environment and create awareness of where we are in space and time. The Sun Farm development is process-based (versus final object /product) [Bertol, 2006]. Several narratives are involved: • representation > digital models, images, astronomical diagrams & charts • virtual presence > Google EarthTM models, aerial and satellite photos, blog • perception > time lapse photographs and video, besides a direct visit of the land art works. The shaping of the landscape and structures is oriented to solar and celestial alignments, in a dual effort to capture the sun’s energy and to celebrate the cosmos. The sun’s daily path —from sunrise to sunset and its disappearing at night— is represented, literally and metaphorically, by two spirals connected by a 1 kilometer long axis. The two intersecting spirals make a cosmography inscribed in the land, where different fabrications are both metaphors and literal expressions of celestial phenomena and are linear or algorithmic expansions in the landscape, which start from the center of a chosen site — the axis mundi (axis of the world) [Eliade, 1987]. The spiral [Lockwood, 1967] is one of the most meaningful forms, present in many cultures; it creates a series of vectors, expanding and contracting at the same time.


Indigenous wisdom

Figure 7: Sun rising during the fall equinox reflecting in East Spiral pond (top) View of East Spiral mound looking west.

Sun Farm design follows a rigorous mathematical approach, which originates from the site morphology singularities. The axis mundi center of the logarithmic East Spiral coincides with the lowest topographical point of the site. A drainage layout follows the radial geometry of the spiral, making the earth / water work as a storm water management system. Water defines the center of the spiral with an excavated pond approximately 40 meters by 30 meters. The pond is excavated in a naturally wet area of the site, and gives ground water a chance to pool with minimal manmade intervention. The earth removed from the pond has been moved to its perimeter to reinforce the spiral shape with a helicoidal ramp. The mound features in-flow and out-flow channels oriented to the east-west and north-south axis defining the cardinal points, a theme that is repeated throughout the site. The ideal linear Euclidean geometry of the spiral and the axes is defined by minimalist interventions, where man-made and natural materials intersect with the complex non-linear geometry of nature defined by wind, rain, erosion, soil composition and many other dynamic elements. East Spiral is both a metaphor and literal representation of day. The presence of water reinforces the notion of the beginning of a cycle, since human life starts in water. The other interventions in the landscape evolve from the spiral path along an east-west axis and include [Nevada Museum of Art, 2011]: sunrise trellis: a wooden structure framing the sunrise at the equinoxes noon columns: an 26 meters long series of columns/sundials square field: a composition of a 8 meters white gravel squares surrounded by concrete pavers aligned to the cardinal points west spiral (to be built): Each point of the spiral will be identiďŹ ed by a steel column supporting a cable net representing the setting Sun and marking the western limit of the property. the observatory (to be built): a naked-eye observatory of celestial events resembling an armillary sphere made of 24 longitudinal and 18 latitudinal welded curved steel plates. Sun Farm introduces a new paradigm of art. The perception of the work of art happens at a multi-sensorial level involving not only visual observations but also action-based perceptions and interpretations. The viewing of the main artwork --the intersecting spirals path-- develops at different layers of perception. Art becomes a participatory event leading to a spiritual experience, where the observer is guided by views of the sky in the Sunâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s daily path/cycle. Walking along the path will provide a different layer of interpretation and fruition, such as a walking meditation, with a direct experience of the metaphors of spirals / time / sun path / life. The most complete understanding of the artwork requires a complete day: the beginning of the experience will ideally start in water, at the Axis Mundi, center of the pond of East Spiral, viewing the Sun rising over the helicoidal mound, with the sky mirrored in the water. The walking experience will continue as the day unfolds, at Sun Axis, with views of the setting Sun framed by Sun Mandala: the cycle will end at West Spiral with star observations at the Observatory. The intent of Sun Farm is also to provide an integration of different methodologies, where design of virtual space meets the physical world. In the contemporary world of space and radio telescopes, astronomical explorations are no longer founded on naked-eye observations.Yet the ancient observatories, as simple as stone arrangements, have the potential to explain the origin of the universe to the layman: art becomes a means to reconnect us to the universe, bringing to us an awareness of our presence in space and time.


Indigenous wisdom

Figure 8:The sun framed by Sunrise Trellis during the fall equinox 2006

Figure 9: Noon Columns: the center image shows the shadow as a continuous line at noon

Figure 10:The Observatory: design renderings


Indigenous wisdom

Figure 11: Sun Farm metaphorical itinerary

Conclusion Archeoastronomy teaches us how landscapes can create awareness of our place in the cosmos, and how this awareness can greatly influence human settlements and their creation of places.This lesson can be meaningfully used by contemporary design: interventions in the landscape based on solar alignments can become programmatic elements. Both solids and voids, generative of positive and negative spaces, could follow the direction of the geometry of the apparent sun path to include tree lines, pathways, trellises, cuts in the vegetation, and crop patterns. The sun-inspired geometry, as it intersects with the natural topography of the site, could become inclusive of passive solar energy principles; additional elements could be also added to the initial fabrications â&#x20AC;&#x201D;e.g., as photovoltaic lighting in pathways. The fabrications could serve the dual purpose of providing orientation as well as creating an aesthetic enjoyment of the low sunlight at sunrise and sunset. Solid elements, such as tree lines, hedging or trellises could also function as sundials. In a time when our orientation in space and time is provided by satellites, GPS and atomic clocks, these simple fabrications could promote a more intimate connection, not only with the natural environment but with the universe itself. References Apian, P. (1524). Cosmographicus liber Petri Apiani mathematici studiose collectus. Landshutae. Aveni, A. (1992). Conversing with the Planets: How Science and Myth Invented the Cosmos. New York, NY: Times Books. Aveni, A. (1997). Stairways to the Stars: Skywatching in Three Great Ancient Cultures. New York, NY: Wiley. Aveni, A. (2001). Skywatchers. Austin, TX: University of Texas Press. Beardsley, J. (1998). Earthworks and Beyond. New York, NY: Abbeville Press. Bertol, D. (2006). Framing the Land and Sky: Art Meets Cosmology in a Sustainable Environment. Leonardo, 39(2), 125-130. Bertol, D. (2008). Architettura e Cosmologia: percezioni del cielo sulla terra. Matematica e cultura 2008, 285-294. doi: 10.1007/978-88-470-0794-9_23 Chatwin, B. (1988). The Songlines. New York, NY: Viking. Cocuccioni, E. (2007, December 3). Art + Place = (Space + Time) of Existence: Intervista con Daniela Bertol. Retrieved from http://www.lacritica.net/bertol.htm


Indigenous wisdom Cornford, F.M. (1937). Plato’s Cosmology: The Timaeus of Plato. Indianapolis, Indiana: Hackett Publishing. Eddy, J.A. (1974). Astronomical Alignments of the Bighorn Medicine Wheel. Science, 184(4141), 1035-1043. Eliade, M. (1987). The Sacred and the Profane: The Nature of Religion. San Diego, CA: Harcourt. Elk, B., & Neihardt, J. G. (1979). Black Elk speaks: being the life story of a holy man of the Oglala Sioux. Lincoln, NE: University of Nebraska Press. Freeman, J. (2008). Canada’s Stonehenge: Astounding Archaeological Discoveries in Canada, England, and Wales. Alberta, CA: Kingsley Publishing. Freeman, M. (1998). A Guide to Khmer Temples in Thailand and Laos. New York, NY: Weatherhill. Grinnell, G.B. (1914). The Cheyenne Medicine Lodge. American Anthropologist, 16(2), 245-256. Hall, R.L. (1985). Medicine Wheels, Sun Circles, and the Magic of World Center Shrines. Plains Anthropologist, 30(109), 181193. Hamacher, D.W., & Norris, R.P. (2011). ‘Bridging the gap’ through Australian cultural astronomy. Proceedings of the International Astronomical Union, 7, 282-290. doi:10.1017/S1743921311012713. Heidegger, M. (1962) Being and Time. (John Macquarrie & Edward Robinson trans.). London: SCM Press. Kaler, J.B. (1996). The Ever-Changing Sky: A Guide to the Celestial Sphere. Cambridge, England: Cambridge University Press. Kastner, J., & Wallis, B. (1998). Land and Environmental Art. London, England: Phaidon Press. Kehoe, T.F., & Kehoe, A.B. (1977). Stones, Solstices and Sun Dance Structures. Plains Anthropologist, 22(76), 85-95. Kepler, J. (1997). The Harmony of the World. (E.J.Aiton, A.M.Duncan, & J.V. Field, Trans.). Philadelphia, PA: American Philosophical Society. Krupp, E.C. (1983). Echoes of the Ancient Skies: The Astronomy of Lost Civilizations. New York, NY: Harper & Row. Krupp, E.C. (1997). Skywatchers, Shamans & Kings. New York, NY: Wiley. Lockwood, E.H. (1967). A Book of Curves. Cambridge, England: Cambridge University Press. Long, R. (2002). Richard Long: Walking the Line. London England: Thames and Hudson. Madhu, K. (2003). Yantra, the Tantric symbol of cosmic unity. Rochester, VT: Inner Traditions. Nevada Museum of Art. (2011). Daniela Bertol and David Foell: Sunfarm. Retrieved Feb. 26, 2013, from http://www. nevadaart.org/modules/assets/images/subpage/findingaids/CAE1115%20Finding%20Aid.pdfhttp://www.nevadaart.org/ modules/assets/images/subpage/findingaids/CAE1115%20Finding%20Aid.pdf Norberg-Schulz, C. (1980). Genius Loci, Towards a Phenomenology of Architecture. New York, NY: Rizzoli. Norris, R.P., Norris, C., Hamacher, D.W., & Abrahams, R. (2012). Wurdi Youang: an Australian Aboriginal stone arrangement with possible solar indications. Rock Art Research. O’Kelly, M.J., & O’Kelly, C. (1995). Newgrange: Archaeology, Art and Legend. London, England: Thames & Hudson. Pearson, M. P. (2005). Bronze Age Britain. London, England: Batsford. Rajawat, D.S. (1989). Astronomical Observatory of Jaipur. Jaipur, India: Delta Publications. Saad-Cook, J. (1988). Touching the Sky: Artworks Using Natural Phenomena, Earth, Sky and Connections to Astronomy. Leonardo, 21(2), 123-134. Smithson, R. (1996). Robert Smithson:The Collected Writings. Berkeley, CA: University of California Press. Sofaer, A. (1997). The Primary Architecture of the Chacoan Culture: A Cosmological Expression. Anasazi Architecture and American Design. Albuquerque, NM: University of New Mexico Press. Sofist, A. (1983). Art in the Land: a Critical Anthology of Environmental Art. New York, NY: Dutton. Thurston, H. (1994). Early Astronomy. New York, NY: Springer. Tiberghien, G. (1994). Land Art. New York, NY: Princeton Architectural Press. Vickers, J.R. (1992). Medicine Wheels: A Mystery in Stone. Alberta Past, 8(3), 6-7. Vogel, K.A. (2006). Cosmography. In K. Park (Ed.), The Cambridge History of Science (vol. 3). Cambridge, England: Cambridge University Press.


Indigenous wisdom Volwahsen, A. (2001). Cosmic Architecture in India: The Astronomical Monuments of Maharaja Jai Singh II. London, England: Prestel. Walker, J. R. (1917). The Sun Dance and Other Ceremonies of the Oglala Division of The Teton Dakota. New York, NY: The American Museum of Natural History. Wilber, K. (1997). The Eye of the Spirit: An integral vision for a world gone slightly mad. Boston, MA: Shambhala. Williamson, R.A. (1984). Living the Sky. Norman, OK: Oklahoma University Press. Wood, J. E. (1978). Sun, Moon and Standing Stones. Oxford England: Oxford University Press.,

17. How do we as designers, design with cultural integrity? Clarke J abstract In New Zealand, there is little interaction and engagement when it comes to tikanga Mรกori (Mรกori philosophies, protocols) and Landscape Architecture. Usually, only the minimum legal standards are satisfied and a general attitude towards cultural integrity is taken because the designer is not able or not required to delve further into carefully constructing designs that facilitate linkages between Mรกori and the wider community. Hoani Waititi marae, a long standing urban marae based in Glen Eden,West Auckland is used as a local example to illustrate a consultation process with Mรกori to ultimately inform and enhance a design philosophy. The objective was to demystify the MVori relationship to their environment which formed a kaupapa (philosophy) to initiate novel design. Negotiation with Hoani Waititi involved consultation and three new spaces of interaction were identified alongside the concepts of manaakitanga (care) and kotahitanga (cultural integrity).While the formal marae atea (courtyard) remained sacred, the surrounding marae buildings such as the kura kaupapa (primary school), whare kura (secondary school), community centre and administration block were better utilised with improved integration of both Mรกori and others connecting Hoani Waititi, Parrs Park and the surrounding environmental context. The key lessons learnt from this process were if you are unsure how to engage with Mรกori, making the effort to engage in an appropriate way through consultation and honesty will generally have a favourable outcome. Employing protocols and utilising tikanga Mรกori (Mรกori philosophies, protocols) will assist in this process. Introduction Designing is all about engagement, interaction and integration of people with their environment. The act of the Landscape Architect is to sit, to experience and be aware of potentials space provides for human interaction. We connect to this sense of place by becoming part of culture, reflective of community as an integration of people with environment. However landscape architects struggle to understand the types of conversations with the land that are invisible to their own culture, hence silent and often overlooked. Aotearoa (New Zealand) is unique with Mรกori indigeneity leading the charge, incorporating traditional philosophies as a guide to adapt and understand our continually changing environment. This paper will attempt to demystify the link between Mรกori indigenous philosophies their connection to the whenua (land), their environment and the importance to uphold these principles to inform cultural integral designs. The pรณwhiri (ceremonial greeting) experience of entering Hoani Waititi marae is used as a metaphor for how to engage with Mรกori, to design with cultural integrity. Despite the efforts of a few to bridge across the cultural divide, many landscape architects still find it hard to engage with Mรกori when it comes to tikanga Mรกori (Mรกori philosophies, protocols). This is the time of change; To link the current and shifting morals of our world Te Ao Hurihuri (the changing world), plumb the depths of connections to tikanga Mรกori (Mรกori philosophies, protocols) and create a template for other practitioners to follow, with the ability to engage with and within various types of indigenous relationships. Offering a chance to integrate to Te Taiao (the natural world), the environment (both physical and spiritual), cultural values and the wider community. The Kore (void): In the beginning The movement of the Mรกori urban migration has been described as the most rapid of any indigenous population in the world[1]. In 1945, 26% of the total Mรกori population lived in urban areas but this had reached nearly 80% by 1986. In just over a generation, the vast majority of Mรกori had become urban dwellers. The โ€˜urban shiftโ€™ of Mรกori became accepted and regarded as inevitable and even desirable. The Mรกori renaissance began in the 1970s as an attempt to reconnect the ties of urbanised Mรกori and link them back to their papakainga (homeland), traditional Mรกori values and tikanga (philosophies, protocols) [1]. This was achieved


Indigenous wisdom through the establishment of urban marae and the management of Máori-owned assets via the Waitangi tribunal. This was the beginning of a landmark change that continues today; for Máori to take the initiative and to reclaim what had been lost. Máori have a strong connection to whenua (land) incepted from Te Ao Máori (Máori world); to apply and uphold the values of kaitiakitanga (conservation) under the approach of rangatiratanga (gaurdianship), where these kaitiaki (guardians) enhance and retain the integrity of TeTaiao (the natural world). Urban Máori are introverted and inward looking due to collective urbanism (stems from moving to the city in the past 2-3 generations to find work), clinging together in one place in a hostile alien world and where external physical, political and economic influences have blindsided and masked the importance of cultural connections and linkage to turangawaewae (a place to stand). Over the past ten years, Auckland has become multicultural, now all ethnic groups are fighting for their own turangawaewae (a place to stand). Manawhenua (territorial rights): Background “...it is not about compiling data...it is about upholding the mauri (essence), ensuring that it continues to live and thrive and bestow its gift of wholeness, health, integrity. That is so much more difficult when Máori are largely alienated from the land, either by loss of ownership or loss of access” Robert McGowan [2] Hoani Waititi was established in 1980, in Glen Eden, West Auckland [1]. The land was gifted by the Auckland City council to facilitate a pan-tribal/ urban marae initiative, a place for Máori to uphold Máori tikanga (Máori philosophies, protocols) such as tangihanga (funerals), birthdays and weddings. Hoani Waititi was the first to set up a Máori language total immersion kóhanga reo (Máori early childhood centre) in Auckland, and since then have added a kura kaupapa Máori (primary school) and wharekura kaupapa Máori (secondary school) all of which are located on the marae complex. Hoani Waititi marae is a place for whanau (families) to call home, kaumatua (elder) housing, a recognised workplace and has the responsibility to ensure the safety and wellbeing of the wider community. It is also home to Te Rápu Manutaki, Ngá Tumanako and several other kapahaka (Máori performance) groups. Other pan-tribal/urban marae in Auckland include Awataha marae in Northcote and Manurewa marae in Manurewa. They have similar features to Hoani Waititi. The main difference with the latter two maraes is that they both also incorporate an extensive hauora (health) centre within the complex. Urban marae serve as a marker of pride and place of belonging for urban Máori, some of whom are born in Auckland and/or have no connections with their rural marae that their parents and grandparents originated from. They provide opportunities to reaffirm and rediscover Máori culture and allow both Máori and others to learn and participate in all aspects of Máori culture and tikanga (philosophies, protocols). These pan-tribal urban marae are different in setup and organisation to tribal marae set up in Auckland established outside their tribal boundaries, e.g. Te Tira Hou [Panmure] which was built to accommodate the large number of Ngai Tuhoe living within that particular region. Waewae tapu (sacred feet): a new footing ‘Traditional values and knowledge are increasingly relevant in a complex world, where new holistic perspectives and ideas need to be integrated to find solutions to global problems. In many areas, we are seeing a realignment of indigenous and Western thinking’[6] Previous authors have described the creation of sustainable environments to restore a sense of place and a new lens to provide meaning to the individual’s experience [3, 4]. The creation of landscapes which embody meaning and have cultural significance needs to be conveyed well, so that they are easily understood by the interpretations of everyday people. Initiating the relationships between culture, ecology and geology of the landscape to evoke awareness and embracing these connections should underpin all landscape design [4]. By using these same principles of valuing the linkages between culture and ecology, this creates a sense of place in regards to the issues and values relating to Máori. Collaborating with local iwi (Máori tribal grouping) to produce a strategic master plan defines the interactions between these culturally significant landscapes and will define subsequent design strategy. The ability of landscape architects to develop an awareness of various cultures towards improving the landscape through more careful and culturally integral design is a powerful tool and must be used carefully, not taken advantage of. Sustainability and conservation of resources (physically, spiritually, mentally) have long been evident in Máori culture and are deeply embedded in tikanga. Further explanation is embodied in the following quote ‘working with tikanga Máori (Máori philosophies) enables formerly marginalised indigenous principles to be expressed and celebrated in the material practices of our contemporary culture.While founded on traditional concepts, these practices have new knowledge embedded within them’ [7] Sustainability requires the presence of a stable culture in order to provide longevity through regenerative use of stable


Indigenous wisdom ecosystems. ‘[There are] strong indicators of an increasing desire for sustainable living within international communities; built upon sustainable values’ [5]. Máori believe in applying kaitiakitanga (conservations), as a part of the inherited aspect of rangatiratanga (guardianship). This is to further and actively protect the natural resources of their environment and thereby provide a meaningful existence for themselves. Updating an iconic urban project by addressing a key building as the most visible part of the restructuring plan is always a challenge because there is a lot of memories and ownership invested in such a building. However there are ‘ways of relating the historical and the modern centre within the surrounding urban reality’ [3]. This project recognised that the retention of the existing historical building of Ngá Tumanako at the centre of Hoani Waititi marae was crucial to the design, because it is the most significant building on the site. The project aimed to build linkages (pathways) and bridges between these seemingly disparate iconic features to ‘invite’ the public into the outer marae area. It also provided a new lease of life for this most significant building and by upgrading the marae complex promoted collaboration with local iwi other iwi and the outside suburban community. Since Hoani Waititi lies within the territory of the local iwi Ngáti Whatua, acknowledgement had to occur for that iwi. Hoani Waititi is geographically located alongside Parrs Park. Sunnyvale train station and Waikumete cemetery also lie within walking distance. There are also distant views towards the impressive Waitakere ranges. Te waharoa: The waiting place

Fig1: Entrance on to Hoani Waititi marae from the waharoa (gate way) (photo by author).

The waharoa(gate way) is where the waewae tapu(sacred feet) wait to gather before going onto the space of the marae. The essence of pówhiri (ceremonial greeting) is all about acknowledgement of people, space and environment (spiritually, physically, and mentally). This process of engagement interacts and integrates us with our surrounds. Pówhiri (ceremonial greeting) is very bodily; these sacred feet are woven together strand upon fibre binding the social divide of urbanism. This project was essentially about building bridges and pathways. Building bridges across the cultural divide (both literally and figuratively speaking) and creating pathways to link existing and new spaces. This will hopefully stimulate a paradigm shift for all designers towards integrating cultural authenticity into their designs.


Indigenous wisdom

Fig2: graphic representation of the pówhiri (ceremonial greeting) experience (by author).

The approach of pówhiri (ceremonial greeting) to the iconic wharenui (meeting house) Ngá Tumanako, unveiled a philosophy integrated into both landscape and culture. It is created through experience; pówhiri (ceremonial greeting) germinates out of the landscape and is especially unique to Hoani Waititi marae, from tikanga (philosophies, protocols), the position of the buildings and its enabled location. This project looked at the potential of interaction and acknowledgement of páówhiri (ceremonial greeting) as a way to engage with culture, tikanga Máori (Máori philosophies, protocols) and environment. This indigenous philosophy provided a way forward through the activeness of experiencing these often missed thresholds, by being aware of our movement through these invisible divides, we are aware of the power this provides. To integrate these into forms of design is in the beginning stages of designing with integrity strengthening indigenous relationships to their environment. Te P : Entering the unknown and the space of the atea

Fig3: Breakdown of representative pówhiri graphic (by author).

Entering the atea (marae courtyard) from the waharoa (gate way) is a cohesion of the senses, instinctual, integration with the environment (physical, spiritual, mental) and with culture.The atea (marae courtyard) is where these thresholds blur with the constant whakautu (reply) of wero (challenge), karanga (call), korero (speech) and waiata (song); similar to how we design it is a negotiation of respect for the environment, people and tikanga (philosophies). Engagement with Hoani Waititi after initial consultation was to review and reflect. When we reflect we lay all ideas out on to the atea (marae courtyard) to be critiqued in the reality of the physical form. Thinking is the transitioning into realised potential. It is becoming tangible enough to be discussed with the client. Consultation with Máori is a complex and multifaceted process that can take many months of discussion [17]. To involve Máori in the design process generally means to engage with them. For this project, it included singing, praying


Indigenous wisdom and eating together [18, 19]. Many meetings at various levels created awareness, learning and becoming known. This is known as insider-outsider research [16]. Even close links through tribal or social links change with the process of research. ‘Insider research must be just as ethical, respectful, reflexive and critical as outside research’ [16].This revealing process is evident to the client (in this case Hoani Waititi marae) and designer alike. There is however no set pattern, schedule or framework of patterning [17-19]. Courage is the strength to step out of the conformities of known ideals [16-18]. There is evidence in this project of the changing stages and alteration of outcomes/formations of design. The way the approach is structured is not really relevant [19] but rather it is the components of the designs that alter the understanding of what may or may not be accomplishable. Engagement with Máori is essential in this changing world and is the right thing for landscape architects to do. Te Ao Marama (the world of light): The coming into awareness The final stage of the pówhiri (ceremonial greeting) process where you step out of the wharenui (meeting house) to embark your enlightenment upon the world.This is when all essence of kotahitanga (cultural integrity) are experienced and expressed, to let go of the final pieces of tapu (sacred) and become noa (ordinary) in unity. This is the final stage of the design process where all the whakautu (reply) of whakaaro (thinking) and concepts have settled to reveal the final culturally integral design. This project required understanding, analysing and consultation with Máori and non-Máori alike. It was important for the designer to understand the multiple layers of connections such as the history of the area, tikanga (philososphies), manawhenua (territorial rights) and turangawaewae (a place to stand). Negotiation with Hoani Waititi Marae involved consultation and discussion, both the giving and receiving of ideas on how to create new spaces of interaction using the concepts of kotahitanga (cultural integrity) and manaakitanga (care). In addition, three new facilities were considered desirable inclusions in the overall design. These were an atamira (stage), a whareraranga (weaving space) and a wharewhakairo (carving space). The project ended up analysing how to bridge the cultural divide both physically, metaphysically, spiritually and environmentally.

Fig4&5: (left) Atamira perspective (right) Wharewhakairo (by author).

The atamira (stage) sits with the marae directly behind and cradles as these sculpted contours provide a space for manaakitanga (care). This space nurtures both Máori and non-Máori, its strategic location in the center of Parrs Park allows for interaction and integration between people, culture and environment with the ability to function as a kapahaka (Máori performance) space as well as a festival venue. Whare whakairo (carving space) helps to renew skills in carving and the whare raranga (weaving space) addressed tukutuku (type of weave) as well as symbolising the continued sustainability of rangatiratanga (guardianship) [21]. Most of the plant materials for these creative arts are to be sourced from around the site; with the incorporation of Máori and the client into the design process the types of plants planted are ones that will be better suited for these types of taonga (Máori treasures). ‘The time for keeping Máori treasures hidden is past as they can be forgotten and lost. They should be kept...in print on bookshelves [so] that those who care may read and learn’ Sir Apirana Ngata[20] The integration of kotahitanga (cultural integrity) allowed the significance of Máori indigeneity and traditional philosophies to shine through, helping to understand our continually changing environment. The beauty of being aware of full connections to our environment (physical and spiritual) allowed to plug into the depths of tikanga (philosophies), these traditional indigenous knowledge producing more cultural integral designs. The challenge for urban sustainability is to go beyond what has already been achieved[20] and to bring indigenous or Máori philosophies, which are already valued[12] into a contextual focus applying that knowledge to place, setting, design and interaction with the environment


Indigenous wisdom [20]. Integrating to the indigeneity of Te Taiao (the natural world), creating bridges to provide space for interaction and connecting to the essence of place within the environment. When working in landscape architectural settings with cultures that are not familiar to you, it is vital to grasp these linkages (i.e bridges & pathways) and by taking pówhiri as an underpinning kaupapa (philosophy), it shows you how to engage with Máori. In addition, pówhiri is acceptable to Máori because it comes from Te Ao Máori (the Máori world) so it is familiar and recognisable to them.This indigenous concept can be applied to engagement with other indigenous cultures. By germinating these cultural seeds and firmly planting them into the whenua (land), we can reconfigure biodiversity in forms to produce novel design. Glossary Aotearoa Máori name for New Zealand- means land of the long white cloud Atamira

performing stage, auditorium


river, creek

Awataha marae

an urban marae based in Northcote


sub tribe, pregnant female

Hauora health Hoani Waititi marae

an urban marae based in Glen Eden

Iwi Máori tribal grouping Kaitiaki

guardians, to take care of


to take care of the environment, conservation, sustainability


stylised singing and dancing in Te Reo Máori


ceremonial call


elder of either sex

kaupapa philosophy kohanga reo

early childhood centre- taught totally in the Máori language


to speak


cultural integrity


primary school- taught totally in the Máori language

Manaakitanga care manawhenua

territorial rights, people of the land

Manurewa marae

an urban marae based in Manurewa


a traditional gathering place incorporating a meeting/sleeping house, eating house and ablution block

Marae atea

formalised area for speechmaking in front of the meeting house


the binding force between physical and spiritual aspects, the foundation stone of a building

Ngahere forest Ngá Tumanako, Hoani Waititi Marae

the name of the meeting house at Hoani Waititi Marae

Ngai Tuhoe

a tribe from the Urawera ranges (forest people)

Ngati Whatua

the local tribe of Auckland- based at Helensville and Orakei


common, (opposite of tapu), become noa (at one) when eating together after being welcomed onto the marae


NZ European


homeland, place to call home


Indigenous wisdom Pówhiri

to welcome, invite, rituals of encounter


ban on food resources (eg seafood in algae bloom to prevent sickness


guardianship, sovereignty, chieftainship, self -management

Tamaki Makaurau

Auckland isthmus

Tangihanga funeral Tapu

sacred (chiefs were tapu; held in such high regard that they were not able to carry a load or feed themselves); not the same as the religious sense

Te Ao Hurihuri

changing, shifting world

Te Ao Márama

the world of life and light, enlightenment

Te Ao Máori

the Máori world

Tikanga Máori

custom, culture

Te Reo Máori

the Máori language

Te Taiao

The Natural World

Te Tira Hou

a marae in Glen Innes, Auckland

Te Whare Kura

secondary school- taught totally in the Máori language


woven panels using reeds


a place to stand


cemetery, burial ground


gate way entrance onto the marae

Waiata song Waikumete cemetery

a Council owned cemetery in West Auckland with a designated urupa for the people connected to Hoani Waititi marae

Waitakere ranges

large range of hills that dominates the West Auckland skyline


course, class or school

Wero challenge Whakaaro thoughts Whakautu

to return

Whare house Wharekai

eating house, stands next to meeting house


secondary school (more familiar term)


meeting house


weaving house


carving house

Whanau family Whenua

land, placenta

Bibliography/References 1. Meredith, P “Urban Maori’ TeAra- the Encyclopedia of New Zealand updated 24 Sep 2011 URL: http://www.TeAra. govt.nz /en/urban-maori 2. Robert McGowan quote ‘In Solomon M “The Wai 262 claim: a claim by Máori to indigenous flora and fauna: Me o RátouTaongaKatoa” Tikanga and customary rights perspectives Ch 12 pp213-231 3. Busquets, J. ‘A New Lens for the Urbanistic Project’ The MESH book - Landscape/Infrastructure, 2006 Publ: Princeton Architectural Press, 2006 New York ISBN: 978-39502139-7-3


Indigenous wisdom 4. Johnson, M. ‘Ecology and The Urban Aesthetic’ Ecological Design and Planning, 1997 - New York: John Wiley and Sons 5. Harmsworth, G ‘Micro-urbanism: Regenerative buildings and the pa’ (2010) pg 37 Ch 2 Yates A- In K. Stuart, & M. Thompson-Fawcett, TaoneTupuOra; Indigenous knowledge and sustainable urban design (pp. 23-37). Wellington, New Zealand: Steele Roberts Aotearoa. 6. Yates, A. (2010). ‘Micro-urbanism: Regenerative buildings and the architectual landscape of the pa’. Ch2 In K. Stuart, & M. Thompson-Fawcett, TaoneTupuOra; Indigenous knowledge and sustainable urban design (pp. 23-37). Wellington, New Zealand: Steele Roberts Aotearoa. 7. Roberts, M et al “Kaitiakitanga: Maori perspectives on conservation” (1995) Pacific Conservation Biology; Vol 2:7-20 8. Awatere, S., Rolleston, S., & Pauling, C. (2010). ‘Developing Maori urban design principles’. Ch 1 In K. Stuart, & M. Thompson-Fawcett, TaoneTupuOra; Indigenous knowledge and sustanable urban design (pp. 17-23). Wellington, New Zealand: Steele Roberts Aotearoa. 9. Thompson-Fawcett, M. (2010). ‘Keeping the past insight to signal the way forward’. Introduction; In K. Stuart, & M. Thompson-Fawcett, TaoneTupuOra; Indigenous knowledge and sustainable urban design (pp. 11-16). Wellington, New Zealand: Steele Roberts Aotearoa. 10. Livesey, B. (2010). Ch 3 ‘Do urban growth strategies support the development of Maori land for residential use?’ In K. Stuart, & M. Thompson-Fawcett, TaoneTupuOra; Indigenous knowledge and sustainable urban design (pp. 38-49). Wellington, New Zealand: Steele Roberts Aotearoa. 11. Morgan, TeKipaKepa Brian ‘A tangatawhenua perspective on sustainability using the Mauri model: Towards decision making balance with regard to our social, economic, environmental and cultural wellbeing’; presented at the International Conference on Sustainability Engineering and Science 7-9 July 2004, Auckland, New Zealand 12. Blair, N. (2010). ‘Do urban growth strategies support the development of Maori land for residential use?’ Ch 4 In K. Stuart, & M. Thompson-Fawcett, TaoneTupuOra; Indigenous knowledge and sustainable urban design (pp. 50-59). Wellington, New Zealand: Steele Roberts Aotearoa. 13. Gray J & Hoare C. (2010) ‘Suburban intensification and indigenous settlement patterns’ Ch 5 In K. Stuart, & M. Thompson-Fawcett, TaoneTupuOra; Indigenous knowledge and sustainable urban design (pp. 60-81). Wellington, New Zealand: Steele Roberts Aotearoa. 14. Allan, P & Smith H ‘A bicultural landscape project; The MTM project’ (2012) Draft Research Project:UTDC 502:PHELT: 26.3.2012 Student ID:300139770 15. Tuhiwai-Smith, L. (1999). p137-138 Decolonizing Methodologies: Research and Indigenous Peoples. Dunedin, New Zealand: University of Otago Press. 16. Salmond, A. (1975). ‘Hui; A Study of Maori Ceremonial Gatherings’. Birkenhead, Auckland, New Zealand: Reed Publishing (NZ) Ltd. 17. Tauroa, H., &Tauroa, P. (1986). ‘TeMarae; A Guide to Customs and Protocol’. Birkenhead, Auckland, New Zealand: Reed Publishing (NZ) Ltd. 18. Mead, H. (2003). ‘Tikanga Maori; Living Maori Values’. Wellington, New Zealand: Huia Publishers. 19. O’Sullivan, D. (2007). ‘Beyond Biculturalism; The Politics of an Indigenous Minority’. Wellington, Aotearoa New Zealand: Huia Publishers. 20. Stuart, K. (2010) ‘From a footprint to a (sustainable) place to stand’ Conclusions In K. Stuart, & M. Thompson-Fawcett, Taone Tupu Ora; Indigenous knowledge and sustainable urban design (pp. 100-106). Wellington, New Zealand: Steele Roberts Aotearoa.

18. Interactions with an inhospitable environment - human settlements in Greenland during 700-2100 CE Fryd O University of Melbourne ABSTRACT Greenland is the world’s largest island. Located in the Arctic, it is a landscape of rock and ice with temperatures down to -70°C. It has been the inhospitable host for human settlements for more about 4500 years. Greenland has been subject to Inuit and Norse settlements, contrasting indigenous and colonial cultures, which has resulted in a series of social and


Indigenous wisdom environmental juxtapositions in the guests’ interaction with the host. Greenland is currently experiencing the most dramatic impacts of climate change with rising temperatures and increased ice melt. The objective of this paper is to identify key parameters defining sustainable development in an inhospitable and/or changing environment, as specifically observed in Greenland. This is done by rendering and discussing the guest/host interactions between the Arctic landscape, the Eskimo/ Inuit culture, and the Norse/Scandinavian culture, in the past, present and the future. The research draws on existing literature on the topic as well as the author’s own experience as a planner living and working in Greenland in 2006-2007. This paper identifies the importance of responsively living with nature and adapting to nature as a premise for survival. It highlights the inherent wisdom and lifestyle of the Inuit people as a valuable source of information exemplifying how to do that. It positively argues for the pragmatic and opportunistic utilisation of changing landscape premises, by turning challenges into potentials. “Greenland’s cultural history (…) is the history of many population groups who migrated to the country, lived there for a while, and then vanished” [Berglund, 1986] Greenland is the world’s biggest island. Located in the Arctic, it is a landscape of rock and ice with temperatures down to -70°C. It has been the inhospitable host for human settlements for 4500 years. Greenland has been subject to continuous Inuit and Norse settlements, representing contrasting indigenous and colonial cultures, which have resulted in a series of social and environmental juxtapositions in the guests’ interaction with the host. This paper aims to identify key parameters defining sustainable development in an inhospitable and changing environment. This is done by rendering the guest/host interactions between the Arctic landscape, the Eskimo/Inuit culture, and the Norse/Scandinavian culture as identified in Greenland in different periods of time.This study specifically reviews guest/host interactions during the Medieval Warm Period (11th-14th centuries), the colonial era (17th-18th century), the time of modernization (mid-20th century), and at present (early 21st century). In addition, contemporary discussions about the future of Greenland are highlighted. The study is based on existing literature on the topic as well as the author’s own experience as a planner living and working in the local government in Sisimiut, Greenland, in 20062007. Findings are used to discuss the value of indigenous wisdom as a means to achieve sustainable development in a context of change. Early settlements and the Medieval Warm Period (11th-14th centuries) Temperatures have fluctuated in Greenland during the past 4000 years [Kobashi et al., 2011]. See Figure 1.The Medieval Warm Period which lasted from ca. 1000 CE to 1300 CE had relatively high temperatures and was followed by the Little Ice Age from the 14th century to the late 19th century during which time mean temperatures were significantly lower [Crowley & Lowery, 2000; Grove, 2001; Kobashi et al., 2011]. These temperature variations directly influenced human settlements in Greenland and tested the settlers’ ability to adapt to a changing climate.

Figure 1. Surface temperatures of the Greenland ice sheet for the past 4000 years. MWP: Medieval Warm Period. LIA: Little Ice Age. Adapted from Kobashi et al. [2011].

During 2500-700 BCE Greenland experienced repeated waves of immigration by Paleo-Eskimo cultures arriving from the Arctic Canadian archipelago. All of these cultures eventually became extinct most likely due to the rough climate and the remoteness of Greenland. During the Medieval Warm Period, first the Dorset culture, then the Thule culture arrived in the Northern parts of Greenland.Thule was predominantly a marine culture living by the sea with whale and seal as a core part of the diet, with fish, birds, caribou, muskoxen, and berries as important supplements [Greenland


Indigenous wisdom National Museum, 2013; Narsaq Museum, 2013]. The Thule culture mastered dog sledding as a technique for hunting and transportation on the sea ice. They had larger skin boats, “umiaq”, for collective whale hunting and kayaks for individual seal hunting. These techniques were essential for hunting and transportation, and facilitated the dynamic and adaptive migration of human settlements along with the availability of food sources. Their winter settlements were slightly inland single family houses built of turf, stones, whale bones and driftwood. Summer settlements were located closer to the open sea and consisted of tents covered by sealskin [Narsaq Museum, 2013]. As temperatures declined during the 14th, 15th, 16th and 17th century the Thule culture gradually spread towards the south to the majority of the West coast and East coast of Greenland. The design of kayaks was gradually refined and perfected as the culture expanded to more open waters to the south and seal replaced whale as the most important part of the diet. The role of nature for Inuit livelihoods and survival was also reflected in their animist religion worshipping nature gods and legends such as the Mother of the Sea. Due to the expansion of the Norse, or “Viking”, culture from Scandinavia towards the eastern parts of the North Atlantic and influenced by the milder climate during the Medieval Warm Period, Norse settlements began to emerge in Southern Greenland in the late 10th century. The Norse settled as farmers in the bottom of the fjords where the summer temperatures were relatively high. They brought Scandinavian pastoral techniques, imported domestic animals such as cattle, goats and sheep, and grew grass for fodder to maintain livestock through the winter [Dugmore et al., 2012; Golding et al., 2011]. The production of domestic animals was supplemented by imported barley from Scandinavia, as well hunting of seal and caribou, fishing and egg collection [Arneborg et al., 2012; Dugmore et al., 2012]. Still, subsistence was strongly conditioned by available grazing. The farms were built of stone and turf. The larger farms comprised a number of separate buildings with different functions, i.e. farm houses, barns and storages. The smaller farms had spaces for living, livestock, and storage within the same building. As stated by Dugmore et al. [2012] “Norse Greenland has been seen as a classic case of maladaptation by an inflexible temperate zone society extending into the arctic and collapse driven by climate change.” In addition to their inability to broaden their ecological knowledge base and their inability anticipate future climate change, the Norse settlements in Greenland are expected to have been influenced by economic changes, falling populations, geographical isolation which was exacerbated by depleting temperatures, increased sea ice and heavier storms, and which in combination increased the settlements’’ vulnerability to extinction [Dugmore et al., 2007; 2012]. The Norse settlements ultimately ceased to exist in Greenland in the 15th century. The level of interaction between Inuit and Norse cultures linked with uncertainty, but is expected to be limited. In the first many decades they remained separated in the Northern and Southern regions of Greenland. Later, the two cultures had encounters as the Inuit spread towards the south and the Norse expanded to more northern summer hunting grounds. As the Thule culture expanded further to the south, the two cultures co-existed along the fjords of Southern Greenland. The cultural interaction is expected to have influenced Norse land management practices at all [Golding et al., 2011]. Greenland in the colonial era (17th - 18th century) In the 17th and 18th century temperatures were low and there was a large demand for whale oil for lighting and heating in Europe. Moreover, European led exploration and colonization intensified across the world. British, German, Norwegian and in particular Dutch whalers flocked the Arctic to hunt whales and create oil from the blubber. As a result, approximately 25,000 bowhead whales (Balaena mysticetus) were killed in the Greenland Sea between 1675 and 1719 as a result of commercial whaling [GINR, 2013]. The present global population of bowhead whales, which is only found to the Arctic region, is probably still only 1/3 of the in number before the whaling period and the species population between Greenland and Spitzbergen remains critically endangered [Boertmann, 2007]. In 1721 the Norwegian missionary Hans Egede arrived in Greenland with the aim of converting the population to Protestantism and in order to develop trade relations with Greenland. In the latter half of the 18th century, the DanishNorwegian Kingdom established a number of colonies (i.e. trading stations) along the West Coast of Greenland. The Scandinavians traded ironware, European clothing, sugar and tobacco, and got sealskin, blubber and baleen in return from the Inuit. In 1776, this trade was formalised and monopolized by the establishment of the Royal Greenland Trading Department (Den Kongelige Grønlandske Handel, KGH) based in Copenhagen.The KGH had a monopoly on all trade in Greenland which remained until 1950 (Note: In 2013, Royal Greenland is still de facto the largest group of companies in Greenland). The Danish-Norwegian colonists imported timber from Scandinavia to build wooden houses (i.e. in an Arctic climate


Indigenous wisdom too cold for pine trees or birch trees to grow).The colonies were developed as coastal settlements located close to the sea shore, yet on local high grounds in order not to be subject to storm surges or tidal waves (see e.g. the Colonial Harbour in the capital city of Nuuk). The Inuit largely maintained their traditional nomadic lifestyle with summer and wither settlements, while adapting to the changing climatic premises. The Inuit adopted European goods such as iron knives and arrow heads as part of their tools. As the climate got colder and options for whale hunting depleted (the latter partly influenced by climate change and partly influenced by the magnitude of commercial whaling), single family winter houses were gradually replaced by communal longhouses which could accommodate up to 40 people per unit. Thereby, the residents’ body heat was more actively utilized and the settlements needed less whale oil for heating [Kjærgaard et al., 2009]. Greenland in a time of modernization (mid-20th century) Changes started to occur by the turn of the 20th century. Temperatures increased rapidly in the late 19th century [Kobashi et al., 2011] which influenced the Inuit’s livelihood and subsistence. As an example, the number of traded sealskins in Southern Greenland is dropped by approximately two-thirds from 1850 and 1875, largely as a result of climate change [Marquardt & Seiding, 2009]. The air and sea temperature further increased during the first half of the 20th century. As an example the mean air temperature in Ilulissat in 1930-1960 was about 2oC higher than in 18901920 [Poppel & Seiding, 2009]. The influence by colonists led to a transition in Inuit housing from communal longhouses to Scandinavian-style timber houses [Kjærgaard et al., 2009]. Furthermore, during the first decades of the 20th century, wooden dinghies and motorized boats began to outcompete umiaq skin boats and kayaks as fishing, rather than hunting, was promoted by the colonists as the desired main source of income. Greenland gained increasing geopolitical interest during the Second World War and in the rise of the Cold War due to its geographical location between North America, Europe and Asia. The United States established airbases and radar stations in Greenland and in 1953, with a Danish constitutional amendment, Greenland changed status from being a colony of Denmark to become a county in the Danish Kingdom [Government of Greenland, 2009]. Large investments were directed from Denmark to Greenland. As stated by the official Danish commission on Greenland the aim was to “lead Greenlanders from the more primitive stage up to the level we (Danes) ourselves are at” [translation of quote in Mørch, 2004:245]. The ambition was to improve the standard of living, improve the general public health and lead industrialization to a level that was comparable to the rest of Denmark. This included the forced abandonment of smaller settlements, centralization of populations in cities, the construction of schools, hospitals, and residential housing. Between 1951 and 1970, Greenland’s urban population increased from 11,406 to 33,640 while the population in smaller settlements with less than 500 inhabitants decreased from 12,236 to 11,617. In relative terms, the urban population increased from 48% to 74% of the total population [Statistics Greenland, 2003]. The Danish-led design, layout and implementation of wooden single family houses in the 1950ies and 1960ies represented a strict grid of buildings on top of a natural, largely mountainous barren landscape. Most often, these houses were built on sloping hills overlooking the sea (see e.g. the Qiviarfik precinct in Sisimiut). Only few roads were built and most transport was along naturally worn foot paths and, later, built stairways and bridges. In the 1960ies, Le Corbusier-style multi-storey apartment blocks built in concrete were adopted and implemented in Greenland. These structures were predominantly built further inland than previous settlements, preferably on flat plateaus and often with a more introverted orientation than the wooded houses mentioned above (see e.g. the Narsarsuaq , i.e.the “Big Plain”, precinct in Nuuk). The construction and operation of the centralized settlements were heavily dependent on the import of construction materials, the import of oil for power supply, heating and transport, the import of food and household goods, and the import of skilled technicians, teachers and nurses to assist in developing the new Danish county. As an example, 18% of the household nutrition came from imported food products in 1902. In 1992, the ratio was 79% [Bjerregaard, 2004]. From 1955 to 1965 the number of doctors and nurses quadrupled [ibid.]. The large majority of goods and people came from Denmark. As part of the industrialization process, fishing was further intensified and modernized. Fish factories were built in the cities in the late 1950ies and fishing trawlers were purchased to drive the new economy. However, what was a single trust in cod fishing proved to be a vulnerable and unfortunate decision as the presence of cod around Greenland plunged from the mid-1960ies as a result of climate change [Sørensen, 2012]. In 1990, the catch of cod was 60,000 metric tons compared with 300,000-400,000 metric tonnes per year in the late 1950ies [Frydendahl & Jensen, 2010]. Gradually, and slowly, prawns started to replace cod as a key natural resource for the Greenlandic economy. Today, prawns alone account for more than half of Greenland’s total export value. The forced relocation from small settlements and the proximity to nature to a life in a small apartment in a multi-


Indigenous wisdom storey housing block as well as the associated cultural changes led to massive social challenges among the new Inuit urban population in Greenland during the second half of the 20th century. As an example, Greenland’s per capita rate of suicides are roughly 4-5 times higher than average OECD countries and more than double the rate experienced in Inuit Canada and among Alaskan Natives [Bjerregaard, 2004; WHO, 2011]. Greenland at present (early 21st century) Greenland is currently experiencing the some of the World’s most dramatic impacts of climate change with rising temperatures and increased ice melt [Steffensen et al., 2008]. On 12 July 2012, NASA observed that 97% of the ice sheet’s surface had melted which was the largest rate recorded [World Bank, 2012]. Moreover, both the area and the thickness of the Arctic sea ice are shrinking [ibid.]. The runoff deriving from the ice melt is increasingly being utilized as a source for hydro power and an alternative to the fuel based energy generation of the past. The massive hydropower potential in Greenland has sparked the interest of Alcoa, one of the World’s largest aluminium producers, which demands high (and reliable and cheap) energy to turn bauxite into aluminium. Similarly, as the ice withdraws, minerals become more easily accessible, which several international mining companies have already identified. This interest is further catalysed by higher temperatures which reduces sea ice, makes the fjords more navigable for ships year round, and draws attention to the option of the Northwest Passage as a connecting ship route between Europe and Asia via Arctic Canada. In addition, reduced sea ice makes oil explorations and oil exploitations cheaper and at lower risk. Greenland’s off-shore oil concessions are currently being explored by major companies such as Chevron, Exxon Mobil, Shell and Statoil. Alcoa can be used as an example of the international community’s present interaction with the Greenlandic landscape. The generic design of an aluminium smelter requires horizontally flat land on an area of approximately 800m x 1500m. Greenland’s most suitable site for this purpose is identified to be on the hilly and mountainous Maniitsoq Island (Maniitsoq literally means “the place of rugged terrain”). This indicates that a massive blast and fill approach is needed to grade the terrain before the smelter can eventually be built. During the first decade of the 21st century, Bent Olesen, a Danish gardener and immigrant to Greenland, insisted on growing cucumbers and tomatoes in Greenland despite the fact that this a very energy intensive task in the Arctic. The business strategy was to make Greenland self-sufficient in these vegetables on a commercial basis. Supported by start-up grants from the local government, the Greenlandic Home Rule, and the Danish Royal House the Sustainable Arctic Nursery took shape in 2005-2007. A market survey was carried out, a greenhouse was built, solar panels were installed to generate energy for heating, cucumbers were produced [Inussuk, 2007; McKinnon, 2006]. However, almost as soon as the seed money ran out, the Sustainable Arctic Nursery went bankrupt [Sermitsiaq, 2010]. During 2007-2011, three apartment blocks in the Tuapannguit precinct in Nuuk were demolished and replaced by seven new 7-storeys high tower blocks.The former buildings were erected in 1966-1968, but the 40-years old structures had proved prohibitively expensive to renovate. Therefore, demolition was the preferred option. The new blocks increased the total floor area by 88% and increased the number of apartments units from 185 to 210 [Permagreen, 2013]. All apartments built in the 1960ies were designed with a sea view. This was only the case for about half of the newly built apartments. The other half look straight into a shaded mountain side [Larsen, 2013]. The fourth apartment block to be demolished in Nuuk was the famous and infamous Block P which used to house 1% of the total population of Greenland. Built in 1965. Demolished in 2012. Symptomatically, and almost symbolically, the last standing wall of Block P buried an Inuit demolition worker as it unexpectedly collapsed and crashed upon him. Luckily, the Inuit man survived the accident. At least another 10 apartment blocks from the 1960ies are being demolished in Nuuk in the near future. The melting ice has created new business opportunities for entrepreneurs in Greenland. Growlers (i.e. smaller icebergs) deriving from the Greenlandic ice sheet are harvested, melted, bottled and exported as mineral water to high end customers in e.g. Hong Kong, Dubai and New York [Ice and Water, 2009] or made into beer at one of the specialized breweries in Greenland [Jensen, 2012]. These business opportunities are most likely influenced by an international narrative of climate change impacts and the purity of the Arctic environment. Contemporary Inuit maintain their culture lifestyle in a modern interpretation. A large proportion of Greenlandic families have a motorboat which they use to escape the cities and go to their remote summer cottages located along the fiords, thereby they reflect the nomadic lifestyle of the past. Summer and winter hunting, dog-sledding, fishing and berry collection remain major hobbies (and for some also subsistence activities) among present day Inuit. Whale, seal, birds, fish, seafood, caribou, and musk oxen, as well as berries and herbs such as Crowberry (Empetrum hermaphroditum) and Angelica archangelica, are still important ingredients in the Greenlandic cuisine. New single family houses are mostly adjusted to fit the local terrain. They are predominantly designed along rather than across contour lines to minimize the height of foundations.The terrain dictates the urban design and the notion of


Indigenous wisdom spatial order, rather than the trained designer’s notion of structured and sequential (and maybe linear and symmetrical) order. The Danish controlled development combined with an increasing demand for independency among the Inuit population let to the establishment of the Greenland Home Rule in 1979 and, later, the Self-Government of Greenland in 2009. Greenland is now independently developing and implementing most socio-economic policies and is independently governing all its natural resources. Some issues related to foreign affairs and military defence, however, are still controlled from Copenhagen. In addition, Greenland still receives an annual subsidy of $600 million USD from Denmark so full independency is yet to be achieved. Though Danes only comprise 11% of Greenland’s population [Statistics Greenland, 2012] they are heavily overrepresented in government and consultancy in Greenland. In Sermersooq Municipality, which has Nuuk as its main city, two-thirds of the urban planning staff is Danish and one-third is Inuit. At the Department of the Environment at the Self-Government of Greenland all staff members with advanced training are from Denmark. At TNT Nuuk [2013] and Tegnestuen Nuuk [2013], which are the two oldest and biggest architectural design studios in Nuuk, nine out of a total of 23 staff members are Inuit. For fully registered architects, the number of Inuit is two out of 10. It is possible that this potential cultural bias influences present day design and advisory to decision-makers in Greenland. A major discussion issue at present is whether the population and services should be further centralized in Greenland. First, it is discussed whether smaller settlements should be closed down. Second, it is discussed whether Nuuk should increase its supremacy to other cities (i.e. a mono-centric development scenario) or if there should be a more balanced development of the 4-5 major cities in Greenland [Bennetzen & ADPT, 2008], whether all 18 current settlements across the country classified as cities should maintain their present service level. These discussions and decisions will influence the Greenland’s future layout, infrastructure, and human interaction with nature. A relatively large proportion of the population in small settlements have hunting and fishing as a key source of income, whereas the role of the secondary and tertiary sector generally increases with the size of the settlement. The future of Greenland Over the next 100 year, Greenland may experience mean temperature increases of up to 8oC [IPCC, 2007].Updated climate predictions are likely to be even more severe, e.g. when IPCC’s Fifth Assessment Report is released later in 2013. This will radically change the livelihoods and environmental premises for living in Greenland – again! Some politicians in Greenland take a pragmatic positive stance and see climate change a window of opportunity for the country. There are several reasons for this. Greenland has plenty of undeveloped land on high grounds which is suitable for human settlement despite global sea level rise - in contrast to e.g. the African and Asian mega-deltas. This could lead to large scale migration to Greenland, which is welcomed by many of these politicians. Greenland has large per capita freshwater resources - in contrast to dry and arid regions across the World. Consequently, there might be arising opportunities for large scale export of freshwater from Greenland to water scarce countries. Greenland might experience new opportunities of agriculture and forestry as a result of a warmer climate – in contrast to much of the World’s presently most productive agrarian land. Greenland is still not a fully independent country. Currently, Danish politicians debate – and some of them want to intervene in – Greenland’s endeavour into large scale exploitation of its rich natural resources.Taking the projected iron ore mine at Isua as an example, the mining company that holds the concession is assumed to be backed by Chinese state interests, and the mining activity is largely to be carried out by cheap Chinese labour [Scrutton, 2012]. Some critics question Greenland’s capacity to negotiate and stand up for labour rights and environmental protection when faced by the chance of a(nother) radical change in the economy. Meanwhile global interests in the Arctic region and the potential natural resources are intensifying in a dispute on territorial rights between Canada, Greenland/Denmark, Norway, Russia, and the United States. The interests and pressure from Denmark in particular, will likely influence Greenlandic politics for years to come and possibly hamper the pace by which Greenland escapes from its colonial past and becomes a fully independent nation. Sustainable development in a changing environment Based on the review, it is possible to extract a number of key parameters defining sustainable development in the inhospitable and changing environmental context of Greenland. During the past 1000 years, the Inuit in Greenland have continuously adapted to changing social, environmental and climatic premises by: • broadening and expanding food sources, • dynamically migrating in response to seasonal weather variations and decadal changes in the climate, • optimizing tools and methods in response to new environmental premises and by openly adopting external


Indigenous wisdom knowledge and techniques, • maintaining a cultural identity through inherited practices of interactions with the environment, and by • turning challenges into potentials in an optimistic, pragmatic and opportunistic manner. The Scandinavians, in contrast, have generally relied on imported goods, have demonstrated a desire to maintain a lifestyle deriving from a temperate climate, have shown little capacity or interest in adopting indigenous knowledge as part of the response to new challenges, have continuously tried to master nature and exploit nature through a largely utilitarian approach with little environmental concern, have tried to indoctrinate the Inuit through cultural imperialism, and have predominantly remained ‘static’ and with a uniform trust in single rather than plural solutions in a context of change. Discussion and conclusion Greenland has experienced opportunistic moments of hospitality, e.g., warmer periods with melting ice and the option of farming. Ice melting forced the Thule culture to identify new food sources and to refine the associated hunting and fishing techniques. The option of farming attracted Norse settlers who brought Scandinavian pastoral techniques. Greenland has also continuously been confronted by its underlying inhospitable premises, e.g. geographical isolation and periods of severe frost. The Inuit responsively developed shelters and sites for settlement that responded to the low temperatures and dispersed the population along different hunting grounds. The Norse settlers attempted to do the same, but were less effective and remained more isolated.The Norse eventually became extinct.The Inuit survived. The same pattern is seen in later Scandinavian interventions in Greenland. During the whaling and colonization era natural resources were heavily overexploited. Now, 300 years later, the population of whales around Greenland is still recovering. In the post-war modernization large scale cod fishing was initiated, but ended in failure as the cod disappeared due to climate change. At present, some of the largest global companies and economies want to exploit Greenland’s rich oil, gas and mineral resources. One can fear that history will repeat itself and that the Arctic landscape and its Inuit population will be the victim of this endeavour. One can hope that history will teach us a lesson and that things will change. The example of Inuit interactions with the environment in Greenland reflects the value of indigenous wisdom in planning and design. It highlights the importance of responsively living with nature and adapting to nature as a premise for survival. It also indicates that a static and imperialistic approach where indigenous knowledge is not acknowledged is likely to fail, short term or long term. References Arneborg, J., Lynnerup, N. & Heinemeier, J. (2012). Human Diet and Subsistence Patterns in Norse Greenland AD c.980–AD c.1450. Journal of the North Atlantic, 3, 119–133. Bennetzen N. & ADPT (2008). De byudviklingsmæssige konsekvenser ved etablering af en aluminiumssmelter i Grønland (The urban development consequences of an aluminium smelter in Greenland). Report developed for Greenland Development. Retrieved from http://www.aluminium.gl/sites/default/files/12_PDF/samfund_og_oekonomi/foelgeinvesteringer. pdf Berglund, J. (1986). The Decline of the Norse Settlements in Greenland. Arctic Anthropology, 23(1–2), 109–135. Bjerregaard, P. (2004). Folkesundhed i Grønland (Public Health in Greenland). Inussuk - Arktisk forskningsjournal 1. Retrieved from http://www.si-folkesundhed.dk/upload/folkesundhed_gronland.pdf Boertmann, D. (2007). Grønlands Rødliste – 2007 (Greenland’s Red List – 2007). Danmarks Miljøundersøgelser, Afd. for Arktisk Miljø, Aarhus University. Retrieved from http://dk.nanoq.gl/Emner/Landsstyre/Departementer/Departement_for_ infrastruktur/Nyhedsforside/Nyheder_fra_dep_infra/2008/07/~/media/1B4D396999474D84A91C993E2CD0480B.ashx Crowley, T.J. & Lowery, T.S. (2000). How Warm Was the Medieval Warm Period? Ambio, 29(1), 51-54. Dugmore, A.J., Keller, C. & McGovern, T.H. (2007). Norse Greenland Settlement: Reflections on Climate Change, Trade, and the Contrasting Fates of Human Settlements in the North Atlantic Islands. Arctic Anthropology, 44(1), 12-36. Dugmore, A.J., McGovern, T.H., Vésteinsson, O., Arneborg, J., Streeter, R. & Keller, C. (2012). Cultural adaptation, compounding vulnerabilities and conjunctures in Norse Greenland. PNAS, 109(10), 3658–3663. Frydendahl, S. & Jensen, A. (2010). Grønland (Greenland). In: A. Jensen (Ed.), Leksikon for det 21. Århundrede. Last updated: 28/7 2010. Retrieved from http://www.leksikon.org/art.php?n=3075 GINR – Greenland Institute of Natural Resources (2013). Balaena mysticetus. Retrieved from http://www.natur.gl/pattedyrog-fugle/havpattedyr/groenlandshval/


Indigenous wisdom Golding, K.A., Simpson, I.A., Schofield, J.E., & Edwards, K.J. (2011). Norse–Inuit Interaction and Landscape Change in Southern Greenland? A Geochronological, Pedological, and Palynological Investigation. Geoarchaeology, 26(3), 315-345. Government of Greenland (2009). Politics in Greenland. Retrieved from http://eu.nanoq.gl/Emner/About%20Greenland/ Politics%20in%20Greenland.aspx Greenland National Museum (2013). Exhibitions: Lifestyle. Retrieved from http://www.natmus.gl/Udstillinger/Livsstilogklasseskel/tabid/65/language/en-US/Default.aspx Grove, J.M. (2001).The initiation of the “Little Ice Age” in regions around the North Atlantic. Climatic Change, 48, 53–82. Ice and Water (2009). Ice & Water Resources in Greenland. Ice and Water Secretariat, Government of Greenland. Retrived from http://www.iceandwater.gl/Emner/Licence%20to%20expolite.aspx Inussuk (2007). Arctic Nursery gavner grønlandsk grøntsagsproduktion (Arctic Nursery supports Greenlandic vegetable production). Ministry of Industry and Labour, Government of Greenland. Retrieved from http://www.inussuk.gl/da/ ivaerksaetterhistorier/sustainable_arctic_nursery IPCC – Intergovernmental Panel on Climate Change (2007). IPCC Fourth Assessment Report: Climate Change 2007. Retrieved from http://www.ipcc.ch/pdf/assessment-report/ar4/syr/ar4_syr.pdf Jensen, L. (2012). Bryggerier fra Grønland (Breweries in Greenland). Retrieved from http://www.goodbeer.dk/brew. php?landid=196 Kjærgaard, T., Pedersen, K. & Tróndheim, G. (2009). 3 eksempler fra Grønlands historie på samspillet mellem klima og samfund – eksempel 1 (3 examples from Greenland’s history of the interplay between climate and society – example 1). Ilisimatusarfik – University of Greenland. Retrieved from http://www.climategreenland.gl/files/pdf/eksempel%201%20til%20 afsendelse.pdf Kobashi, T., Kawamura, K., Severinghaus, J.P., Barnola, J.-M., Nakaegawa, T., Vinther, B.M., Johnsen, S.J. & Box, J.E. (2011). High variability of Greenland surface temperature over the past 4000 years estimated from trapped air in an ice core. Geophysical Research Letters, 38, doi: 10.1029/2011GL049444. Larsen, E. (2013). Nuuk, Tuapannguit, Grønland (Nuuk, Tuapannguit, Greenland). (delvis nedrevet). Retrieved from http:// www.arkark.dk/building.aspx?buildingid=13824 Marquardt, O. & Seiding, I.H. (2009). 3 eksempler fra Grønlands historie på samspillet mellem klima og samfund – eksempel 2 (3 examples from Greenland’s history of the interplay between climate and society – example 2). Ilisimatusarfik – University of Greenland. Retrieved from http://www.climategreenland.gl/files/pdf/eksempel%202%20til%20 afsendelse.pdf McKinnon, K. (Ed.) (2006). Sustainable ecological greenhouse production for the future. Bioforsk Økologisk / Bioforsk Organic Food and Farming Division. Retrieved from: http://www.nordicinnovation.org/Global/_Publications/Reports/2006/ Sustainable%20ecological%20greenhouse%20production%20for%20the%20future.pdf Mørch, S. (2004). 25 statsministre (25 Prime Ministers). 4th ed. Copenhagen: Gyldendal. Narsaq Museum (2013). Neoeskimoer: Thulekulturen (Neo-eskimos: the Thule culture). Retrieved from http://www.narsaqmuseum.org/dansk/eskimo-historie.htm Permagreen (2013). Tuapannguit, Nuuk. Retreived from http://www.permagreen.gl/da/forside/Referencer/Bolig/TuapannguitNuuk Poppel, B. & Seiding, I.H. (2009). 3 eksempler fra Grønlands historie på samspillet mellem klima og samfund – eksempel 3 (3 examples from Greenland’s history of the interplay between climate and society – example 3). Ilisimatusarfik – University of Greenland. Retrieved from http://www.climategreenland.gl/files/pdf/eksempel%203%20til%20afsendelse.pdf Scrutton, A. (2012). Insight: Great expectations fill Greenland as China eyes riches. Reuters, 05.11.2012. Retrieved from http://www.reuters.com/article/2012/11/05/us-greenland-idUSBRE8A40MR20121105 Sermitsiaq (2010). Modne tomater fra Narsaq - Ny ejer høster tomater og agurker i Greenhouseprojektets gamle drivhus. Sermitsiaq, 15.07.2010. Retrieved from http://sermitsiaq.ag/node/75004 Statistics Greenland (2003). Tal om Grønlands bygder (Figures about Greenland’s settlements). Retrieved from http://www. kanukoka.gl/da-dk/media/763/statistik%20om%20bygderne.pdf Statistics Greenland (2012). Befolkningen fordelt på fødested, 2012 (Population according to place of birth, 2012). Retrieved from http://www.stat.gl/dialog/main.asp?lang=da&version=201205&link=BE&subthemecode=O1&colcode=O Steffensen, J.P., Andersen, K.K., Bigler, M., Clausen, H.B., Dahl-Jensen, D., Fischer, H., Goto-Azuma, K., …& White, J.W.C. (2008).


Indigenous wisdom High-Resolution Greenland Ice Core Data Show Abrupt Climate Change Happens in Few Years. Science, 321, 680-684. Sørensen, A.K. (2012). Grønland (Greenland). Aarhus University: danmarkshistorien.dk. Last edited 13.07.2012. Retrieved from http://danmarkshistorien.dk/leksikon-og-kilder/vis/materiale/groenland/ Tegnestuen Nuuk (2013). Medarbejdere (Staff members). Retrieved from http://www.tenu.gl/medarbejderne.html TNT Nuuk (2013). Ansatte (Employees). Retrieved from http://www.tntnuuk.gl/?vm=29584&mname=ansatte WHO - World Health Organization (2011). Suicide rates per 100,000 by country, year and sex. Retrieved from http://www. who.int/mental_health/prevention/suicide_rates/en/ World Bank (2012). Turn Down the Heat - Why a 4°C Warmer World Must Be Avoided. A Report for the World Bank by the Potsdam Institute for Climate Impact Research and Climate Analytics. Washington DC, November 2012. Retrieved from http://climatechange.worldbank.org/sites/default/files/ Turn_Down_the_heat_Why_a_4_degree_centrigrade_warmer_world_must_be_avoided.pdf

19. Urban Plot for Indigenous Agricultural Practices in Northeast United States Heavers N Virginia Polytechnic and State University ABSTRACT The next 50 years of landscape architecture will be increasingly concerned with issues related to agriculture and food production as our population approaches 10 billion. The model of big agriculture that swept across the continents in the later half of the 20th century has brought us to where we are today, but the coming decades demand a more diverse set of agricultural practices that include urban people and lands among the cultivators and the cultivated. Through the gathering of wisdom surrounding the cultivation of land, landscape architects can lead the re-configuration of cities into productive vegetal realms. This paper is a search for wisdom related to the cultivation of crops indigenous to the Northeastern United States in the age before the place was known by this name and a different set of people and plants shaped the land. Drawing from the writings of a 17th century colonist, Roger Williams, and more recent archaeological studies of the historic patterns of vegetation across the Northeast, a set of techniques and crops has emerged, that might be used to seed contemporary urban plots in this and similar temperate regions. There are many traditions to gauge across the globe that vary by climate and people, crops and customs. Region by region, we must identify those practices that apply to particular urban situations and exercise this wisdom.This study is one example of how bringing latent wisdom to the fore can help mix agriculture with the other operations of urban life. Introduction The global demand for food is rising and there are significant yield gaps in our ability to produce food for our growing populations (Lobell, Cassman, and Field, 2009). Urban areas are often overlooked as lands to cultivate to overcome projected yield gaps. Furthermore, urban populations are typically disengaged from their food production, which results in a wide cultural gap between those who grow food and those who don’t (Berry, 1996). In the cities of the Northeastern United States there is growing interest in changing the food culture of the urban population (de la Salle, 2010). How then can our cities begin to address the projected yield gap and how can we create an urban culture that nurtures the land and water, while producing food? To which models can we turn to explore the possibilities of a new urban agriculture and culture of food? This investigation looks to the wisdom of the food culture of the indigenous peoples of the Northeast and finds insight into how we can change ours. The lives of the indigenous peoples of the Northeast before European colonization were vastly different from ours today, though we inhabit the same region. One striking difference is how we vary in our approach to the land which bears our food. In various ways their whole culture was involved in nurturing land and sharing in the harvest, whereas today, cultivation is the work of a few, for many. If we can set aside our preconceptions about what constitutes agriculture, horticulture, gardening, foraging, farming, forestry, landscape, and architecture- all the disciplines that claim to be involved in the cultivation of the land- and look for a moment at the food culture of the indigenous peoples of the Northeast, then we might gain some valuable insight. The foundation for this study is Roger Williams’ nearly 400-year-old Key. The book was written during a return voyage to England to procure a royal charter for Rhode Island and Providence Plantations, settlements that Williams founded (Gaustad, 2005, 30). Opening the book to any page, it’s a sort of dictionary of common words and phrases of the


Indigenous wisdom Narragansett, presented in Roman characters with English translations and some commentary about selected topics, labeled as Observations. The book is intended to be a guide to the language of the people, a key to their own terms and ways of seeing and acting in the world. Williams writes that others have “written of the country,” but where his book is different is that “this key, respects the native language of it” (Williams, 17). Williams’ knowledge of the language of the Narragansett, among whom he lived for seven years before the publication, is a rare window into their lives, in this respect. And his Observations, of which he says, “I shall present (not mine opinion, but) my observations to the judgment of the wise,” offer insight into the culture beyond the words (Williams, 20). Roger Williams, in A Key into the Language of America, writes that “having had so much converse with these Natives, I should write some little of them” (Williams, 1643, 18). On the basis of this book, it is possible to reconstruct a complex view of the indigenous food culture of the Northeast. In reading Williams’ text, it is evident that at least three basic concepts underlie the indigenous food culture and relate specifically to their practices of food cultivation and collection. These concepts are diversity, availability, and community. In the context of this paper they are used as universal ideas around which to gather wisdom on the indigenous peoples’ food culture and their relationships to land.These common categories for conceptualizing the different approaches to growing and collecting food provide a basis for making comparisons and developing a plot for how indigenous wisdom might be instrumental in the design of cities in the future. Diversity Williams travelled and communicated with the indigenous peoples extensively. He describes that, “I have run through varieties of Inter courses with them Day and Night, Summer and Winter, by Land and Sea, from one end of the country to another (so far as the opportunity, and the little language I have could reach” (Williams, 22). On these excursions, which covered up to a 100 miles at a time in the company of up to 200 people, he saw a diverse set of territories, including fields, forests, rivers, and the ocean, all of which were important to food gathering and cultivation for the indigenous peoples. He witnessed a diversity of methods for acquiring food in each of these territories and a division of responsibility among the people. The complex culture he entered was wise in ways of growing and gathering food. The fields were where the indigenous peoples cultivated their principle crops of corn, beans, and squash. The forests were managed for the hunting of game, especially deer, and the rivers and ocean yielded unbelievable numbers of fish, especially during the spawning runs of salmon, alewifes, and herring. To each of these territories the indigenous peoples returned season after season to harvest. An important exception was that their fields would become infertile after a period of years, usually about a decade. The Narragansett had particular words for “Fields worne out” or Aquegunnítteash and “New ground” or Wuskâukamuck (Williams, 89). As lands wore out they moved on to fresh territory and with time the land would regenerate. This pattern of use had the effect of increasing the diversity of land cover, as plots were in varied states of regeneration. Although the indigenous peoples moved about the land, periodically bringing new fields into cultivation and abandoning others, they were very precise with the boundaries of their lands, which belonged to certain peoples or “Princes.” Boundaries were as definitive as “a River, Brooke, and c. And I have knowne them to make a bargaine and sale amongst themselves for a small piece or quantity of ground” (Williams, 96). This suggests that negotiations for land were normal and Williams’ own ability to acquire lands from the Narragansett point to some understanding of rights to use of land among people (Gaustad, 50). The indigenous peoples were eager to understand the Europeans’ motivations for occupying their territory. They asked of Williams, “Why come the Englishman hither?” Answering their own question, “they say, it is because you (the English) want firing” or wood (Williams, 65). The indigenous peoples reason thus because they, themselves, follow the wood. They use the forest, abandon it for “the woods sake” or regeneration, and move on “to a fresh new place” (Williams, 65). Their practices of getting food were also diverse and divided among the people, particularly along lines of gender. The women primarily worked the fields, except for the cultivation of tobacco, which the men did. On the cultivation of corn Williams observes that the women “plant it, dress it, gather it, barne it, beat it, and take as much paines as any people in the world” (Williams, 50). The men burn the underbrush of the forest, which they hunt for game in two ways. First, they drive their game as a group through the woods and second they hunt by traps, each man monitoring a circuit of two to four miles with 30 to 50 traps, which he visits every two days. Along the rivers, in ponds, and at the seacoast, “the Natives take exceeding great paines in their fishing” (Williams, 104). Like the hunt, they devoted considerable time to fishing in nearly every month of the year. Williams describes that the men “Watched their seasons by night; so that frequently they lay their naked bodies many a cold night on the cold shoare about a fire of two or three sticks, and oft in the night search their Nets; and sometimes goe in and stay longer in frozen water” (Williams, 104). The methods of food cultivation and gathering among the indigenous peoples were as diverse as the territories and as the food they grew and collected. In contemporary terms the indigenous peoples of the region that Williams describes are considered to be “mobile collectors” (Becker, 2006, 85) with some low level of horticulture. Most scholars do not describe their activities as agriculture because they didn’t have fixed settlements, but rather moved between winter and summer dwellings,


Indigenous wisdom which shifted with the availability of game and “New ground” for cultivation. These distinctions are certainly relevant, but what can the indigenous peoples’ understanding of territory and practices of growing and gathering food offer an urban agriculture today? The central wisdom here is that a diverse food culture, focused on cultivating and gathering in a variety of territories, was successful. Dividing responsibilities among subgroups of the populations also seems to be an important characteristic. In our time there are numerous barriers to the use of the land because of our different conceptions of rights of use and property. In most urban areas, we don’t enjoy usufruct rights, which allow a people to collect food from land without actually owning it (Cronin, 1983). Another serious obstacle to adopting the practices of the indigenous peoples is that so much of the woods has been removed. There is a distinct benefit to understanding the diversity of possible food sources and practices. Urban conditions offer a variety of micro-climates and new ecosystems with communities of vegetation entirely distinct from the indigenous peoples’ time (Del Tredici, 2010). As areas are worn out through industry and the removal of homes through population loss, it is time to shift how we view these lands.They can be renewed through an urban agriculture.There is certainly no shortage of wisdom across cultures and from varied disciplines to cultivate a new food culture in cities of the Northeast. There is also no shortage of possible crops, indigenous and introduced- corn had only been in the Northeast for about 600 years before the arrival of the Europeans and now it dominates the continent where it originated. The indigenous peoples’ concept of territory as a shared resource and their promotion of diverse conditions across their territories through cycles of use and renewal are wise practices that can be applied today. Availability The indigenous peoples’ food culture was responsive to availability. In short, they followed their food. The raising of the crops was the task of one half of the population, for the most part the women, while the men looked for available game in the forests and for fish in the rivers and the ocean. Availability changed with the seasons and so then did their practices, which switched from a combination of cultivating the ground and collecting in the spring through fall, to hunting and collecting and eating stored rations in the winter months. The indigenous peoples also moved their homes to follow the food as they shifted between their diverse practices of hunting, gathering, and cultivating the land. Due to these shifts in location and availability, their eating habits would then change seasonally focusing on what was fresh at the time, but always keeping dried stores for times of shortage. Williams notes that the indigenous peoples’ housing was very flexible and that they moved frequently. Their houses were designed to be moved easily, being of poles and mats. The men carried the poles and the women were in charge of the mats.They moved seasonally from summer fields to warmer wooded valleys in winter. But also, there were other intermediate moves. For instance, “Sometimes they remove to a hunting home in the end of the yeare, and forsake it not until Snow lie thick,” at which time then will return to their wooded valleys (Williams, 65). In the summer, he writes, “sometimes having fields a mile or two, or many miles asunder, when the worke of one field is over, they remove house to another” (Williams, 65). Even issues such as “the abundance of fleas, which the dust of the house breeds,” give them a reason to move (Williams, 65). In the first days of planting the corn, they will “put up little watch-houses in the middle of their fields, in which they, or their biggest children lodge, and early in the morning prevent the Birds” from destroying their carefully cultivated crops (Williams, 85). In all these ways, their homes revolved around food, rather than the food being gathered and grown in fixed plots around the home. A major reason for these patterns was to keep from having to move a great deal of wood for “firing.” As the wood supply in an area was depleted, much like the soil of the fields, the woods was left to regenerate. The concept of moving to a fresh source when availability is low had direct implications for the eating habits of the indigenous peoples. They were more inclined to eat from fresh sources rather than reserves. An exception to this was their attention to the storage of ground corn meal, beans, hickory nuts, walnuts, and acorns, and a variety of berries. The strawberry was chief among them and tended to be cultivated on the worn out grounds, enabling the indigenous peoples to continue to make use of their lands in varied stages of regeneration. Of the strawberry, Williams notes that it was “bruised in a Morter, and mixed with meale (corn) to make Strawberry bread” (Williams, 90) and, of course, eaten fresh in great numbers. For storage they used baskets, which they could move on foot. Williams writes of the women especially, “It is almost incredible what burthens” they carry “of corne, of fish, of Beanes, of mats, and a childe besides” (Williams, 51). Limiting the amount of food carried from place to place was clearly a priority. This was true of the way in which the indigenous peoples feasted after the hunt, leaving nothing for later. Can these practices of following the food as it is available and focusing on what is fresh apply today? A limitation our urban population faces is a lack of usufruct rights or the right to collect and/or grow food on land we do not technically own. If we can overcome this limitation by developing new ways of using public space then we might make more use of our land for food. Another obstacle is the all too common issue that the local seasons of availability have been lost to many urban people. Not only is there no connection in our food culture to production, urban dwellers are not apt to know when local foods are in season. Growing more food in cities, then, can bring people in greater contact with the source of at least a fraction of the supply. It would not take much contact with locally grown and harvested foods


Indigenous wisdom to raise awareness of the seasons of food, if agriculture had a greater presence in cities. The limitations to such change are truly cultural, as there are examples of such practices taking hold in cities, elsewhere and in times past. Among the examples for this region are the incredible community efforts to grow food in cities in the Northeast during World War II and earlier (Lawson, 2005). Community Looking back again to Williams’ text, he describes briefly the spatial patterns of people living on the land. For instance, “In the Nariganset Countrey a man shall come to many townes, some bigger, some lesser, it may be a dozen in 20 miles travell” (Williams, 28). On the other hand he recalls following a Narragansett man on a “straight course without a path” for twenty, thirty, or forty miles through the woods (Williams, 74). From such descriptions we can gather that there was a cluster of communities on the land of the Narragansett and that in surrounding areas, perhaps hunting grounds, people were more dispersed. In the places that Williams refers to as “townes,” the people were either gathered in summer or winter residence. While the limits of the territories of each group were clearly understood, as noted previously, there are “two or more families in a house” and a sense of shared communal space (Williams, 48). This concept of community built around shared space is especially evident in a passage about the preparing of the fields for corn, which speaks of their culture of food. “When a field is to be broken up, they have a very loving sociable speedy way to dispatch it: All the neighbors men and women, forty, fifty, a hundred, and c. joyne”. He goes on to say that the same is true when they hunt and fish. So the indigenous peoples are communal in their food activities, especially big tasks which bring them together. Perhaps most important to their sense of community is that “they share their food freely” (Williams, 36). This may be the single most important bit of wisdom that the indigenous peoples have to offer us today. Bounding the land as we have done, physically and legally, poses serious difficulties for the use of land for agriculture and collecting or foraging. A key indication that our sense of community must change with regard to urban agriculture is that our so-called “community gardens” in the Northeast typically grow more fences than vegetables. While such spaces and practices are an important step toward the development of a future urban agriculture in this region, the current community approach to the land draws lines where there ought to be none. If diverse plots of land can be brought back into cultivation in a manner that prioritizes sharing in the work, generating fresh produce, and uniting territories for mutual use, then the wisdom of our predecessors will guide the growth of a new food culture through urban agriculture. The Future of Urban Agriculture in the Northeast Now that we have a better understanding of the food culture of the indigenous peoples in their terms and have begun to address how we can use this knowledge to implement an urban agriculture in the Northeast today, some conclusions can be drawn and further questions asked about the future of urban agriculture in the cities of the Northeast. The project of creating an urban agriculture in the region has already begun in cities. As an example of the contemporary state of urban food production, we will look at urban agriculture in the city of Philadelphia- some 200 miles south and west of Roger Williams’ charter settlement among the Narragansett. On the ground today, the city of Philadelphia is like many of the de-industrialized cities of the Northeast. It has lost a million people or over one third of its mid-20th century population. Stretches of waterfront manufacturing complexes lie abandoned. Within former working class neighborhoods many homes have been leveled or lie vacant making for a porous urban fabric as one moves away from the still very vital Center City. Within this broad, neighborhood-centered city, there is a growing interest and practice of urban agriculture and food production, which we can briefly look at in terms of the concepts of diversity, availability, and community that guided the study of indigenous practices. There is a diverse range of 226 community gardens and urban farms in Philadelphia, which Domenic Vitiello and Michael Nairn analyzed in a report in 2009.These productive lands consist of about 60 acres, which constitute only two percent of the vacant land in the city. Three of the gardens are on the outskirts of the city and account for half the acreage (Vitiello and Nairn, 49, 2009). Closer to the city core there is great potential for many more small urban plots, as diverse as the grounds tilled and the people who inhabit the city. The possibilities, including for agriculture, were explored in several entries to the The Van Alen Institute’s Urban Voids: International Design Ideas Competition in 2005 (Van Alen, 2005). In addition to the vacant land in neighborhoods and along the waterfront, The Fairmount Park System, one of the oldest urban park systems in the United States, covers over 4000 acres.The park system offers greater expanses of land for cultivation, perhaps to be tilled, but more likely for foraging. The indigenous peoples certainly used these lands in that way and the Fairmount Park Annual Reports show that into the 1860s Chestnut Days were held to gather a communal park harvest Might these urban lands be managed for a fruit and nut harvest and other seasonal forage? Just as the indigenous people of the Northeast took advantage of seasonally available foods, the emerging practices of community gardening and urban agriculture offer similar opportunities today, but much more land could to be brought into cultivation. To taste fresh sweet corn in summer or bite into a crisp fall apple, we must transform the remaining 98% of vacant lands in a city like Philadelphia and take a hard look at how we manage our parks- currently we specialize


Indigenous wisdom in growing ornamental trees and turf grass. The Philadelphia Orchard Project is working to shift this pattern of use and the issue of vacancy. Since 2007, they have established 32 orchards, totaling 500 trees and over 1000 berry bushes in communities throughout the city (Forsyth, 2013). Along with the younger Orchard Project, community gardens dominate the current state of urban food production in Philadelphia. The 226 and growing gardens in the city “grow more food- and distribute that food more directly to hungry people- than any other form of urban agriculture in the United States” (Viteillo and Nairn, 61, 2009). The City Harvest Program of the Philadelphia Horticultural Society supports many community garden efforts that make fresh produce available to those who need it most in the city. Growing food largely for immediate use as the indigenous peoples of the region did is critical and can contribute to expected future yield gaps as well as the physical and social health of communities. It is evident in looking at the community gardens of Philadelphia that people are the key ingredient to making productive urban gardens and farms; they do the work and eat the food they grow. In order to bring more land into cultivation a cultural shift must occur. The people in this city who are investing in growing food, whether it’s at the toxic site of Greensgro, the Manatawna Farm of the Saul Agricultural High School, or Aspen Street Community Garden in West Philadelphia, are all are community-centered enterprises, like the practice of the indigenous peoples described. As exciting as the projects underway are, there is much to be done to change the food culture of the majority. We will certainly continue to depend on our current big agriculture model to supply the bulk of our resources. However, if we engage with indigenous wisdom in the cultivation of a fraction of our food, we can reshape our relationship to the land. To put the wisdom found to practice we must focus on growing food in the widest range of places possible and adopt crops from many sources. The territories of the city, though drastically different than the lands the Europeans appropriated, have distinct possibilities, which can be addressed through design, but must also meet the specific needs of communities, who will nurture gardens and farms. This transformation need not be restricted to the leftover lands. Parks, public gardens, and lands of diverse ownership and types must be looked at for their potential to contribute to local yields. The matter of the design of such territories falls within the realm of landscape architecture, as well as the other disciplines previously listed. Might a new food culture guide the recovery of the once industrial cities of the Northeast? Furthermore, we must consider that there are many ways of nurturing food that fall outside what we commonly understand as agriculture. Collecting and foraging are among the possibilities, which require a reconsideration of how we delineate the rights of the community to use land. An urban agriculture that responds to the shared wisdom presented here will focus on creating availability where there is none and changing methods of cultivation and collection based on the seasonal possibilities. This requires changes in expectations of food availability, eating habits, and consideration of how we store our locally grown food. Like the indigenous peoples, we must make use of every bit of ground, no matter its current condition. The beauty of cities is that people are already clustered together, which can lead to engagement and enjoyment of growing, harvesting, and eating food. The indigenous peoples’ cultural practices have real promise for the future of urban agriculture in this region because the cities of the Northeast already have the strengths of diversity and community, into which can be woven a new food culture. References Becker, M. (2006). Foragers in Southern New England: Correlating Social Systems, Maize Production, and Wampum Use. Bulletin of the Archaeological Society of Connecticut, 68, pp. 75-108. Berry, W. (1996). The Unsettling of America: Culture and Agriculture. San Francisco: Sierra Club Books. Cronon, W. (1983). Changes in the Land: Indians, Colonists, and the Ecology of New England. New York: Hill and Wang. de la Salle, J. and Holland, M. (2010). Introduction. In J. de la Salle and M. Holland (Eds.), Agricultural Urbanism (pp. 12-17). Winnipeg, Manitoba: Green Frigate Books. Del Tredici, P. (2010). Wild Urban Plants of the Northeast: A Field Guide. Ithaca: Cornell University Press. Forsyth, P. (2013). Philadelphia Orchard Project. Phillyorchards.org. Retrieved March 16, 2013, from www.phillyorchards.org. Gaustad, E. S. (2005). Roger Williams: New York: Oxford University Press. Lawson, L. (2005). City Bountiful: A Century of Community Gardening in America. Berkeley: University of California Press. Lobell, D. B., Cassman, K. G., and Field, C. B. (2009), Crop Yield Gaps: Their Importance, Magnitudes, and Causes. The Annual Review of Environment and Research, 34, pp.179-204. Van Alen (2005). Urban Voids: Grounds for Change. Vanalen.org. Retrieved March 16, 2013, from www.vanalen.org/ urbanvoids/ Vitiello, D. and Nairn, M. (2009). Community Gardening in Philadelphia: 2008 Harvest Report. Millcreekurbanfarm.org.


Indigenous wisdom Retrieved March 16, 2013, from www.millcreekurbanfarm.org/sites/default/files/PhiladelphiaHarvest(with images).pdf Williams, R. (1643). A Key into the Language of America. London: Dexter (Providence, Reprinted 1827). Retrieved from http://archive.org.

20. Words, Oral Libraries and Environmental Responses: An Australian Indigenous perspective to climate change adaptation Low Choy D1, Jones D2 1 Griffith University, 2Deakin University ABSTRACT Climate change adaptation and mitigation continues to be a prevalent discourse in this country and internationally in both the sciences and the arts. While various types and degrees of change are evident, the quantification of these changes including their scope and diversity have challenged conventional sciences. This is demonstrated in their inability to succinctly answer key questions about change including the degree of change and associated patterns and consequences. Most of this discourse is nested in a temporal band comprising the last 100-200 years of data and evidence, and very much informed by Western science perspectives and protocols. Little attempt has been made to engage with Australian Indigenous communities whom possess environmental knowledge of some 10,000-100,000 years albeit embedded in their artistic and oral narrative ‘histories’. This paper explores the role and values that Australian Aboriginals, the Indigenous peoples of the Australian continent, can offer in shedding new light on this discourse. While focusing upon a cross-peri-urban Indigenous investigation, it examines this discourse through the lens of their words, terms, sentences as a vehicle to better understand a longitudinal perspective about climate change adaptation pertinent to Australia. Introduction This paper reviews one of several key findings that have arisen from a research project that sought to review and integrate Australian Indigenous ‘country’ research and mainstream academic inquiries to strengthen the ‘community of knowledge’ about adaptation to climate change having regard to Australian Indigenous longevity of perspective and Australian Indigenous science. This research arises from a grant obtained from the National Climate Change Adaptation Research Facility (NCCARF) undertaken under their National Climate Change Adaptation Research Plan (NARP): Indigenous Communities (Langton et al 2012). This NARP identified five broad categories of information necessary to enhance decision-making about climate change adaptation for Indigenous Australians, namely: 1. The sensitivity and exposure of Indigenous individuals, households, communities, businesses and institutions to climate risks; 2. The vulnerability and adaptive capacity of Indigenous individuals, households, communities, businesses and institutions to climate change; 3. Extreme weather events and emergency management planning for Indigenous communities; 4. Indigenous population movement, displacement, community relocation, and severe climate variation; and 5. Climate change adaptation and Indigenous biodiversity management (Langton et al 2012: 4). Within these five categories, thirteen research topics were identified and prioritised into six research questions according to the following criteria: 1. The severity of the potential impact to be addressed; 2. The degree of potential benefit that could be derived; 3. The immediacy of the required intervention or response; 4. The degree to which the research will lead to practical and achievable interventions or responses; 5. The potential to produce benefits beyond informing climate change adaptation strategies; 6. The extent to which the research addresses more than one issue or sector; and, 7. The extent to which the research addresses the needs of the most vulnerable groups (Langton et al 2012: 4). Thereupon the following Research Priorities were identified: 1. Understanding how interactions between social, cultural, institutional, economic and biophysical processes


Indigenous wisdom make Indigenous individuals, households, communities, businesses and institutions sensitive to climate risks, and the identification and evaluation of strategies to reduce this sensitivity. 2. Understanding how and why different Indigenous households, communities, businesses and institutions are vulnerable to the impacts of climate change, and the identification of strategies to reduce this vulnerability. 3. Understanding the capacity of Indigenous individuals, households, businesses and institutions to adapt to climate change, and the identification of strategies to enhance this capacity. 4. Understanding the capacity of Indigenous individuals, households, communities and institutions to prepare for, respond to, and recover from extreme weather events, and the identification of strategies to enhance adaptive capacity. 5. Understanding the relationship between Indigenous population movement and severe climate variation, and 6. Understanding how the use of marine, terrestrial and freshwater biodiversity resources by Indigenous peoples and groups will be affected by climate change (Langton et al 2012: 7) This research project addressed the NARP’s Priority Research Topic 5: Understanding the capacity of Indigenous individuals, households, businesses, and institutions to adapt to climate change, and the identification of strategies to enhance this capacity (Langton et al 2012: 3). The overall research project sought to undertake a pilot examination of coastal urban and peri-urban Indigenous community vulnerability to, and capacity for climate change adaptation (CCA). Working collaboratively with five case study Indigenous communities, the study sought to explore an initial set of strategies that could enhance their capacity to climate change.This was undertaken within the establishment of an ongoing framework for research and partnership in climate change adaptation. Constrained by the limited available time and resources set by the funding agency, the research project was designed to establish a framework, processes and procedures that could lead to a longer and more comprehensive research agenda over a number of years with these participant communities that would be capable of sourcing funds from conventional research and specific Indigenous sources. Having regard to the above, the project’s specific objectives were: 1. to understand the vulnerability and adaptive capacity of selected urban and peri-urban Indigenous coastal communities; 2. to collaboratively explore a range of strategies to enhance Indigenous adaptive capacity in the case study communities within a community of knowledge framework 3. to establish the foundations of a community of indigenous knowledge (network) for ongoing research into indigenous CCA; 4. to consolidate the public domain knowledge and research in Indigenous CCA; 5. to scope the opportunities, challenges and processes for adding to the public domain knowledge; 6. to develop in partnership a set of protocols for ongoing Indigenous CCA research; and 7. to provide opportunities for the up-skilling of Indigenous researchers in the field of CCA. Methodology This project pursued a case study approach and engaged with Indigenous communities in five case study locations in three states of Australia. Over the 12 months available for the research, a series of case study specific workshops, were undertaken to engage with the case study communities to introduce, discuss and understand their capacity as individuals, households, businesses, and institutions to adapt to climate change. These workshops also provided opportunities to identify and to commence to scope out strategies to enhance their capacity to adapt to future climate change. The workshops also acted as the principal data collection process of oral information of what the research team considered a pilot study. In this way, the project was structured to explore options that could lead to possible further studies that could be completed beyond the scope of this initial short duration study. The stakeholders engaged through this process included Elders and knowledgeable people who could present the position within the communities – eg people in executive and / or responsible positions in Aboriginal organisations. Gatekeepers were extensively used in all five communities to ensure the success of the engagement process. These were respected and influential members in each community that the principal investigators had long and established links with. An extensive literature search was also undertaken that led to the compilation of an annotated bibliography on the subject of: “Understanding Coastal Urban and Peri-urban Indigenous People’s vulnerability and adaptive capacity to Climate Change”. A document review was also conducted of key State and Local Government’s policy documents on the topic


Indigenous wisdom of climate change adaptation and direct and indirect links to the Indigenous communities in the jurisdiction of those policy documents. The research project was undertaken under the auspicious of Griffith University and Deakin University. The project was granted ethical approval by: The Griffith University’s Expedited Ethical Review Panel (GU Ref No: ENV/04/12/ HREC); and Deakin University’s Human Research Ethics Committee (DU Ref No: 2011-250). Indigenous Community Participants Five case study areas across south-eastern Australia were identified through agreements with five autonomous Indigenous community organisations that were engaged from the outset of the project proposal. The participating Indigenous Organisations include: The Kaurna Nation Cultural Heritage Association Inc (KNCHA) represents an urban Indigenous community within the Adelaide metropolitan region (Adelaide Plains) that has recent involvement in strategic planning place-making expression activities. The Kaurna are distinguished by Indigenous families with strong connections to former Aboriginal missions, such as Point McLeay (Raukkan) in the Lower Murray and Point Pearce on Yorke Peninsula (Clarke 1996; Hall 2004; Hemming & Clarke 1992), and apart from their links to the surrounding rural regions, some of these families also trace descent from the Kaurna people who are the Traditional Owners (TOs) of the Adelaide Plains region. Broader community recognition of the Kaurna community as Indigenous TOs of the Adelaide Plains emerged in the 1970s when key individuals began exploring their cultural relationship to the region through their own genealogical and Dreaming links. The number of Indigenous people identifying as Kaurna today numbers several hundred. The focus of Kaurna identity-building activities has included an increasing focus on sites associated with the Tjilbruke (Glossy Ibis (Plegadis falcinellus)) Ancestor and an analysis of a dictionary produced by Lutheran missionaries (Teichelmann 1857; Teichelmann & Schürmann 1840) during the 1830s. KNCHA is primarily concerned with the management of Aboriginal sites on Kaurna country. The Association works alongside two other Kaurna organisations: Kaurna Yerta Co-Operative, which is the native title group, and Kaurna Warra Pintyandi, which looks after custodianship of the Kaurna language. Despite their high profile in South Australia, the community do not have access to sufficient land to enable the development of cultural businesses. Further, their native title claim that was lodged in 2000 has yet to be considered (Federal Court no. SAD6001/2000). The Warraparinga Living Kaurna Centre, operated by the City of Marion Council, is a focus of future plans for increasing the profile of the Kaurna community as TOs of the greater Adelaide region. The Wathaurong Aboriginal Co-Operative Limited (WACO) at North Geelong are a community-based organisation that provide Indigenous people within the Greater Geelong and surrounding areas with access to health, housing, education, employment and heritage support services. The WACO’s primary goal is to provide Indigenous people, within the Greater Geelong and bordering areas, access to a range of culturally appropriate holistic services, particularly in health, housing, education, employment and heritage (Wathaurong Aboriginal Co-Operative 2012), but the WACO is not a Registered Aboriginal Party (RAP) under Victorian legislation. The WACO contributes to cultural well-being improvement and capacity building for Indigenous people, as the Indigenous community in the region strives to control its own affairs and achieve self-determination. This community includes an Indigenous population of between 3,000 to 5,000 people, which includes a large proportion of transient or off-country Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander people in addition to a population with Wathaurong familial associations of about 2,500., the WACO is currently managing the 800ha Wurdi Youang volcanic plains grassland property near the You Yangs, to the north of Geelong on the Werribee Plains. The Boon Wurrung Foundation Limited (BWF) is the spokesperson entity for an urban/peri-urban Indigenous community that reside on the south-east fringe of Melbourne that has witnessed extensive coastal urban sprawl and attempts to increase this sprawl into previously designated green belt areas within their ‘country’ that directly impact upon their cultural and natural environmental responsibilities. The Port Phillip Bay region includes Geelong, Melbourne and the Mornington Peninsula urban and peri-urban regions around which the Boon Wurrung, Wurundjeri and Wathaurong have their countries and form part of the Kulin nation. The BWF represents the interest of TOs living in the region from the City of Melbourne to Wilsons Promontory, including the Mornington Peninsula, but is not a RAP. The Boon Wurrung community comprises less than a hundred individuals, with membership chiefly defined by their relations to key Elders. While building the broader recognition of their identity as TOs, the BWF has become involved in Aboriginal heritage assessment referrals and land care projects and more recently in museum displays and the state education Indigenous curriculum (Briggs 2008, 2010). The Quandamooka Lands Council Aboriginal Corporation (QLC) is a peri-urban Indigenous community that encompasses the Stradbroke Island / Moreton Bay regions of South East Queensland (SEQ) that experiences major seasonal visitation impacts associated with their proximity to the Brisbane metropolitan region. The State government is currently undertaking a major land use planning study for North Stradbroke Island which involves the Quandamooka community and their recently awarded native title lands. Many members of this community reside and work in the


Indigenous wisdom Brisbane metropolitan area. The QLC represents an Aboriginal community, numbering between four and five hundred people, that has continuously occupied their traditional lands on North Stradbroke Island (Minjebrah) since European settlement. There is also Quandamooka families living nearby in the Brisbane metropolitan area. The Quandamooka people living on North Stradbroke Island are largely engaged in service industries (such as health and housing), tourism, sand mining and commercial fishing (Quandamooka Aboriginal Community 2007). At peak holiday times, the Island population sometimes swells to more than 30,000, leading to a range of significant social and environmental impacts. The local Aboriginal community deals with a diverse range of management issues that appear to be unique in south eastern Australia, due to the impacts of close proximity to a metropolitan area coupled with limited access to services often more akin to a remote location.The Quandamooka traditional country includes the central and southern seas of Moreton Bay, the islands of Moreton, North and South Stradbroke, across to the mainland coast and coastal streams between the Brisbane and Logan Rivers, and the numerous smaller islands in the central and southern Bay, and was granted native title of North Stradbroke Island in late 2011 (Federal Court no. QUD6010/1998). The Jagera Ganay-Magill Aboriginal Corporation (JGMAC) comprises and represents several urban Indigenous communities within the Brisbane-Ipswich metropolitan region which contains a large heterogeneous Indigenous population that is comprised of individuals and families drawn from communities based across Australia. The recognised Traditional Owners (TOs) of the region are extended families who identify with the former hunter-gatherer language groups, such as the Jagera (Yagara, Yuggera or Jagara) and Quandamooka peoples, who lived in the region when European settlement commenced in the early 19th century. The JGMAC services the contemporary Jagera community that numbers a hundred or more individuals, and membership of the Corporation is based upon local residency. The Jagera people have lodged the Jagera People #2 native title claim (Native Title Determination Application QUD6014/03) over their country that includes parts of Queenslandâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s most heavily populated region: the Brisbane CBD, much of Brisbaneâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s southern and eastern suburbs, and Ipswich.This claim is yet to be determined by the Federal Court, although the City of Ipswich has an ILUA (City of Ipswich 2008) with the Jagera,Yuggera and Ugarapul People, which recognises the rights of TOs and assists them to continue caring for country. Figure 1 provides a map as to the geographical location of the participating organisation, and Table 1 provides a crosscomparison of the characteristics of the participating organisations.

Jagera Ganay-Magil Aboriginal Corporation Brisbane / Ipswich region

Kaurna Nation Cultural Heritage Board - Port Adelaide

Wathaurong Aboriginal Co-operative Ltd North Geelong

Quandamooka Lands Council Aboriginal Corporation -Stradbroke Island / Moreton Bay SEQ Boon Wurrung Foundation Limited - Mornington Peninsula Shire

Figure 1: Geographical Location of the Participants


Indigenous wisdom 1


Organisational Name


Kaurna National Cultural Heritage Association Inc (KNCHA)

Wathaurong Aboriginal CoOperative Ltd (WACO)

Boon Wurrung Foundation Ltd (BWF)


Quandamooka Lands Council Aboriginal Corporation Inc (QLCAC)


Jagera GanayMagil Aboriginal Corporation Inc (JGMAC)


Country: Geographical Location & Scope

Adelaide Plains

Geelong and Barwon Region, south-west of Melbourne

Lands stretching from southern Melbourne to Wilsons Promontory including the Mornington Peninsula

Moreton Bay and North Stradbroke Island region east of Brisbane

Brisbane – Ipswich metropolitan areas

Corporate Status

Incorporated with an aim of cultural heritage custodianship and referral

Co-Operative with an aim of employment, social and health provision for Indigenous residents

Limited company serving as a spokesperson for the Boon Wurrung

Incorporated with an aim of cultural heritage custodianship and referral

Incorporated with an aim of cultural heritage custodianship and referral

Legal Status

Advisory referral service

Advisory referral service; not a Registered Aboriginal Party (RAP) which is fulfilled by the Wathaurung Aboriginal Corporation

Advisory referral service; not a Registered Aboriginal Party (RAP) but has made application for status in conjunction with the Bunerong community

Quasi-local government entity arising from a successful Native Title claim

Advisory referral service

Urban Characteristics

Urban and periurban Adelaide Plains metropolitan context

Urban and periurban Geelong metropolitan context

Urban and peri-urban southern Melbourne metropolitan context

Peri-urban Moreton Bay regional context

Urban and peri-urban Brisbane - Ipswich metropolitan context

Geographical Characteristics

Plains landscape adjunct to the Gulf St Vincent

Rolling plains landscape adjunct to Port Philip Bay and the Bellarine Peninsula

Mixed environment from coastal to swamps to farmlands to national parks

Coastal and riverine landscapes including major islands

Mixed environment from coastal to swamps to farmlands to riverine plains

Table 1: Characteristics of the Participants

Traditional Environmental Knowledge and Climate Change Projections Traditional Indigenous environmental knowledge was and is commonly held in a community, with various components of it known only by specific members of the community whether they be Elders, descendants (lineage) or gender groups. ‘Indigenous knowledge’ is broadly defined as local knowledge unique to an Indigenous community and entrusted to an Indigenous community to manage as custodians (Berkes 1998). The NARP (Langton et al 2011) uses the term ‘traditional ecological knowledge’ to imply ecological knowledge as being a subset of Indigenous knowledge, which is culturally not strictly true, adopting Berkes’ (1998: 8) definition whereby it constitutes “a cumulative body of knowledge, practice and belief, evolving by adaptive processes and handed down from generations by cultural transmission, about the relationship of living beings (including humans) with one another and their environment.” While traditional ecological knowledge is key to comprehending Indigenous community adaptive capacity, it is primarily communicated via language and word that reinforces community or clan-group priorities for adaptation and cultural obligation. Contextually, this knowledge is little appreciated in contemporary climate change research around Australia. While Australia is a coastal nation with a significant part of its urban settlements located along the coastline (Norman 2010), its coastal settlements are particularly vulnerable to sea level rise and extreme weather events (Hennessy et al. 2007). This is also the case of SEQ, Southern Victoria and Adelaide regions where past and present settlement patterns are likely to be increasingly exposed to risks associated with sea-level rise (Parry et al. 2007; Kinrade & Preston 2008). In particular, future sea-level rise is likely to affect coastlines by driving progressive coastal erosion, contribute to intensify storm surge and storm tide events with subsequent coastal inundation (Kinrade & Preston 2008). Coastal inundation and erosion will have a direct impact on property, populations and infrastructure. Beaches, foreshores and coastal wetlands are also likely to be impacted (Kinrade & Preston 2008). These impacts will have direct social, economic and environmental costs (Gurran et al. 2008). For example, increased risks of coastal hazards are likely to affect property prices as housing stocks become more exposed to risks. Additionally, there could be a change in the insurance industry with companies denying insurance to affected households as well


Indigenous wisdom as driving insurance premiums to compensate for more recurrent losses. Disruption to public services as well as businesses is also possible (Kinrade & Preston, 2008; Abel et al. 2011). Additionally, climate change impacts are likely to further exacerbated the vulnerability of socio-economic disadvantaged social groups (Gurran et al. 2008). Community and environmental assets, including cultural heritage sites are also expected to be affected with significant impact on the quality of life of populations inhabiting the coastal area, including urban and peri-urban Indigenous communities (Gurran et al. 2008). Health related costs are also expected as increased risks of coastal hazards could lead to direct impact on residents’ health, including mental health associated with traumatic experiences associated with disasters. Environmental impacts would lead to loss in biodiversity as well as environmental quality broadly (Kinrade & Preston 2008). Climate science comprises an evolving field of knowledge and is marked by uncertainties (Reilly & Schimmelpfennig 2000; Patt et al. 2005). This is particularly the case of future climate change projections specific to smaller scale areas such as defined native title areas. Drawing on the latest available information, Table 2 presents an overview of how climate change is likely to impact our five case study areas and participants. While the primary research project considers Climate Change Adaptation strategies and processes, this paper considers one of the findings from the project about language and words as outlined in the paper abstract. Notwithstanding this it is necessary to place this finding in the overall climate change patterns being experienced by the participant organisations so the information in Table 2 is contextually relevant before considering language and word. Participant






Organisation-al Name

Kaurna National Cultural Heritage Association Inc (KNCHA)

Wathaurong Aboriginal CoOperative Ltd (WACO)

Boon Wurrung Foundation Ltd (BWF)

Quanda-mooka Lands Council Aboriginal Corporation Inc (QLCAC)

Jagera GanayMagil Aboriginal Corporation Inc (JGMAC)

Vulnerability Rating by the CSIRO




Hot spot

Hot spot

Population Patterns

Population growth including urban development along low-lying coastline and floodplains

Population growth including urban development along low-lying coastline and floodplains

Population growth including urban development along low-lying coastline and floodplains

Population growth including urban development along low-lying coastline and floodplains

Population growth including urban development along low-lying coastline and floodplains

Temperature Changes

average temperatures have already increased by 1.2°C since the 1950’s; increase in the future reaching 0.8°C by 2030 and 2.3°C by 2070

annual average temperatures are likely to increase by 0.5 to 1.1°C by 2030 and 0.9 to 3.5°C by 2070

annual average temperatures are likely to increase by 0.5 to 1.1°C by 2030 and 0.9 to 3.5°C by 2070

increase of 0.4°C in the average annual temperature; and an increase between 0.5 and 1.5°C is projected to occur by 2030

increase of 0.4°C in the average annual temperature; and an increase between 0.5 and 1.5°C is projected to occur by 2030

Rainfall Changes

decline in annual averages of 4.5% by 2030 and 15% by 2070, with greatest decline to occur in winter and spring (8%)

decrease in average annual rainfall by up to 8% by 2030 and 23% by 2070, higher reductions are expected in winter and spring

decrease in average annual rainfall by up to 8% by 2030 and 23% by 2070, higher reductions are expected in winter and spring

a decline by almost 55mm per decade has been observed since 1950

a decline by almost 55mm per decade has been observed since 1950

Rainfall Events

more extreme rainfall events are also expected

increase of up to 25% in extreme rainfall events of 1 to 24 hours in duration in at-risk areas by 2030 and up to 70% by 2070

increase of up to 25% in extreme rainfall events of 1 to 24 hours in duration in at-risk areas by 2030 and up to 70% by 2070

extreme rainfall events are likely to increase across most of the region; an increase of up to 25% in the intensity of 1-in-20 year dailyrainfall event

extreme rainfall events are likely to increase across most of the region; an increase of up to 25% in the intensity of 1-in-20 year dailyrainfall event

potential increase in the frequency or magnitude of flood events or flood heights

potential increase in the frequency or magnitude of flood events or flood heights

moderate thunderstorm activity averaging between 20 to 40 days per year

moderate thunderstorm activity averaging between 20 to 40 days per year

Rolling plains landscape adjunct to Port Philip Bay and the Bellarine Peninsula

Mixed environment from coastal to swamps to farmlands to national parks

Coastal and riverine landscapes including major islands

Mixed environment from coastal to swamps to farmlands to riverine plains

Flooding & Wind Events

Geographical Characterist-ic

Plains landscape adjunct to the Gulf St Vincent


Indigenous wisdom Coastal Risks (Storm surges and erosion)

more intense storm events as well as higher coastal storm surges

greater exposure to storm surge inundation with expected change to be from the current 1 in 100 year to become a 1 in 1 to 1 in 4 year event by 2070.

greater exposure to storm surge inundation with expected change to be from the current 1 in 100 year to become a 1 in 1 to 1 in 4 year event by 2070.

sea-level rise, projections indicate a rise of approximately 80 cm by 2100

sea-level rise, projections indicate a rise of approximately 80 cm by 2100


increased potential evaporation and reduction in relative humidity leading to drier conditions

increased potential evaporation and reduction in relative humidity leading to drier conditions

increased potential evaporation and reduction in relative humidity leading to drier conditions

increased potential evaporation and reduction in relative humidity leading to drier conditions

increased potential evaporation and reduction in relative humidity leading to drier conditions

Bushfire Events

increase the frequency and intensity of extreme fire weather days as well as create conditions towards longer fire seasons and reduced number of days suitable to controlled burning due to accumulated fire risk.

worsening fire weather conditions are also expected to occur with an increase in the number of days of ‘very high’ or ‘extreme’ forest fire risk by 1 to 2 days by 2030

worsening fire weather conditions are also expected to occur with an increase in the number of days of ‘very high’ or ‘extreme’ forest fire risk by 1 to 2 days by 2030

increase in average mean annual temperature and severe weather events, such as extended periods of drought, due to climate change could also lead to more favourable conditions for the occurrence of bushfires

increase in average mean annual temperature and severe weather events, such as extended periods of drought, due to climate change could also lead to more favourable conditions for the occurrence of bushfires

Dry Days and Frost days

increase in the frequency of extremely warm days (above both 35°C and 40°C) and nights along with a decrease in the frequency of extremely cool days and nights

increase in the number of extreme hot days with temperatures above 35°C and 40°C and a decrease in the number of frost days

increase in the number of extreme hot days with temperatures above 35°C and 40°C and a decrease in the number of frost days

increase in mean temperatures will also increase the number of days over 35°C in the region

increase in mean temperatures will also increase the number of days over 35°C in the region

Table 2: Climate Change Variables Extant in the Participants’ Countries

Language and Word Language and word to Indigenous communities provide the sacred ‘voices’ or myths of the Australian landscape.Whether verbal, visual or experiential, they were reconstituted in myths and ‘oral literatures’, and linked to a geographical tract or a feature providing a local identification or anchorage to the narration. Each myth and anchorage held external qualities, like ‘intellectual vehicles’, that could express certain information and sensations to past, present and future inhabitants. To the Koories (the generic term often used by Aboriginals of south-eastern Australia to describe themselves) of south-eastern Australia, these myths embodied ‘truths’ about why something was the way it was, why it was there, and how it fitted into the temporal nature of landscape. They reflected the familiar in a comprehensible reality, and held an eternal quality by their repetition and aural memorisation in “fundamentally unchanging statements, valid for all time” (Berndt & Berndt 1994: 5). Landscape held important props for myths, without which they had no local validity or identification. Land, particular points, spaces within, and criss-crossing mythical paths, served as literal expressions of the purpose of land stewardship to Koories. As Altjerringa beings journeyed across the landscape, their ‘camp’ sites, their spiritual presences and routes, or the places where they ‘made themselves’ or ‘turned themselves’, established a three dimensional environment that imbued with social purpose. Each clump of ‘honeysuckle’, waterhole, or cluster of rocks told of a particular meaning, or of a set of different meanings, often interconnected with the biological web (prominences on the horizon, or the theatre in the landscape above, as examples). Landscape therefore spoke with sacred voices or ‘ghostly languages’. In terms of word, each word possesses a library of information that may describe, time, event and actor. Climatic events, their consequences, and entities that are climatic events themselves are therefore embodied in text and word. Therefore, to the Wathaurong text and word are important. For example, “mangkonuk vioner. Wa trantublulneit” means “Go on, fire. Ah! Tumble down dead” is explaining a place that has experience bushfires and has been subject to vegetation death. Further, “point no Mer-drung-marng-a” means “The sun is buried in the clouds” and is describing bushfires and the erasure of the sun by the fires clouds. Similar climate change events are embodied in “brin-bop mo mere” which means “The sun appears, or shines” and “to wort no mon dar” which means “The thunder is roaring” and “utur; bullito parn-min boldoneit” which means “No; too much tumble down rain” and “netbo bidderup; ure, purrumbon. Ah! Ngeren port; molocho vein woman” which means “Now it is dry; go on, turn away. Ah! I see smoke; fire soon come.”


Indigenous wisdom As discussed above, language and word are integral to Indigenous Australian communication and ‘history’ –making. In this context, Dreaming stories become the narrative explanations of landscape formation, cultural moral rules and codes, and the historical reasoning of the community’s existence. Thus, this lore is law as far as each community is concerned it’s just that it is not predicated upon its expression and embodiment on paper/digital media as is commonplace in Western society, but rather it is contained in oral narratives that are multi-layered and often circuituous in information and layers of information. In terms of climate change, many Indigenous Dreaming stories express events that explain climate change events and thus landscape creation as a consequence of climate events. A relevant exemplar is one of the Boon Wurrung stories, that is in the public domain, describes the tumultuous events by which Port Phillip Bay was created and the need to codes and rules about environmental management. Table 3 quotes a complete version of this story, but it one of several versions of which each has components and different information but all have consistency of thought and meaning. This story was told by Ms Carolyn Briggs, a Boon Wurrung Elder, at a special Reconciliation Assembly of the Parliament of Victoria, 31 May 2000, during National Reconciliation Week Many years ago this land that we now call Melbourne extended right out to the ocean. Port Phillip Bay was then a large flat plain where Boon Wurrung hunted kangaroos and cultivated their yam daisy. But one day there came a time of chaos and crises. The Boon Wurrung and the other Kulin nations were in conflict. They argued and fought. They neglected their children. They neglected their land. The native yam was neglected.The animals were killed but not always eaten.The fish were caught during their spawning season. As this chaos grew the sea became angry and began to rise until it covered their plain and threatened to flood the whole of their country. The people went to Bunjil, their creator and spiritual leader.They asked Bunjil to stop the sea from rising. Bunjil told his people that they would have to change their ways if they wanted to save their land.The people thought about what they had been doing and made a promise to follow Bunjil. Bunjil walked out to the sea, raised his spear and directed the sea to stop rising. Bunjil then made the Boon Wurrung promise that they would respect the laws. The place the Kulin then chose to meet as a means of resolving these differences is where this Parliament [of Victoria] is now located.The Kulin nations met here regularly for many thousands of years.They debated issues of great importance to the nation; they celebrated, they danced. For my great grandmother it was the strength of these beliefs and the belief that people could work together that helped her survive the crises our people faced when Europeans invaded her country over 160 years ago. My great grandmother was known by her European name, Louisa Briggs. When Louisa was a young girl she went on a journey with her mother, aunt and grandmother to what is now called Point Nepean. This is a special place with a special significance for the Boon Wurrung women. While they were there they were kidnapped by sealers and taken to an isolated island in Bass Strait. There they were put to work for the sealers. But at the age of 18 she took a husband and returned to her country in a small open boat. When she returned to her country she searched for her people, but they were no longer there. Louisa eventually found some of her people at the Coranderrk reserve and she settled down to live there. She worked at the reserve as a matron. She became a strong political activist and her family were again forced to move because of their strong stand on land rights. They were banned from the reserve. She died in the 1920s at a very old age, but in bridging the time between the invasion of her country and the dispossession of her people she provided the cultural link, ensuring that her heritage continued to live. She continued to dream and talk about her country. Louisa fought oppression, racism and political inequality.Today, as we consider the act of Reconciliation, I hope that her story will inspire not only her descendants but that in the spirit of Reconciliation it will provide a model of strength that can inspire all Australians. Today Melbourne is the great multicultural city of the world and this special place continues to carry forward the spirit of our tradition. This land will always be protected by the creator, Bunjil, who travels as an eagle, and by Waarn, who protects the waterways and travels as a crow. Bunjil taught the Boon Wurrung to always welcome guests, but he always required the Boon Wurrung to ask all visitors to make two promises: to obey the laws of Bunjil and not to harm the children or the land of Bunjil. As the spirit of my ancestors lives, let the wisdom and the spirit of generosity which Bunjil taught us influence the decisions made in this meeting place. Womin Jeka mirambeek beek. Boon Wurrung Nairm derp Bordupren uther willam. Table 3: Boon Wurrung story of the creation of Port Philip Bay.. Source: http://www.yarrahealing.catholic.edu.au/stories-voices/index.cfm?loadref=87


Indigenous wisdom Directions While a suite of recommendations have arisen from this project, the key conclusion that has unfolded is that Indigenous knowledge of country, environment and environmental change is little understood and appreciated, but holds significant information. Word, text and language are a key component of Indigenous climate change adaptation and narrative but it has previously not been linked to climate change knowledge because it is not deemed ‘science’ and legitimate information in Western science and academia. In terms of the larger research project undertaken, this thread has come through as an under-current through all the workshop discussions with each community but it has not been articulated as an important adaptation strategy or explanation. Rather, this thread has emerged as a subtle line of explanation and information The thread has confirmed the urgency to engage with Australian Indigenous communities to explore the role and values that they can offer in shedding new light on climate change and adaptation strategies because they offer a long perspective of change and responsiveness, and this is contained in their Dreaming stories and text. Thus, there is a need to focus on a cross-peri-urban Indigenous investigation to examines this discourse through the lens of their words, terms, sentences as a vehicle to better understand a longitudinal perspective about climate change adaptation pertinent to Australia. Acknowledgements The authors wish to acknowledge the kind involvement and support of the Quandamooka Lands Council Aboriginal Corporation Ltd, the Jagera Ganay-Magil Aboriginal Corporation Ltd (formerly Ngaran Goori Ltd), the Boon Wurrung Foundation Ltd, the Wathaurong Aboriginal Co-Operative Ltd and the Kaurna Nation Cultural Heritage Association Inc in consenting to participation in this research project and enabling staff and elder involvement in the project. The authors also wish to acknowledge the initial support of the Mornington Peninsula Council, the City of Greater Geelong Council, Parks Victoria, and Wilto Yerlo at the University of Adelaide in formulating this research project. At Griffith University acknowledgement is made to the School of Environment and the Urban Research Program, and at Deakin University to the School of Architecture & Built Environment, Deakin Prime and the Institute of Koorie Education in supporting the research project. This work was carried out with financial support from the Australian Government (Department of Climate Change and Energy Efficiency) and the National Climate Change Adaptation Research Facility. The views expressed herein are not necessarily the views of the Commonwealth or NCCARF, and neither the Commonwealth nor NCCARF accept responsibility for information or advice contained herein. References Abel, N., Gorddard, R., Harman, B., Leitch, A., Langridge, J., Ryan, A. & Heyenga, S. 2011. Sea level rise, coastal development and planned retreat: analytical framework, governance principles and an Australian case study Environmental Science & Policy. AIATSIS 1999, The ethics of research Chapter 4, In Research of Interest to Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander Peoples. (Commissioned Report 59) Australian Research Council. National Board of Employment, Education & Training, Canberra. http://www.arc.gov.au/general/arc_publications.htm#1999 AIATSIS 2000, Guidelines for ethical research in Indigenous studies, Australian Institute of Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander Studies, Canberra. http://www.aiatsis.gov.au/research/docs/ethics.pdf Berkes, F. 1998. Scared Ecology: Traditional ecological knowledge and resource management. Taylor and Francis, Philadelphia and London. Berkes, F. 2009, Indigenous ways of knowing and the study of environmental change, Journal of the Royal Society of New Zealand, 39(4): 151-156. Berndt, R & C Berndt 1994, The Speaking Land: Myth and Story in Aboriginal Australia. Rochester, Vt. : Inner Traditions International. Briggs, C 2008, The journey cycles of the Boonwurrung: stories with Boonwurrung language. Victorian Aboriginal Corporation for Languages, Melbourne. Briggs, C 2010, Boonwurrung: the filling of the Bay – the time of chaos. Pp.8-11 in Indigenous creation stories of the Kulin nation. Arts Victoria, State of Victoria Melbourne. City of Greater Geelong 2011. Geelong Climate Change Adaptation Strategy, City of Greater Geelong. City of Ipswich 2008, Indigenous Land Use Agreement: Jagera, Yuggera and Ugarapul People and Ipswich City Council. (http://www.ipswich.qld.gov.au/documents/community/indigenous_land_use_agreement1.pdf).


Indigenous wisdom Clarke, PA 1996, Adelaide as an Aboriginal landscape. Pp.69–93 in V. Chapman & P. Read (eds) Terrible Hard Biscuits. A Reader in Aboriginal History. Journal of Aboriginal History, Allen & Unwin, Sydney. Gurran, N., Hamin, E. & Noman, B. 2008. Planning for climate change: leading practice principles and models for sea change communities in coastal Australia. Prepared for the National Sea Change Taskforce. The University of Sydney. Hall, L 2004, Sitting down in the square: Indigenous presence in an Australian city. Humanities Research. 11: 1: 54-77. Hemming, SJ & Clarke, PA 1989, Aboriginal Culture in South Australia. Department of Aboriginal Affairs, Canberra. 15pp. [Second edition published in 1991, third edition in 1997]. Hennessy, K., Fitzharris, B., Bates, B. C., Harvey, N., Howden, M., Hughes, L., Salinger, J. & Warrick, R. 2007. Australia and New Zealand. In: Parry, M. L., Canziani, O. F., Palutikof, J. P., Van Der Linden, P. J. & Hanson, C. E. (eds.) Climate Change 2007: Impacts, Adaptation and Vulnerability. Contribution of Working Group II to the Fourth Assessment Report of the Intergovernmental Panel on Climate Change. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Jones, DS 2002, Time, Seasonality and Design: Reconsidering temporal dimension and patterns of the Australian landscape Australian Institute of Landscape Architects National Conference: People + Place – the Spirit of Design, Darwin, 22nd-24th August 2002, at http://www.aila.org.au/conference/papers/David-Jones/davidjones-intro.htm Kinrade, P. & Preston, B. 2008. Impacts of climate change on settlements in the Western Port Region. People, property and places, CSIRO, Marsden Jacob Associates and Western Port Greenhouse Alliance. Kinrade, P. & Preston, B. 2008. Impacts of climate change on settlements in the Western Port Region. People, property and places, CSIRO, Marsden Jacob Associates and Western Port Greenhouse Alliance. Langton M, Parsons M, Leonard S, Auty K, Bell D, Burgess P, Edwards S, Howitt R, Jackson S, McGrath V, Morrison J, 2012: National Climate Change Adaptation Research Plan for Indigenous Communities, National Climate Change Adaptation Research Facility, Gold Coast. Low Choy, D & DS Jones 2012, ‘Planning research and educational partnerships with Indigenous communities: Practice, realities and lessons,’ in A Butt & M Kennedy (eds.), Proceedings of the Australian & New Zealand Association of Planning Schools (ANZAPS) Conference, 21-23 September 2012, La Trobe University, Bendigo. ISBN 978 0 9873429 2 8 www. anzaps.net Low Choy, D, J Wadsworth & D Burns 2011a, Identifying and incorporating indigenous landscape values into regional planning processes, Urban Research Program Research Monograph 13. Nathan, Qld: School of Environment, Griffith University. Low Choy, D, J Wadsworth, D Burns & T Edwards 2011c, ‘Seeing The Whole: Incorporating Indigenous Landscape Values Into Planning’, Proceedings of the 5th State of Australian Cities Conference, 29 November – 2 December 2011, Melbourne, Vic. Melbourne, Vic; Australian Sustainable Cities and Regions Network (ASCRN), pp. 1-16. ISBN 978-0-646-56805-8 http:// soac2011.com.au/ Low Choy, D, J Wadsworth, T Edwards & D Burns 2011b, Project Protocol for Incorporating Indigenous Landscape Values into Regional Planning Processes: South East Queensland. Nathan, Qld: School of Environment, Griffith University. Low Choy, D., Baum, S., Serrao-Neumann, S., Crick, F. S., M. & Harman, B. 2010. Climate Change Vulnerability in South East Queensland: A Spatial and Sectoral Assessment, A report for the South East Queensland Climate Adaptation Research Initiative, Griffith University. Low Choy, D., Clarke, P., Jones, D., Serrao-Neumann, S., Hales, R., & Koschade, O. 2013. Indigenous Climate Change Adaptation: Understanding Coastal Urban and Peri-urban Indigenous People’s vulnerability and adaptive capacity to Climate Change, A report for the National Climate Change Adaptation Research Facility, Griffith University, Brisbane, Australia. Low Choy, D., Sutherland, C., Gleeson, B., Dodson, J. & Sipe, N. 2007. Change and Continuity in Peri- Urban Australia. PeriUrban Structures and Sustainable Development. Urban Research Program. Griffith University. Norman, B. 2010. A low carbon and resilient urban future. An integrated approach to planning for climate change. Commonwealth of Australia, Department of Climate Change and Energy Efficiency Parry, M., Canziani, O., Palutikof, J., Van Der Linden, P. & Hanson, C. (eds.) 2007. Climate Change 2007: Impacts, Adaptation and Vulnerability. Contribution of Working Group II to the Fourth Assessment Report of the Intergovernmental Panel on Climate Change, International Panel on Climate Change (IPCC): Cambridge, Cambridge University Press, UK. Patt, A., Klein, R. & Vega-Leinert, A. 2005. Taking the uncertainty in climate-change vulnerability assessment seriously. C.R. Geoscience, 337, 411-424. Reilly, J. & Schimmelpfennig, D. 2000. Irreversibility, Uncertainty, and Learning: Portraits of Adaptation to Long-Term Climate


Indigenous wisdom Change. Climatic Change, 45, 253-278. Teichelmann, CG & Schürmann, C.W. 1840, Outlines of a grammar ... of the Aboriginal language of South Australia. Thomas & Co, Adelaide. Teichelmann, CG 1857, Dictionary of the Adelaide dialect. Manuscript. (South African Public Library: Capetown. Wathaurong Aboriginal Co-operative 2012, Wathaurong Aboriginal Co-operative Incorporated strategic plan 2010-2014. February 2012 draft. Wathaurong Aboriginal Co-operative, Geelong, Victoria.

21. Berried Treasure: Nisga’a And Tr’öndek Hwech’in Berry Harvests In The Northwest Canadian Permafrost Mackin N1, Ruddick J2, Kendrick B3 1 Wilp Wilxo’oskwhl Nisga’a Institute and University of Victoria, 2J.R. Food Consulting Inc., 3Tr’ondek Hwech’in Community Abstract Permafrost landscapes of the circumpolar north have for millennia served Indigenous peoples with abundant harvests of delicious, healthy berries including Rubus chamaemorus, Vaccinium vitis-idaea, and Arctostaphylos rubra. These berries were traditionally harvested in summer and autumn, or in winter and spring from under the snow.We wondered: How were berries traditionally harvested in permafrost regions of Tr’ondëk Hwëch’in and Nisga’a homelands, including during the cold winter months when peoples’ health was particularly vulnerable? What nutrients in these berries kept people healthy? What is the potential influence of climate change on the availability and nutritional quality of berries that provided year-round nutrition? Our community-based research included several years of harvesting berries with local knowledge-holders, who explained how climate/ landscape changes influenced berry harvests, health-giving/ medicinal value of berries, and harvesting/ management traditions. Nutritional analysis at a laboratory confirmed Indigenous peoples’ medicinal/ nutritional knowledge: the darker berries proved rich in anthocyanins and the lighter coloured berries had very high vitamin C content. Berries harvested from under the snow had antioxidant content equal to those freshly harvested. The research has International applications, since berries growing in Northwest Canadian permafrost landscapes are also enjoyed by other Indigenous peoples of the circumpolar north. Our research shows that native berries of the permafrost offer crucial nutrients for people, animals, and the soil-food web.The traditions associated with berry management and harvesting may be keys to retaining food security and community health in the face of exponential climate change. Introduction On the northernmost coastline of British Columbia, Canada, Nisga’a people have for countless generations survived by sustainably harvesting the plants, wildlife, and fish from their Nass River Valley homelands. Further north, in Canada’s Yukon Territory, the Hän-speaking Tr’ondek Hwech’in people from the Dawson/ Klondike River region also lived with the landscape as their perpetual “grocery store”, harvesting and tending their wild-grown “produce” so it will continue to be available for future generations. For both Indigenous peoples, berries growing on permafrost plateaus have long been an important source of nutrition as well as a way to add colour and variety to their diet. In this century, as climate change escalates, Nisga’a,Tr’ondek Hwech’in, and other northern Indigenous peoples often find themselves increasingly isolated by extreme weather-related events such as storms and floods. Traditions of harvesting, tending, and nutritious use of berries are becoming important again, since it is sometimes difficult to gain access to store-bought foods. Even without climate change worries, a century of cultural changes have led to an increase in health problems such as diabetes and heart disease, and Indigenous knowledge-holders tell us that country foods such as wild berries are as important now as they were in the past. In response to the knowledge-holders’ concerns, our research team – Nisga’a and Tr’ondek Hwech’in Elders and young people, a food scientist, and an ethnobotanist/ landscape ecologist – looks at health benefits permafrost berries, and at the harvesting strategies that ensure the fields of berries stay healthy too. Methods From April 2012 to July 20 12, we interviewed Tr’ondëk Hwëch’in and Nisga’a knowledge-holders about the timing and harvesting practices of berries growing on permafrost plateaus, and their observations of climate change (see Fig. 1 for location of research: Hän language is Tr’ondek Hwech’in traditional territory).


Indigenous wisdom

Fig. 1: Map showing two areas of research

From the Elders and from written collections, we collected oral histories describing berry harvests and long-term recollections of climate change. To complement traditional knowledge, the Northern Climate Exchange at Yukon College provided information about climate change in both study regions. In summer and fall of 2012 and winter of 2013, berry samples were collected on the permafrost plateaus. Nutritional testing at a laboratory in Vancouver BC followed within 24 hours of collecting the samples. Nisga’a and Tr’ondek Hwech’in school and college students participated in berry harvesting and testing and in learning directly from Elders (Fig. 2). In June 2012 Wilp Wilxo’oskwhl Nisga’a Institute hosted an ethnobotany course where Bachelor and Masters’ students participated in the research. In July 2012, a children’s ethnobotany camp focussed on nutritious berries of the region. Harvesting, Elder interviews, student involvement, nutrition testing results, and conclusions are being recorded in print and on DVD and will be shared with Indigenous peoples elsewhere through hard copy distribution, websites, and conferences.


Indigenous wisdom

Fig. 2: Berry harvesting traditions, taste, Indigenous names, uses, and nutrition are discussed with Nisga’a Elders and children (Nancy Mackin is on the right). Photograph 2012 by Gary Fiegehen

How were berries traditionally harvested in permafrost regions of Tr’ondëk Hwëch’in and Nisga’a homelands? To learn about traditional harvesting on mountain plateaus in the Yukon, we headed out in July 2012 to Tombstone Mountain berry-picking site, accompanied by colleagues from Tr’ondek Hwech’in Natural Resources, Education, and Heritage. When picking the creamy-textured cloudberries (also called salmonberries or bunchberries, Rubus camschatensis) we were amazed at the abundance of the berries, even though people come to this site every year to harvest them. Placing our hands on the mossy spongy ground, one can feel the hard icy permafrost barely an inch below the surface. More plants were harvested as we walked along the stream, including soapberries (Shepherdia Canadensis) (used by Indigenous peoples of the north-west of North American for medicine or to make a frothy confection sometimes called “Indian Ice Cream”), black bearberries (Arctostaphylos alpina), and red bearberries (Arctostaphylos rubra). Bringing cloudberries as gifts, we met with Tr’ondek Hwech’in Elder Percy Henry, who explained the customs associated with the berry harvest. “If I give [food or medicine] to you, you had to give me something. Like we do to that ground.When we take it we give. And when we take it we say our little prayer on it. We give thanks to the creator for the mother earth to provide our food. So that’s how, and then, we do it. So when you give, then more [berries] come. Rather than just take it all…Well before the white people came, everything we do we have to give thanks because we got no welfare to go to, no superstore to go to.We had to give thanks for everything. We had to be respectful” (Tr’ondek Hwech’in Elder Percy Henry pers. comm., 2012). The principle of respect for edible plants, fish, or wildlife is reiterated in many Indigenous peoples’ oral histories. Elders’ stories tell of disasters that occurred when people were disrespectful to species they were harvesting. Respect includes practical customs as well as spiritual ones. Preventing spoilage was important: “For the berries, they used to use a birch bark basket and fill it up, and put it under moss, to keep it year round and it never spoils.That’s how they keep their berries” [ibid]. Knowing when to harvest was important too, for the health of the land as well as to enhance peoples’ health and enjoyment. For example, some berries were picked after overwintering, since the process of freezing sweetens and softens the harder, tarter species. As Percy explains: “We eat [lowbush] cranberries after spring time. Ones that were there all winter. Nadaygawa (overnight) in Hän” [ibid]. We asked Percy about stories of European explorers who avoided disease by learning from Indigenous peoples to eat rose hips in winter. He explained: “N’Cho (rosehips: fig. 3)…they make jam I think. But you know, I hear in the stories, sometimes there are rough years, people starve. People look on the tundra to see where they really grow. I don’t know how much is in it, but it seems to help people to survive” [ibid]. To find out what plant foods to eat and when to eat them, Percy explained that people would watch the animals, especially the bears. “One time, a grizzly was there, taking the root. That’s why we had to eat some because they know what to eat. Because they know what to eat…We stopped and we see what they were doing. They have two for us. They eat the root. So we took it” [(ibid].


Indigenous wisdom

Fig. 3: Overwintering rose hips (N’Cho, Rosa acicularis) in Tr’ondek Hwech’in lands. Nancy Turner photograph 2012

Learning from animals, sometimes called bio-mimicry, is another theme that occurs repeatedly in oral histories of northern peoples. (Note that bio-mimicry is mistakenly defined as “A new science that studies nature’s models and then uses these designs and processes to solve human problems” [cf biomimicry.net]: but Indigenous peoples prove that biomimicry is not new. For example, many peoples of north-western North America, including the Nisga’a, belong to clans or tribes named after a crest spirit that taught them how to live, find food, and survive when they encountered serious difficulties) [Ayuukhl Nisga’a; Nisga’a Elder Bertram McKay pers. comm. 2003]. To learn about berry harvesting traditions from Nisga’a knowledge-holders, we returned later in July 2012 to a permafrost berry-picking site located on a plateau below Xlaawit peak, one of the Nisga’a sacred mountains. Our Nisga’a guides, Elders Harry Nyce Sr. (Sim’oogit Sagawe’en, Chief Mountain) and Dr. Joseph Gosnell (Sim’oogit Hleek), explained the significance of the site, which we had by now visited for several years documenting the berry harvest, told us the story of the great flood. The flood story is one of the most ancient in Nisga’a oral history, and is also found in similar form among Indigenous peoples throughout Canada’s northwest, likely dating back to the retreat of ice sheets some 10000 years ago. Our guides explained that the Nisga’a people saved themselves on the Xhlaawit. They chose this mountain not because it is the tallest in the region, but rather because the trees were small there, which meant less danger to the canoes as they charted the floodwaters that reached almost to the mountaintops. The small shrubby trees on the plateau also enable light to reach the low-growing berry plants. Nisga’a knowledge-holders organized and recalled generations of observation and conservation, said Sim’oogit Sagawe’en, by preparing a harvest wheel that correlates the timing of fish and wildlife harvests with the harvests of berries and other plant foods. The traditional knowledge recorded in the harvest wheel makes it possible to anticipate when berries in the high alpine can be harvested by seeing whether the fish arrived early or later in the streams and rivers below. He noted that climatic conditions over the past century have changed the timing of all the harvests, so understanding how many berries to harvest and predicting when to harvest them is only possible with the detailed, long-term observations tool such as the harvest wheel. This is an example of traditional phenological knowledge (cf. Lantz and Turner 2003): Indigenous peoples’ understanding of life cycles of organisms, and the use of indicators to highlight when and how much to harvest in a given year and climatic cycle. Traditional phenological knowledge is indeed necessary for Nisga’a people, since climate change is not new to them. Ancient Nisga’a stories, passed along from generation to generation, tell of years when spring did not arrive in their Nass Valley homelands (Ayuukhl Nisga’a 1994). People survived by moving from place to place while harvesting plants, fish, and wildlife from the ice-and-snow filled landscape. Likely recalling events from one of the several ice ages occurring over the past several thousand years, this oral history reminded Nisga’a people to be prepared for weather anomalies. As Sim’oogit Sagawe’en explained, the harvest wheel and other traditional phenological knowledge sources are still being used to help his people know when to harvest, despite escalating climate changes causing flooding and wide variations in harvest abundance. We returned to the Nass (Nisga’a) berry-picking site in September, where in previous years we had found an abundance


Indigenous wisdom of diverse berries including huksa’alt (Vaccinium ovalifolium, oval-leaf blueberry) and maaý im gililx (‘berry of the hills’) (V. alaskaense, Alaska blueberry ripening in late September. However, in September 2012 the berries did not ripen. Blueberries that had been large, sweet, juicy, and abundant in 2009 and 2010 remained small, hard, and inedible in 2012. Our chiefs and guides explained that climate changes were being experienced throughout Nisga’a homelands, jeopardizing fish, wildlife, and plant harvests. They also explained that people had traditionally tended these sites, harvesting just enough berries so that the fields remained productive from generation to generation. Maintaining peoples’ health, as well as health of the berry plants, has always been a crucial part of Nisga’a leadership [Deanna Nyce, Nisga’a knowledge-holder, pers. comm. 2010]. For today’s Indigenous communities of the north, health concerns are escalating, and access to wild foods, including plant foods, has been identified as a critical component by Indigenous leaders and Western science medical research [Hopkinson, Stephenson, and Turner 1995; Read 1995; UNBC et al 2009]. As Director of Nisga’a Valley Health Saltzwin (Julia Adams), Director of Nisga’a Valley Health and a Nisga’a knowledge-holder who learned from her grandmother and mother, told us: “I never used to hear anything about cancer [in the old days]. This is an important issue. [After the Europeans arrived] the Nisga’a were afraid to practice what they knew. All the knowledge from our grandparents was no longer shared. The [visitors] used the church to stop the practice of teaching the knowledge to the children. It’s not too late to gather the knowledge” [pers. comm. 2010]. We then proceeded to gather nutritional knowledge from a shared perspective – western science and Indigenous peoples’ cultural, place-specific memories. What nutrients in permafrost-growing berries helped keep people healthy? Within twenty-four hours of picking berries, we transported them to a nutrition laboratory in Vancouver BC, where berries for both regions were tested for anothocyanins and Vitamin C. We chose to test for these two compounds because both inhibit diseases. Anthocyanins have been shown to inhibit growth of cancer cells and to combat diabetes and other chronic diseases [Lila 2004] that are increasingly troublesome for Indigenous peoples of Canada’s northwest [Read 1995]. Vitamin C is used by the body to heal wounds and to repair cartilage, bones, and teeth [Medline 2012]. This is new research since anthocyanin testing and tests for Vitamin C have not, to the best of our understanding, been done on several of the distinctive plants from this region, and the relative nutritional values of berries harvested north of the Arctic Circle compared to those harvested in Northern British Columbia has not been undertaken [cf. Kuhnlein and Turner 2009]. As shown in the graphs that follow (Figs. 4 and 5), nutritional values of a range of berry species from mountain plateaus in Nisga’a homelands of the Nass Valley and Tr’ondek Hwech’in homelands in the Yukon, much further north. Cloudberries (Rubus chamaemorus) (maaý im ganaw in Nisga’a) ( Nihbà in Hän) and soapberries (Shepherdia canadensis, Is in Nisga’a) had the highest vitamin C content, and the Yukon berries were higher in Vitamin C than those harvested further south in the Nass. Subsequent testing revealed that rosehips (Rosa acicularis) hips (k’alams in Nisga’a) (N’cho in Hän) had the highest vitamin C content of all, and that their content did not diminish if they were picked after freezing (when they are sweeter, softer, and tastier). Anthocyanins were highest in blueberries (Vaccinium alaskaense – Alaska blueberry, also Vaccinium caespitosum – dwarf bilberry or Vaccinium deliciosum Piper, maaý im gililx in Nisga’a), crowberries (Empetrum nigrum L. – black crowberry, maaý im Kaw Kaw in Nisga’a) (Jëjik jëk in Hän), and Lingonberry or low-bush cranberry (Vaccinium vitis-idaea) (ẃiipdalks in Nisga’a) tl’ä̀t in Hän)). (Interestingly, the Yukon people we interviewed like to eat crowberries but the Nass people do not, and Yukon crowberries are much higher in anthocyanins than those from the Nass!) Like rosehips, anthocyanin-rich lowbush cranberries are often enjoyed after they have frozen on the stem since freezing makes them softer and sweeter. Again, the Yukon berries were higher in anthocyanins than those from the slightly warmer climate further south.


Indigenous wisdom

Fig. 4

Fig. 5: Anthocyanin content of berries collected in Yukon and Nass Alpine

Because sharing traditional knowledge across generations is key to keeping the knowledge alive and in active use [Turner, Ignace, and Ignace 2000], and because the small schools and colleges of remote northern regions are often short of funding for science projects, we involved local students in harvesting berries and then testing their harvest for Vitamin C and other nutrients. Using less stringent testing methods than those employed by the professional laboratory, students were nonetheless excited to find out about the medicinal qualities of foods they could pick themselves from nearly places. To the same science classes, we brought traditional knowledge from their Elders to the classroom so they could see that Western science and traditional knowledge can support one another in realizing nutritional goals.


Indigenous wisdom Elders also made sure that students understood the importance of respecting the land when harvesting, and harvesting selectively so berries remain for future generations. What is the potential influence of climate change on the availability and nutritional quality of berries that provided year-round nutrition? Climates in north-western Canada are warming at an increasing pace, with the greater temperature changes occurring as you go further north. For example, winter temperatures in Dawson City, Yukon have warmed about two degrees in the past twenty-five years, but only about three degrees in the last hundred years [Purves 2010]. Forecasts are that temperatures will continue to rise exponentially, and with them there will be increasing amounts of snowfall in winter and dryer, hotter summers [Northern Climate ExChange 2011]. For berries that prefer permafrost soils, this warming trend is not good news, since each temperature rise signifies a loss of permafrost areas where the berries may grow. Scientists and Indigenous peoples are worried. The area of the alpine tundra region in British Columbia is expected to decline dramatically, as much as 90 percent over the next fifty to one-hundred years (Pojar 2010), and climate changes in the Yukon are occurring at an even faster rate.The warming trend may not be good news for berry nutrition either, since berries growing in the more northerly and cold regions appear to have higher amounts of anthocyanins and Vitamin C (note: more years of testing and sampling from more places are necessary to quantify this). Loss of food security among Indigenous peoples adds urgency to the task of ensuring on-going abundance of, and access to, nutritional berries and other wild foods. As snow levels increase and flooding jeopardizes travel, Indigenous people living in remote towns and villages find it increasingly difficult to travel to grocery stores in distant cities. 41 percent of Indigenous peoples in BC are concerned that their food supplies will run out before they can buy more, and 91 percent would like to access more traditional or country “wild” foods [UNBC, UdM, and Assembly of First Nations 2009]. Knowledge of the land as a sustainable source of wild foods is once again crucial to food security. Conclusions: Sharing knowledge between Indigenous peoples’ and Western science The table that follows summarizes how sharing knowledge about berries can contribute to the goal of helping people, and the ecosystems that sustain them, obtain berries and other healthy wild (country) foods in the face of escalating climate and cultural change. For the health of people and the ecosystems that sustain us, it is vital to bring together and share Indigenous peoples’ and Western science knowledge so together we can maintain the “berried treasures” of the circumpolar north. Nutritional/ medicinal/ ecological questions

Indigenous Peoples’ knowledge

Western science knowledge [see text for references]

[Nisga’a and Tr’ondek Hwech’in Elders 2003-2013 and other sources as listed in text and below] How should berries be harvested?

Show respect for wild foods. Listen to knowledge-holders about how to harvest wild foods to support plant growth; know which plants suffer if berries are not harvested

Partner with Indigenous peoples to obtain long-term data about how to selectively harvest berry plants for longterm sustainability

When should berries be harvested?

Traditional phenological knowledge: Elders know specific indicators and that berry harvests are related to timing of fish and wildlife harvests in a complex interrelationship that requires generations of observation eg harvest wheel

Partner with Indigenous peoples to obtain long-term data about when to selectively harvest berry plants for longterm sustainability

Which berries should we eat?

Bio-mimicry: Elders know which animals to watch and how to understand wild foods through the eyes of other species. Favoured foods of Indigenous peoples from the study regions include soapberries (whipped with water and sweeteners such as licorice fern root) and cloudberries

Dark-skinned berries are typically highest in anthocyanins Of the berries tested here, vitamin C can be most readily obtained from rose hips, cloudberries, and soapberries.


Indigenous wisdom How are Climates in the far north changing?

Winters are getting shorter, summers are getting longer.

Scientists have documented temperature rises and find that polar regions are subject to exponential rises in temperature, increasing winds, winter storms, and more snow in winter.

How might these changes influence peoples’ ability to harvest berries and other wild (country) foods?

We are losing the ice in our glaciers. Listen to and work with Indigenous Permafrost is melting (Anonymous 2001). communities to find long-term and viable options for Indigenous communities such as funding wild food and harvest co-ops

How would an inability to access wild foods affect food security of northern Indigenous communities?

Roads are washing out; it is less save to travel on rivers or to walk on ice roads because of unpredictable melting; it is getting harder to access wild foods and harder to get to cities to purchase foods

Wisdom in column at left is Shared wisdom [cf. UNBC, Université de Montréal, and Assembly of First Nations 2009]

What health challenges are Indigenous communities facing?

Loss of wild foods would threaten food security eg 41 percent of BC Indigenous peoples worry that their food supplies will run out before they can buy more

Medical research documents the increase in chronic diseases, many of them nutrition-related, since about the midtwentieth century when cultural changes were most evident

How can people maintain a healthy diet including wild or country foods even as climates are changing?

Indigenous health leaders notice increases in chronic diseases coinciding with enforced cultural changes such as residential schools

Community-based research and exchange of wisdom to address issues of health and climate change

How do people share knowledge about healthy foods and climate change?

Indigenous peoples continue to share traditional knowledge through stories and hands-on learning

School and University science programs involve Indigenous knowledge-holders and include programs about wild foods and nutrition

Fig. 6 Nisga’a knowledge=holder Allison Nyce harvesting berries July 2010 Nancy Turner photograph

We acknowledge support from Health Canada’s Climate Change and Health Adaptation Program for Northern First Nations and Inuit “The Vital Harvest”. Nancy Mackin Principal Investigator; the Vancouver Foundation; the Tr’ondek Hwech’in and Nisga’a First Nations, and Wilp Wilx’oskwhl Nisga’a Institute for their support, wisdom, and community participation. Works cited Anonymous. (2001). Elder’s conference on climate change. Cambridge Bay, Nunavut. ntilands/pdfdoc/elders.pdf

[online] URL: http://www.polarnet.ca/

Ayuukhl Nisga’a Vols. I-IV. (1994). New Aiyansh: Wilp Wilxo’oskwhl Nisga’a Publications. Biomimicry. Accessed on-line Feb 2012 ar www.biomimicry.net


Indigenous wisdom Hopkinson, Jennifer, Stephenson, Peter, and Turner, Nancy J. (1995). Changing traditional diet and nutrition in Aboriginal peoples of coastal British Columbia. In In A Persistent Spirit: Towards Understanding Aboriginal Health in British Columbia, edited by Peter H. Stephenson et al. Victoria BC Canada: University of Victoria Press, pp 128-165. Kuhnlein, Harriet V. and Nancy J. Turner. (originally published 1991; URL version Published online March 2009). Traditional Plant Foods of Canadian Indigenous Peoples. Nutrition, Botany and Use. Volume 8. In: Food and Nutrition in History and Anthropology, edited by S. Katz. Philadelphia, PA: Gordon and Breach Science Publishers; URL: http://www.fao.org/wairdocs/ other/ai215e/ai215e00.HTM (UN Food and Agriculture Organization, FAO, Rome). Lantz, Trevor, and Turner, Nancy J. (2003). Traditional Phenological Knowledge of Aboriginal Peoples in British Columbia. Accessed on-line Feb. 2 2013 at http://www.ou.edu/cas/botany-micro/ben/lantzturner-revised.pdf Lila, Mary Ann. (2004). Anthocyanins and Human Health: An In Vitro Investigative Approach. Journal of Biomedical Biotechnology. 2004 December 1; 2004(5): 306–313. Accessed on-line March 2012 at http://www.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/pmc/ articles/PMC1082894/ Mackin, Nancy. (2010). Nisga’a Foods, Shelters, and Education in the continuous permafrost. Prince Rupert: Totem Press. Medline Plus. (2012). Vitamin C. US National Institutes of Medicine and National Institutes of Health. Accessed on-line July 2012 at http://www.nlm.nih.gov/medlineplus/ency/article/002404.htm Northern Climate ExChange. (2011). Dawson Climate Change Adaptation Plan. Whitehorse: Yukon Research Centre, Yukon College. Pojar, Jim. (2010). A new climate for conservation: Nature, Carbon, and Climate Change in British Columbia. Accessed online at http://www.davidsuzuki.org/publications/downloads/2010/NewClimate_report_DSF.pdf Purves, Michael. (2010). Climate Change in the Yukon: Updated observations. Read, Simon. (1995). Issues in Health Management promoting First Nations wellness in times of change. In A Persistent Spirit: Towards Understanding Aboriginal Health in British Columbia, edited by Peter H. Stephenson et al. Victoria BC Canada: University of Victoria Press pp 297-329. Turner, Nancy J., Ignace, Marianne, and Ignace, R. Traditional Ecological Knowledge and Wisdom of Aboriginal Peoples in British Columbia. Ecological Applications 10 (5) Oct. 2000, pp 1275-1287. Accessed on-line feb 2012 at http://www.fws. gov/nativeamerican/graphics/TEK_Turner_2000.pdf University of Northern British Columbia (UNBC), Universite de Montreal (UdM), and Assembly of First Nations. (2009). First Nations Food, Nutrition, and Environment Study. Accessed on-line July 2012 at http://www.fnfnes.ca/download

22. Ethnobotanical Gardens Benefits and Principles: ReConnecting Indigenous Communities with the landscape Mackin N 1,Thompson J 2,Wilson B 3 1 Wilp Wilxo’oskwhl Nisga’a Institute and University of Victoria, 2 Northwest Community College and University of Victoria, 3 Gwaii Haanas Haida Cultural Resource Management Abstract The Ethnobotanical garden features culturally-relevant native trees and understory plants, intended for small-scale restoration projects that revitalize traditional knowledge of the landscape. While establishing six ethnobotanical gardens for Indigenous peoples in coastal British Columbia, Canada, we asked our Indigenous community partners to help us identify benefits of ethnobotanical gardens, from which we could establish working principles for ethnobotanical garden design. Indigenous knowledge-holders participating in the project, confirm that ethnobotanical gardens can offer: 1) places for promoting educational programs focus on the relationship between Indigenous peoples and the land; 2) revitalization of Indigenous languages through the incorporating indigenous words and phrases associated with plants and landscapes; 3) culturally valued plants to harvest for foods, medicines, and technology; 4) sources of native plants useful for ecosystem restoration; 5) opportunities to increase the abundance of rare and endemic plant species; and 6) habitat for native birds, amphibians, and other fauna, adding opportunities for cultural and ecological well-being. To optimize these benefits, design principles include: 1) plan for signage and brochures that teach names of plants and their uses in one or more Indigenous languages; 2) engage Elders and students in tradition-based plant propagation, management, and harvesting; 3) organize plants into miniature ecosystems or plant guilds suited to garden microclimates; 4) whenever possible, retain existing native plants in situ; and 5) plan opportunities for people to harvest and enjoy the edible and medicinal plants of the garden.With the six gardens as case studies, we discuss funding, pitfalls, and successes with the hopes


Indigenous wisdom of increasing worldwide interest in ethnobotanical gardens. Ethnobotanical gardens are landscapes featuring culturally relevant native trees, shrubs and understory plants which can be sources for the perpetuation and revitalization of traditional knowledge. Throughout coastal British Columbia, we have worked with several First Nations communities to design and install ethnobotanical gardens. The distinctive qualities of the six gardens discussed here exemplify complex interactions among people, plants, and ecological systems (Table 1).They also offer surprises, since gardens are dynamic entities, changing with the natural growth and movement of plants through space and as people and communities interact with the gardens. The first example is “Just like a garden” (Peacock and Turner 2000), a carefully tended landscape surrounding Wilp Wilxo’oskwhl Nisga’a Institute (WWNI), the Nisga’a House of Wisdom and the ancient village of Gitwinksihlkw. WWNI landscapes contain: 1) abundant and diverse plants, 2) edible plants, 3) fresh water, and 4) memories of stories. These qualities are valued in gardens everywhere, says the Nisga’a oral history (below) retold by late Nisga’a Elder Sim’oogit (Chief) ‘Wii Gadim Xsgaak (Eli Gosnell). Two young men disguised as birds have just flown upwards through the smoke hole of the sky in search of the Great Chief and his two daughters. In the distance they had sighted a house, barely visible, but with smoke coming from its roof through the Ala, or smoke hole. So, early the next morning, the two young men set out towards the house and, upon reaching it, quietly slipped around the rear of the building. They knew from experience that there was almost certainly a well at that point. There also was a large open field resplendent in fruit trees of all kinds, and a bounteous garden boasting grass, bushes, flowers, and whatever else one would find in any garden. The Chief of the Heavens had a garden that contained fruit and produce of every description.” (Ayuukhl Nisga’a,1994: 46; emphasis added). Produce harvested near WWNI includes “lavaberries” or tipyees in Nisga’a (the swollen leaves of Sedum divergens) growing on lava fields that are a now memorial park dedicated to ancestors who lost their lives in a volcanic eruption 300 years ago. More produce is found some hours walk above the lava fields, where abundant permafrost-growing berries include huksa’alt in Nisga’a (Vaccinium ovalifolium, oval-leaf blueberry, also Vaccinium deliciosum, Cascade Blueberry: Fig. 1) and maaý im gililx in Nisga’a (‘berry of the hills’) (V. alaskaense, Alaska blueberry.The berry-picking place is found just below Xhlaawit, a mountain peak where the Nisga’a people saved themselves after the great flood.

Fig. 1:Vaccinium deliciosum growing in the alpine permafrost above Gitwinksihlkw. Nancy Mackin photograph 2010

In the Nisga’a homelands, each place in the landscape has a name and recalls a story. The five ethnobotanical gardens described below are also named places for teaching and story-telling. Working with Ts’msyen (Tsimshian) community members, band councils and friendship centres, we are establishing two gardens at Northwest Community College (NWCC), one in Terrace and one downriver in Prince Rupert. The All Nations Pole Garden in Terrace provides plants for the Culinary Arts and Fine Arts programs. To ensure the plants are genetically and culturally appropriate for their setting, we transplanted propagules from the ancient village site of Robintown, where we found over 100 species of culturally important plants (Figs. 3 and 4). We held a planting day and community celebration May 20 2008 (Figs. 2 and 5) with prayers, speeches and dancing to welcome the plants to their new setting.


Indigenous wisdom

Fig. 2:Ts’msyen dancers blessed the site on planting day at Northwest Community College Terrace BC campus

Fig. 3: Ts’msyen chief photographing the edible miyuubmgyet (in Sm’algyax, the (Ts’msyen language): Northern riceroot (Fritillaria camschatcensis) in Robintown in 2009

Fig. 4: Moolks (in Sm’algyax): Pacific crabapple (Malus fusca) and Beaked hazelnut (Corylus cornuta) growing in the ancient Ts’msyen village of Robintown, near Terrace BC Canada; small plants were transplanted to the ethnobotanical garden site with permission from the chief and council. Nancy Turner photograph 2009


Indigenous wisdom

Fig. 5: Planting day involved community members, college staff and administration, ethnobotanists, and members of the Indigenous communities of the region. (Ethnoecologist/ Architect Nancy Mackin is on the left.) Nancy Turner photograph 2009

At NWCC campus in Prince Rupert, Friendship House Elders gathered together to assist with designing and planting a garden that they named Suwilaay’msgm S’ndooyn, A Txa’ Nii Goo, The Learning Garden of Everything. Signage was placed for the garden name and to identify many of the individual plants, providing their Sm’algyax, English, and botanical names and ethnobotanical uses. Northwest Community college intends both gardens to be sites for learning, community-building, and applied research that includes First Nations’ health and nutrition, plant research and propagation, arts, paleoethnobotany, climate change, and linguistics. Kay’Llnagaay Garden on Haida Gwaii near Skidegate enhances a new community complex designed to reflect Haida history. The garden showcases a diverse palette of plants indigenous, and sometimes endemic, to the Haida Gwaii archipelago and recreates habitats including beach and shoreline, freshwater wetland (fig. 7), rock and cliff, meadow forest, closed forest, and forest clearings. Elders, students, and the larger community were involved in planning the garden (Fig. 6). Among their goals were to: 1) provide plants for transplanting to the wild, 2) ensure that people know the names and cultural uses of plants, 3) provide a source for ecologically and culturally appropriate materials and food (Fig. 8), and 5) provide a site of ongoing education and research in ethnobotany. Stories associated with plants teach about climate, harvesting, and conservation; for example, children were taught not to pick dall(-xil)-sgid in Haida (fig. 7: “red rain-flowers” or Red columbine, Aquilegia formosa), because it would cause rain, just when people were trying to dry their seaweed (Turner and Davidson 2004).

Fig. 6: A student from the Skidegate community helping plant the seaside garden with transplants carefully dug from other sites on Haida Gwaii. Nancy Mackin photograph 2008


Indigenous wisdom

Fig 7: “red rainflowers” tell a story about harvesting the important seaweed food crop. Nancy Turner photograph

During the initial planting of this garden, plants and soil were brought by the General Contractor from distant mainland nurseries, bringing seeds of plants not native to Haida Gwaii as stowaways in the soil. The transplanting was restricted to one side of the complex, since knowledge holders protested, knowing that endemic species are often less able to resist competition, damage, or disturbances. Many of the non-native seedlings were culled (Turner and Wilson 2005).

Fig. 8: k’aaxu ts’alaangga in Haida: Rubus camaemoris (cloudberry) grow in the freshwater wetlands area of the garden at Kay’Llnagaay. Nancy Mackin photograph 2012

At the Nanaimo Waterfront “Beach” Garden, in conjunction with a new cruiseship terminal, acres of existing asphalt were replaced with a reconstructed beach landscape and waterfront paths. The new landscape intends to recall times past, when the local Snuneymuxw people harvested sedges for basketry and berries or forbs for food. Driftwood, rocks, and other natural materials shaped the edge of the new “beach”. After planting, the garden began to transform. Wild strawberries (Fragaria chiloensis) propagated through the sandy “beach” areas, making a lacy carpet of plants that helped stabilize the topsoil and sand. Flowers emerged and grasses doubled in height. We were ready for meetings with the Snumeymuxw community to see how people might like to add to or modify the garden (Figs. 9 and 10). The local river otter population, however, had other plans.

Fig. 9: Sketches for the Nanaimo Waterfront “Beach” Garden were intended to invite community input and discussion. Drawing by Nancy Mackin 2011


Indigenous wisdom

Fig. 10 Driftwood from nearby sites, sand, and native seaside plantings begin to define a “beach”, replacing large tracts of asphalt. Robbie MackinLang photograph 2011

Within a few months, otters began converting the garden to a playground for themselves. They tore up all the wild strawberries, bulbs and forbs, and many of the grasses and sedges. Only the toughest and woodiest plants were spared the otters’ plant removal project. The Nanaimo garden is evidence that all “gardens” are really part of the overall ecosystem. This interconnectedness is intrinsic to traditional knowledge of Indigenous peoples worldwide (cf. Turner, Ignace, and Ignace, 2000). The Laxgalts’ap Daycare Centre Garden (not yet constructed) will actively involve young children in their Nisga’a culture and language. Design drawings include a play structure based on the traditional longhouse, a hilltop with orchard trees (Fig. 11), and areas where children could learn the names of and tend food plants.To keep the young children safe, plant lists excluded anything with poisonous or prickly parts or that might attract bears. The daycare garden of Laxgalts’ap, like all examples here, mirrors the ways that traditional knowledge transmits across generations: through stories, hands-on experience, observation, and language. The case study gardens all convey longheld wisdom about ecological principles and indicators, harvesting strategies, and adapting to change (Turner, Ignace, and Ignace 2000). Importantly, the gardens tell a story about connections among people, plants, and the ecosystems that sustain us.

Fig. 11 Elevation sketches by Nancy Mackin of the Laxgalts’ap daycare garden


Indigenous wisdom Garden Case study and Indigenous people(s) represented

Landscape ecology idea illustrated

Ethnobotanical idea illustrated

1. Wilp Wilxo’oskwhl Nisga’a landscapes near Gitwinksihlkw, BC (Nisga’a)

Unusual diversity at ecotones, those places where two or more ecosystems meet (e.g. permafrost edges on mountainsides); ecological succession (e.g. lava fields)

Knowledgeable harvesting increases productivity and diversity of plant species; Nisga’a Elders name the places where food plants are especially productive; Traditional knowledge includes awareness of succession and diversity at ecotones

2. All-Nations pole garden, Northwest Community College Terrace campus (Seven First Nations: Tsimshian (home territory), Haida, Haisla, Nisga’a, Gitxsan, Witsuwit’en, Tahltan, and the Northwest Region of the Métis Nation)

Introduce “patchiness”: groupings of diverse plantings that gradually shift through time and space, replacing the less sustainable mown lawn monoculture

Transplanting from nearby rather than importing plants; garden is in context of the surrounding building uses (e.g. food garden near cafeteria, materials garden near technology and art buildings)

3. “Learning Garden of Everything”, Northwest Community College, Prince Rupert campus (Tsimshian traditional territory; garden represents seven First Nations and Metis)

Microclimates determine the mosaic of plants in the landscape; build upon existing patches

Community involvement; language and traditional knowledge revitalization

4. Nanaimo Nanaimo Waterfront “Beach” Garden (Snuneymuxw traditional territory)

Wildlife corridors and territories are a factor in garden design

Interconnectedness among people, other animals, plants

5. Kay’Llnagaay Garden, Haida Heritage Centre (Haida)

Island Biodiversity; potential use of garden plants in food preparation and arts

Community involvement; include planning for range of species and habitats;

6. Laxgalts’ap Daycare garden (Nisga’a)

Introduce varied levels and shade trees to increase¬ number of available microclimates

Traditional Knowledge is transmitted across generations through stories and hands-on experience; children’s safety is paramount

Fig. 6 Map showing the location of the six case study gardens. Letters of the place names correspond to the letters in table 1.


Indigenous wisdom Acknowledgements Social Sciences and Humanities Research Council (Canada) (SSHRC) grant “Bringing the Food Home” Nancy Turner Principal Investigator, Nancy Mackin Co-investigator; SSHRC Grant 2005 “Textbook of Traditional Knowledge in Northern British Columbia”, Nancy Mackin Principal Investigator; Health Canada grant “Nisga’a Women’s Healthy Foods, Education, and Shelters in the Continuous Permafrost”, Nancy Mackin Principal Investigator; all the Indigenous knowledge-holders who have contributed their time and wisdom. We would also like to thank the publishers of BC Studies for providing written permission to publish this paper here when a similar paper will be published in a Nov. 2013 special issue of BC Studies. Works cited Ayuukhl Nisga’a (1994). Gitlaxt’aamiks BC: Wilp Wilxo’oskwhl Nisga’a Publications. Peacock, Sandra and Nancy J. Turner. 2000. “Just Like a Garden”: Traditional Plant Resource Management and Biodiversity Conservation on the British Columbia Plateau. Pp. 133-179, In: Biodiversity and Native North America, edited by Paul Minnis and Wayne Elisens, Norman: University of Oklahoma Press. Turner, Nancy J and Florence E. Davidson. (2004). Plants of Haida Gwaii. Winlaw BC Canada: Sono Nis. Turner, Nancy J. and Barbara J Wilson (2005). “To Provide Living Plants for Study”: The Value of Ethnobotanical Gardens and Planning the Qay’llnagaay Garden of Haida Gwaii. Davidsonia 16 (4): 110-126. Turner, Nancy J., Marianne Ignace, and Ron Ignace (2000). Traditional Ecological Knowledge and Wisdom of Aboriginal Peoples in British Columbia. Ecological Applications 10 (5): 1275-1287.

23. Expressing the Unseen: Representing M ori heritage in Wellington Mellor B Victoria University of Wellington Abstract The New Zealand Company purchase of Máori land in 1839 and the subsequent settlement of Wellington saw a radical change in the landscape. Parallel to the alienation of Máori land was the removal of landscape features such as the series of streams that ran from the surrounding hills to the harbour. The culverting of the waterways meant both a loss of a vital resource for Máori as well as a loss of cultural and spiritual connection to the land. The current representation of Máori heritage in Wellington acts as a continuation of the colonisation of Wellington. It extends the removal of Máori culture and understanding of the landscape by imposing a European tradition of standing and looking to read the heritage of the sites. In contrast to this, engaging with a Máori understanding of the landscape can allow landscape architecture to revive these lost waterways in the urban landscape and cause the city to recognise the significance of the land to Máori. This proposition not only challenges the current state of the representation of Máori heritage, but also the understanding that stormwater infrastructure needs to quickly and efficiently remove water from the city. With reference to a series of proposed design interventions in Wellington, this paper will explore how engaging Máori perceptions of water can begin to shift the current dominance in the city of Pákehá modes of viewing and experiencing the landscape. This paper was written in conjunction with a design research thesis in completion of the Master of Landscape Architecture programme at Victoria University of Wellington. M ori settlement Wellington has experienced many phases of change and settlement. The early Máori inhabitants of Wellington, or Te Whanganui-a-Tara, formed settlements according to the advantages that each location provided. Nearby water in the form of streams or the sea offered invaluable resources including food, drinking water and a place to bathe. Máori were scattered around much of the Wellington coastline from the exposed southern coast right round to the swampy marsh of the Huriwhenua Flat and further still to the other side of the harbour, to Pito-One and the Hutt River. It was here that the British would first meet Máori to discuss the transfer of land in Wellington. [McLean, 2000] The arrival of British settlers In September 1839 the ship Tory arrived carrying Edward Gibbon Wakefield and other representatives of the New Zealand Company who intended to organise the settlement of Wellington. Initially they landed at Pito-one with the intention to form the 1,100 acre settlement of Britannia. [Park, 1995] Images and descriptions of Pito-one conveyed


Indigenous wisdom back to Britain (Fig 1) depicted the location as ‘sheltered embouchures of extensive rivers communicating with a fertile country’ and the ‘large tracts of flat land…ready for ploughing’ that the settlers had been sent to find. [Park, 1995] Initially Máori at Pito-one resisted the presence of the British, disrupting their surveying efforts and refusing the sale of their land, but they soon welcomed them and the prospect of trade and security. [McLean, 2000] The repeated flooding of the Hutt River disrupted the settlers’ progress and forced them to look at land across the harbour, around Thorndon and Te Aro, to re-establish their plans for a capital city. [McLean, 2000]

Fig 1. Lithographs by Charles Heaphy depicting ‘fertile country’ and ‘large tracts of land…ready for ploughing’

The move across the harbour brought the settlers even closer to Máori who were greatly opposed to their presence. In particular, those at Te Aro believed that their land had been sold by those who did not have the right to do so. [McLean, 2000] Te Aro Máori protested against the surveying work of the settlers by sneaking out at dark and pulling up the survey pegs. [Byrnes, 2001] In January 1841, the continued unrest following the British purchase of Wellington led to the appointment of William Spain as the Land Claims Commissioner in charge of investigating the New Zealand Company Claim to the Cook Strait region. [Ward, 1997] Spain came to the conclusion that the Company’s purchase was not recognised by Máori as described in the deed and that the purchase was valid but incomplete. [Ward, 1997] Instead of returning the land to Máori, Spain offered further monetary compensation for their loss and convinced the Company to agree to Máori keeping their pa, cultivations, and urupa. [McLean, 2000] His reason was that it was too complicated and impractical to displace the 3,500 British who now greatly outnumbered the 500-600 Máori still remaining.[McLean, 2000] Spain’s attempts to define the ownership of land were not final. Much to the displeasure of the New Zealand Company, Lieutenant-Colonel William Anson McCleverty’s 1847 investigation recognised the right of Máori to their land at Te Aro and guaranteed them land at the site of their pa, yet the Company persisted with their efforts to remove Máori from the valuable shorefront property. [New Zealand Waitangi Tribunal, 2003] The imposition of the British land ownership systems resulted in the Te Aro Pa reserves being surveyed into 28 separate lots which, despite being under alienation restrictions, began to be sold from 1873 onwards. [New Zealand Waitangi Tribunal, 2003] By 1875 the British had purchased half of the Máori land at Te Aro Pa and by 1881 a census showed that only 28 Máori were still living there. [New Zealand Waitangi Tribunal, 2003] What was lost In the same way that the settlers introduced new systems of land ownership control they also asserted their dominance by altering or removing landscape elements that stood in the way of their plans for the city.This included the culverting of all of the streams that ran from the surrounding hills, across the Huriwhenua flat and into the harbour.The reclamation of land not only meant a loss of a vital natural resource in the life of Máori but also meant the loss of a key element of Máori identity and connection to the landscape. The removal of streams destroyed a system for sustaining people. Each of the streams performed unique functions in the day to day lives of Máori. Some were used as resources of food and clean water (such as the Pipitea and Waitangi Streams) whereas others were locations for special events (Kumutoto Stream could be used by women giving birth) or were believed to have healing properties (like Nga Puna Wai, a spring located behind where Wellington Hospital now sits). The function of each waterway was strongly based on the mouri (life force) of the waterway which is interrelated with the health and characteristics of the waterway. [Williams, 2006] The stream that the design component of this paper is focused on is the Waimapihi Stream. The name of which refers to it being the bathing place of chieftainess Mapihi. [Tohunga, 1935].


Indigenous wisdom M ori heritage The network of streams that once ran across the Huriwhenua Flat formed one of the most significant landscape features in the lives of Máori in Wellington. Their regular use and unique functions illustrate a Máori understanding of the landscape and identify them as an important element of Máori heritage. The more intangible aspects of Máori heritage, such as cultural practices and spiritual beliefs play an important role in Máori identity and their relationship with the landscape. [New Zealand Historic Places Trust, 2009] Many forms of heritage representation conserve relics and physical remnants of past inhabitation in attempt to preserve a memory and a sense of identity. With respect to Máori heritage, however, these physical traces and artefacts fail to fully represent the rich understanding or reading of landscape in Máori culture. The idea of kaitiakitanga (guardianship, stewardship) is a key concept in understanding Máori heritage and identity as it expresses their connection to the landscape. As tangata whenua (people of the land) Máori are described as belonging to the land. [Rolleston, 2006] This close relationship is the reason that their ability to practice kaitiakitanga over the landscape is so important. Kaitiakitanga is an active guardianship or custodianship [Harmsworth, 2004] which was greatly disturbed by the colonisation of Wellington. The alienation of Máori land and following manipulation of the landscape left Máori without turangawaewae (a place to stand). The conflict between a Western and a Máori approach to heritage is exemplified in the work of David Lowenthal and The Máori Heritage Council. Lowenthal [1975] suggests that: “buffeted by change we retain traces of our past to be sure of our enduring identity.” This describes an approach focused on the “traces” of culture. This could be both tangible and intangible remnants of a time past but the focus is very much on a memory of the past. In contrast to this, the Máori Heritage Council states that “construction of a modern kaitiakitanga…seeks to both protect Máori heritage and make it vibrant and available for future generations.” [New Zealand Historic Places Trust, 2009] This proposal of a modern kaitiakitanga is the intention of the design component of this paper. The design looks to create a space that empowers Máori to practice their right as tangata whenua by reviving the flow of water as an active element in the future of the Wellington landscape. Te Ara o Nga Tupuna The current representation of Máori landscape heritage in Wellington acts as a continuation of the colonisation of Wellington. It extends the removal of Máori culture and understanding of the landscape by imposing a European tradition of standing and looking to understand the heritage of the sites. It also fails to recognise the unique nature of each site and the role that Máori heritage can play in contemporary Wellington. This critique of the representation of Máori heritage in Wellington is focused on the Te Ara o Nga Tupuna Heritage Trail. The trail was a collaboration between Wellington City Council, Wellington Tenths Trust and Ngati Toa and marks 24 sites of historical significance to Máori through Wellington’s CBD and around the coastline. These sites mark the locations of important events, cultivations and fishing spots, pa and kainga, and sites that allow visitors to understand the narrative of the formation of Wellington. The sites were chosen for their accessibility to the public and their visual interest [Love, 2006] and aimed to raise awareness of Máori heritage in Wellington. Although the trail highlights and recognises these important sites, there are several aspects that can be said further the colonisation of Wellington.

Fig 2. Examples of the pouwhenua of Te Ara o Nga Tupuna.

Te Ara o Nga Tupuna prioritises the tangible and aesthetic in its representation. In doing so, it creates a Eurocentric frame through which to view the Wellington landscape. It fails to recognise the richness and complexity of a Máori reading of landscape and instead imposes a tradition of standing and looking to understand the heritage of each site.


Indigenous wisdom Francis Pound explores the representation of figures in Augustus Earle’s painting Distant View of the Bay of Islands, New Zealand (c1827-28). The European spectator figure viewing the land from afar clearly contrasts the Máori figures that are moving through it. Pound [in Bowring, 1999] states: “ the pictorial attitude to the land, stopping still just to look at it, is purely an imported convention.” Pound’s position on European attitudes towards the landscape echoes Byrnes’ [2001] description of the British settlers and surveyors who considered it “a passive object to gaze upon and thereby maximise its scenic (and aesthetic) value.” The idea of the scenic or the aesthetic value of the landscape is also one that has long been a part of European and North American landscape architecture. The work of landscape architects from the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries such as André Le Nôtre, Lancelot ‘Capability’ Brown and Frederick Law Olmsted is evidence of this tradition. (Fig 3) The work of these three landscape architects clearly prioritises the scenic qualities and demonstrates a high level of control over the landscape much like the work of the British settlers and surveyors: “Pákehá society had expressed a strong urge to transform the land…the remodelling of the land was seen as part of the progressive pioneer tradition.” [Byrnes, 2001] The settlers saw their ability to control and transform their land as one of their duties in moving New Zealand forward into a new stage of advancement.

Fig 3.The prioritisation of the aesthetic in the work of Le Nôtre and Brown

Te Ara o Nga Tupuna can be translated to the path of our ancestors, reinforcing that this trail represents a former inhabitation of Wellington and an important part of its past. As observed by Conal McCarthy [2009], the heritage trail fails to engage Máori heritage in a contemporary context: “To an overseas tourist or a student, the impression is that Máori people lived in a distant past and do not play an important part in modern New Zealand life.” In reaction to this, the design component of this research explores ways in which Máori heritage and cultural understanding of the landscape can form a more active component of Wellington. It looks to engage more intangible aspects of Máori heritage such as a cultural and spiritual reading of and connection to the landscape. As a result the design aims to create a space that reflects a Máori understanding of the landscape and strengthens Máori identity and presence in the urban landscape. This research proposes removing or breaking away from this tradition of control by re-prioritising the landscape and activating the flow of water in the urban environment. Wai: M ori and Water Water forms an important component of the Máori worldview and identity.The Máori worldview is based around the spiritual concept of atua and a unique understanding of the natural world. Stemming from the creation of the world and the separation of Ranginui (the sky father) and Papatúánuku (the earth mother), descriptions of the different water types within Máori culture are critical to understanding how Máori treat and interact with water. The narratives of the atua give Máori the basis for their worldview. The relationships between the different atua give rise to an understanding of the natural world that describes the interrelatedness of different systems and the ways in which they interact. The embodiment of elements of the natural world with a life force is associated with the concept of mouri. Mouri is described as the life-force of all living things. [Douglas,1984] [McCan & McCan, 1990] [Williams, 2006] Differences in the mouri of water determine the classification of different types of water. [Williams, 2006] The nature of the mouri is affected by the use of the water which in turn determines future uses. [Williams, 2006] There is a reciprocal relationship between the flow of fresh water across the landscape and the people who inhabit the area around it. The health and mouri of a water body are interrelated and affect those who use it as well as being affected by them too. Beyond the distinction between waimáori (fresh water) and waitai (sea water), that are said to come from Táne (god of forests) and Tangaroa (god of the sea) respectively, there are several different types of water that have very different implications for the concept of tapu and the ways in which they are used.


Indigenous wisdom Waimáori, or Te wai ora a Táne, is described as being free flowing or unrestrained fresh water suitable for ordinary uses.[Douglas,1984] [McCan & McCan, 1990] [Williams, 2006] It is through unprotected contact with the ground or with humans that water comes to be waimáori but, as waimáori could be considered as having a somewhat neutral or benevolent mouri. Waimáori also has the potential to be influenced or changed; positively through prayer, or negatively through pollution or corruption. [Douglas, 1984] Waitai, or Te wai ora a Tangaroa, is within the domain of Tangaroa. It refers to the water of the sea, surf or the tide and can also describe the rough, angry or boisterous nature of the surf. [Douglas,1984] [McCan & McCan, 1990] [Williams, 2006] Beyond the dynamic and rough characteristics of waitai, the most important thing relevant to waitai is the distinction of the threshold between the two waters moving from Táne to Tangaroa. The key characteristic of waimate, or “dead water”, is the loss of mouri. Physically it can be described as stagnant water, unable to sustain humanity or human food. It can come about by the mixing of waters of different mouri in an unnatural way, or by pollution so that water can no longer sustain life. [Williams, 2006] It also has the potential to harm other living things, and absorb or contaminate the mouri of other waters or living things. [Douglas,1984] [McCan &McCan, 1990] [Williams, 2006] Waikino is water that has been corrupted or polluted, spiritually or physically, and as a result has the potential to harm humans. It is used to describe water such as floods, rapids or water where there are submerged hazards which pose a danger to humans, but waikino is also used to describe water with mouri that has been greatly polluted or altered spiritually due to negative interactions and could cause harm to anyone. [Douglas,1984] [McCan & McCan, 1990] Waiora is considered pure water, or even holy water, that can rejuvenate the damaged mouri of living things. Water such as rain or spring water is often considered waiora as it has originated from Ranginui or Papatúánuku and can represent their tears for one another. Waiora can also be water from places where exceptional events have occurred in the past or areas of great significance to Máori. [Williams, 2006] Unprotected contact will cause a change of mouri and change waiora into waimáori or another form. An example of this is when rain water hits the ground. If the correct tikanga are observed to protect the water and its mouri then waiora can be used for prayer or baptism or to purify, sanctify and give life. [Douglas,1984] [McCan & McCan, 1990] Waiora requires maximum restriction and control. Not in that waiora must be constantly altered and manipulated in order to retain its state, but that control is needed to ensure that inappropriate contact is prevented to avoid the loss of mouri. The mouri of each type of water is determined by how we interact with it, or through its characteristics, as well as determining how it should be further used. The concept of mouri and the different types of water set a framework for understanding how different spaces along the length of the Waimapihi Stream might allow the flow of water to become part of the city again. The designs will aim to challenge the existing urban infrastructure and reframe views of both water and Máori heritage in the urban environment. Design Proposal This paper intends to create a series of principles to investigate as drivers for the design of a series of spaces on the length of the Waimapihi Stream in Central Wellington (Fig 4). The proposal aims to engage a Máori understanding of water and its different forms that: a) Revives a lost resource b) Creates a state suitable for interaction c) Strengthens representation of Máori heritage d) Provides for greater custodianship


Indigenous wisdom

Fig 4. Location of key waterways as drawn in William Mein Smith’s 1840 plan of Wellington

Revealing and reactivating the flow of water in the Waimapihi Stream aims to reprioritise the landscape. The concept of mouri provides a basis for understanding the nature of water in Máori culture as well as its potential to become an active and dynamic component of the urban landscape. Essentially it describes the flow of water as something that is alive. The mouri of the water determines its suitable use and is affected by interactions with people and the wider landscape. The current state of water in the Waimapihi Stream culvert can be understood as waimate (dead water) because of its loss of mouri. [Williams, 2006] The culverting of the waterway has removed the stream’s ability to express its liveliness and move freely through the landscape with a will of its own. Because of its loss of mouri it also has an inherent potential. The potential to harm but also the potential to be more positively altered. Restoring water’s free flowing and unpredictable nature is a shift towards the conditions of waimáori which restores the suitability of the stream for interaction with people and, in doing so, restore its heritage and mouri as a stream used for bathing. Instead of directly proposing the stream as a place of bathing, this idea has been interpreted to be more importantly about a place for contact and interaction between the flow of water and the body.

Fig 5. An image of the design proposal at the Vivian St site showing the engagement with changing water levels and encouraging interaction with water


Indigenous wisdom The design embraces the changing levels of water (Fig 5). There is provision for both minimum and maximum water flows. At lower levels the water is mostly confined to small channels that direct the water through the site. As the water level increases it breaks free from this and gains a life of its own, finding its own way through the site, beginning to take over space previously occupied by people and challenging existing boundaries. The moment when the water breaks from the confines of the channel is when mouri is reactivated. As well as demonstrating the characteristics of waimáori, the water passes through reed beds and permeable ground treatments that filter out sediments and contaminants.This means that it is suitable for interaction in terms of the mouri of the water as well as suitable in terms of water quality. At the next site, Te Aro Park, the water again passes through a small channel at low flow levels but small fluctuations in ground level allow the body of water to quickly expand over the site and challenge occupation of the area. The understanding and significance of waimáori is again explored through the free flowing and dynamic nature of water that spills out across the ground plane.

Fig 6.Te Aro Park site showing minor ground level fluctuations(left) and elevated boardwalk through dual canopies(right)

As the former site of the Te Aro Pa, the intervention at this site aims to add another level of understanding to the nature of water and the different types in Máori culture. An elevated boardwalk through a dual canopy structure (Fig 6) aims to reveal a more spiritual form of water, waiora. Described as the tears that Papatúánuku and Ranginui shed for one another following their separation in the creation of the world, waiora takes the form of rain from the sky and steam or springs from the earth. [McCan & McCan, 1990] As the most sacred form of water it requires a great level of control in the way that people interact with it. This is not in the way that interaction with water is often restricted due to the harm it could cause to people when polluted, but because without following the correct tikanga (protocols) people have the ability to cause the loss of mouri when contacting waiora. The dual canopies collect rain from above and condensation created in the transpiration process of the reed filtration beds beneath as well as from the evaporation of the thin film of water passing beneath the walkway.The distancing of users from the canopies where the water is collected follows the notion that the users are restricted in their contact with the water. The exploration of a Máori understanding of different water types, the re-empowering of the flow of water in the city, and the reactivation of a cultural resource are the key design moves that look to create and enable a modern kaitiakitanga. It challenges the dominance of Pákehá practices in the development of the urban environment, educates users of the significance of land and water to Máori, and proposes a new form of Máori heritage representation built around a Máori world view. The end result of the design is the strengthening of Máori presence and identity in the urban environment and the provision for turangawaewae. A place that Máori can identify with in Central Wellington for its engagement with Máori culture and heritage that doesn’t further the prioritization of Eurocentric methods of representation. Bibliography Bowring, J. (1999). Putting the frames in perspective. Landscape New Zealand, pp 9-11. Byrnes, G. (2001). Boundary markers: Land surveying and the colonisation of New Zealand. Wellington, NZ: Bridget Williams Books. Douglas, E. M. K. (Ed.). (1984). Waiora, Waimaori, Waikino, Waimate, Waitai: Maori Perceptions of Water and the Environment: Proceedings of a Seminar. Centre for Máori Studies and Research, University of Waikato.


Indigenous wisdom Ehrhardt, P. (1993). Te Whanganui-a-Tara Customary Tenure, 1750-1850. Wellington, NZ: Waitangi Tribunal Division, Department of Justice. Harmsworth, G. R. (2004). The Role of Máori values in Low-Impact Urban Design and Development. a discussion paper. Love, M. (2006). Te Ara o Nga Tupuna Heritage Trail (2nd ed.). Wellington, NZ: Wellington City Council Lowenthal, D. (1975). Past Time, Present Place: landscape and memory. Geographical Review, 65(1). pp 1-36. Matunga, H. P. (2000, October). Urban ecology, tangata whenua and the colonial city. In Urban biodiversity and ecology as a basis for holistic planning and design: Proceedings of a workshop held at Lincoln University. pp 65-71. McCan, C., & McCan, D. (1990). Water: towards a bicultural perspective. Lincoln University & University of Canterbury. Centre for Resource Management. McCarthy, C. (2009). Te Ara o Nga Tupuna Máori Heritage Trail and Te Aro Pa, 39 Taranaki St, Wellington [Review]. New Zealand Journal of History, 43 (1), pp 114-117. McLean, G. (2000). Wellington: The First Years of European Settlement, 1840-1850. Auckland, NZ: Penguin Books. New Zealand Historic Places Trust. (2009). Tapuwae: The Máori Heritage Council Statement on Máori Heritage - A Vision for Places of Máori Heritage. Retrieved February 20, 2013, from http://www.historic.org.nz/Publications/Tapuwae.aspx. New Zealand Waitangi Tribunal (2003). Te Whanganui a Tara me ona Takiwa: Report on the Wellington District (Wai 145). Park, G. (1995). Nga Uruora: The Groves of Life: Ecology and history in a New Zealand landscape. Wellington, NZ: Victoria University Press. Rolleston, S. (2006). An indigenous cultural perspective to urban design. Presented at the meeting of New Zealand Planning Institute and Planning Institute of Australia Congress 2006 Stokman, A. (2008). Water purificative landscapes–constructed ecologies and contemporary urbanism. In Transforming with water. Proceedings of the 45th World Congress of the International Federation of Landscape Architects IFLA (pp. 51-61). Tohunga. (1935). The Wisdom of the Máori. The New Zealand Railways Magazine, 9 (6), pp. 15. Retrieved from http:// nzetc.victoria.ac.nz/tm/scholarly/tei-Gov09_06Rail-t1-body-d5.html. Voyde, E., & Morgan, T. K. K. B. (2012). Identifying commonalities between indigenous values and current sustainable design concepts in Aotearoa New Zealand. AlterNative: An International Journal of Indigenous Peoples, 8(2). Ward, A. (1997). National overview, Volumes I-III. Waitangi Tribunal. Williams, J. (2006). Resource management and Máori attitudes to water in southern New Zealand. New Zealand Geographer, 62(1), 73-80. List of Illustrations Figure 1: Lithographs by Charles Heaphy depicting ‘fertile country’ and large tracts of land…ready for ploughing’ Left – Detail from: Heaphy, C. (1845). Port Nicholson from the hills above Pitone in 1840 [Lithograph]. Retrieved February 28, 2013, from http://natlib.govt.nz/records/22813524 Right – Detail from: Heaphy, C. (1939). Birdseye view of Port Nicholson, in New Zealand, shewing the site of the town of Wellington, the river and valley of the Hutt and adjacent country, taken from the charts and drawings made during Col[one]l Wakefield’s survey [Lithograph]. Retrieved February 28, 2013, from http://natlib.govt.nz/records/22875686 Figure 3: The prioritisation of the aesthetic in the work of Le Nôtre and Brown Left – Gregg Versailles gardens background. (n.d.) Retrieved 28 February, 2013, from http://www.students.sbc.edu/gregg09/ Gregg%20Versailles%20 gardens%20background.htm Centre – Stourhead House & Gardens. (n.d.). Retrieved February 28, 2013, from http://www.kitecottagedorset.co.uk/Local_ Attractions.aspx Figure 2: Examples of the pouwhenua of Te Ara o Nga Tupuna. Authors own photographs. Taken September 2011 Locations as identified in Te Ara o Nga Tupuna Brochure. Left - Kirikiri-tatangi (Seatoun Foreshore) Centre - Matairangi (Mount Victoria) Right - Owhiro Kainga and Food Storage Pits Figure 4: Authors own image. Redrawn from – Smith, W. M. (1840). Plan of the town of Wellington, Port Nicholson the


Indigenous wisdom first and principal settlement of the New Zealand Company. Retrieved February 28, 2013, from http://natlib.govt.nz/ records/20944664 Figure 5: Authors own image Figure 6: Authors own image

24. Inherent Understanding of Natural Heritage and Cultural Landscapes Narayanan A Cultural Resource Conservation Initiative ABSTRACT India has been in a phase of transition for the past 60 years.While we are surging to a new-age of technological advancement, we have also developed a deep short-sightedness in our execution of Master Planning and Urban Design. Although academically we agree that urban design, landscape architecture and architectural design are intertwined, they are often incoherent in reality. Indians as a society have always respected traditions and values. Our beliefs have been transcendental. Heritage conservation and adaptive-reuse has become ‘in vogue’ in India. The need has been repeatedly emphasised but very little has been said or written about indigenous understanding of cultural landscapes in India, perception of natural and spatial landscapes, their nature-centric evolution and conservation. The expression of built landscape, to a large extent rests upon a culturally shaped view of nature held by society. Simply put, from our perception of natural landscapes came the rural and the urban. Our villages were built around beliefs and functional needs. This paper aims to investigate the various perspectives of natural heritage: be it transcendentalist, evolutionary, utilitarian, ecological or idealist-romantic, that are indigenous to Indic cultures. A dialogue with research... Inception At a recent seminar by Dr. Amita Sinha given on the ‘Cultural Landscapes of Orchha’ (New Delhi, Jan. 2013), an audience posed a question to her on the lines whether she could draw any likeness to this case study of Orchha to sites from USA1. Strangely, what was startling was that a fellow American architect in the audience, answered the question saying “Why would we need to draw likeness of it with any other culture? Your country has far richer history than ours. You have some of the oldest traditions still surviving on human faith. It cannot be compared to ours which is relatively new.” There it lay exposed; our need for proof and validation from everyone other than ourselves to make up for our lack of selfidentity. This dialogue spurred me to this research paper that aims to investigate specific aspects indigenous to the ‘Indic cultures’, from the various perspectives of nature and landscape. For the purpose this paper shall be divided into the following categories: Theories & Interpretation, Case Study & Analysis, Introspection/ Inferences and Conclusion(s). Hypothesis India faces the often mentioned problems of mismanaged heritage and landscape conservation policies. The need has been repeatedly emphasised but little has translated to action on our indigenous understanding of cultural landscapes, natural and spatial archetypes2, their evolution and conservation. An insight into the Indic cultures tells us how our landscape from our historic self-identity. However, at the same time, it argues that: 1. Indigenous knowledge is validated in many cases but there are cases of fossil landscapes or derelict cultural landscapes as well which stopped abruptly, making them incoherent with the present developments. Such abrupt relegation is not so much intangible but tangible thus these cultural landscapes continue to be carriers of culture and historicity. 2. Values and aspirations change over time and that if this paradigmatic shift in the intangible values is incoherent with our indigenous values, so are the changes to the tangible environment. Thus one cannot solely go by the argument that the semiotics of religion defines everything. Architectural identity has also to do with materials, weather, topography and real issues and problems just as much. Key Words: Natural Heritage, Cultural Landscapes, Sacred Landscapes, Religious Landscapes, Indic religions/values, Indigenous, Intangible, Tangible environment, Symbolism, Semiotics, Identity. Methodology The present study is an amalgamation of theories and interpretations and a case study of the Champaner & Pavagarh Archaeological Park, Gujarat, India – an example of derelict cultural landscapes. Accordingly, primary & secondary data have been employed. The secondary data is collected through various reports, journals, internet & books. To


Indigenous wisdom supplement the secondary data, some primary data has been used, through incidents, personal visits & observation.The present study is more dependent on secondary data. Primary data is not used to a large extent due to the reliability of the data. Theories & Interpretations

Sacred landscapes as well cultural landscapes can both be referred to as subsets of the aforementioned ethnographic landscapes which can be inferred from: “Geographically-defined space that has cultural or social meaning has been variously called “cultural landscapes,” “sacred geography,” “traditional cultural properties,” “heritage areas,” “places,” and other terms. All of these terms encompass “ethnographic landscapes” - areas of geographic space that have been given special and specific cultural or social 4. Cultural Landscapes of any region are a reflection of the cultural beliefs, traditions, myths and other such intangible values, functional needs and topographic alterations by the people of the place and these have been transmitted over time. For the purpose of this paper an explanation of a few keywords will inform later discussion. Cultural landscapes or ethnographic landscapes as one may refer to them interchangeably are “geographical spaces that have been given a specific cultural or social meaning by people associated with them.” 2 Natural Heritage is perceived as a conglomeration of the natural environments unaltered by human interventions such as wilderness or wild-lands[1] as well as those natural settings which have evolved due to the human interaction with nature owing to factors that are conducive to human settlement such as fertile lands, availability of water, suitable topography, abundance of raw materials and navigable routes or connections. Sacred landscapes are those which have a religious connotation, a myth or a history behind it that would allow

people to perceive the landscapes literally as physical manifestations of the divinity of these sacred places. Such places are pregnant with energies borne by ‘centres’ where the cosmos originated (an axis mundi) a place of divine intervention or where encounters took place and would generate the feelings of numen, majestas, mysterim tremendum and fascinas 8. Indic Values or the Indic Cultures are those which have taken birth in the Indian (“Indic” meaning of Indian Origins) Subcontinent- namely Hinduism, Jainism, Sikhism and Buddhism of which vast literature and art can be found in Hinduism as well as Buddhism. Thus in the domain of semiotics, Hinduism and Buddhism are predominantly documented as Indic religions.

Fig 1: Pilgrims bathing at the ghats of the holy Ganges at Benaras/Kashi/Varanasi. Source:Warrel Appel,The Shanti Shop, 2004 http://shantishop. com

“Every river is more than just one river, every rock is more than just one rock.” (Thomas Greider and Lorraine Garkovich) As mentioned by Greider and Garkovich [5], “ “Landscapes” are the symbolic environment created by human acts of conferring meaning to the nature and the environment, of giving the environment definition and form from a particular angle of vision and through a special filter of values and beliefs. Every landscape is a symbolic environment. These landscapes reflect our self definitions that are grounded in culture.” Simply put, humans construct or give form to landscapes as a socio-cultural reflection of themselves. Thus natural environments and their constant evolution or their permanence takes on the meaning of the cultural/ religious symbolism attached to these communities.


Indigenous wisdom This universal concept also finds its roots in the Indic Cultures. In the South Asian connotation of the word “landscape” there are deviations from the western concepts of landscape which has an aesthetic factor attached to it as well. Abrahamsson [1] explains this as “Landscape is …. widely appreciated for its aesthetic beauty and its important contribution to regional identity and sense of place. Although it is subject to evolution and change, the landscape is recognized as a resource of value to future generations.” [6] Thus “‘The Landscape’ is the physical feature, the panorama you see from a vantage point. But identity and sense of place, as well as values and associations, are also recognized.” Contrary to this aesthetic view of Landscape in the west, the South Asian perspective of Landscape is rather devoid of aesthetics, originating from the Sanskrit word of Bhu/ Bhumi/ Sthala/ Kshetra/ Kshetrobhumi [8] which impart the meaning of land/ area demarcated for divine/ human purposes. Nature provides us the raw material or the “substance / resource” as one would say to shape/carve out the landscape based on our Indic Values, functional needs and cultural interpretation into Habitable Landscapes in our own unique ways. These habitable landscapes therefore need to be acknowledged and recognized just as much as natural heritage. “Cultural groups transform the natural environment into landscapes through the use of different symbols that bestow different meanings on the same physical object or conditions.” [5] A Transcendentalist View of Nature According to Sinha [8], there are basically five views of nature namely, transcendentalist, evolutionary, utilitarian, ecological and idealist-romantic. “The transcendentalist sees nature as divine, the evolutionary view stresses those aspects of nature that have aided human survival; in the utilitarian perspective nature is seen as apart from God and humankind and open to subjugation, scientific paradigm, stressing the interdependence of human and natural systems; and the idealist romantic view is an aesthetic perspective in which the guiding metaphors are based upon rationality or intuition.” This suggests that Indic cultures hold a transcendentalist view towards nature that means that nature is viewed as sacred/divine. The natural surroundings are “Hierophant”[3] where a glimpse of this perceivable divinity is possible. Conjecturally the Indic cultures (predominantly Hinduism) are place-bound religions and thus land too is considered sacred, sustaining myths, legends and traditions over centuries.

Figure 02 : Pilgrims praying to the holy Ganga at Benaras/ Kashi/ Varanasi, Source: PhotoTip Archives, Ganges, Jonathan Irish Photography, http:// www.jonathanirish.com/

The Sacred Landscapes such as that of Ayodhya, Brij, Mathura, Vrindavan or Benaras in Hinduism, of the Ellora Caves in Jainism, of the forests of Lumbini and Bodh Gaya in Budhism exemplify this transcendentalist view. These religious spaces – bearing the religious symbolism in their natural/ spatial archetypes such as the Purusha/ Vaastu Purusha - generate the feeling of axis mundi [4] – are the cosmic centre of the universe. Sacred Landscapes thus play the centrifugal role of a core comprising natural elements and their built surrogates on the basis of spatial and natural archetypes. Natural Archetypes in Land Natural archetypes refer to natural elements and their combinations/ such as trees, mountains, deserts, rock formations, boulders, waterfalls, crevices, caves & rivers which hold the potential for being represented by means of religious


Indigenous wisdom symbolism as axis mundi. Basically, Sinha [7] explains “ (a place represented as axis mundi); evoking meanings encapsulated in symbolism of the centre, a point of rupture where communication with the non-human and godly realms is possible”. This is in essence, the axis mundi to provide a bridge between the worldly realm and the spiritual realms. Mountains which act as sites for construction for places of worship/ temples, or Ghats on the river banks of the Ganges (a river believed to have descended from the heavens) which are said to grant instant “Moksha – or instant gratification” upon death are befitting examples of axis mundi. The Indic religions specifically, are very nature centric – or animistic [5]. Using natural archetypes to express collective aspirations of the communities. Indic cultures therefore fashioned patterns of landscape symbols - like river Ganges, or Mt. Meru or Mt. Kailash, the Bodhi Tree - which are valorized in mythology, literature and art. Abstract as these were, they evolved a language of built from by means of Spatial Archetypes. Spatial Archetypes Natural archetypes are transformed into spatial archetypes through human interventions and interpretation. Indian Temple architecture is one example of such archetypes, built based on the symbolism of Mt. Meru. They are first placed at a place believed to hold “where the positive energy is abundantly available from the magnetic and electric wave distributions of north/south pole thrust” i.e. a place considered as axis mundi or a semiotic ‘centre’.The main idol is placed in the core center of the temple, known as “Garbhagriha” or “Moolasthanam”. In fact, the temple structure is built after the idol has been placed. This “Moolasthanam” is where earth’s magnetic waves are found to be at maximum. The circumambulatory path followed by the worshippers is both a physical as well as a spatial element as is has a definite pattern yet is an activity more of faith than reason. The physicality is defined by the movement around the centre, the orientation to the directions and the accessibility of the space. What makes it a place is the spatial archetype “Mandala” as Sinha explains: “It is given shape in the spatial archetype ‘Mandala’ endowed with great meaning and read metonymically as a symbol of the cosmic man, purusha, fitted within the square and known as the ‘vastupurusha mandala’, in intriguing and points to a steadfastly held concept in Indic religions and spatial archetypes that governs the layout of pilgrim complexes, cities, villages, temples, forts, palaces and ordinary dwellings.” Thus a natural archetype such as an axis mundi was transformed into a spatial archetype such as a ‘Mandala’ that then defined the planning of public religious spaces such as temples around which the settlements develop.

Figure 03 :The layout of the Indian Temple Architecture on the basis of Purusha/ Vaastu Purusha mandala, Source:

The Semiotics of Landscape Elements Myths and Narratives Mythology bears descriptive attributes such as that of physical settings, landscape of mythical cities, the behavioral attributes of the characters and explanations of the natural archetypes. This amalgamation encourages people to settle


Indigenous wisdom in places in proximity to sacred landscapes leading to settlement, development and the cyclic evolution of newer cultural practices which add to the associative intangible values. Animistic worship of trees, an inherent Indian value, later evolved into tree motif/symbolism which seemed to influence actions such as meditation of sages, retreating to natural enclosures for detachment from the worldly.

Figure 04 : a painting depicting the Budhha under the symbolic Bodhi Tree- Ficus Religiosa,the Banyan tree, Source: http://allycatadventures. wordpress.com/2011/01/16/the-bodhi-tree-bluebird-n-me/

Archaically the tree was a symbol of fertility. Later the epic Bhagvata Gita/ Mahabharata describe the tree to be a symbol of detachment from the worldly realm of desires [7]. A prevalent theme over the years has been the retreating of the saints and sages (sadhus) to the forests for meditating at the foot of a tree to gain self-knowledge and introspection. In Buddhism the Bodhi tree is a symbol that has been chosen by representing pursuit and realization of knowledge from a tree of life. Ficus Religiosa- the Banyan tree (the Bodhi tree) that Buddha spent two thirds of his life under in meditation and isolation giving discourses to disciples became a time and person-specific symbol of the axis mundi associated with Gautama Buddha. Landscape memory is indispensible with cultural landscapes and their intangible values. The physical elements provide the tangible substance and the value, myths, symbolism and the social patterns of the people provide for the intangible value of cultural landscapes. Thus this combination consummates the signification of natural archetypes. They serve as “carrier waves” that “transmitting information across time and space”. “Even when the connection between memory and meaning is severed (as when a ritual is retained but its meaning lost) information can still be delivered to future generations.The most efficient carriers of social memory are landscape elements that have both practical utility and cosmic meaning such as caves, springs or gardens” [2] Case Studies & Analysis The Champaner and Pavagarh Archaeological Park This section emphasizes the World Heritage Site of Champaner and Pavagarh Archeological Park, Gujarat as a case study to demonstrate the theories explained above. Champaner Pavagarh Archaeological Park attained a UNESCO World Heritage Site status in 2004. It is located in the Panchamal district of Gujarat about fifty kilometers from the nearest city of Baroda. The Cultural Landscape spreads across an area of about six square kilometers with majority of the ruined fifteenth century Islamic city of Champaner is buried under the Archeological Park.


Indigenous wisdom

Figure 05: Pre-Mughal Indo-Sarcenic Jami Masjid at the Champaner and Pavagarh, Source: India heritage Sites, http://indiaheritagesites.blogspot. com/2012/01/champaner-pavagadh-archaeological-park.html

The hilltop of Pavagarh homes the religious pilgrimage centre â&#x20AC;&#x201C; the Kalika Mata Temple- and receives a pilgrim influx of almost two million people yearly especially at a peak festival times. Champaner and Pavagarh is mostly an abandoned city except for the pilgrim centre, the temple and a few rural settlements owing to the pretext of a religious setting. It needs us to retract to this statement : â&#x20AC;&#x153;As the 1990sâ&#x20AC;&#x2122; cultural landscape idea gathered momentum it permeated cultural heritage management and planning thinking and practice, leading in 1992 to UNESCO recognizing three categories of cultural landscapes of outstanding universal value for world heritage listing: 1. Clearly defined landscapes designed and intentionally created by man 2. Organically evolved landscapes in two categories:

(i) A relict or fossil landscape in which an evolutionary process has come to an end but where its distinguishing features are still visible. (ii) Continuing landscape which retains an active social role in contemporary society associated with a traditional way of life and in which the evolutionary process is still in progress and where it exhibits significant material evidence of its evolution over time.

Fig 6: Sacred lake- Dudhiya Talao and Kalika Mata temple on Pavagarh hill, Gujarat, Source: http://www.wikimedia.org , Department of Landscape Architecture, Univeristy of Illinois at Urbana Champaign, USA Collection, reprinted-Context, 2009


Indigenous wisdom 3. Associative cultural landscapes: the inclusion of such landscapes is justifiable by virtue of the powerful religious, artistic, or cultural associations of the natural element rather than the material cultural evidence.” [11] Going by these classifications the site of Champaner and Pavagarh can fit into the relict or fossil landscape. The historic narrative of Champaner and Pavagarh is that the Pavagarh hill, approximately 830-meteres high is “an odd volcanic eruption in an otherwise flat landscape that--perhaps because of its geographic anomaly--was worshipped as a Hindu sacred landscape, inviting pilgrimage and attracting settlement and the building of forts and temples.” Lying at its foothills, the city of Champaner, built just after 1484 in of a unique Islamic architecture. It was the capital city of a medieval urban precinct that was a vibrant city and provincial capital until it was sacked in 1535 by the Mughals. Upon abandonment, the capital was moved to Ahmadabad and Champaner was forgotten. “Like the eruption of Mt. Vesuvius, which preserved a Roman landscape of towns, villas, and gardens, the political and economic abandonment of Champaner meant that it, too, was oddly frozen in time” – as Sinha mentions in her report on the site, she encapsulates that “already by the early 17th century it was lost to dense jungle overgrowth, according the historian Sikansarkar. But while the city’s importance was eclipsed, the hill that protected it continued to be an important pilgrimage destination for Hindus.” Thus although many have forgotten that Champaner was once a capital city and has left behind a rich architectural legacy of the pre-Mughal era, it continues to be connected to them because of its religious significance. This helps us to concrete a few factors at this stage which are as follows: 1. Organically evolved Ethnographic Landscape may become frozen in time and reach a dead-end in terms of their existence, drawing likeness to this case, but the intangible values associated with it remain- such as the pilgrimage to the temple still continues. 2. These Intangible values as “carrier waves” as we discussed earlier under the domain of landscape memory. This hence also substantiates that landscape memory is indispensible with Cultural landscapes and their intangible values. The Pavagarh Hill is said to be “formed from the toe of the goddess Sati, a previous incarnation of Kali. Sati, the faithful consort of Shiva, was angry when her father slighted her husband, and in protest, killed herself.” [9]. It is thus interpreted as the axis mundi.

Figure 07: Derelict structures, Champaner and Pavagarh, Source:World Heritage Sites in India, http://picturespool.blogspot.in/

The uniqueness of Champaner and Pavagarh is that today it has a blend of religious eclecticism with the coexistence of Jainism, Islam and Hinduism. On the Mauliya Plateau one can see fourteenth- and fifteenth-century Jain temples, three beautifully carved temples devoted to the Jain Tirthankara(s) (prophets), and a few can also be seen near the Dudhiya Talao. At the peak, in close proximity to the Kalika Mata Mandir (temple of goddess Kalika) late fifteenth-century Muslim tomb can be seen to have overpowered the temple itself. Sinha interprets it as: “Although it may have been intended as an act of erasure, the historian Hermann Goetz suggested instead that it was “a pretext to continue, under Muslim rule and by low castes converted to Islam, the traditional reverence to the Great Mother on the top of Pavagarh”.” Thus it can be said that Champaner and Pavagarh substantiates one hypothesis: that although there is abundance of indigenous wisdom in the planning of the underground city and the visible remnants, only the intangible value of the place have remained intact. Yet it is one such fossilized derelict cultural landscape which stands anomalous to its surrounding urban/ rural settlements.


Indigenous wisdom Architecture and the Sense of Identity – Introspection “We are only as big as the questions that define us. And this, to my mind, is the central riveting fact of life for an architect in the Third World.”- Charles Correa, A Place in the Sun Architecture, space, landscape, heritage (tangible and intangible) is, symbolic and reflective of human ethos.The ambiguity in our self-identity lies not in the fact that we have not clearly defined what identity meant or because retracting to old values without any conviction. It is because we have come to accept externalized validation instead of internalized knowledge when in the first place this research explores that Indic values have always been “verbal” or “transcendental” seeded in people’s memory: landscape memory. It is a great deterrent that the lack of documentation as we term is the stimulus for us to doubt the validity of our values, and this one cannot escape from. So while we debate which approach is validated, documented, tried and tested most convincingly, we turn a blind eye to our indigenous cultures, our natural and spatial archetypes, the inherited “Vaastu Purusha Mandala” and the indigenous place-making concepts like temple architecture or town planning. In hindsight at India’s independence, ours was a freedom that came with a splintered society, one which didn’t yearn, hope, dream and yield progressiveness alone, but a multitude of attitudes reflective of a society fragmented by caste, class, rural and urban divides, economic disparity and a multitude of cultural beliefs- religious temperaments that built this nation. Even today it is the issues of disparate economic and social development that creates a disparity in aspirations. A simple example can be, however cliché it may sound, the acquired aspirations of “Privatopias” [10]. Privatopia was the term used to define the aristocratic Utopian townships created with the intent to provide high-end luxury services to the users through private public partnerships, capitalizing on the bourgeois dreams of the rising middle class till a tipping point where supply far exceed demand. This is just one contemporary eye-sore that explores the concept of urban villages, the-invading mall-culture or the “Mc-sizing” of our goals in life. The case study and by means of this introspection infers the hypothesis: Firstly, that indigenous knowledge exists but its tangible quotient is likely to hit a dead-end as well, like derelict cultural landscapes. However, the intangible values sustain and transcend this relegation. Also, values and aspirations evolve over time. If this paradigm is incoherent with our indigenous values, so are the changes to the tangible environment. Architectural identity has also to do with materials, weather, topography and real issues and problems just as much as religion. And this creates that rift of what should be and what is. Conclusion From this study we have pondered much upon incoherence of modern thoughts more than coherence of cultural heritage. The conclusions derived from it point that an intrinsic and introspective rather than a consumer-driven mediocrity of deliverance is what we as architects owe to our society.Typically one is meant to either agree or disagree to a hypothesis as they approach the end of their study. But in this research falsifying a hypothesis or affirming it is not the only purpose of the research. It is to “peel an onion” whether or not there are no hypotheses that support or validate it. For me, the research reflects besides multifaceted and multipronged problems that India faces today – muddled selfidentity of Indians. It’s a vicious circle or so it seems because of lack of action and the volume of talking of action. An orange is an orange and no matter how to look at this, it will remain so. You can peel it, shred it and juice it but its qualities remain intact. That is the relation between the tangible and intangible. The approach could be to address our collective identity as a society and not dwell in the mode of intellectual isolation. We cannot really draw any likeness from other regional semiotics because ours’ has mothered many theories. We built Taj Mahal’s and developed the Grid Iron pattern when architecture was not a formalised discourse. No council or organisation can give us back what was ours in the first place and this may sound autocratic. However, the same parameters of research cannot be applied to our transcendental values as other research methodologies may require, validation should not be sole criteria for valuing our heritage. The idea of the structure transcends its form. Everything which has form dies. So a building, a settlement, a city, a person – every form of life dies out slowly. But formless existence- the intangible still remains intact. Acknowledgements In God, I place my utmost gratitude for giving me this opportunity at a time when I least expected and most needed it. This study would not have been possible if not for their constant support every step of the way, my heartfelt gratitude and love to my entire family, Ma, Appa, Gautam and Radhika. An especially huge thanks to Divya Sharma for her undiluted devotion and faith in me as a friend, philosopher and guide. It is impossible to have come this far if not for the trust and compassion of my faithful friends- Bishwajit Banerjee,


Indigenous wisdom Dishant Bhatia, Utkarsh Shrivastava, Arjun Menon, Advaita Shanker, Adnan Khan, Navneet Srivastava who showed faith in my abilities even in times of self-doubt. The sole credit of giving me enough thought for food, the art of rhetoric and last-minute soul searching speeches, I owe it to Neha Koul and Raghav Ahuja for keeping my sense of humour intact. Dr. Amita Sinha is a professor at the Department of Landscape Architecture, Center for South Asian and Middle Eastern Studies and Landscape Architect by training.


Archetypes are defined as typical examples/ prototypes/ an original from which other models have evolved or originated/ from which other models have been imitated/ patterned. 2

[1] Wildlands or widerness is a natural environment on earth that has not been significantly modified by human activities. “...The most intact, undisturbed wild natural areas left on our planet- those last wild places that humans do not control and have not been developed with roads, pipelines or industrial infrastructure into...” [2] “Ethnographic landscapes” appears as defined above in the works of Michael J. Evans, Alexa Roberts, and Peggy Nelson. Michael J. Evans, Ph.D., is senior cultural anthropologistin the NPS Midwest Support Office. Alexa Roberts, Ph.D., is an anthropologist in the Intermountain Region Support Office-Santa Fe. Peggy Nelson is the cultural resource specialist at Pu’uhonua O honaunau National Historical Park in Hawaii. [3] ‘Hierophany’ has been described in the works of the religious historian Mircea Eliade (1959) to mean the revelation of the divine. In the Indic context the darshan/darshanam of a god/goddess could be called an equivalent. Hierophany is a manifestation of the sacred. Eliade argues that religion is based on a sharp distinction between the sacred and the profane and that myths are “breakthroughs” of the sacred/ supernatural into the world- this breakthrough (darshan) is a hierophany. [4] Axis mundi (wikipedia- the free encyclopedia) is the world center or the connection between Heaven and Earth. As the celestial pole and geographic pole, it expresses a point of connection between sky and earth where the four compass directions meet...The image appears in religious and secular contexts.The axis mundi symbol may be found in cultures utilizing shamanic practices or animist belief systems, in major world religions, and in technologically advanced “urban centers”. In Mircea Eliade’s opinion, “Every Microcosm, every inhabited region, has a Centre; that is to say, a place that is sacred above all.” [5] Animistic worship is the religious worldview that natural physical entities- including animals, plants, and often even inanimate objects or phenomena possess a spiritual essence. Specifically, animism is used in the anthropology of religion as a term for the religion of indigenous tribal peoples, especially prior to the development and/or infiltration of civilization and organized religion. Source: www.wikipedia.org- the free encyclopedia

References 1. Abrahamsson (Kurt Viking Abrahammson, Landscapes Lost and Gained: On Changes in Semiotic Resources, Department of Human Geograph,Umea° University,1999) 2. Crumley, (Carole L. Crumley, Sacred Landscapes: Constructed and Conceptualized, 1999; Archaeologies of Landscape: Contemporary Perspectives, Wendy Ashmore and Bernard) 3. Correa, (Charles Correa, “A Place in the Sun”: The Thomas Cubitt lecture, Royal Society of Arts, London, 1983) 4. Evans, Roberts, Nelson (Michael J. Evans, Alexa Roberts, and Peggy Nelson, Ethnographic Landscapes, CRM Vol.24 No. 05, U.S. Department of the Interior National Park Service Cultural Resources 2001) 5. Greider, Garkovich (Thomas Greider and Lorraine Garkovich, Rural Sociology, Landscapes: The Social Construction of Nature and Environment, 1994) 6. Morris and Therivel (Peter Morris and Riki Thérivel, Methods of Environmental Impact Assessment, Spon press, Taylor & Francis Group, London and New York, 1995, 78) 7. Taylor (Ken Taylor, Landscape and Memory: Cultural Landscapes, Intangible Values and Some Thoughts on Asia, UNESCO-3rd International Conference,2008; Research School of Humanities, The Australian National University, Canberra) 8. Sinha (Amita Sinha, Context- Built, Living and Natural, Vol VI Issue 1, ‘Natural Heritage and Cultural Landscapes: Understanding Indic Values’, 2009) 9. Sinha (Amita Sinha, Landscapes in India: Forms and Meanings, 2006) 10. Sinha (Amita Sinha, Champaner Pavagarh Cultural Sanctuary, Gujarat, India: Challenges and Responses in Cultural Heritage Planning and Design, The Heritage Trust, Baroda, 2009) 11. Soja ( Edward Soja, ‘ In TransUrbanism’ , V2 Publishing/NAI Publishers, 2002).


Indigenous wisdom 25. Redeeming Fire: The use of fire as a design tool in the Australian landscape Pocock G University of Melbourne Abstract Australia has been shaped by fire. Before humans first inhabited the continent Australiaâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s landscape not only adapted to fire but required it.The Indigenous population used fire as a tool to shape the landscape creating and managing the environment to ensure plants and animals were predictable and in abundance. Managing forests and grasslands with fire worked to prevent large-scale apocalyptic firestorms by reducing fuel loads and creating a patchwork landscape. This fire regime also produced beautiful, picturesque and park-like landscapes. To Aboriginal people fire was more than a tool, fire had ecological, social and spiritual value, and there was a responsibility to its use in the landscape. Today, fire is used in a broad scale and mechanical way with little thought given to the deep connection of fire to different ecologies. This paper is an investigation into the process of how to redeem fire itself. To bring back knowledge, understanding and respect for the way fire is a central part of the landscape. A theoretical case study into Bendigo,Victoria, and an exploration of the work of Bill Gammage into indigenous fire use, will look at how returning designed fire to the Bendigo region could be used to renew degraded landscapes. This paper also seeks to demonstrate the possibility of fire as a tool of creation rather than a source of destruction. By encouraging participation in the application of fire and land art in the landscape a new and productive dialogue can be created with fire in the Australian landscape. Introduction The motivation behind this paper is to bring back knowledge, understanding and respect for the way fire is a central part of the Australian landscape, to redeem fire itself. The return of a greater appreciation for fire can be used to gain redemption for degraded, abused and overworked landscapes. With anthropogenic climate change forecast to produce hotter, drier conditions for most of Australia there is a strong need to re-evaluate the current view of fire as a peripheral terror and return a more detailed knowledge of fire to a central part of the Australian consciousness. The interplay between man, fire and Australiaâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s native vegetation has had a dramatic effect on the continent. Understanding and managing fire in the Australian landscape has been a problem for both the original Aboriginal colonisers of the continent and subsequent European settlers. This paper seeks to explore the role landscape architecture research and design can play in finding a more sustainable relationship with fire. A sense of space and proximity to nature is inherent in the Australian psyche. Disillusioned with an increasingly urbanised society people are seeking out and inhabiting places which match this primal desire for natural beauty and a closer connection to the environment. With more people living in closer proximity to fire-prone bush land our relationship to the landscape, our fitting in, is being called into question. There is a discomfort with our occupation of peri-urban landscapes. The unique ecological and geological conditions found in Australia have led to an environment that is highly vulnerable to fire. With inherent poor and shallow soils, a fine ecological balance for Australian flora and fauna evolved. With the arrival of the first Australians and subsequent European settlers, this balance was significantly altered as fire and fire promoting plant communities started to take over vast areas of the continent. This legacy is with us today, manifested in large-scale bushfires that endanger communities each summer. Indigenous Australians learned to work with this fire ecology to open up the landscape, promoting more food producing grassland and savannah areas. Fire was respected, managed and became central to life in Indigenous communities throughout Australia. European settlement disrupted this symbiotic relationship. As Aboriginal people died or were driven from their country, the newcomers had no awareness of the intricate level of care required to maintain the ecological balance of the land and avoid large- scale bushfires. Uncontrolled fire returned to the uncared for Australian landscape, destroying vast areas of land. Landscape management practices have developed over the last 200 years but the detailed understanding of the need for fire has so far not returned to the majority of Australians. Pre-human fire Australia is a very old continent and has had a remarkably stable geological and climatic history (Flannery, 1994, p. 77). This stability has led to minimal volcanic activity, and when combined with a lack of glacial activity, has produced soils that contain only half as many nutrients as other similar climatic regions of the world (Flannery, 1994, p. 78).


Indigenous wisdom Even with poor soils the Australian continent was covered in large areas of wet and dry rainforest for over 10 million years. Between 38,000 and 120,000 years ago the vegetation mix changed dramatically coinciding with the likely arrival date of the first humans to the continent (Latz, 2007, p. 132). There is evidence, via core samples, of much larger quantities of charcoal in the atmosphere and a significant change in the dominant vegetation type to fire dependent species (Flannery, 1994, p. 226) (Latz, 2007, p. 132). Prior to this change there is a continuous record of fire sensitive plant species dominating the continent, indicating fire played a smaller role in the Australian landscape than it does today. The coming of people Though fire did exist on the Australian continent, caused mostly by lightning strike, the effects of fire events were not as extensive as in recent history.The explanation put forward by Tim Flannery is that much of the combustible material for large-scale fires was consumed by Australia’s prehistoric mega-fauna (Flannery, 1994, p. 230). As the first humans arrived and hunted these animals to extinction, fuel loads built up and larger fires became more common helping extend the reach of fire-promoting species. As these first Australians expanded their communities, greater areas of land would have come under a changed fire regime. Fire regimes that promoted grasslands were much easier to hunt on than denser bushland areas. The changes prompted by new fire regimes and the hunting of large herbivores, along with global climatic changes, led to a rapid change in the Australian landscape. As land was cleared by large-scale hot fires large quantities of topsoil were lost through erosion. This assisted in the self-reinforcing cycle of vegetation change as many of the fire promoting plants are able to survive in poorer soils than the previously wide spread dry rain-forest plant communities (Flannery, 1994, p. 233). Indigenous management - A new equilibrium Many of the concepts explored in this design research are based on Bill Gammage’s book The Biggest Estate on Earth: How Aborigines Made Australia (2011). Gammage investigates the role Aboriginal Australians played in shaping the landscape of pre-European Australia. Far from inheriting a pristine wilderness untouched by man, early colonists took up residence on an intricately formed landscape, shaped by Indigenous Australians with the aid of meticulous fire management practices. By investigating first-hand accounts of explorers, artists and colonists clear connections can be made to the use of fire by Aboriginal people to create ecological areas that promoted edible plants and attracted animals.The sustained use of fire for many hundreds of generations of Indigenous Australians created an artificial landscape ‘parklike’ in appearance, kept food sources predictable and limited the impact of uncontrolled bushfires.Through an extensive knowledge of the ecologies different plants and animals preferred Indigenous Australians were able to shape the landscape to encourage specific species. Maximising edge habitat was of primary importance in ensuring enough game was available to hunt. Edges, home to a large variety of species of plants and animals, provide protection for animals or hunters (Gammage, 2011, p. 199). Edges were extended by the use of corridors, clumps and clearings of one vegetation type within another. Ecological templates could be seen in every part of Australia at the time of European settlement. Fire was the primary tool for creating templates. Burning grassland up to and along a woodland edge prevented the forest from extending into and shrinking the grassland. Different species of plants respond differently to the intensity of burning, both in the heat of fires and the frequency between them. Being able to keep one type of fire within the bounds of one ecology type took great skill and knowledge of the ways weather, plant type and fire type interact with each other. Fire was also used to protect ecologically significant habitat areas that were often defined as culturally sacred or ‘story’ places (Flannery, 1994, p. 289). These sacred spaces were often animal breeding grounds and played a large role in ensuring animal populations even in harsh climatic times. By buffering habitat areas with grasslands, kept in check by small cool fires, large destructive fires could be kept at bay. Country and place Meyer (Meyer, 1994) discusses a change in society’s perception of the environment over time. A binary relationship has emerged as people have been separated from their natural environment through the urbanisation of society.There has also been a general widening in the scale and variety of human spatial experiences, with the advent of globalised economies and transport systems, that has led to a reduction of our understanding and intimacy with our experience of place (Relph, 2008, p. 315). This occurred in Europe gradually (Tuan, 1974) but was brought to and enforced on Indigenous Australians in a very short time span by European colonialism.The concept of ‘Country’ is highly intertwined in Australian Indigenous society. Whitehouse (Whitehouse, 2011) discusses country in Indigenous Australian society as more of a single, complex, ‘natureculture’. The idea of ‘Country’ includes a greater obligation on Aboriginal Australians to care for their land, as it cared for them. This reciprocal relationship is and was felt intensely; country was and is alive to Indigenous Australians


Indigenous wisdom (Gammage, 2011, p. 142). The Dreaming and assigning of totems helped manage the burden of caring for such great biodiversity as there is in Australia. Through this system every person was morally and socially responsible for maintaining ecosystems. This connectedness and reciprocity with the environment is lacking from the modern Australian psyche. European arrival With the effects of European diseases moving faster through the continent than explorers and settlers, many Europeans found the country empty and overgrown (Gammage, 2011, p. 150). This in part led to the assumption on behalf of the settlers of Australia being a virgin wilderness. A similar scenario had already played out in North America nearly 200 years earlier, with European diseases killing up to 90% of the indigenous population producing a landscape that ‘was more like a widow than a virgin’ (Jennings, 2003, p. 30). European explorers still found a very open country, much more open than today (Flannery, 1994, p. 219). Gammage (2011) cites many letters and accounts of Europeans describing the landscape as ‘picturesque’ as though it were an ‘English gentleman’s park’, however most believed that this landscape was natural and pristine wilderness. Very few could, or even thought to, comprehend that the landscape was created and maintained by hundreds of generations of Indigenous Australians. By the middle of the 1800’s Victoria’s Aboriginal population had been reduced to less than two and a half thousand people (ABS, 2008).This left large areas of the state unpopulated and uncared for.This lack of land management would have played a significant part in the largest bushfire experienced in Victoria since European arrival. In 1851 bushfires burned approximately five million square kilometres of the state. In comparison, the hugely destructive Black Saturday bushfires of February 2009, where 173 people were killed, burned less than a tenth the land area of the 1851 blaze. A different relationship to fire Victoria’s climate, though currently more temperate that the northern parts of Australia, is predicted to get hotter and drier due to anthropomorphic climate change (Fisher, 2012, p. 153) . The key climate change challenges facing Victoria include temperature increase of 4.5-6C and 25-40% less rainfall by 2100 (City of Port Phillip, 2010). This drying of the landscape is not confined to the recent times. Since the 2009 Black Saturday Bushfires there is a greater public awareness of the negative effects of bushfire. The 2009 Victorian Bushfires Royal Commission was set up to investigate the fires and to make recommendations on how catastrophic bushfires could be prevented in future. One of the recommendations was an increase in the amount of prescribed or ecological burning in the state. A new target of 5% of the state’s public land area to be burned each year was recommended by the commission and subsequently legislated by the Victorian Government. With a formal target in place the challenge then becomes how to meet it. Several reports have indicated that vast areas of ecologically sensitive bush are being subject to inappropriate fire regimes (Carbonell, 2012) (McFadzean, 2010) (Ballinger, 2012). The intention of the new target was to prevent loss of life and property, however much of the prescribed burns are occurring in remote areas, away from people, where it is more economically viable. This approach has the potential to leave individual communities vulnerable to bushfire even though state-wide targets are met. This form of fiscally driven fire management regime can also lead to complacency in peri-urban areas, such as Bendigo, and an understanding that fire management is something that happens ‘somewhere else’. A role for landscape architecture The loss of Aboriginal fire knowledge, and the subsequent loss of cultural and moral obligation to care for the landscape, has led to a process of alienation and disconnection of contemporary Australian communities from fire. What is the role of landscape architecture in reversing this process? How can design help restore knowledge, understanding and acceptance of fire? Landscape architectural practice and theory is actively seeking to play a more central role in the creation of modern settlement planning and design (Corner, 1999). Reconnecting the nature-culture relationship is a key element in the creation of these new contemporary spaces and places. Landscape architecture brings to bear the use of ecological principles, land art and spatial planning to the challenge of re-engaging society with fire. The concept of designed fire is a suggestion for a more holistic approach to fire management in the Australian landscape. Landscapes created with fire as a central design driver can produce attractive, healthy and enjoyable environments that help to mitigate devastating large-scale bushfires. Land art is a communicator of ideas, and more importantly in the context of designed fire, an instigator for exploration. Often located outside of cities and in remote landscapes, land art calls for a greater commitment from those who wish to experience the work first hand. Designed fire draws from land art to produce marks in the landscape. Land artists have the ability to design and work at an enormous variety of scales, to evoke the sublime or draw attention to the delicate beauty of intricate landscapes. Questions of ephemerality and entropy are explored through the works of Jim Deveney (KQED, 2009) and Robert Smithson (Smithson, 1966). Both of these concepts are central to a greater understanding of the role of fire in the Australian landscape.


Indigenous wisdom Designed fire As a society we need to move past the fear of large-scale uncontrolled fire as the main driver for fire management and bring back knowledge, understanding and respect for the way fire is a central part of the Australian landscape. The return of a better managed fire regime can then be used to gain redemption for degraded landscapes. Redemption will be manifest in landscapes that are returned to ecological health. This paper discusses two strategies for redeeming fire focused on the Bendigo setting: Managing Fire Ecologies and Educating and Involving The Community. From these two strategies four tactics have been developed, Dimension, Density, Intensity and Engagement, to lead the design process. Managing Fire Ecologies calls for fire to be used to create specific ecological mosaics across the landscape, buffering homes, roads and fire sensitive ecological vegetation areas. Prescribed burns, over time, can also be used to shape vegetation areas, making fire more predictable, reducing the risk of large uncontrolled fires and producing aesthetically appealing recreational areas. The second strategy is focused on educating and involving more of the community about realities of fire in the landscape. Uncontrolled bushfires affects the whole community, not just those living at the interface of residential areas and bushland. Bringing people out of their homes to witness and assist in the process of ecological burning will increase knowledge and reduce fear of fire. Dimension Prescribed burns are currently intended to reduce fuel to stifle future bushfires. These fuel reduction burns can be carried out over vast ecologically diverse areas. Micro-scale ecological burns are proposed, burning smaller scale areas that can promote specific, predictable and healthy ecological environments. Density Ecological mosaics create a variety of densities from grasslands to open forest and closed forest with undergrowth. Diversity in ecological vegetation areas encourages healthy wildlife populations. Mosaics need to be located according to environmental suitability and proximity to residential areas. Intensity Managing the frequency or intensity of fire in the landscape is used to produce diversity in ecological areas. Individual plant species respond to fire differently, some require frequent burning every two to three years and others are fire sensitive requiring fire at intervals greater than eighty to one hundred years. Engage Fire is no longer seen as central to our world. Fire events are now seen as a time of chaos and despair for large portions of the Australian population. Bringing controlled fire back into the lexicon of urban Australians is central to the redemption of fire. Through interaction with fire, knowledge, respect and a new dialogue can be created. The design tactics are intended to interact and work together in the creation of new parklike management programme for the West Bendigo site. Figure 1 depicts the use of land art as an enticement for people to connect with ecological burning practices on the edge of the city. Paths provide access for visitors and protect and separate different ecological areas. Designed fire suggests a comprehensive, interconnected system of landscape management.


Indigenous wisdom

Fig 1. Designed fire in the Bendigo Landscape: Balloon Girl Grass Burning. Based on artwork by Banksy, 2005

Bendigo - a case study Introduction The City of Greater Bendigo is located central Victoria, in the south east of Australia. Founded in 1851, on land belonging to the Dja Dja Wurrung Aboriginal people, the city grew rapidly with the discovery of gold along the Bendigo Creek. The city today has a population of almost one hundred thousand people (ABS, 2011). Having been touched by fire in 2009 and the prospect of worsening conditions in the decades ahead the city needs to address how fire is managed.The peri-urban edge of the city is the most vulnerable part of the city due to the proximity of grasslands and forested areas. Once gold was found in Bendigo the landscape was changed forever. Alluvial mining stripped topsoil and open cut and shaft mines dug deep into the earth. Remaining soils were compacted, and a large swathes of trees were cut down to provide timber used in the mining process. The Bendigo landscape still shows the scars from the mining process. The Site The north-west corner of the city has been selected to investigate the role designed fire can have in the prevention of large fires and in the redemption of degraded landscapes. The West Bendigo site is over 5200 acres and is made up of predominantly large parcels of crown land, large privately owned allotments interspersed with smaller residential areas. This part of the city abuts grasslands and forested areas and is the most at risk area of bushfire in the city. Most of the West Bendigo site is a barren landscape with the remnant native vegetation trying to re-establish itself in disturbed soils. The predominant north-west wind can propel bushfires through this northwest green wedge and into the city. This scenario played out on Black Saturday 2009. Black Saturday On Saturday the 7th of February 2009, later named Black Saturday, temperatures reached 48.8c and relative humidity levels dropped to 6% leading to widespread catastrophic bushfires across Victoria (Fisher, 2012, p. 157). A deliberately lit fire burned 1200 acres and to within two kilometres of the centre of Bendigo. The fire started beside a road in West Bendigo and fanned by the hot North-Westerly wind destroyed 61 homes and killed one resident before being brought under control only two kilometres from the heart of the city. Designed fire - a proposal for Bendigo The proposed response to re-engagement of fire is though the creation of a parklike management regime for the West Bendigo site encompassing crown and private land shown in Figure 2. Ecological zones and bushfires do not follow land titles and legal bureaucratic boundaries. As such a larger and simpler form of management is required. Rights to land need to be matched with responsibilities to the environment and surrounding communities. Fire ecologies in Bendigo, as elsewhere, need to be managed year round, with different types of vegetation preferring summer or winter fire. As the seasons change so does the intensity, density and dimension of fire. Through the use of festivals and events that celebrate fire, spread throughout the year, greater understanding of ecological burning


Indigenous wisdom practices can be fostered. Festivals attract people from urban and country areas and from different parts of the country spreading knowledge of fire ecologies further afield. These cultural events can also increase tourism and provide financial support for ongoing ecological burning efforts. Attracting visitors to the local area brings extra money to the local economy creating local enthusiasm and motivation for festivals to be held. Visitors are also encouraged to participate in fire events, complimenting the local volunteer base. Physical interventions in the landscape include the creation of formal paths, desire lines and galleries. Each of these elements play a role in assisting the site respond to fire and encouraging greater numbers of visitors to and around the site.

Fig. 2: Structured around a path network extending out from the high points in the site, a formal patterning and hierarchy of movement is created as the paths radiate from the central points like tertiary tunnels from a mine shaft. A reinterpretation of the former mining landscape is created. Compacting the earth and trampling grasses to create paths and patterns across the site works to enable access in uncontrolled fire events and separate or buffer grassland or forest patches.

Organic desire lines are created as people move away from the main paths and explore the galleries, forests and grasslands.These paths change with the seasons and fire art installations. Grassland fire galleries are identified throughout the path network by ecologists as areas requiring fire. Artists then bid for gallery space to create a fire design. Artworks like the one depicted in figures 3, 4 & 5, are then produced in the galleries.

Fig. 3: Artists construct barriers to mark out a design and contain the fire. Flattening or cutting grass around the fire design can create further designed effects in the grasslands.


Indigenous wisdom

Fig. 4:When weather conditions are favourable the area within the barrier is set alight, burning a pattern into the grass. If the burning process is conducted at night a dramatic visual performance can be created.

Fig. 5: After the fire the barrier is removed and visitors to the site can see touch and smell the burnt grass. As the native grasses regenerate after fire, fresh green shoots emerge, attracting local fauna. As the burnt grass regenerates the surrounding grass browns off and is trampled by visitors to the site, inverting the pattern over time.

Conclusion Managing fire in the Australian landscape has and will continue to be one of the most important tasks for future inhabitants of this continent. Current fire management practices have led to a discomfort with our surrounding landscapes. Anthropomorphic climate change is contributing to hotter and drier conditions encouraging more firepromoting vegetation types. Combined with the inability and reluctance of governments to adequately fund sustainable fire practices the likelihood of Black Saturday style firestorms is increasing. The experience and intimate knowledge of sustaining Australiaâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s delicate ecology needs to be interwoven into our new shared narrative on the Australian continent. The lessons learned by hundreds of generations of Indigenous Australians should be a compulsory reference for how we manage fire now and into the future. The two strategies at the heart of designed fire, managing fire ecologies and educating and involving the community, draw heavily from Indigenous knowledge of fire. Designed fire is also informed by a wide range of contemporary sources, including ecology, natural resource management, landscape architecture and land art. Through designed fire greater participation in and understanding of the process of ecological burning is created.This leads then to a more ecological, social and economically sustainable fire management regime that involves the whole community. Currently prescribed burns are intended to reduce fuel to stifle future bushfires.These fuel reduction burns are carried out over vast ecologically diverse areas and can adversely affect local flora and fauna. Designed fire proposes microscale ecological burns, burning smaller areas that promote specific, predictable and healthy ecological environments. The role of land art is also central to designed fire. Through land art, the perception of fire can be transformed into a truly creative and regenerative force in the landscape. The ability to engage and connect with multiple segments of society, who may never experience fire, is central to increasing community wide understanding. The case study of West Bendigo presents a landscape excoriated by past destructive mining practices that is at increasing risk of bushfire in the coming century. The use of designed fire in Bendigo has been proposed as a way to


Indigenous wisdom start a new more connected narrative. Through larger scale land management, collaborative land art projects and a series of year round festivals and events local residents and visitors can start to re-engage with fire. A new dialogue is needed between the community and fire to maintain ecological health and prevent uncontrolled fire. Designed fire suggests a new way forward, a more collaborative and sustainable association with fire, a way of redeeming fire itself. By redeeming fire, accepting its centrality to life in Australia, a more reciprocal relationship with the landscape can begin. Acknowledgements This paper is drawn from a collaborative design studio conducted by Professor Gini Lee and Julian Raxworthy, as part of the Masters of Landscape Architecture programme at the University of Melbourne. I would like to acknowledge the wonderful contributions of Kira Grover and Brigitte Lang who worked with me on this project. The ideas in this paper, while based on work conducted as part of a group, is an account of my personal reflections of our work on redeeming fire and fire ecologies. References ABS. (2008). Australian Historical Population Statistics, from http://www.abs.gov.au/AUSSTATS/abs@.nsf/Lookup/3105.0.65.0 01Main+Features12008?OpenDocument ABS. (2011). National Regional Profile: Greater Bendigo City Part A (Statistical Subdivision) from http://www.abs.gov.au/ AUSSTATS/abs@nrp.nsf/Latestproducts/23505Population/People12006-2010?opendocument&tabname=Summary&prodn o=23505&issue=2006-2010 Ballinger, R. (2012, 13/04/2012). Prescribed Burners canâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;t see the forest for the trees, The Age. Retrieved from http://www. theage.com.au/opinion/society-and-culture/prescribed-burners-cant-see-the-forest-for-the-trees-20120412-1wwj4.html Carbonell, R. (2012). Concerns controlled burns not protecting communities Retrieved 27/10/2012, from http://www.abc. net.au/news/2012-02-17/concerns-controlled-burns-not-protecting-communities/3835892 Corner, J. (1999). Recovering Landscape as a Critical Cultural Practice In J. Corner (Ed.), Recovering Landscape (pp. 1-26). New York: Princeton Architectural Press. Fisher, P. M. J. (2012). Melbourne. In E. J. Blakely & A. Carbonell (Eds.), Resilient Coastal City Regions (pp. 145-180). Cambridge, USA: Lincoln Institute of Land Policy. Flannery, T. (1994). The Future Eaters. Sydney: Reed New Holland. Gammage, B. (2011). The biggest estate on earth : how Aborigines made Australia. Crows Nest, N.S.W.: Allen & Unwin. Jennings, F. (2003). The Invasion of America - Indians Colonialism, and the Cant of Conquest. North Carolina, USA: Universit of North Carolina Press. KQED (Producer). (2009, 27/02/2013). Spark - Jim Devenan. [Online Video] Retrieved from http://www.youtube.com/ watch?v=dxjU93JTcao Latz, P. (2007). The Flaming Desert: Arid Australia - A Fire Shared Landscape: Peter Latz. McFadzean, G. (2010, 03/09/2010). Burning Victoria will not secure our future, Opinion, Sydney Morning Herald. Retrieved from http://www.smh.com.au/opinion/politics/burning-victoria-will-not-secure-our-future-20100803-1148q.html Meyer, E. (1994). Landscape Architecture as Modern Other and Post Modern Ground. In H. Edquist & V. Bird (Eds.), The Culture of Landscape Architecture (pp. 13-34). Melbourne EDGE Publishing. Phillip, C. o. P. (2010). Climate Adaption Plan: Climate Adept City. Melbourne: Highlight Printing. Relph, E. (2008). A Pragmatic sense of place. In F. Vanclay, M. Higgins & A. Blackshaw (Eds.), Making Sense of Place. Canberra: National Museum of Australia. Smithson, R. (1966). Entropy and The New Monuments. Unpublished Writings, from http://www.robertsmithson.com/essays/ entropy_and.htm Tuan, Y.-F. (1974). Topophilia: A Study of Environmental Perception, Attitudes and Values. New Jersey: Prentice-Hall. Whitehouse, H. (2011). Talking Up Country: Language, Natureculture and Interculture in Australian Environmental Education Research. [Article]. Australian Journal of Environmental Education, 27, 56-67.


Indigenous wisdom 26. Indigenous Knowledge and Climate Change: The Wathaurong and Gadubanud Narrative for the Great Ocean Road Region Roos P Deakin University abstract For more than forty thousand years the Aboriginal people of Australia have been confronted with major climate, ecological and geological changes as well as annual seasonal variations. Many of these changes have been captured in the cultural traditions of Maar (the people) of the South-west Victorian Coast and the knowledge has been transferred from generation to generation through Dreaming stories. Many Dreaming stories recount the forming of the coastal landscape and Sea Country. Weather patterns and climate change were gauged by the occurrence of natural events such as the tidal changes, sea level rise, landscape changes, behaviour of animals, and the availability of food sources. Can this ancient knowledge provide answers for adaptation and resilience to a rapid changing climate? Drawing upon recent literature on coastal climate change in the Great Ocean Road Region (GORCC, 2012), literature review of indigenous environmental planning (Kooyang Sea Country Plan, 2004), and investigation of settlement patterns of the Wathaurong and Gadubanud people, this paper reviews the changes in the landscape due to climate change and explores traditional knowledge as input to a potential design based adaptation model for coastal settlements of the Great Ocean Road Region. Introduction Recent events of extreme weather, floods and unprecedented fires in Australia; all major climatic events that impact and change conventional seasons across the continent, are constantly reminding us about climate change and the need to adapt, mitigate and to construct and plan resilience strategies (Flannery, 2005). For more than 200 years of colonial residency in this vast continent (Jones, 2012), Western European concepts are still failing to adapt and understand the harsh climatic cycles, and with a rapid changing climate due to anthropogenic causes, this limited knowledge of the environment is being put to the test. Contrary to this short period of knowledge, there is an estimated over 40,000 years of accumulated environmental knowledge in Indigenous systems of Aboriginal Australia (Prober, 2011). The daily way of life for Indigenous people in Australia and in Victoria required extensive knowledge of the relationships between weather patterns, the natural landscape and the sea, enabling them to observe and forecast its constant changes. Based on this knowledge, Indigenous calendars reflected annual changes within ‘six seasons’, helping them to nurture the environment for survival. Contemporary Aboriginal communities still believe that a close relationship with the land is vital for the survival of future generations: “We the Aboriginal people of Victoria have existed on this land for thousands of years.We have nurtured the environment for thousands of years, always acknowledging our inherent responsibility to care for country.The lore of the land is the very heart of our existence, and our culture – this is what land means to us.Within this meaning lies our great respect for the land and the understanding that is vital to maintain a holistic relationship with country.” (SAMLIV, 2003) Clearly this wealth of Indigenous knowledge, systems and the associated environmental experience of the land can offer alternate avenues to better understand adaptive responses to a changing climate in Australia and its environment. Methodology To establish the relation between the landscape management and settlement patterns of Aboriginal people in the past, and adaptation considerations for future climate change of settlements along the Great Ocean Road Coast Region, this paper investigates the use of Indigenous knowledge as potential input to a design based adaptation model for changing landscapes of the coast under future climate effects. The methodology used followed a systematic process as follows: 1. Literature review: a. Aboriginal heritage and settlements in the South-west Victorian coast, settlement patterns and environmental management practices b. Risk assessments of climate change and sea level rise along the Great Ocean road coastal region c. Analysis of environmental design theory and pattern language for settlements 2. Discussion and conclusions Aboriginal heritage and Sea Country Australia’s Aboriginal people live close to the land, and they have a distinct way of identifying our connection with the world. Instead of viewing actions of nature and man as instant and individual disconnected processes, they tend to see


Indigenous wisdom the whole picture (Chauncy, 1878).This wholeness with nature is embedded within tradition, culture and daily activities. Along the Australian coast, for centuries Indigenous people have been confronted with climate, ecological and geological changes, and they have believed holistically that all natural phenomena, such as the wind, fire and rain, are integrally connected (Aveni, 2000). As part of Indigenous reflections of the wide range of atmospheric phenomena and the past, ‘Dreaming Stories’ record the actions of Ancestors who left behind physical representations in the landscape (Jones, 2012). To explain the value and importance of the coastal environment and the connection of Aboriginal people to the land, the Dreaming Story of creation of Punjil and Pallian reflects the methods of traditional learning and transferring of knowledge to future generations (Thomas, 1969). The story reflects the authority that Aboriginal ancestors had over the land and the sea, which has been passed down to the current generations and is motivating the Wathaurong and Gadubanud people to seek exercise in current times of environmental pressure and climate change for looking after the Sea Country. The short summary below of the unjil and Pallian Dreaming Story reflects the interconnection of wholeness, nature and humans (FATWMAC, 2004): “Punjil is the maker of earth, trees, animals, man and woman. Punjil had a wife named Boi Boi, but he never saw her face. She bore him two children, one a son named Binbeal and the other a daughter named Kara-karook.To Binbeal is committed the sovereignty of the heaven and to Kara-karook the incidental occurrences on earth; while great Punjil stalks like a big gentleman in the clouds, on the earth, and always carrying a big sword. Pallian, brother of Punjil, made all seas, rivers, creeks and waters, also all the fish in the oceans, seas and rivers. He governs the waters, was always in the waters, walking, bathing, and going over the seas. One day when our ancestors awoke, Punjil, Pallian and Karakarook had gone up above. They had departed from Deen Maar (Lady Julia Percy Island), which remains sacred to our people to the present day” – William Thomas, 1989. The dreamtime stories reflect environmental knowledge, social behaviour, ritual, morality, religious and cosmology views (Roberts, 1975). The dreamtime stories are the master plan for representing the past, and the present (Elkin, 1948). These dreamtime stories provide information on specific patterns that occurred in the daily life of the Indigenous people, including the landscape approach by the Wathaurong and Gadubanud. Knowing the six seasons allows for better environmental planning and land use. Six Seasons Using natural resources to manage the landscape, the Whathaurong, Gadubanud, Jardwadjali, Djab Wurrung and the Gunditjmara tribes of the South-west Victorian area had specific settlement patterns that followed the changes in nature and climate. An important element to these patterns is the knowledge of a six season weather cycle. In the South-west Victorian region, the six seasons of the Gunditjmara are expressed in non standard temporal phases that can be summarized as follows (Jones, 2012): • Late Summer

– Season of Kooyong* (Eels) *also pronounced Koorang

• Autumn

– Season of Gwangal Moronn (Honey Bees)

• Winter

– Season of Chinnup (Cockatoos)

• Early Spring

– Season of Larneuk (Nesting Birds)

• Spring

– Season of Petyan (Wildflowers)

• Early Summer

– Season of Balalambar (Butterflies)

The following chart reflects these seasons in a circular manner, that express the cyclical nature of Indigenous seasons – applicable to the South-west Country / region at lake Condah:


Indigenous wisdom

Figure 1: Seasonal Calendar of Gunditjmara. (Source: Jones (ed.) 2010. ‘Lake Condah & Budj Bim National Heritage Landscape Report’)

Other examples of more long term climate cycles and knowledge of weather were recorded in the two cycles, the Mudong, or life cycle that stretches for 12 years, and the Garuwanga, the Dreaming that is a cycle that stretches between 12,000 to 20,000 years (Kingsley, 2003). It must be noted that the cycles of seasons are only applicable to ‘country’, local based in different regions on the Australian continent. Environmental management by living with nature In Victoria, the Aboriginal people have an intimate and ongoing relationship with coastal and marine environments stretching over thousands of years and up to the present day. This ongoing relationship is reflected in the cultural sites present along Victoria’s coast, with the current relationship with nature based on a long tradition of ownership, stewardship, utilisation and cultural significance. For Indigenous people, their cultural values are built upon traditional use, spiritual connection, ancestral connections and respect for the land and Sea Country, including the resources that land and sea provide (Smith, 1980). This connection with nature resulted in methods of management of the environment, landscape and the natural resources. One example of these ancient environmental management practices is reflected in the traditions of the Maar (the people), where the management culture was built around the Kooyang* (Short-finned eel / Anguilla australis), nourished and managed for a sustainable food source. The Gunditjmara and Gadubanud people’s food economy was based on building permanent systems in the rivers and wetlands for harvesting the oceanic eels during their migratory runs in fresh water.


Indigenous wisdom

Figure 2: Part of a Lake Condah fish trap system (Source: Coutts et al 1978: figure 9).

The building of the fish traps and stone structures are a result of the understanding of the patterns of nature, in this instance within the six seasons, a certain time period of the year when the short fin eel migrate up and down the river systems, from and back into the sea. This is the Kooyang time, the season of eels. This season was classified as late summer, the hottest and driest time of the year, and the risks of bushfires (Brambuk Centre). Patterns of the past The fertile volcanic planes of the Gunditjmara and Gadubanud peopleâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s area in South-western Victoria, provided for abundance of freshwater, plants, wildlife and fish, which enabled clans to settle and build dwellings, more permanent structure types than those built by other nomadic Aboriginal peoples who lived in arid areas of Australia (Smith, 1980) In coastal zones and where the weather patterns are more dynamic, adaptive and light structures were built as shelter, and settlement patterns occur according to the variations of seasons. In geographical areas further away from the coast, with more landscape features that can provide shelter against weather and climate impacts, such as in the lake Condah area, more permanent shelters were built.These more long-term settlement patterns include stone structures for housing as well as using stone technology to build extensive traps, channels and holding areas to catch fish and to grow the Kooyang - short finned eels. Extensive stone structures were also built by the Aboriginal people in Western Victoria (Coutts, 1978).

Figure 3: Stone houses-Lake Condah (Source: IAV- Indigenous Architecture Victoria)

Various stone structures in the region reflected practices of landscape management. Stone arrangements across Southwest Victoria was classified by Lane and Fullagar in four categories of stone arrangements by function, these are (Lane, 1980):


Indigenous wisdom 1. Technological – relating to food gathering and storage 2. Technological – relating to shelter 3. Demographic – relating to various religious, cosmology and mythical rules 4. Demographic – relating to boundaries of tribal areas, and settlements A reoccurring phenomenon of these stone arrangements in each of the categories above is the circular arrangement, and the alignment with natural, geographical landforms. Through the literature study, it was found that the importance of centers was entrenched in the customs and culture of the Indigenous people. The circular geometry of the shelters and structures was derived from the tradition where younger members and Elders sat in a circle, facing one another (Tawa, 1998). In this arrangement, there is no clear distinction between the Elder and the young. The engagement in conversation happens around the center, the center acts as natural phenomena of gravity and wholeness.This principle of centers occurs also within the connectivity with environmental management and settlement patterns within the coastal region, and where larger stone structures were built, it was mostly circular, these structures where referred to as ‘stone circles’ in studies done by Smyth and Johns (Chauncy, 1878). More recently interest has been raised on an arrangement of large stones weighing up to 500kg in a circumference of over 200m in length, at the You Yangs mountains, known as Wurdi Youang. This stone circle, located on the land and constructed by the Wathaurong, is recorded as an astronomical marker, it faces east, and its two straighter sides point to the horizon where the sun rises at the summer solstice and winter solstice. The centerline lines up exactly with the equinox (Begg, 2013). Aboriginal people used the sky as a calendar for rituals as well as to indicate when it was time to move to a new location or for a new food supply (Coutts, 1978).

Figure 4: Aerial view of the ancient stone circle near the You Yangs mountains (Source:The Geelong Advertiser, Peter Begg, 2013)

The above discovery supports the recordings that the Aboriginal peoples of the South-west Victoria reflected through ‘dreamtime’, cosmologies and cosmogonies their beliefs with regard to the wholeness of the land, sea and universe. (Thomas, 1969). The knowledge of ‘the sky’ was part of ancient stories told from generation to generation (Thomas, 1969). Language of patterns – the Wholeness Considering the future survival of communities along the Great Ocean Road Coast, including the values and attributes that provide a foundation of the broader and Indigenous cultural stability in the region, the planning and design for adaptation needs to consider the duality of man and nature. Similarly than the Aboriginal belief regarding oneness with nature, various theories of planning and design exists that has a common thread, the consideration of the whole. The wholeness of spatial configurations is present in many natural occurring events, phenomena, and aspects of complex systems behaviour (Alexander,2003). In the theory of pattern language, Alexander describes the formula that leads to a good liveable and sustainable built environment as a set of patterns, a system of explicit steps, for creating living structures within the regional environment. The generative codes in the theory are specific to the environment, and can be found in nature through the process of morphogenesis. The theory defines the word ‘generative’ as a process where there is always a sequence, an order, instructions that follow the rule of centers which appear within the larger whole as distinct and noticeable parts


Indigenous wisdom (Alexander, 2004).The principle of centers defined in this theory is not the center of a place, but the collective centers of an environment that create wholeness. It is the living structure that creates centers, mostly evident in nature and physics. The center is a field that functions as an organized field of force in space (Alexander, 1980). The author argues that it is this organized field of force in space that is evident in the beliefs and structures that have been created by the Aboriginal peoples, as indicated in Figure 5. The striking similarity of Alexander’s thinking and the Aboriginal people’s concept of the principles of wholeness are plausible.

Figure 5: Formations and Dreaming elements indicating a possible philosophical language of patterns connected with nature based on centers (Source: Roös, 2013)

So how do we link this knowledge and occurring patterns of the past to adaptation solutions for the future? This author argues that if the traditional patterns of settlement and environmental management technology are based on the principle of centers, which connect humans and nature as a whole, that this new identified language of patterns based on theory of design and Indigenous knowledge can be used as a code to develop a design based adaptation model for settlements and landscape against future climate change impacts. Rising sea levels and coastal impacts The landscapes along the coastline in the Sea Country of South-west Victoria are changing under pressures of natural phenomena, climate effects, and Western European settlement and population growth. The coast is a dynamic place and the environment of the coastal zone makes it susceptible to stresses and changes in a number of ways, adding to this issue is sea level rise. There is undoubtedly, unequivocal evidence of warming of the global climate system, and the Intergovernmental Panel on Climate Change (IPCC) predicted in their Fourth Assessment Report (2007), that under plausible scenarios for global change and emissions of greenhouse gases, temperatures would increase by between about 2 and 4°C (relative to 1980-1999) by the end of the century.They found that after accounting for thermal expansion of ocean waters and ice cap retreat, this will include sea levels rising up to about 0.79m by 2100 (IPCC, 2007).These estimates remain uncertain and end of century sea level rises in other models are predicted to be more than 1.0m, with 1.5m even considered plausible (Rahmstorf, 2007). Rising sea levels will bring change to the Victorian coastal zone, impacting beaches, marine environments, estuaries, wetlands and low lieing human settlements resulting in a changed coastal environment (DCC, 2009). The nature of the South-west Victorian coast landforms means that while parts of the coast are highly resistant to erosion, the beaches and erodible sediments found in other locations are quite susceptible to coastal recession as sea levels rise. The Surf


Indigenous wisdom Coastal Climate Change Vulnerability and Adaptation report identified that significantly increased numbers of natural, cultural as well as built assets are located in areas that could be affected by coastal recession when allowing for 100m of recession for each metre of sea level rise in susceptible areas (GORCC, 2012). In the Surf Coast region various areas of cultural and heritage sites are facing inundation due to sea level rise, coastal recession as well as tidal and permanent flooding caused by storm surges. The coastal environment has been effected in the past in a similar way.

Figure 6: Diagram indicating locations of heritage sites and sea level rise (Source: RoĂśs, 2012 â&#x20AC;&#x201C; Redrawn from GORCC and Marshall, B. 2012)

Past marine transgressions dramatically affected the landscape and Aboriginal settlement along these coastlines, as they have varied significantly as a result of these broader climatic and sea level changes (Marshall, 2012). The migration of Aboriginal settlements inland due to rising seawaters can be traced and mapped, through the analysis of patterns of midden sites and their locations. In the context of Aboriginal settlement, the marine transgressions associated with late glacial and interglacial periods are particularly relevant, as indicated in Figure 7 that the coastline of the CentralWestern Victorian region and Tasmania has changed drastically, reflecting changes between 12000 years BP (Before Present) and the coastline today (2012).

Figure 7: Progressive coastline configurations of the Victorian coast at sea levels of post last glacial maximum (LGM) between 12,000 years BP and today. (Source Monash University)

The coastal landscape is continuing to change and the recession of the coastline will impact the visual, coastal, cultural and landscape values. Communities on the coast exist due to the high visual and natural attributes of these assets,


Indigenous wisdom including significant Indigenous heritage sites (Green, 2010). The specific assets that are vulnerable to changes due to sea level rise, and related to the values of Indigenous people are represented in Table 1, extracted from a long list of assets and values reflected in Table 3, page 32 of the Coastal Climate Change Vulnerability and Adaptation report (GORCC, 2012). Asset class

Description of risk(s) due to sea level rise


Loss of beach width and associated recreational or tourist usage due to temporary/ permanent inundation. Loss of amenity.

Creeks and estuaries

Loss of vegetation, destruction of fauna/flora habitat, change in water quality and ecology resulting from elevated sea levels, erosion and sedimentation.

Cultural heritage features

Damage to heritage sites from erosion/recession/inundation leading to loss of cultural values, tourism attraction and local knowledge. Increased maintenance expenditure.

Dune and cliff habitats and fauna

Loss of vegetation and destruction of habitat.

Inter-tidal habitats and fauna

Loss of habitat

Table 1: Key Assets/Values of the Surf Coast impacted by Sea Level Rise (Adapted from Source: GORCC, 2012)

Considering the importance of the natural environment, the coastal zone, estuaries and location of cultural sites, the loss of these habitats will be detrimental to cultural values, as well as the general attributes of the coast that is the core of survival of communities living in the South-west Victoria coastal region. Clearly there is a pattern that indicates the changes in climate, landscape and loss of values. By connecting the patterns in the processes of nature with the design of settlements, we can use these changes in the landscape and traditional knowledge as input to design and adaptation methods for settlements along the Great Ocean Road Coast. Indigenous Knowledge and Design Based Adaptation Input to the adaptation model will take into account the Indigenous community perceptions, environmental mapping of patterns determined and influenced by land use management, food gathering, bush burning, and the seasonal movement of settlement patterns. This knowledge underpins long-term land management strategies between a thousand to ten thousand years but also offer information to climate change implications because of the recording of variations in seasonal cues (Jones, 2012). Various frameworks and models have been developed to address the issues relating to adaptation for climate change impacts in coastal areas. Coastal adaptation policy approaches also varies due to location to deal with climate change. Coastal planning policy include four classifications to deal with climate change impacts, and responses are formulated based on the classification of do nothing, retreat, defend or adapt (Roรถs, 2012, Norman, 2009). The approaches have been widely used to examine response to climate change impacts (Norman, 2009). Although decisions can be made for climate change adaptation actions based on risk assessments and planning policies, this author argues it is the nature of order and the patterns that is inherent in the qualities and values of the land and community structures, driven by generative principles of the settlement patterns based on centers that will influence the future character and use of space in changed landscapes under a future climate. Combining the process of a risk based adaptation framework with a landscape management model based on Indigenous knowledge, using the methods of design patterns and generative design, the Design Based Adaptation Model (DBAM) can be used to chart the changes and consequences through design.This will help the communities to better appreciate how the landscape will change and can therefore inform adaptive responses of the physical and social infrastructure under future climate effects (Roรถs, 2012). The relationship between the risk based adaptation framework, Indigenous knowledge and a design based adaptation process are demonstrated in Figure 8.


Indigenous wisdom

Figure 8: Design Based Adaptation Model (Redrawn from Source Roös, 2012)

Discussion & Conclusion This substantive research and analysis has resulted in the following tentative conclusions and hypothesis: • Indigenous knowledge of weather patterns and climate change were gauged by the occurrence of natural events such as the tidal changes, sea level rise, landscape changes, behaviour of animals, and the availability of food sources; • Climate knowledge and the use of six seasonal calendars assist in management practice in which to better appraise short and long term environmental patterns and changes; • Indigenous settlement patterns and landscape management based on the principles of human connection to nature, the wholeness and centers provides for an holistic biophysical approach to adaptation; • Sustainable futures of communities are required to support the co-evolution of human and natural systems so that both natural and social capital is included for adaptation, and thus secure a future of resilience. Thus, adaptation planning and design for resilience against future climate impacts can be strongly supported by the development of a Design Based Adaptation Model based on the principle of centers, which connects humans and nature as a whole. The Indigenous knowledge of climate and natural phenomena provide a culturally integrated framework as input to a new adaptation model that could better the climate change adaptation models currently in practice in Australia. Most importantly is to develop approaches that support the co-evolution of human and natural systems so that both natural and social capital is supported under a future climate scenario. Further Research Currently further research is being undertaken by the author in the form of a PhD thesis that addresses the research question: “What are the requirements for a design based model in establishing sustainable coastal communities and their connectivity in a future changed climate?” Using the principles and methodology of the connectivity of centers, which connects humans and nature as a whole, the Design Based Adaptation Model needs to be further developed to ensure its robustness and application in the wider region of the Victorian Coast. The findings of the testing of the model can provide valuable outcomes for its possible application to the rest of Australian coastal settlements, and even for settlements on the shores of coastlines on a global scale.


Indigenous wisdom Acknowledgements The author wants to acknowledge the support of supervisors Professor David Jones, and Assoc. Professor Geoffrey Wescott at Deakin University, School of Architecture & Built Environment, and Faculty of Science & Technology. The author also wants to acknowledge the provision of background information in various publications provided by the Winda Mara Aboriginal Corporation and the Wathaurong Aboriginal Co-Operative. References Alexander, C. (1980). The Nature of Order - An Essay on the Art of Building and the Nature of the Universe, Book Two The Process of Creating Life. Berkeley California: The Centre for Environmental Structure. Alexander, C. (2003). New Concepts in Complexity Theory - Arising from Studies in the Field of Architecture. Berkeley, California: Centre for Environmental Structure. Alexander, C. (2004). Sustainability and Morphogenesis: The Birth of a Living World. Berkeley, California: Centre for Environmental Structure. Aveni, A. (2000). Empires of Time: Clocks and Cultures. London: Tauris Parke Paperbacks. Begg, P. (2013, February 20th ). Local stonehenge excites foreigners . Retrieved February 27, 2013, from The Geelong Advertiser: www.geelongadvertiser.com.au Brambuk Centre. (n.d.). The Brambuk Centre. Retrieved February 28th, 2013, from http://www.brambuk.com.au/ gariwerdsixseasons.htm Chauncy, P. (1878). The Aborigines of Victoria with Notes Relating to the Habits of the Natives of Other Parts of Australia and Tasmania. Notes and Anecdotes . Melbourne, Victoria, Australia: HS. Coutts, P. R. (1978). Aboriginal Engineers of the Western District, Victoria. Melbourne: Records of the Victorian Archaeological Survey 7. DCC. (2009). Climate Change Risks to Australia’s Coast: A First Pass National Assessment. Canberra: Department of Climate Change - DCC, Commonwealth of Australia. Elkin, A. (1948). The Australian Aborigines. Sydney: Angus and Robertson. FATWMAC. (2004). Kooyang Sea Country Plan. Heywood, Victoria: Framlingham Aboriginal Trust and Winda Mara Aboriginal Corporation - FATWMAC. Flannery, T. (2005). The Weather Makers. Melbourne: The Text Publishing Company. GORCC. (2012). Coastal Climate Change Vulnerability and Adaptation. Melbourne: Great Ocean Road Coast Committee GORCC. Green, R. (2010). Coastal Towns in Transition - Local Perceptions of Landscape Change. Melbourne: CSIRO Publishing. Intergovernmental Panel on Climate Change IPCC. (2007). Climate Change: Synthesis Report - Summary of Policy Makers. IPCC. Jones, D. S., D. Low Choy, P.A. Clarke & R. Hale (2012). Watching clouds over country: Reconsidering Australian Indigenous perspectives about environmental change and climate change. UPE10 Symposium (pp. 148 - 159). Sydney: ICMS Pty Ltd. Kingsley, D. (2003, August 14). The Lost Seasons. Retrieved February 27, 2013, from ABC Science: http://www.abc.net.au/ science/ Lane, L. (1980). Previously unrecorded Aboriginal stone alignments in Victoria. SA: The Victorian Archaeological Survey. Marshall, B. (2012). Aboriginal Cultural Heritage Conservation Manual: GORCC Crown Land Reserves between Torquay and Lorne. Northcote, VIC: Terra Culture. Norman, B. (2009). Planning for Coastal Climate Change: An Insight Into International and National Approaches. Melbourne: Department of Planning and Community Development. Prober, S. M. (2011). Australian Aboriginal Peoples’ Seasonal Knowledge: a Potential Basis for Shared Understanding in Environmental Management. Retrieved February 27, 2013, from Ecology and Society: http://www.ecologyandsociety.org/ vol16/iss2/art12/ Rahmstorf, S. (2007). A Semi-emperical approach to projecting future sea-level rise. Science 315(5810) , 368-370. Roberts, A. (1975). Dreamtime Heritage . Sydney: Rigby. Roös, P. & Jones, D (2012). Visions of the Surf Coast – Changing Landscapes Under Future Climate Effects. UPE10


Indigenous wisdom Symposium (pp. 361- 372). Sydney: ICMS Pty Ltd. SAMLIV. (2003). Draft Strategy for Aboriginal Managed Lands in Victoria. Melbourne: Strategy for Aboriginal Managed Lands in Victoria Steering Committee (SAMLIV). Smith, L. (1980). The Aboriginal Population of Australia. Aborigines in Australia Society , 14. Tawa, M. (1998). Weaving Around. Architecture Australia, Vol.87, No.5 , 62-67. Thomas, W. (1969). Brief Account Of The Aborigines of Australia Felix. In T.F.Bride, Letters from Victorian Pioneers (pp. 398437). Heinemann. VCC. (2008). Victorian Coastal Strategy. Melbourne: Victorian Coastal Council - VCC.

27. Con-nect Con-text: Making Research Rooted in the Regional Traditions of the Place Smith K, Burkett D University of Louisiana at Lafayette Abstract The Con-nect: Con-text project was developed to give students a way of understanding how to work within a specific region or place by asking them to uncover the already existing physical and cultural system that gave order to place. The landscape and its ordering systems were understood through the critical study and understanding of the ways in which the relationships between components within the systems would operate, interact, and reveal their connections and even sometimes their disconnections. Ordering systems were explored through a process of making research with an emphasis on craft, rooted in the regional traditions of the place.The goals of this project are four-fold. One, give the students a way of looking at place by asking them to work with the landscape rather than on the landscape.Two, to allow the students to fine tune their skills through a thinking by making approach.Three, develop tools to create design solutions that become responsive and resilient. Four, develop tools to communicate in the context of a competition. Through this critical engagement with the physical conditions and cultural traditions of the place, the most successful projects transcended obvious and representational relationships and instead forged new operational understandings, suggesting new landscape, architectural and infrastructural forms. These new forms suggest a deeper way of working within the site and within the given problem. This project forces an approach that looks for solutions already embedded within the problem. By looking at how the existing physical and cultural landscape operates student are better positioned to respond to the given problems in a way that works with the ever changing forces that surround it. Projects become responsive. Key Words: Making, Operational, Tectonics The Con-nect: Con-text project was developed to give students a way of understanding how to work within a specific region or place by asking them to uncover the already existing physical and cultural system that gave order to place. The landscape and its ordering systems were understood through the critical study and understanding of the ways in which the relationships between components within the systems would operate, interact, and reveal their connections and even sometimes their disconnections. Ordering systems were explored through a process of making research with an emphasis on craft, rooted in the regional traditions of the place. The goals of this project are four-fold. One, give the students a way of looking at place by asking them to work with the landscape rather than on the landscape. Two, to allow the students to fine tune their skills through a thinking by making approach. Three, develop tools to create design solutions that become responsive and resilient. Four, develop tools to communicate in the context of a competition. While the project requires that the students document their investigation both graphically and physically, the main emphasis is on the act of translating the analysis into an analogous three dimensional artefact that deployed regional tectonics. By understanding the operational nature of the ordering systems, the students began drawing and making artefacts that begin to bring forth the “constructional element which is present, but hidden”(Frampton, 1990) in the systems. By understanding the operational language of the systems the students positioned themselves to develop a tectonic language that was of the place. Operational language was understood as how the parts within the system act or interact to result in the physical condition that they form. Using this understanding the student would begin making the language through tectonic assemblies. The physical models were to have no base and use no glue or “foreign” fasteners. This forced the students to use the language of the ordering systems as the joint or connection, using terms such as weaving, binding, tension and compression, as a point of departure (Image 1). Through the duration of the


Indigenous wisdom project, emphasis was placed on the joint or detail between the two ordering systems. Understanding how the two systems interact, or how the components within a system interact led the students to develop the joint or detail, and to resolve it within the systems language or system tectonic.

Image 1

In the Con-nect: Con-text project student are asked to start by identifying two ordering systems within the TecheVermillion Basin in southern Louisiana. By looking at the site as a set of interrelated systems it became necessary for the students to go beyond the typical conventions of site analysis such as sun and wind studies and look at deeply rooted physical conditions such as how the Mississippi river and Gulf currents have shaped the regional landscape. This territory “is bordered on the east by the West Atchafalaya Basin Protection Levee, on the west by Freshwater Bayou Canal and Louisiana Highway 82, on the north by the Lafayette/Vermilion and St. Martin/Iberia parish lines, and on the south by the Gulf of Mexico.”[2] Within this territory lies a diverse array of natural and man-made conditions such as, natural and man-made levees, spoil banks, interior and coastal marshes, oil and gas excavation.

Image 2

The project in image 2 focused on islands within the interior marshes that were created by the tension of salt domes being pushed up from the earth. Creating hills that rise out of the relatively flat landscape. As people begin to mine the salt, they slowly remove the tension that is building the islands. Compression then becomes the stronger force, which weakens the structure of the salt domes causing subsidence and eventually collapse. The tectonic expression of this site condition began with the exploration of the natural forces that gave the place its physical form, tension and compression. Through multiple iterations the final resolution resulted in a structure that realizes how this delicate balance operates. While the systems that this project looked at were at the geological scale, the tectonic resolution of the work was through the use of the unit multiple. This translation allowed for the student to develop a project that was “programmed” in an operational way that reflected the nature of the systems rather than it becoming a sculptural representation of the place. This programmatic understanding of the artefact provides insight into how the “... built form is a presence rather than something standing for an absence.” (Frampton, 1990), thus allowing the artefact to be derived from the place. Other projects focused on coastal issues that have potentially harmful effects to the ecosystems of the region. The project in Image 3 attempts to explore the relationship between the water exchange and changing salinity levels through understanding the balance created between the two systems and the resulting chaos or destruction from imbalance. In the Teche-Vermilion Basin, the water exchange that cause fluctuations in saline levels, although dependent on other systems, are partly responsible for the ratio of marshland to open water and the biodiversity that results, however, if rapid fluctuations in salinity levels do occur, vegetation dies quickly, leaving no food supply for wildlife or physical structure to hold in place previously deposited sediments. This form of research through making allows students to become intimately tied to the place within which they are working, and allows the students to evolve an


Indigenous wisdom idea into a strategy that addresses multiple issues. With this particular project, the understanding that water exchange rates have increased and become more intrusive led the student to begin to explore the landforms created by the oil and gas industry (spoil banks) and their effects on the marshland. This continued exploration and research culminated in a project that attempted to use new infrastructural forms to create an adaptive solution that gives into the changing landscape conditions.

Image 3

This approach also allows the students to question the appropriateness of their design solution. As Andrew Zolli and Ann Marie Healy suggest (2012), a more systemic approach to design research and design can lead to a more resilient and responsive solution to a given problem. The potential is to question whether the design solution becomes a physical intervention or policy intervention. While many of the projects remained focused within the given region, some students were directed by a deeper understanding of their systems to look outside of the boundaries of their site. For example, to uncover the reason for hypoxic zones within the Southern Louisiana Marshes and the Gulf of Mexico, one student refocused his observations to look at farming practices upstream of the Mississippi river as the possible source. This approach led to the discovery that there were many contributors to the problem. One option for this project is to design some physical intervention to address the water contents. Another solution of this project is to design policy changes that could effect the farming and industrial practices. While either solution on it own may not be enough to eliminate the chances of it happening again and rectify the issue, the two together have a greater chance at effecting change and also addressing the issue should it develop again. Through this critical engagement with the physical conditions and cultural traditions of the place, the most successful projects transcended obvious and representational relationships and instead forged new operational understandings, suggesting new landscape, architectural and infrastructural forms. These new forms suggest a deeper way of working within the site and within the given problem.This project forces an approach that looks for solutions already embedded within the problem. By looking at how the existing physical and cultural landscape operates student are better positioned to respond to the given problems in a way that works with the ever changing forces that surround it. Projects become responsive. Bibliographic References Frampton, K., (1990). Rappel a L’orde, the Case for the Tectonic. Architectural design 60, no. 3-4. 19-25 “The Teche/Vermillion Basin,” Coastal Wetlands Planning, Protection and Restoration Act Retrieved (n.d.) from http://lacoast.gov/new/About/Basin_data/tv/Default.aspx Zolli, A., & Healy, A. M., (2012). Resilience: Why things bounce back. New York, NY: Free Press. Image Credits Image 1. Jency Landry Image 2. Trent Husser Image 3. Guy Dugas


Indigenous wisdom 28. Landscape Architecture without Landscape Architects: Innovation in the Shadow Conservation Network of Cultural Landscapes Watson J RPI abstract The vernacular of the world’s traditional and indigenous peoples has historically inspired innovation in the field of architecture. However, so far there has been minimal impact on the fields of landscape architecture and urbanism. Meanwhile ecologists and conservation biologists have begun to respond to a powerful critique from anthropologists, who point out that “indigenous peoples live in most of the ecosystems that conservationists are so anxious to protect.”[5] Some studies go further, suggesting that indigenous peoples have not simply been preserving, but catalytically increasing ecosystem biodiversity, through subtle modifications and ecological mimicry, for millennia.The following essay introduces this bio-cultural model of conservation into the field of landscape architecture, using several case studies of migration and adaptation. Landscape architecture is presently querying how design can successfully manifest complex human and non-human species interactions. As for the vernacular, the neglected practices of indigenous peoples have the potential to cast new light upon ecological design practices. Influencing Architecture’s fascination with the non-pedigreed architecture, Bernard Rudofksy (1964) accounted that the vernacular remains unnoticed, being overshadowed by our western fixation on the higher arts, coupled by a lack of documentation of these vernacular practices. [30] This alternative theory of the Indigenous Landscape System affords a new direction of inquiry for landscape architecture, prompting the exploration of the cultural landscape to inspire ecological innovation and an engagement with the ancient that we are only beginning to understand. In millennia to come, the present paleontological period of the Anthropocene will be remembered as the time when man’s vast influence triggered the Sixth Great Extinction.[6, 23] Almost twenty years has passed since Richard Leakey published his controversial claims on Conservation and species loss, disproving Darwin’s belief that extinction only happened slowly.[13] Today, species loss is accelerating, as shown by indicators like the Living Planet Index (LPI). In that time we have witnessed the global expansion of the inherited American Conservation model, now practiced worldwide as the international Protected Area Movement, which is proving inadequate to stem these losses. Indeed it has led to the displacement of millions of Conservation refugees,[7] most of whom are indigenous peoples removed from their traditional homelands. But there is an alternative approach, which is the topic explored in this paper. The global network of traditional and indigenous peoples’ sacred natural sites form a shadow conservation network of cultural landscapes considered to be the world’s oldest conservation areas. The overlap of indigenous territories and the world’s biodiversity hotspots was discovered in mappings that emerged after the Millennium Ecosystem Assessment that highlighted the spatial coincidence of cultural and biological diversity.[18] The discovery changed the field of Conservation Biology as indigenous peoples were acknowledged as critical inhabitants of the ecosystems that conservationists were so anxious to protect.[5] Our discordant engagement with the natural world harks back to the period of Enlightenment, when a view of the ‘Western’ world was formulated. It’s exclusivity over a great diversity of worldviews and their traditional knowledge and technological innovation gathered over millennia, left western civilization with its present predicament of limited innovative prescriptions.[3] Akin to the western ecosystem approach, ancient conservation models, which are most commonly watershed-based units, have existed in several Indigenous Amerindian, European, and Asian cultures for millennia.[3] The Hawaiian ahupua’a is a typically wedge-shaped watershed-based conservation unit composed of functionally integrated zones.[3] Encompassing entire valleys and stretching from mountain peaks to coastal waters, ahupua’a include forested watershed conservation uplands, integrated upland farming and coastal aquacultures, which are fringed by vegetated wind and storm surge barriers. These sacred watersheds were protected by generations of kings and shamans through knowledge passed on as ancient cosmological guidelines.[32] Here, the practice of habitat protection is intrinsically linked to the spiritual realm and unique worldviews, shaping attitudes towards environmental ethics and ecological engagement.[10] Continuous human interaction with natural systems creates unique and inseparable organizational, spatial and temporal couplings that can be found in the global shadow conservation network of sacred sites.[29] Indigenous knowledge and its associated infrastructures are recognized in a sub-field of human ecology called Traditional Ecological Knowledge (TEK). TEK catalogues the infinite variety of complex and continually adapting relationships of the world’s ‘ecosystem dwellers’.[28] These relatively undocumented relationships are termed coupled human-nature systems (CHANS). First appearing in scientific literature in 1999, they were preceded with the emergence of the field of TEK as an independent discipline. The CHANS models remain overlooked by designers yet offer successful examples of living ecological


Indigenous wisdom co-existence and innovation. Untangling their complexities can reveal novel discoveries for ecological designers still learning to integrate reciprocal effects and emergent properties into the design and management of landscapes. While the cultural argument for the design of biodiverse landscapes is still emerging in an era dominated by the ecosystem approach to design, this research profiles various exemplary insights from the less explored sacred territories described by Margaret Mead (1935) as the anthropological ‘other’. [27, 16] In ancient protected landscapes, indigenous and traditional peoples have been the catalyst for maintaining ecological richness through a multi-various range of subtle practices. These infrastructural interventions of ecological mimicry and ecosystem modification are conceptualized as Knowledge-Practice-Belief Complexes, in which the beliefs, customs, practices and worldviews become the foundation for conservation.[3] Native people’s indigenous infrastructures, understanding of species inter-relationships and models of adaptive management offer insights to the next several generations of designers now inheriting the legacy of the Anthropocene. As Edward O. Wilson the father of Biodiversity suggests, the only case for human survival and the most important challenge for the 21st century, will be to drag through this bottleneck period the greatest diversity of species possible.[34] As designers, our role in the prevention of catastrophe is three-fold; firstly, to preserve and restore the functionality of our remaining intact ecosystems; secondly, to protect species trait diversity and thirdly, to design replicable models for contemporary coupled human-nature systems. The translation of TEK into contemporary models for the design of landscape biodiversity offers timely innovations to inform landscape architecture’s developing conservation agenda. Hollings’ (1973) concept of ecological resilience largely depends on species trait diversity for continued adaptation in response to cycles of change, cyclical seasonal fluctuations and unexpected extraordinary events.[11, 19] All forms of life, whether animal or human, cause disturbance to an ecosystem. In the savannah, a nighttime foraging parade of elephants will leave a signature path of fallen trees, maintaining the vast grasslands. In search of the most succulent leaves, elephants use their immense strength to overturn mature specimens, snapping even the thickest trunks in half. Without this natural reversal of forest succession the savannah would quickly transform to forest and the critical herbivore habitat would be lost.The role of the elephant in maintaining the grassland ecosystem and the dependence of so many other species upon their nightly foraging activity signifies them as the savannahs ‘biological keystone species’. Thus, the effect on their environment that is disproportionately larger than their relative abundance has clear translations to the role humans play as ecosystem managers. Indigenous Innovation: Islandism, Aquaculture and Artificial Reefs Like the forestry techniques of elephants, native peoples have been maintaining grassland ecosystems using fire for millennia.The Mardu people of Western Australia continue to hunt, gather and manage their landscape with fire as their ‘keystone disturbance agent’, cultivating a mode of life that began in the Pleistocene.[4] Throughout the Americas, pyrotechnology in combination with shifting cultivation is still practiced by the Bora of the Amazon, the Ralamuli of New Mexico and many First Nation peoples of British Columbia, Alberta and Ontario.[3] To the Anishnaabe people of the Ojibwa Nation, from the shores of Shoal Lake in North-western Ontario, Ishkote or the ritualized ‘action of burning’ by both man or lightning refers to certain spatial and temporal dimensions of knowledge related to the use of fire and are overseen by the sacred Thunderbird. Pishashkooseewuhseekaag are the marsh fires lit over a few short weeks in early Spring. They are signalled by the ice on the lakes beginning to break while the ground remains frozen or by a change in the color of the ice from cloudy to clear.[23] The burning clears old grasses, stimulates the growth of blackberry patches and encourages new growth along with the movement of wind, reducing the incidence of mosquito infestation. The luxuriant regrowth is harvested as material for insulation while also providing habitat for ducks and muskrats. Evolving from the ecological concept of the keystone species, coined by Paine (1969), a newer term by Garibaldi and Turner (2004) ‘cultural keystone species’ has emerged.[19] Just as certain species of plants or animals appear to exhibit a particularly large influence on the ecosystem they inhabit, the same is true in social systems. Cultural keystone species are defined as “the culturally salient species that shape in a major way the cultural identity of a people, as reflected in the fundamental roles these species have in diet, materials, medicine, and/or spiritual practices.”[8] In some cases the ecological keystones are also identifiable as cultural keystones, however the distinction highlights their importance to the ethnosphere, which is the cultural component of the earth’s systems and has implications for conserving, restoring and designing coupled human and nature systems. The totora reed constructed islands of the Uros in Northern Peru exemplify this coincidence of biological and cultural keystone species. The Uros live on a network of forty-two floating islands and reed boats (balsa mats) constructed solely from the abundant supply of cattail like totora reeds that grow in the marshland of the Puno Bay region of Lake Titicaca, near the Bolivian border. Gaining legal control over the reed beds in 1986 as part of the previously-established three thousand six hundred and eighty hectare Lake Titicaca National Reserve, a few hundred of the two thousand descendent Uros now live on and maintain a network of various sized islands that house multiple families. The preIncans refer to themselves as Kotsuña, meaning lake people and are both one of the oldest tribes in South America and civilizations to live directly on a body of water. Believing their islands float as a result of blessings from the water gods


Indigenous wisdom they developed these innovative buoyant landscapes as a defensive strategy against invading Incan armies. The totora stalks which are harvested from the shores of Lake Titicaca have a multi-layered, rhizomed root structure called khili. In the construction of the islands the spidery, rhizomatic root mass surrounded by peat is sectioned insitu then cut into large blocks of root base approximately five by nine feet creating a buoyant brick-like construction module. A large stake driven into the blocks is used to lash modules together, forming a live floating foundation. These masses are then tethered to a nearby island or anchored to the lake bottom fifty feet below. Above the foundation, alternating layers of stalk bundles compose a distributed matt thirty inches deep. The islands are populated by small huts, watchtowers, drying racks, agricultural plots and fishing paddocks all similarly constructed from totora for a population ranging from two to fifteen households. The existence of the Uru civilization is entirely dependent on the buoyancy of the totora reed constructions activated by a spongy material contained within the aquatic plant. At the molecular level thin-walled cells and large intercellular spaces allow for the internal circulation of air, making the aerenchyma root tissue less dense than water. This process supports the floating mat of vegetation formed atop the foundations. Additional buoyancy results from underwater anaerobic decomposition of the aquatic vegetation as gases become trapped in the root mass. [22] Continued replenishment of the soft, spongy surface is required every two to three months replacing the slowly rotting submerged material allowing for a fifteen to twenty year life cycle. The Uros floating islands exemplify an indigenous innovation with a potential material application for landscape architects, a topic that has remained at the forefront of design discourse for the last decade.[15] Noted by Berkes (2012) the period of the Enlightenment preceded the selection and development of a limited range of Western resource management prescriptions and technologies.[3] Rudofsky (1964) who recognizes these in the unfamiliar non-pedigreed world of architecture agrees that our contemporary discourse has overlooked the vernacular and the breadth of indigenous infrastructures that in isolation have remained unexplored.[31, 3] The inception of a contemporary CHANS model could generate a methodology that firstly, identifies a biologicalcultural keystone species association, and secondly recognizes a potential to migrate indigenous innovation to a new environments. Such migrations are imaginable in light of extraordinary evidence supporting the basic similarity of designs shared by cultures inhabiting comparable ecosystems in distant geographic locations.[3] Yet while basic designs are similar, the modes of practice are remarkably diverse, influenced by unique ecosystem characteristics such as indigenous plant species and the details of contextual practices. For example in the semi-arid herding areas of the Turkana as compared to the Gabra, the mechanisms of rotation and migration are unique, and in reef and lagoon environs, like the artificial reefs of the Tofinu as compared to Lardil of the Wellesley Islands, the mix of exploitationcontrol mechanisms are fine-tuned to the local environment.[3] The Tofinu village of Ganvie on the Lake Nokoué is known as Africa’s Venice. The twenty thousand inhabitants of the fishing village at the inlet of the Sô River fled the shores to escape African slave traders from the rival Fon tribe, who were forbidden to fight on water. A village system on water emerged which today is the only human settlement in existence built entirely on wooden stilts. The village is the most visited tourist site in West Africa and on the tentative list of UNESCO World Heritage Sites. Being primarily an agricultural civilization, the Tofinu adapted terrestrial practices to their new lacustrine environment and developed the acadja fish farming paddocks. Ganvie is a now a completely sustainable community organized by a canal system for dugout canoe transportation and small-scale fish farming. The acadja is a highly controlled artificial reef forming plots that radiate from Ganvie Village. The reefs are constructed by embedding branches and saplings cut from the coastal mangrove forests into the shallow, muddy floor of the lagoon. A large net creates a perimeter around the artificial mangrove island trapping large fish within the farm while the rotting wood acts as a catalyst for algae growth, insect aggregation, avian feeding, and fish breeding, attracting mangrove ecology to the highly controlled island condition. The morphology of the pens responds to the flow of water with spiral pens located in turbid waters at the river mouth and square pens in the lake’s central calmer waters.[14] The acadja ecosystem primarily attracts Blackchin tilapia (Sarotherodon melanotheron), a species prized for its edible flesh. While S. melanotheron only accounts for 8.6% of the lake’s overall fish biomass, they make up eighty-seven percent of acadja production, and are present in the acadjas year round. The tilapia eat detritus and algae from the rotting wood, while the limbs provide protection from predators and the necessary breeding environment to reproduce and maintain the marine population within the acadjas. The perimeter netting is of a gauge large enough to allow small, unsellable fish to pass through and small enough to trap larger, valuable fish and exclude predators. New brush is typically added to existing acadjas prior to the rainy season, offering fish extra protection during high water levels, and food during the dry season, in a natural cycle of annual replenishment. A similar indigenous aquaculture innovation exists in the Wellesley Islands south of the Gulf of Carpentaria in Northern Australia. Three distinct aboriginal groups: the Ganggalida of the mainland, Lardil of the North Wellesley Islands and Kaiadilt of the South Wellesley Islands have been manipulating intertidal rock platforms to create derndernin artificial reefing for millennia. With some walls over three hundred years old, to date over three hundred and thirty-four


Indigenous wisdom archaeological sites have been documented at one hundred and eight locations. The traps accommodate the rise and ebb of tides, attracting and trapping aquatic life and allowing for selective subsistence fishing. Commencing at the coastline, the rock walls are initially supported by mangrove roots that mitigate intertidal forces. They then extend towards the sea over sandy or muddy surfaces that provide further stability. Composed of both large and small rocks stacked between half to several meters high, the walls form a mutually beneficial relationship with oyster colonies that provide further stability through a calcium carbonate mortar. The oysters that attach to the hard, rocky surfaces form clusters, creating oyster reefs. Older shells attach to a hard medium at the bottom of the wall, and as they die off, the young â&#x20AC;&#x153;spatsâ&#x20AC;? attach to the older, hollowed shells, contributing to overall structure that can extend over ten meters in height and kilometers in length.[20] The opportunistic migration of the artificial reefs innovation of the Tofinu and the Wellesley Islanders, both located in the Tropical and Subtropical Grasslands and Shrublands biomes is explored in a conceptual project located in the Boreal Tundra. The result is a hybrid indigenous aquaculture system designed as an introduced CHANS to an impoverished indigenous fishing community, threatened by climate change and the inevitability of relocation. The Inuit community the Inupiaq call the Shishmaref, situated in the crest of land between the Arctic Circle and the Ring of Fire, live in an ecologically and biologically diverse nexus rich with kettles, marshes, and peat land enclosed by a dense expanse of lava fields and a northward migrating Boreal Forest. Migrating Indigenous Innovation: An Exploration for the Inupiat Shishmaref The ancient mythology of the Shishmaref predicted their present demise. The old, Inupiaq creation story tells of the barrier islandâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s growth from the gathering of tree trunks near the coastal shores to create the small island, and then of the eventual swallowing of the island by the sea. Sea level rise has begun and each storm brings significant erosion and infrastructural damage. The Shishmaref, once a thriving fishing community, is now dependent on daily food drops from US Aid.The design of an indigenous infrastructure was proposed to circumnavigate this slow disaster through the introduction of creative ecological disturbance. As a means to mitigate climate change, causing the intensity of the ocean to increase, the proposal introduces of a system of jetties located in the tidal delta zone between the two migrating landmasses along the chain of barrier islands on the Chukchi Sea. As the long shore current dragging sediment from one end of the island to the other becomes stronger, accelerated erosion removes land from the village inhabited by the six hundred Inuit, while building land a quarter mile away. By following the flow of sedimentation, landscape infrastructure can mold itself to the marine topography, acting in concert with the natural rhythms and flows of the ocean. A series of wall assemblies using local Arctic materials was deployed into the marine environment including: wood/logs, stone, brush vegetation and moss, fish net and thick canvas netting woven from animal skins. The sectional deployment of these materials explores arrangements of underwater habitats and channels that develop a thriving marine ecosystem from the ocean to the shoreline. Inspired by the spiral river mouth acadja fish traps of the Tofinu and the derndernin artificial reefing of the North Wellesley Islanders, the system opportunistically mediates the natural process of accumulation and deposition through the series of underwater barriers. Designed to act simultaneously as productive fish traps and natural, land-gathering structures, the intervention aims to support the small, indigenous community by reinstating traditional practices for managing the local ecology, invigorating economic self-sufficiency and introducing a shoring strategy that accumulates accretive materials for the purpose of land reclamation.[1] The jetty-wall infrastructure is comprised of various segments that respond to oceanic flows around the island. On the ocean-side of Shishmaref Island, a reef wall is designed to prevent future erosion, and to attract marine wildlife increasing species trait diversity. On the bayside of the island, located adjacent to the marshland, a traditional fishpond is designed to introduce a new fishing economy. Extending beyond the fishpond is a sediment-capturing net harnessing the natural process of sand accretion for the purpose of building new land along the northern shore (see Figure 1). Over time, the system would fill, necessitating the construction of subsequent walls within the growing intertidal zones, building both land and economy. At every location, the jetty-wall infrastructure acts as both a control mechanism and a passive mitigation device, activated by the unpredictable forces of nature and ecology.


Indigenous wisdom UNROLLED SECTION [2012]

Fish net + docks

Fishtrap + Shoreline

Fishing docks

Jetty walkway

Reef wall

Figure 1: THE SHISHMAREF JETTY WALL SYSTEM Image Credit: Christianna Bennett

Figure 1:The Shishmaref Jetty Wall System

The project proposes the role of the designer as an agent for creative ecological disturbance, harnessing dynamic environmental forces for cultural revitalization, socio-economic growth and ecological restoration. Recently, a similar opportunity for creative disturbance via innovations has appeared in connection with one of the world’s greatest CHANS landscapes, sustained for over one thousand years. Recently inscribed on the UNESCO World Heritage List as the Tri Kita Kirana Cultural Landscape of Subaks and Water Temples of Bali, the sacred rice-terraces and coastal ecology of the island are being threatened by the impact of uncontrolled tourist development. The landscape strategy for the 19,500 hectares of rice terraces in the World Heritage site, appends ecological and educational program to the sacred rice-terraces. The proposed solution will create a hybrid mitigation terrain of integrated vertical rice-terrace wetlands and interpretive Eco-museum landscapes. Adapting Indigenous Innovation: An Exploration with the Balinese Subak In juxtaposition, the following project introduces contemporary landscape technologies to one of the world’s oldest and best-known CHANS, sustained for over one thousand years. Recently inscripted to the UNESCO World Heritage List as the Tri Kita Kirana Cultural Landscape of Subaks and Water Temples of Bali, the sacred rice-terraces are threatened by the impact of unmitigated tourism. The landscape strategy for the World Heritage site, appends ecological and educational program to the agrarian. The result is the invention of a hybrid mitigation terrain of integrated vertical rice-terrace wetlands and interpretive Eco-museum infrastructures, inserted into the sacred cultural landscape of rice terraces. Traditional rice paddies like Bali’s subaks are the most biodiverse and productive agrarian systems in the world, requiring no pesticides or fertilizers.[26] The local cycles of nutrient dispersal and seasonal precipitation are cleverly adapted into the subak system that honeycombs the island with water transference tunnels and reforms the island’s rugged volcanic terrain into a terraced topography. When they are flooded in moonlight, the reflecting planes of the terraces resemble a multi-faceted diamond. The Balinese Subaks are self-governing associations of farmers who share irrigation water originating from a common source, such as a weir, spring or irrigation canal, and coordinate their planting schedules by means of calendrical rites in water temples. Typical ancient irrigation systems include multiple subaks that manage rice terraces at the scale of watersheds. For example, an inscription dated AD 1072 refers to a single subak comprising fields located in twenty-seven named hamlets. Balinese farmers have long regarded volcanoes as homes of the goddesses who bring fertility to their fields. Nutrientrich volcanic soils combined with microbial nitrogen fixation and traditional harvest methods meant that farmers growing traditional slow-maturing rice varieties could escape the need to fertilize their rice paddies. Phosphate and potassium are continuously leached from the volcanic soil by rainfall, and delivered to rice paddies by irrigation systems in quantities sufficient for abundant rice harvests. In addition, there are cultural factors sustaining high levels of nutrients in paddies. Like most Indonesian farmers, Balinese traditionally thresh the rice stalks in situ and remove only the grain, leaving the rest of the plant to be ploughed under or burned, retaining most nutrients. The phosphorus removed by harvest appears to be replenished by the supply in irrigation flow in Balinese paddies, and additional extractable


Indigenous wisdom nutrients are available in the soils (see Figure 2).[25] Because irrigation depends on seasonal rainfall, each Subakâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s choice of an irrigation schedule affects the availability of water for their neighbors downstream. The timing of irrigation can also be used to reduce losses caused by rice pests like rats, insects and insect-borne diseases. This is accomplished by synchronization of rice harvests followed by brief flooding events in the fields, depriving the pests of their habitat. The larger the area encompassed by the post-harvest flooding, the fewer the pests. But if too many subaks try to flood their fields at the same time, there will not be enough water. This creates a feedback relationship between the selection of irrigation schedules and the occurrence of water shortages or pest infestations (see Figure 3).

Figure 2: NUTRIENT CYCLE Image Credit: Christianna Bennett

Figure 2: Nutrient Cycle

Figure 3: RICE GROWING CALENDAR Image Credit: Christianna Bennett

Figure 3: Rice Growing Calendar

In the 1980â&#x20AC;&#x2122;s, the introduction of massive quantities of pesticide wrought havoc on the ecology of the rice paddies, and subsequently the expansion of the tourist industry triggered uncontrollable commercial development, aquifer privatization, water shortages and pollution resulting from sewerage and illegal solid waste disposal. In response, the Balinese requested World Heritage status for the cultural landscape of subaks and water temples, which was granted by UNESCO in June 2012. However, with over a million foreign visitors each year, Bali is in danger of being loved to death.[33] Guided by the Tri Hita Karana philosophy of balanced harmony, the proposal for the World Heritage site explores the spatial correspondence of cosmological guidelines and ecology sustainability. The two systems of directional symbolism


Indigenous wisdom that give expression to this philosophy are the Tribuana and the Nawa Sanga. The Tribuana is a tripartite spatial division of the cosmos into three worlds: The upper world of gods (swah); the middle world that we humans inhabit (bwah), and the lower world of elemental forces (bhur). The same division is applied to the island of Bali, with the summits of the mountains as swah, the land as bwah, and the sea as bhur. In addition this system is applied to the human body, the village, the temple and surrounding walls and the house. The Nawa Sanga cosmological system affords different levels of sacredness related to upstream and downstream (kaja-kelod) locations, with the mountains being the most sacred (kaja) and the sea being the profane (kelod). Both cosmological systems afford the greatest level of sacredness and protection to the forested volcanic mountain peaks, which dually provide the nutrients essential to the sustained functioning of the rice-paddies and conserve the islandâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s supply of fresh surface and ground water, exemplifying the coincidence of cosmology and ecology. The Nawa Sanga translates to the cardinal directions however for the Balinese north is the centre of the island where the supreme water temple stands at the crater lake of Mount Batur, regarded as the home of the Goddess of the Lake. All Subak farmers belong to the congregation of this temple, where they give thanks to the Goddess for her gift of water that sustains Baliâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s 82,000 hectares of rice terraces. The proposed design introduces broad environmental mitigation strategies complimented by local corridor improvements along two designated tourist routes. These routes link the four world heritage sites, which together exemplify the most salient aspects of the Subak system. Existing underutilized museums located along the routes are proposed for transformation. They will become Eco-museums, acting as visitor gateways to the world heritage beyond. While a typical museum programmatically functions as a pavilion for the storage of artifacts, the Eco-museum extends these conventional boundaries into the landscape, introducing new interpretive cultural and spiritual experiences of the working Subak system as the museumâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s exhibit. This new museum typology focuses on the identity of a place, depends on local participation and contributes to community enhancement. This agenda grounds the broader landscape planning objectives of the master plan, including the implementation of passive transportation, watershed cleansing and regional eco-entrepreneurism, in pilot projects introduced at the Visitor Gateways. The proposal for watershed cleansing identifies the rice-terrace wetland ecology as an indigenous infrastructure capable of functioning as a vertical wetland. Water pollution from unsustainable farming practices and waste disposal in waterways, coupled with aquifer privatization and drought has led to water shortages across the island. The proposal reconceives hybrid rice-terrace wetland ecology for the removal of local fertilizers and effluent causing significant coral reef nitrification, to be designed in concert with the construction of elevated interpretive boardwalks.The organization of the constructed wetlands corresponds to either the Tribuana or the Nawa Sanga cosmological spatial system. At the Pakerisan World Heritage site, which encompasses the oldest known irrigation system in Bali, and the archaeological remains of the early wet-rice kingdoms that emerged in subsequent centuries, the Nawa Sanga kaja-kelod cosmological system guides the development of new vertical wetland rice-terrace systems. The Pakerisan World Heritage area includes the lands and watercourses of three subaks, Pulagan and Upper and Lower Kulub, as well as four ancient water temples that are also major Classical archaeological sites, and a cluster of royal temples and monasteries associated with the development of irrigated rice agriculture at the dawn of Balinese civilization. The proposed Sacred Springs and Early Kingdoms Interpretive Walk links the existing Tirtha Empul and Gunung Kawi temple complex along a riverside interpretive walk. The addition explores opportunities for activating water-cleansing strategies in coincidence with physiological manipulations to increase comfort, while enhancing physical connections to the Pakerisan River and visual connections to the sacred Mt Agung. A sectional analysis along the proposed walk identified areas predisposed to environmental comfort and the design proposed enhancements at these locations through episodic hydrological interventions. These enhancements will occur through landscape manipulations such as flooding, shading, canyoning, cascading and pooling, along a series of introduced wetland ecosystems, to increase the affect of evapotranspiration on the surface of the human body.[22] The coincidence of these physiological, ecological and spiritual enhancements in the landscape purposefully attempts to illicit a transcendental response from the viewer(see Figure 4). The careful curation of these interpretative experiences through subtle design interventions marries the intention of recoupling cosmology and ecology.


Indigenous wisdom Figure 4: Pakerisan sacred sPrings and early kingdoms interPretive Walk

Destruction of Coral Reefs

View to Mount Agung

Mount Agung


Subak Region along the Rivers

Fertile land for growth

Lake Batur

Soil Protection from Forests


Groundwater Zone

Image Credits: Kunmi Park and Georgeanna Foley






1.8m .5m 1.8m


.5m 2m




Figure 4: Pakerisan Sacred Springs2mand Early Kingdoms Eco-Museum 1.3m .5m 10.5 m



Coinciding Cosmology and Ecology Throughout the world, this interconnectedness of cosmology and ecology reverberates in many ancient landscapes as a continuous cycle maintaining sustainable co-existence. The role of a designer in these landscapes is that of a cultural interpreter and ecological adviser, similar to that of the shaman priest acting as an ecosystem manager. Our threatened sacred landscapes require intervention as a result of the disassociating cultural and natural diversity. Without intervention, the consequence of their loss could be far greater than we realise. Unravelling the complexities of our coupled human-nature systems, still shrouded in mystery and bound by taboo, which exist at the far reaches of the globe and are hidden in the shadow conservation network of sacred natural sites, will inform our engagement with the world and re-determine the level of creative co-existence designers can perceive. Whether protection, reinvention or intervention of these indigenous infrastructures and ancient models of ecological adaptation is required, designers will soon play a significant role in the re-evaluation of the global conservation agenda. It will become the greatest challenge human kind has faced and its negotiation will require our assistance. The language of ecology still in its infancy, but now pervasive across many disciplines from the creative to commercial has yet to mature and propagate.Therefore, an understanding of the consequences of the contemporary theories and practices it inspires, remains unknown. For designers, terms such as diversity, reciprocity, feedback and resilience have known spatial and ecological consequences. They are informed by the breadth and depth of knowledge observed in the societies of our ecological dwellers. The exhibition of this knowledge lies in the shadow of the anthropological landscapes of the ‘other’, and consequently in the sacred landscapes belonging to the traditional and indigenous communities we have afforded our least priority to protect. 1

The first appearance of the term subak is as the root of the word kasuwakan in the Pandak Bandung inscription of 1071 AD (No. 436: Ardika 1994: 27; Ardika and Beratha 1998: 313; see also Sukarto 1986: 32–3; Setiawan 1995: 104–5).

References Bennett, C. (2011) Unpublished Thesis Project. Berkes, F. (2012) Sacred Ecology: Traditional Ecological Knowledge and Resource Management. Philadelphia: Taylor and Francis. Berkes, F. (2005) Paris Conference “Fire Management in the Americas”, Sept 05. Bird, B.R., Bird, D.W., Codding, B, F., Parker, C. & Holland Jones, J. (2008) The fire-stick farming hypothesis: Anthropogenic fire mosaics, biodiversity and Australian Aboriginal foraging strategies. Proc Nat Acad Sci 105(39):14796-14801. Chapin, M. (2004) A Challenge to Conservationists. Washington, D.C.: World Watch. Crutzen, P. (2000) IGBP Newsletter 41. Sweden: The Royal Swedish Academy of Sciences. Dowie, M. (2009) Conservation Refugees: The hundred-year conflict between global conservation and native peoples. Cambridge, Massachusetts: MIT Press.


Indigenous wisdom Garibaldi. A., & Turner. N., (2004) Cultural Keystone Species: Implications for Ecological Conservation and Restoration in Ecology and Society. Green, J. (2010) Interview with Kristina Hill on Managing the Effects of Climate Change The Dirt Blog. August 24. Higgins-Zogib, L. (2007) Sacred Sites and Protected Areas: An Interplay of place-views. Switzerland: WWF. Hollings, C.S. (1973) Resilience and Stability of Ecological Systems. Vancouver: Institute of Resource Ecology. Kirch, P. (2012) A Shark Going Inland Is My Chief: The Island Civilization of Ancient Hawai'. Berkeley: University of Chicago Press. Kolbert, E. (2010) A Reporter at Large, “The Sixth Extinction?,” The New Yorker, May 25, 2009. Martin, K. (2012) Unpublished Research Paper. Margolis, L., & Robinson, A. (2007) Living Systems. Basel: Birkhauser. Mead, M. (1935) Sex and Temperament in Three Primitive Societies. New York: Harper Collins. Miller, A. (2010) Fire, Agency and Scale in the Creation of Aboriginal Cultural Landscapes. Online: Springer Science. Paine, R.T. (1995). "A Conversation on Refining the Concept of Keystone Species". Conservation Biology 9 (4): 962–964. Park, K. (2012) Unpublished Research Paper. Park, K., & Foley, G. (2012) Unpublished Design Project. Pennacchia, A. (2012) A. Unpublished Research Paper. Lansing, J. S., & Kremer, J.N. (2011) Rice, Fish and the Planet. Proc Natl Acad Sci USA, vol. 108 no. 50, 19841-19842. Leakey, R. (1995) The Sixth Extinction: Patterns of Life and the Future of Human Kind. Phoenix. Lansing, J. S., Gerhart. V., Kremer, J. N., Kremer. P., Arthawiguna Suprapto, A., Bagus Suryawan, I., Gusti Arsana, I. Scarborough, V.L. & Mikita, K., (2001) Volcanic Fertilization of Balinese Rice Paddies Ecological Economics 38 (2001):383-390. Lansing, J. S., & Kremer. J.N. (2011) Rice, Fish and the Planet. Proc Natl Acad Sci USA, vol. 108 no. 50, 19841-19842. Lister, N. (2012) Bridging Science and Values: The challenge of Biodiversity Conservation. The Ecosystem Approach: Complexity, Uncertainty and Managing for Sustainability. Columbia University Press. Liu, J. (2007) Complexity of Coupled Human and Nature Systems Science Vol. 317 no. 5844, September 2007. Liu, J. (2007) Coupled Human and Natural Systems Ambio Vol. 36, No. 8, December 2007. Nelson, M. (2008) Original Instructions. Rochester, Vermont: Bear & Company. Rudofsky, B. (1964) Architecture without Architects. New York: Doubleday & Company. Valeri, V. (1985) Kingship and Sacrifice: Ritual and Society in Ancient Hawaii. Chicago: University of Chicago Press. Watson, J.N. (2012) Design Proposal for Cultural Landscape of Bali prepared for the Ministry of Education and Culture. Unpublished Design Proposal. Wilson, E. O. (1999) The Diversity of Life


Urban landscapes

Urban landscape 29. An indigenous history, Archaeo-Park in Yenikapi-Istanbul Aytac G 1, Kusuluoglu D 2 1 Istanbul Technical University, 2 Istanbul Technical University abstract The Historic Peninsula of Istanbul contains the city’s principal historical, architectural and archaeological sites.The sustainability of these heritage sites is not only a local but also a national and international responsibility in this age of change. During the implementation of transportation projects, new archaeological remains regarding the history of Istanbul have been found in the excavations in 2004. The most important excavations take place in the Yenikapi zone where an archaeopark will represent the shared wisdom of Istanbul’s landscape. Yenikapı, the gate to one of the most magnificent cities of the world, stands in time; between the daily movements and the valuable historical past and its history goes back to the First Neolithic Era. Neolithic settlement, dating back 8500 years, now marks the settlement date of the Historic Peninsula. Now Yenikapı is a transfer point standing as the focal point of transportation network of Istanbul. Likewise, the Archaeo Park will be considered in relationship to other green spaces in the city, especially those along the Marmara, and ways to link these spaces physically and conceptually. Besides the found archaeology, the new landscape can be formed to produce a new archaeology of the present, one that uniquely links the history and culture of Istanbul with a global vision. These remains tell about the whole history of humanity and urban landscape and more importantly about the local characteristics. In order to preserve these remains, Greater Istanbul Municipality opened an international competition, where our international group is shortlisted in three winner architecture groups. In this paper,Yenikapı excavations and our project will be explained. Keywords: Yenikapı, Istanbul,Theodosian Port, shipwrecks, archaeopark Introduction Istanbul is an important resource of natural and cultural heritage and has been hosting many historical, political and religious events for thousands of years. It is a focal point for the world with its strategic location on Bosphorus peninsula between Europe and Anatolia, the Black Sea and Mediterranean. Furthermore, Istanbul is also a great metropolitan area with its nature, culture, history, population, architecture and so many characteristics. As Le Corbusier defines, Istanbul is heaven on earth (1924). Known as Constantinople before it was named Istanbul, the capital city of three magnificent empires, has large cultural accumulations. Especially the Historical Peninsula, which is the oldest settlement in Istanbul, contains the city’s principal historical, architectural and archaeological sites. The city connects east to west by the Bosphorus and north to south by land, hosting multiple cultures through thousands of years. Istanbul was designated as the European Capital of Culture in 2010, and is distinguished as one of the most significant metropolitan areas in the world. The Historical Peninsula has been under the conservation of UNESCO since 1985. It is believed that below the ground, hundreds of years are still buried in every part of the peninsula. Yenikapı stands as a proof for this thesis; this is why Marmaray Project, which is the reason for the excavations, is very important. Istanbul was the capital of three empires which controlled the world in their era; Roman, Byzantine and Ottoman. The city was chosen as the head of the empires due to its strategic and natural features and is honored by many aesthetic elements and magnificent buildings of the Byzantine and Ottoman Empires. The ancient city and the capital of the Eastern Roman Empire are mostly symbolized by the hippodrome of Constantine constructed in 324 and by the aqueduct of Valens made in 378. The Byzantine Empire is mostly represented by the Archaeological Park with the churches of St Sophia and St Irene, and the city walls.The Ottoman Empire is mostly highlighted by Topkapı Palace, Blue Mosque and Süleymaniye Mosque which is located in the west part of the peninsula. The universal value of the city resides in this peninsula, especially formed by Byzantine and Ottoman cultures. Nevertheless, after Yenikapı excavation the familiar history has changed; as now history of Istanbul dates back beyond 8500 years.


Urban landscape

Figure 1: Istanbul Historical Peninsula Periodic Development Analysis; right to left First settlement (657 B.C.), Soptimus Severus (190-300), Constantine (330-337),Theodosius (410-442) (from Historical Peninsula Conservation Management Plan, Istanbul Planning Department, 2003)

Marmaray-Metro Project Istanbul is dealing with the uncontrolled urbanization and population growth since 1950s. The Historical Peninsula and the cultural elements are all under threat from population pressure. One of the most important problems faced by the users of this city is the transportation problem during the transformation of history to a modern metropolitan (Freeman, 2011). Due to Istanbul having 16 million people on 5500 kilometers square land, transportation density stands as an important problem in the city. Because of its location in the Historical Peninsula, Istanbul’s heavy traffic passes through Yenikapı. Marmaray and Metro projects have been developed to solve this transportation problem and to provide a healthier urban life quality and to preserve natural and cultural characteristics by the Ministry of Transport and the Istanbul Metropolitan Municipality and constitute Turkey’s largest rail network for public transport. The rail system network of Istanbul will be about 600 km in total with Marmaray Project. This network will be the main backbone of the whole system. The Project is designed to ensure the integration of the existing railway network in Europe and Anatolian parts of the country and connecting Europe and Asia continents uninterruptedly through Istanbul. In addition to bringing a solution to the transportation problem of the city, the project will also enable nonstop railway connection in the east-west direction. Yenikapı will be the intersection point of these two transportation systems; and will host approximately 1,7 millions of users every day. Before the implementation of Marmaray and Metro Project, Istanbul Archeological Museum Directorate started a rescue excavation in Yenikapı, Sirkeci and Üsküdar; as three stations were located above the historical layer, as suggested by Kızıltan (2008). The excavation of Yenikapı Station began in 2004. By the time the excavation began, more important findings than ever began to emerge. In these excavations, cultural, artistic and geological changes the city over 8500 years were unrolled; 25 thousand well-preserved findings are found from the Neolithic Period, Iron, Classical, Roman, Byzantine and Ottoman periods such as boats, daily objects, maritime tools, footprints and other artifacts. Nearly 40.000 boxes of objects such as amphora, pots, pans and mental objects have been unearthed from the excavation site since 2004 (Kızıltan, 2012) and are documented in situ then are sent to the Istanbul Archaeology Museum for display. According to Kızıltan (2012), two significant discoveries have been made so far: “The first is the discovery of the Theodosius Port, one of the important transportation ports of Byzantine times and 35 boats from various periods in this port. Another important find is the Neolithic settlement, which is the earliest settlement in the historic peninsula. This is very important because the history of Istanbul dated back to a certain period so far. With these excavations we have established its history 8,500 years ago”(Url1).


Urban landscape Yenikapı Excavation Yenikapı is situated in European part of Istanbul, on the south coast of IstanbulHistorical Peninsula, and is used as southern port of the city in the European part. The main aim of the metro project is to generate a transfer point to connect different type of transportation; marine, railway, roads and most importantly the airport. Prior to the implementation phase, Yenikapı rescue excavation began in 2004. In these excavations, still continuing today, many movable and immovable cultural heritages were found and documented which will inform the history of Istanbul, as suggested by Kızıltan (2008). These studies provide much information about 8500 years of cultural history of Istanbul and the geological changes in Marmara Sea.

Figure 2: Location of Yenikapı in Istanbul Historical Peninsula,Turkey

The settlements found in the excavation were 6 m below the presents sea level; so it can be understood that sea levels were lower than today 6000-8000 years ago. Archeological findings at the bottom of the sequence among the boulders belong to the Neolithic period Fikirtepe culture known to have existed in the region in 6000-4000 B.C. As the cultural findings are covered with sea sand, it can be said that this settlement was abandoned because of a sea flooding. But in the Iron Age about 1000 B.C., new cultural findings from this age show a re-established settlement in the same area after the flood. This second settlement was also flooded again, and in the 4th century the area began to be used as Theodosian Harbor. Around 12th century to the present, the area turned into land, as suggested by Algan (2008).

Figure 3:Yenikapı Excavation Area from the west part,Theodosian Harbour

The Yenikapı excavation has become one of the largest investigations in Europe. The work covers 58,000 m2, and currently is the most comprehensive archeological excavation in Istanbul history. This site was used as vegetable and fruit gardens in the Ottoman Period for hundreds of years and was called “langa”. In the site, where the station would be built, the Port of Theodosius, the largest port in Byzantine Period is found.This port was built in the south side of the


Urban landscape Lycos Stream by I. Theodosius (AD 379-395) in 4th century in order to provide for a commercial port for the Roman Empire. After becoming the new capital of Constantinople and because of the population increase, a new harbor was needed to provide trade activities. The period between 4-7th century represents the most active years of Theodosian Harbor. Theodosian Harbor was the most intensely active area of the city. In the 8th century, the use of the harbor decreased as the trade routes began to take place in the North. In the 9th century, the city became more important strategically. Other evidence of increasing sea trade is the shipwrecks uncovered that are dated to 9th-11th century. Istanbul has always been an important harbor city since its foundation. Especially in the Byzantine Era, this characteristic became even more important. In the harbour area, the architectural ruins of the Ottoman period and daily use articles were found. Other than this, the presence of thick pieces of rope and processed wood in -1,10 m below caused the expansion of the excavations. Thirty-four boats of different sizes, dating back to 5-11th century, were discovered. These 34 shipwrecks constitute the largest ancient medieval shipwreck collection of the world, and provide very important information about Byzantine marine, trade and technology, as suggested by Kızıltan (2008). In the west part of the Yenikapı excavations, called Lot nr. 100, a weaving settlement remains belonging to different periods dating back to 4-13th century were uncovered. The most important finding is a 51m long and 4.20 m wide wall made of ashlars. These remains are in a fragile condition; as the excavation and scientific works are not over yet. Furthermore, the walls of II.Theodosius Period is found.This area is announced as “a protected archeological park”, and the archeological work in this area must continue. During the excavation under the Theodosian Port base filler, simple stone woven branches architectural remains from the Neolithic period are found under the -6,30 m below the sea level. Yenikapı Neolithic settlement period should be evaluated with the changes of Marmara Sea in time; as it is believed that the settlement was founded in the place not far from the present shore, in the period that Marmara Sea was not salty, and has remained under water as a result of rising global sea levels. Also, nearly 2000 thousands of footprints from the Neolithic Period were also discovered in the site.

Figure 4: Simple stone woven branches architectural remains and footprints from Neolithic Period

Yenikapı Archaeo-Park Project In 2011, Yenikapı Urban Design Competition was announced in order to preserve the remains, to create a transfer point with a museum and an archaeopark and to display the artifacts uncovered in the area. Our international group of Eisenman-Aytac Group is qualified as a winner with two other teams in this urban design competition. Our group displays sensitivity to standing archaeological and historic remains, as well as to the unexcavated archaeological deposits. Therefore, the goal of our project is to add a new organizational approach to the city of different urban matrixes from the existing elements; history, archaeology and diversity. The main concept of the archaeopark is to show these findings to the users while forming a transfer point. This archaeopark will represent the cultural power of Istanbul’s landscape.


Urban landscape

Figure 5. Eisenman-Aytaç Group Project, Analysis of Yenikapı in Istanbul Historical Peninsula

In the planning approach in 1/100.000 scale of The Environmental Master Plan of Istanbul, the productive areas in the Historical Peninsula are discussed as a potential area for primarily education, cultural industries and the service sector. As the vision in 1/100.000 scale of The Environmental Master Plan of Istanbul guides, through the archive-museum, “Yenikapı Archaeo-Park Area” becomes a center point for education and cultural industries, as well as being a center for service sector development through being one of Istanbul’s most important transportation points. Constantine Coastal Line from 4th. period was taken as the most powerful reference to define the urban regeneration areas. The 14.60 ha. area between the project site and the Constantine Coastal line is considered as the primary urban regeneration area which is thought to be implemented at the first phase. Other urban regeneration areas start from the main north axes lying east-west down to the coastal park; our project proposes to lessen the density level by level. As a programmatic approach, the regeneration zones include education - research, health tourism, trade and service-related areas. The principal parts of the landscape project are the Archaeopark and Coastal Park. Through these two parks, the aim is to integrate the inner parts of the projected area to the Coastal Park. The area of the archaeopark, excavated and is thought to be excavated in the future. In our project, it is foreseen the excavations will continue and the ongoing excavations can be seen by the visitors from the platforms that overpasses the archaeopark. The Archaeopark is overlaid with the 30-by-30-meter scientific grid of archaeological excavations. This creates a series of circulation paths through what will be the site of ongoing archaeological explorations. As work in each 30-by-30 section is completed, it is restored to grade level, landscaped, and added to the park program.


Urban landscape

Figure 6. Eisenman-Aytaç Group Project, Landscape Types

Conclusion The Yenikapı excavation is the most comprehensive archeological excavation in Istanbul history and became one of the largest investigations in Europe. Following the discovery of archeological findings in the initial process of Yenikapı metro station, the excavations have been carried out 8 years now. Yenikapı excavations uncovered a continuous historical series of 8500 years of Istanbul, from the Neolithic Period to the present, revealing archaeological cultures. The importance of Marmaray-Metro Project is to be the initiator of the excavations in Yenikapı. It is believed that below the ground, hundreds of years are still buried in every part of the peninsula. Yenikapı stands as the concrete evidence for this phenomenon. The most important purpose of Yenikapı Archaeopark Project is to show all passengers the 8500 years history of Istanbul even though for 1 minute while they are traveling. It will exhibit these historical findings to public with no admission fee while forming also a transfer point.The station and the museum will be on the same platform, to educate and encourage the public.This project will strengthen Istanbul’s existing landscape, representing the urban complex, the archaeology and imaginary future. Acknowlegments The preparation of this report would not have been possible without the project proposal done by Eisenman and Aytaç Architects for Yenikapı Transfer Point International Architecture Project. Without their persistence and collaboration, we would not have been able to join the group and have not been able to write this paper. We would like to thank to Eisenman and Aytaç Architects Collaboration and the Consultants of Eisenman and Aytaç Architects Collaboration. References Algan, O. (2008) Geo-Archeology of the Theodosian Harbor at Yenikapı, in Algan, O. Istanbul Archeological Museums Proceedings of the 1st Symposium on Marmaray-Metro Salvage Excavations 5th-6th May 2008, pp. 219-223. Kızıltan, Z. (2008) Excavation at Yenikapı, Sirekci and Üsküdar within Marmaray and Metro Projects Istanbul Archeological


Urban landscape Museums Proceedings of the 1st Symposium on Marmaray-Metro Salvage Excavations 5th-6th May 2008, pp. 1-16. Le Corbusier. (1924) Urbanisme. Paris, G. Crès & cie Url1_http://www.hurriyetdailynews.com/yenikapi-excavations-to-finish.aspx?pageID=238&nid=34248 (Retrieved in 02.02.2013) Url2_http://www.istanbularkeoloji.gov.tr/web/32-238-1-1/muze_-_en/museum/announcements/yenikapi_excavations (Retrieved in 13.02.2013) Figures Figure 1. Istanbul Historical Peninsula Periodic Development Analysis; right to left First settlement (657 B.C.), Soptimus Severus (190-300), Constantine (330-337), Theodosius (410-442) Re-visualized from Historical Peninsula Conservation Management Plan by Eisenman & Aytaç Architects Figure 2. Location of Yenikapı in Istanbul Historical Peninsula, Turkey Visualized by Eisenman & Aytaç Architects Figure 3. Yenikapı Excavation Area from the west part, Theodosian Harbour Photo taken by Eisenman & Aytaç Architects Figure 4. Simple stone woven branches architectural remains and footprints from Neolithic Period Photo taken by Eisenman & Aytaç Architects Figure5. Eisenman-Aytaç Group Project, Analysis of Yenikapı in Istanbul Historical Peninsula Visualized by Eisenman & Aytaç Architects Figure6. Eisenman-Aytaç Group Project, Landscape Types Visualized by Eisenman & Aytaç Architects

30. Revealing the Cryptic Bish A, Davies R, Haines L Unitec Institute of Technology abstract Invertebrate numbers worldwide are declining, predominantly due a lack of knowledge and detrimental activities on habitat such as urban expansion. “Invertebrates are essential to our natural environment and to humans,”(Department of Conservation, 2006), due to the numerous ecosystem services they provide.Without invertebrates human life as we currently know it would be very different. This research explores how urban landscapes can be designed to provide for invertebrates and uses the highly urbanised Auckland City Centre as a case study. CBD spatial characteristics were identified using GIS, Auckland Council documents and on site observation. The CBD is a fragmented landscape of patches, which together form an ecological network. At the landscape scale this network is reinforced by designed interventions, and consists of a series of nodes that are used by invertebrates. Invertebrate information was collected, analysed and categorised into functional groups, which enabled a set of criteria to be established for local design interventions, for both species specific and general habitat types.These interventions are based at each node within the network. Although some interventions will be species specific, it is expected that a range of invertebrate species will take advantage of these interventions, thus increasing biodiversity. An adaptive management strategy will be used to monitor and adjust habitat requirements accordingly. Invertebrates are cryptic and these small to medium interventions throughout the city are aimed at revealing the presence of invertebrates. Interpretive devices such as QR Codes and projector screens allow the public to better perceive invertebrates as part of their daily environment and to follow mapped habitat routes. A set of guidelines allows habitat interventions to be retrofitted within most urban sites.Throughout the city these interventions facilitate positive interactions between people and invertebrates through education, increased invertebrate visibility and biodiversity. INTRODUCTION ‘Revealing the Cryptic’ was a yearlong research and design project that focused on the lack of designs catering for invertebrates in urban landscapes. The research question that drove the project is: ‘How can invertebrate biodiversity


Urban landscape be designed for, in highly urban landscapes, to increase conspicuousness for urbanites?’ This research explored how Landscape Architects can design for a range of invertebrates in highly urban landscapes, like Auckland city centre, while increasing the public awareness of invertebrates; the importance of them, as well as what they require to survive in urban environments. Landscape Architect’s commonly design for conservation, but the current examples often fail to effectively address the invertebrate layer of the landscape, particularly in urban areas. Bird life is a common consideration through the selection of fruiting plant species, but there is no comparable strategy that is designed to intentionally cater for invertebrates. Some Landscape Architects, Entomologists and other professionals, have started to look at ways to include invertebrates in areas previously designed for human beings, but these are largely within suburban sites. The approaches often tackle the invertebrate topic in a segmented way, rather than providing a holistic guide as to how design for invertebrates in urban landscapes can be achieved. Invertebrates are a crucial component within the world’s ecosystem and as cities continually expand and cover the Earth’s surface with urban landscapes that are predominantly impermeable and lacking vegetation, invertebrate ecologies are being destroyed. This is one of the reasons for invertebrate population decline. The research findings show that an increase of city surfaces correlates to the decline of invertebrate populations. As city expansion is inevitable, it is therefore essential that we start providing invertebrate ecologies within our urban landscapes, and in doing so expand our knowledge of invertebrate needs. ‘Revealing the Cryptic’ aims to: • Design invertebrate habitats and food sources throughout Auckland city centre • Increase plant biodiversity within the city centre • Provide for a range of interactions to take place between humans and invertebrates • Include interpretative media for the public to highlight the importance of the scheme • Team the design with an adaptive management project that both Landscape Architects and scientists can use to expand their knowledge on invertebrates • Produce an example of how Auckland Council’s ‘Indigenous Biodiversity Strategy’ could be implemented within the CBD The overall aim was to design urban landscape interventions that cater for invertebrates whilst revealing them to the public, through engagement and provision of information on the overall scheme. Revealing invertebrates will help to achieve public awareness on their importance and to assist with invertebrate survival. By designing for the inclusion of invertebrates in urban landscapes, Landscape Architects would be contributing in making a richer city; through provision of increased biodiversity, as well as better aesthetic experiences. It would also add to the sustainable practices that most Landscape Architects are already striving to achieve. The paper provides a new way for Landscape Architects to look at the city, with invertebrates right at the fore. STUDY AREA Due to the highly urbanised location and exposure to the public, the design interventions are set within Auckland city centre. Located within New Zealand’s largest city; Auckland, the city centre borders the Waitemata Harbour, key motorway infrastructure and a number of urban communities. The city centre alone has over 20,000 residents (Statistics NZ, 2006) and in one-day sees over 160,000 people arrive, for work, education or tourism. (Auckland Council, 2011, p. 37). As an environment made for humans, the city centre’s main land use activities are commercial, residential and education. Towering buildings and grid-roads spread across the city surrounding the six urban parks. Connections between these parks, the city centre and the neighbouring communities are poor; a key problem identified in the Auckland Plan, for both humans and ecology. Auckland city centre is a fragmented landscape, and the constant growth and urbanisation of the area is fuelling this fragmentation.

Left to right: Map showing typography, Aerial highlighting infrastructure coverage vs. open space, Built up nature of Auckland City skyline, Examples of the types of surfaces that can be found in the city centre


Urban landscape METHODOLOGY Methodologies for the research were primarily based around Landscape Ecology concepts and design and conservation precedents (Figure 1), each helping to form the baseline thinking for the research. Concepts ‘Field of Dreams’ ‘Spectrum Matrix’ ‘Patch Corridor Matrix’ ‘Meta – populations’ ‘Cues for Care’ Entomology

Species Specific vs. General Designs Red Admirals, Ambury Farm & One Tree Hill, Auckland, NZ Bees, Auckland City Town Hall, NZ ‘Rise of the Urban Beekeeper’ , J. Rumble & D. Tikao vs. Urban Pollinator Project, United Kingdom

Highline, New York, USA Conservation Indigenous Biodiversity Strategy, Auckland Council Adaptive Management Plan Figure 1:The Key Influences

The Field of Dreams concept; random arrival of species, suggests that if the conditions are right, wildlife will come and inhabit environments on their own accord. The notion of patches working in a wider network with corridors joining patches, taken from the ‘Patch Corridor Matrix’, was influential in tackling the issue of the fragmented landscape that is Auckland city centre. The design of nodes with links stemmed from this ecological concept. Discussions with entomologists proved that as invertebrates are such an unknown group in the animal kingdom, it would not be possible to understand everything about invertebrates and what they would need to survive in a highly urban site. Other important influences and concepts were; the spectrum matrix theory, the 6 intelligences people use when experiencing a landscape; meta-populations, the idea of a network of sub populations within a population, that emerge and disappear sporadically but have at least one viable population at a time; and cues for care, showing signs of being cared for in areas that the general public do not perceive to be tidy or looked after. (In, Meader, 2010). Design precedents internationally seem to focus on suburban areas. Precedents were split into two types; species specific and general, depending on what invertebrate type the design was giving consideration to (Figure 1). Although the precedents did not provide a holistic approach, each highlighted an important point. Collectively these were: • Borrowing existing infrastructure and utilising surfaces in a more productive way • Providing information via technology (online websites) • Monitoring and analysis – Adaptive management plans • Providing plant biodiversity – native and exotic mix, wide seasonal variety, and thought given to plant life cycles • Support for the ‘cues for care’ concept and validation of the Field of Dreams concept • Idea of public interaction and enlisting in their help The release of the ‘Indigenous Biodiversity Strategy’, by Auckland Council, late in 2012, and the conservation concept of adaptive management plans were two important conservation precedents that were investigated. The Indigenous Biodiversity Strategy strives to cover Auckland Councils “obligations to maintain and sustainably manage biodiversity.” The strategy highlights the importance of New Zealand’s biodiversity; visible or invisible, as well as the pressures that our ever expanding cities are placing on our natural environments. It was made known that the council did not yet


Urban landscape know how to implement their goals. Key concepts from the release that provided a sound backing to the project include: • The importance of having visible biodiversity at local scales, and as a part of everyday life • Development of habitat nodes, and other components of ecosystems is crucial • Education and understanding are key • Engagement with communities is important in changing their perspectives • Interventions need to have adaptive capabilities Adaptive management plans link into this last point of having adaptive capabilities. Adaptive management works as an iterative process of learning by doing, in which monitoring, analysis, and adjustment phases work in a circular motion, until the best solution is found. This concept is important in conservation and within this project. Invertebrates Invertebrates are one of the six basic animal groups and are the largest. They house the most diverse of all animal groups, the Arthropods; also know as insects. There is an estimated 200 million insects for every human alive, with only 1 million insect species identified to date. A vast contrast to the 30 million species thought to be alive today. (Klappenbach, n.d.). Due to the variation of invertebrates, their cryptic nature and inadequate information it is difficult to know what invertebrates would be attracted to, and thrive in the design interventions. However some broad information is known such as, each invertebrate species have different food and habitat needs, which can change depending on their life cycle stage. For example the Red Admiral larvae needs to live on and eat nettles, while the adult butterfly feeds on nectar. (Monarch Butterfly NZ Trust, 2012). Colours and fragrances are also important. Distances travelled by invertebrates differ between species, some moving in order to locate food sources and ideal habitats, others involuntarily by wind dispersal.Their movement across the landscape and colonisation of new sites, links into the Field of Dreams concept. Entomologists often use broad generalisations to map the distances invertebrate groups will travel. As a general assumption a crawling insect will travel meters to tens of meters, while for flying insects it is reasonable to assume distances of hundreds of meters. (Winders, 2012). People As the design interventions would be bringing invertebrates into everyday life, it was important to understand how people react to invertebrates. Human senses particularly sight and hearing, inform people when invertebrates are around. Movement, colour differentiation, and noise all refocus attention. Depending on the proximity, and movement type people’s responses will differ. In order for the interventions to be accepted and used by the public, Gobster et al (2007) suggest three possible factors to consider in the paper, ‘The shared landscape: what does aesthetics have to do with ecology’. These are, increasing acquaintance; familiarity is essential, increasing the immediate aesthetical value, or scientifically justifying why the interventions are in a highly humanised environment. A mixture of all three would be best suited to a highly urbanised site, like Auckland city centre. This mix would help to reduce urbanites potential anxieties around certain invertebrate species and the potential harm that could be caused by human interest. Research on invertebrates, humans and plants, was undertaken alongside analysis, site visits, mapping, layering, testing and critiquing. This trial and critique process lead to the use the Landscape Ecology concepts and apply them to the fragmented landscape of Auckland city centre. Reflection occurred throughout the course of the project. Working at different scales, information was layered, identifying habitat islands, zones and nodes in an overarching ecological network. A network slither was then used to show how the network functions at the local scale. As a result of site analysis a variety of hard and soft surface and space types were distinguished. These seven space types were; road infrastructure, shared space, civic space, urban parks, walls, overhangs, and roof tops. The space types were used to provide a variety of locations for node interventions to be placed. Within each type there is climatic and human use variation depending on the physical location of the node. Functional invertebrate categories were formed to overcome the difficulty of obtaining information, and to ensure a wide range of invertebrate needs were provided for within each intervention. Based on what invertebrate survival needs, the functional categories of Habitat, Eating Habit, and Travel Method emerged.This led to developing invertebrate types; Species specific, Group specific, and general. Two comparatively well-documented invertebrates were used as case studies to represent two of these. These were the native New Zealand bee for species specific, and butterflies as group specific. The general species covers all other species that would inhabit or use the intervention nodes. A range of ways that the public can interact and experience the site needs to be provided, to cater for the numerous


Urban landscape ways individuals like to engage. Visual – spatial and naturalistic intelligences, which are predominantly catered for, are 2 of the 8 ways that people perceive and interact, principles of the spectrum matrix theory. DESIGN OUTCOME/ RESULTS The design model for ‘urban invertebrate landscapes’ works over two scales, with the first at a landscape ecology scale and the second at a local scale. Each scale has been designed with five main parts in mind, the network, the interventions, the invertebrates, the site, and the people. The segments within these overlap and ultimately, when combined, work as a unit, dealing with the urban invertebrate ecology holistically. Landscape Ecology Scale At the Landscape Ecology scale an overarching network exists. The network is made up of habitat islands; the existing urban parks that are unintentionally catering for invertebrates, the 100 to 300m zones; in which the Field of Dreams concept can legitimately occur, and the nodes; which are potential intervention sites. Each habitat island within Auckland city centre is relatively disconnected from another; so 100m - 300m zones have been placed around the peripheral edges of each. Within these zones a network of nodes occur, ultimately enhancing the connections between habitat islands in the overall network. (Figure 2, Image 1). The Field of Dreams concept suggests that invertebrate populations will move into these designed nodes on their own accord. Overtime, as populations grow, more nodes would be developed at 500 - 1000m distances out from the habitat islands, until a full network exists across the city. From here the network could overflow into the surrounding communities of Auckland city centre. This network is a solution to the fragmented landscape that is Auckland city centre, and is based on the principles of the landscape ecology concept; Patch Corridor Matrix.

Figure 2: Left to right Habitat Islands, Space Type and Invertebrate Type (both over the Network Slither) and Node Variations

Local scale At the local scale the same principles of Patch Corridor Matrix apply, however there is a focus on the nodes and the interventions within them. A slither of the network was used to demonstrate how the network would function at the local scale. The slither was chosen due to its positioning within Auckland city centre; it runs through the CBD centre, and because of the positioning of the potential nodes that sit within the 300m zones around habitat islands. On closer inspection the network slither demonstrates a wide range of the space and surface types that can be found within the city. (Figure 2) Nine nodes, from within the network slither, were chosen to undertake detailed design.These exemplar nodes needed to be unique, varying in spatial, invertebrate and interaction type.To ensure this occurred, and that all types were catered for, a table of criteria was produced to work off. A range of food, habitat, and space types; including environmental variance, must be provided for, to best accommodate invertebrates. For example, full sun, sheltered, exposed, shaded, long grass, tight habits, open habits, nectar, and pollen. Using entomologist assumptions the nodes are distanced at 100 meters to ensure that invertebrate connections are viable, with the occasional 50-meter node in between. (Figure 2, Image 4). Interactions between people and invertebrates take place within each node and in the surrounding links. The proximity between nodes means that although one node might not offer the key factors for a certain invertebrate species, there will be another node within a 100-meter radius that does. Each intervention caters for a variety of invertebrate, space, and interaction types to allow for the wide range of unknown possibilities and aims to increase biodiversity and invertebrate populations while evoking urbanites to accept them in the city. Posters ‘A’ through to ‘I’ (Figure 3) show how the nodes, within the network, are the intervention sites.


Urban landscape A key aim of these interventions was to ensure that they all varied slightly, because of the unknown preferences of each invertebrate species. ‘A’, ‘D’, and ‘F’, immediately show this biodiversity, through the variation of components needed for the invertebrate, space and interaction types.

Figure 3:The posters A Through B are a combination of perspectives, sections and close up details depicting the interventions that occur at each exemplar node.

The three functional categories; in which biodiversity is essential, are designed for in the following ways. Habitats have been designed to cater for the various invertebrate types and the nodes they are in differ environmentally.The speciesspecific clay walls in design intervention ‘A’ are positioned in full sunlight, to maximize warmth, and provide habitats of the native NZ bees. While masses of nettles provide shelter on a sunny overhang in design intervention ‘F’, as well as a habitat for the group specific species - butterflies. General invertebrate habitats can be seen in the rock wall components and logs within ‘H’. These nook and cranny habitats provide a range of climatic conditions. Habitats are provided in the range of plant habits, also seen in ‘H’, with variation between open and closed plant structures, such as Echinacea versus Muehlenbeckia species. ‘A’, ‘F’ and ‘H’ are examples of the climatic variations needed in habitats as well as the range of habitats that can be provided for the various invertebrate groups.

Eating habits for the invertebrate types and stages are catered for through the broad use of plants. Providing for the range of life cycle stages within a species is crucial in supporting the ongoing population within a node. The native nettles are an example of how, alongside a mixture of flowers, food sources for the various stages of the Red Admiral lifecycle can be accommodated for. Colour blocking plants in design intervention ‘E’ looks at the importance of massing colours to allow invertebrates to easily detect a food source. Butterflies easily spot red, orange, yellow, and purple


Urban landscape flowers; while bees are better suited to yellow, blue, blue green and ultraviolet. The range of native and exotic planting in design intervention ‘I’ depicts how a variety of food sources can be provided for all invertebrate types at one node. ‘F’, ‘E’ and ‘I’ highlight the way food sources can be provided to the various types of invertebrates, as well as some of the things that need to be considered, like life cycle stage, colour, and native or exotic preference.

The elevated connections between nodes in design intervention ‘D’, demonstrates some of the thinking that needs to be done around providing for the various travel methods and distances travelled by invertebrates. Crawling invertebrates would otherwise be disconnected from the surrounding nodes if the bridges were removed. The way surfaces are utilised differs, with the new bridge infrastructure and existing overhangs in design intervention ‘D’, showing how a mixture of retrofitted and newly built elements can be designed. However nodes sport interventions that are retrofitted over the existing surfaces and spaces. The upper car park level and adjacent rooftops in design intervention ‘I’ emphasise how unused surfaces and spaces throughout the city centre, offer so much potential.

Interventions vary in the degree in which they make urbanites interact. Magnification of invertebrate movements on screens is a blatant intervention, requiring little interaction. While QR Codes; Quick Response codes used to download information to a smart phone after a two-dimensional barcode has been scanned, and hands on elements are subtler and require active investigation or discovery. (“QR code”, 2013). Old and new technologies will be utilised, with some listed below: • QR Codes [ to give relevant information on interventions - the information that the code links to highlights the overall network ] • On site signs [ for brief information ] • Screens [ to magnify and reveal invertebrate movements ] • Hands on interventions such as logs and lids that can be lifted [ to get up close with invertebrate species ] • Data observation and collection [ helping to measure the success and with adaptive management] • Traversable routes Utilising main road spaces, as in design interventions ‘B’, ‘D’ and ‘E’, show how the interventions could become a part of everyday life for urbanites. This principle comes from Auckland Council’s ‘Indigenous Biodiversity Strategy’, and is backed up further by Gobster et. Al.The logs and lift boxes, in design interventions ‘H’ and ‘F’, provide close up discovery and interaction. As people accumulate singular interactions, they can start to make up their own connections and formulate their own personalised experiential network.


Urban landscape QR codes on city structures like traffic lights in design intervention ‘E’ reveal the overall network through connecting straight into it. This allows the person to decide the level of interaction that they want to further have, as it connects them into the surrounding node interventions, and wider network. It provides them with the invisible connections between nodes. Data can also be given through the QR codes, and other interpretive devices, such as signs. However it is not only about interacting with the invertebrates, but with the spaces and connections. Using a selection of nodes, traversable links can be formed, allowing an interaction with the network at a personal level. In the Butterfly Trail (Figure 4) interventions can be revealed to the public. The nodal links become traversable for people, and create a series of routes that spreading over the city. Different elements are showcased within each route, e.g. the Butterfly Trail would showcase a variety of group specific food and habitat nodes on a range of surfaces. Alongside this are the physical attributes that the route may have. Such as avoiding main roads, sticking to quieter streets and pedestrian only areas. The routes provide another way for the public to gain understanding and give a detectable network for people to interact with. The routes in Figure 4 are approximately a 30-minute walk and could be used on lunch breaks by urbanites, as well as by families and tourists coming into Auckland city centre. The routes could be extended to become parts of other walking networks within the CBD, such as historic walks. Adaptive management plans would be used to address current practices of pesticide and other chemical use within Auckland city centre, particularly areas where interventions are located. Plant list Accompanying the majority of the interventions is planting. A ‘Top 40 Plant List’ was developed through collating plants that were constantly recommended in various literatures as providing food and habitat for invertebrates. The list is made up of a fairly equal mix of native and exotic plants, seasonal variety and a wide range of plant habits. This list is not definitive and would need to be further tested and trialled.

Figure 4: Butterfly Trail

When selecting plants for interventions it is important to get a wide range to ensure biodiversity, to best suit each invertebrate, and cater for the different stages in their life cycles. Careful consideration needs to be given to plants with a heavier mass when planting them on rooftops or overhangs, as infrastructure may need to be reinforced. An adaptive management plan would allow us to review the strengths and weaknesses of this plant list.

Figure 5:Top 40 Plant List

DISCUSSION AND CONCLUSION Invertebrates are crucial to the survival of mankind yet humans are causing their decline. Through urban design that encompasses the needs of invertebrates, we can start to remedy this, increasing the biodiversity and conspicuousness of invertebrates in highly urbanised areas, like Auckland city centre. To enable the application of the findings of this research, a set of guidelines were developed (Figure 6) that would allow Landscape Architects to approach the topic of invertebrates in urban landscapes. The guidelines encompass the functional categories, invertebrate types, and surface and space types, to ensure that biodiversity is considered in the design process. Cater for an unknown range of invertebrates through biodiversity Wide range of plants Variety of spaces

- [ native, exotic, varied habits ]

- [ physical structures e.g. roofs, walls, pavement ]

Different environmental factors

- [ exposed, sheltered, full sun, shade ]

Provide food and habitat nodes - [ 100m spacing ] - Additional nodes interspersed randomly - [ at <100m spacing ]


Urban landscape Provide for life cycle stages of invertebrates - [ e.g. habitat & food sources for larvae & adult ] Vary the way public interact with interventions Provide levels of interaction - [ direct vs. indirect e.g. opening log habitats vs. screens ] Range of interventions - [ roof tops, clay walls, seating, planting, lift boxes ] Utilise available technology - [ QR Codes, green roof & wall technology ] Provide relevant information - [ signs, QR Codes ] Place interventions in a range of city spaces - [ each space used differently by urbanites e.g. civic space, urban park, main road] Continue to investigate invertebrate ecology Species requirements - [ plant relationships, food & habitat needs ] Species functionality - [ pollinator, carnivore, travel mode ] Adaptive management plan - [ monitor, analyse, adjust ] Figure 6: Guidelines

Due to the unknown realm of invertebrates it is important to have alongside these guidelines, a way to visually measure the success of the designs. This can be achieved through the measures below: • The ability to see the invertebrate species • Signs of invertebrate species; this includes nest, shed skins, chewed leaves, and invertebrates noises • Having invertebrate species in the higher ends of the trophic levels – for example spiders • And evidence of invertebrate species completing full life cycles in the network. The guidelines, along with the ‘Top 40 Native and Exotic’ plants list act as a source for other Landscape Architects and professionals to use to create urban invertebrate landscapes of their own. The research lends itself to be utilised within other urban environment policies and environmental issues, addresses Auckland Council’s plans to become the world’s most liveable city and provides a model for how Auckland Council’s Indigenous Biodiversity Strategies can be accomplished. If this project was to be implemented it could provide an opportunity to expand the available knowledge on invertebrates. An adaptive management plan would also need to be developed. ‘Invertebrates in urban landscapes’ is a highly relevant topic to the Landscape Architecture profession. It has an important role in enhancing the biodiversity potential of our urban landscapes, enriching them, as well as protecting invertebrate numbers. The interventions are generic and can be easily retrofitted for other sites. They allow meaningful interactions to occur between, people, invertebrates and site. Landscape Architects are in an ideal position to be part of the move to design highly urban landscapes that cater for invertebrates. REFERENCES References:

In-Text Citation

Auckland Council, (2011).

(Auckland Council, 2011)

Draft City Centre Master plan: September 2011 Department of Conservation. (2006)

(Department of Conservation, 2006)

New Zealand invertebrates Christchurch, NZ : Department of Conservation Gobster, P. et al. (2007).

(Gobster et al, 2007)

The shared landscape: what does aesthetics have to do with ecology? Springer Science + Business Media. DOI 10.1007/s10980-007-9110-x Klappenbach, L. (n.d.).

(Klappenbach, n.d.)


Urban landscape Insects – Class Insecta Received, April 2012, from, http://animals.about.com/od/insects/p/insects.htm Meader, R. (2010). Is it a weed

(Meader, 2010)

patch, or a garden? ‘Cues to care’ clue in neighbours, passersby. Retrieved, May 2012, from http://www.annarbor.com/home-garden/is-it-a-weed-patch-or-a-garden/ Monarch Butterfly NZ Trust. (2012).

(Monarch Butterfly

Beginners Guide to Nettles

NZ Trust, 2012)

Retrieved, April 2012, from http://www.monarch.org.nz/monarch/other- ‘ species/factsheets/plants/beginners-guide-to-nettles/ QR code. (2013).

(“QR code, 2013)

The Computer Language Company Inc. Retrieved, February 2013, from http://lookup.computerlanguage.com/host_app/ search?cid=C999999&def=717220636f6465.htm Rumble, J. & Tikao, D. (2012).

(Rumble & Tikao, 2012)

Rise of the urban beekeeper. Landscape Architecture New Zealand, (Spring 2012), 18-19. Statistics NZ. (2006).

(Statistics NZ, 2006)

Interactive Boundary Maps Retrieved, April 2012, from http://apps.nowwhere.com.au/statsnz/maps/ default.aspx?id=1000002&parentID=&type=region Winders, L. (2012).

(Winders, 2012)

Invertebrate Unknowns Auckland, NZ : Winders Images in order of appearance Alggi. (2012). Contours Retrieved, September 2012, from http://maps.aucklandcouncil.govt.nz/AucklandCouncilViewer/ AlggiAerial. (2012). Aerial Retrieved, September, 2012, from http://maps.aucklandcouncil.govt.nz/AucklandCouncilViewer/ All others Authors own


Urban landscape 31. The Chocolate River and Gardens of Change Boris S Aarhus School of Architecture abstract In many contemporary landscape restoration and re-naturalisation projects the concept of the garden plays an insignificant role and this is exemplified by many recent projects in Denmark.This relative insignificance is rooted in an understanding of nature and re-naturalisation as something that belongs outside the urban domain and thus is separated from the everyday landscape. One of the consequences of this separation is a lack of shared knowledge of sites and situations as well as indepth experiences of the cultural and natural processes of change. The aim of this paper is twofold: Firstly to investigate if and how the concept of the garden, however insignificant, can play a role in reconnecting society and nature in re-naturalisation projects across different scales and secondly to show how this potential reconnection can be used to accommodate change over time. A series of Nordic and Swiss landscape architecture and re-naturalisation projects are used as laboratories for this investigation. In different but related ways they reintroduce the concept of the garden in order to reveal the rich complexity of sites and situations to those engaged in the breath and depth of the projects as well as the context in which these are situated. Here context is to be understood through its active Latin root ‘contexere’ denoting an act of weaving rather than its more static common meaning. Thus understood the concept of the garden can create new formulations for reconnections, fusions and attachments between cultural and natural processes of change. Introduction “He leapted the fence, and saw that all nature was a garden.” (Vogt, 2005: 12) In many contemporary landscape restoration and re-naturalisation projects the concept of the garden plays an insignificant role as can be seen in many recent re-naturalisation projects in Denmark. This insignificance is rooted in an understanding of nature and re-naturalisation as something that belongs outside the urban domain and thus is separated from the everyday landscape. One of the consequences of this separation is a lack of shared knowledge of sites and situations as well as in-depth experiences of cultural and natural processes of change. Aarslev Wetland and Lake Area When the municipality of Aarhus at the turn of the 21st century implemented the re-naturalisation of the drained Aarslev Wetland and Lake Area a few kilometres west of Aarhus, they continued a humanly created transformation process of the urban landscape, which had started as early as 800 years before. In the 13th century the lake was enlarged and controlled through a series of mills placed along the Aarhus River towards the coast and the growing town of Aarhus situated in the Bay of Aarhus along the outlet of the river. Up until 1871, as a consequence of restricting the Aarhus River, the lake spanned an area of 350 hectares. From then on and up towards the turn of the 21st century the lake and the adjoining waterways have been altered and changed dramatically. In this 140 year period attempts have been made to drain parts of the wetland and lake as well as channelizing the Aarhus River. This is especially the case in the period from 1960-1970, where the final and most influential attempt of draining the area was implemented turning the former wetland and lakebed into agricultural and, at least during the following decade, fertile grazing land. In that period the area was dammed, the Aarhus River moved to a northern channel and the water pumped out of the area (Danish Nature Agency (DNA), 2013). But as is the case with many similar draining projects the productivity of the agricultural land have diminished dramatically since the initial draining took place. In the case of Aarslev Wetland and Lake Area the soil have sunk up to two meters making it a challenge to keep the water out of the area. Just prior to the re-establishment of the lake in 2003 only 53% of the area was part of agricultural productivity, while the rest of the area was wetland shrubbery and grassland. Also, from 1960 and onwards, the water quality in the Aarhus River diminished dramatically as the natural filter of the wetland and lake was destroyed. This resulted in an increase in phosphate and nitrate leakage from the upstream agricultural landscapes (Danish Nature Agency (DNA), 2013). In 2003, as a result of these and several more challenges, the Aarslev Wetland and Lake Area was re-established as part of The Danish Action Plan for the Aquatic Environment (APAE). Today the lake itself is approximately 70 hectares in area and is surrounded by 70 hectares of reed forest and 70 hectares of wetland. APAE was initiated in 1987 with the objective to improve the water quality of Denmark’s streams, rivers, marine water, and groundwater. The Aarslev Wetland and Lake Area was part of the second implementation of the action plan, which in 2004 was superseded by the third implementation of the action plan, the key objectives being a reduction of the phosphorus surplus in agriculture by 25% and a reduction of nitrate leaching by 13%. Instruments to achieve this reduction include economical and production oriented measures, but also a reduction of phosphorus leaching to water bodies by establishing


Urban landscape 10-meter crop-free buffer zones along rivers, streams and lakes, and by the restoration of lakes and wetlands (Danish Ministry of the Environment (EPA), 2011). In the case of Aarslev Wetland and Lake Area the restoration was done basically by turning off the pumps, but also through a series of design strategies, which were to bring back the area to what, by the municipality, was called ‘its natural state’ (Danish Nature Agency (DNA), 2013). In this process of re-naturalising the wetland and lake, the former draining channels were destroyed and removed, the overall shape of the recreated lake ‘naturalised’ and the waterways running into and out of the area reshaped in a natural meandering shape (fig. 1). Apart from two former pumping stations the traces of human history and former cultivation has been erased in order to make room for nature. Similar design strategies are used in other APAE related re-naturalisation projects, which have taken place in Denmark during the last two decades. But what does it mean today to recreate nature and to think of or act in the interests of nature?

Fig 1: A view from the south across Aarslev Wetland and Lake Area (left) and former draining channel (right). Photos by the author, 2012.

The Aarhus River and Mill Park The approach towards re-naturalisation seen in the Aarslev Wetland and Lake Area exemplifies what architect Rem Koolhaas characterizes as a ‘thinning of territories’. According to Koolhaas, in his description of five current paradoxes facing architects, larger and larger territories are inhabited by our culture but the intensity of use is diminishing (Brønnum, 2010). This ‘thinning of territories’ has structural causes like speculation in land use, tourism, recreation, preservation and restoration. It refers to the phenomena of a spatial-cultural expansion where the intensity of use is low in relation to the physical size and quantity of the given site or territory. The result is more areas with fewer programs spread thin over larger and larger territories, as it is seen for instance in the case of the re-naturalisation of Aarslev Wetland and Lake Area, which, despite having been part of the transformed urban landscape of Aarhus for centuries, has been recreated in the image of nature. Even though it too exemplifies the paradox of thinning as described by Koolhaas the recent competition in 2005 for a restructuring of Mill Park further downstream on the Aarhus River, and as such connected, both physically and historically, to the Aarslev Wetland and Lake Area, illustrates a different approach towards recreating nature in an urban landscape. As part of the plan to reopen the last stretch of the Aarhus River, which for decades has been led through a culvert underneath the central part of Aarhus, Mill Park was to become an invigorated urban park in direct relation to the river. As the park is placed at the precise location of the last mill responsible for stemming up the Aarslev Wetland and Lake Area, the park plays an important role in not only the history of the city itself but also in the history of the transformation of the larger territory in which the city is situated. The proposal by Danish landscape architect Stig Lennart Andersson (SLA) for a restructuring of the park is based on the idea of history being an open-ended and on-going process, as much a part of the future as what has come before. One of the key features of SLA’s proposal is the investigation of how stories appear and disappear in the course of history and, by acknowledging history as a series of equivalent stories, how small displacements can have similar impact, if not greater, as larger and more radical changes to the territory. These displacements include different elements from earlier uses of the site, which have been reinterpreted and reintroduced as small gardens in the proposal. Elements, traces and stories from different periods, for instance a riverine wetland formerly a part of the site, as well as openness towards future use and interpretations. The integrated gardens show how SLA, rather than developing Mill Park as a typical urban park designated for recreation, integrates it into the larger territorial substrate in which it is situated, causing a thickening rather than a thinning of the site. This is an approach, which embraces the history and specificity of the site as a basis for its development by inscribing new layers upon existing layers. In this regard SLA recognises landscape architecture as a design discipline capable of invigorating site-specificity and a deeper understanding of sites and situations where, according to French philosopher Sébastien Marot, ‘other specialists see only chaos’ (Marot, 1999: 54). Even though SLA’s proposal for Mill


Urban landscape Park was not realised, but replaced by the municipalities own version of an urban park, it reminds us, again following Marot, that gardens historically were the developmental laboratory for urban planning, well before urban planning decided to turn itself into an autonomous discipline by abandoning the experimental laboratory of the garden (Marot, 1999: 54). Seen in the light of the paradoxes described by Koolhaas, the questions SLA ask in their proposal for Mill Park, for instance what role gardens can play in relation to nature and the recreation of nature, are highly relevant for future re-naturalisation projects. On gardens and nature In his reflection on his own works Swiss landscape architect Dieter Kienast distinguishes between three types of nature. The first nature, he writes, consists of geology, topography, morphology, weather and climate. This, among other things, is a nature that is instrumental in the location, size, and formation of cities. The second nature, he continues, consists of the inherited and idealized landscapes: agriculture, forests, plantations, etc. Kienast describes the second nature as a static pastoral founded in an understanding of nature as something other than the city, something outside the urban domain.This is a nature, which shows us, even in the middle of the city, a romantic picture of the surrounding world and awakens old longings for the blissful Arcadian life in harmony with nature (Kienast, 1998: 32). It is in this Arcadian second nature, in which the reestablishment of wetlands and lakes in Denmark, as exemplified with the Aarslev Wetland and Lake Area, has its roots.The third nature Kienast describes as a ‘garden nature’ (Kienast, 1998: 32).This is a nature, where nature and culture are not separated domains but rather are included in a continued exchange between and change of each other over time. As the American historian Robert Pogue Harrison reminds us in his seminal collection of garden essays, the fact that humans create such things as gardens is strange, for it means that there are aspects of our humanity which nature does not naturally accommodate, which we must make room for in nature’s midst. This in turn means that gardens as a ‘third nature’ mark our separation from nature even as they draw us closer to it, that there is something distinctly human in us that is related to nature yet is not of the order of nature (Harrison, 2008: 41). As Kienast also claims, nature has its own order and gardens do not, as one hears so often, bring order to nature; rather they give order to our relationship to nature. This is, as is the case with most gardens, a relation that is under constant change. Swiss landscape architect Günther Vogt eloquently describes it as a palimpsest in the making: “The inside and outside worlds create a horizon that forms the basis of every garden. Unchanged nature can no longer be found […] Like a palimpsest, the original text is erased and a new one written each spring. The horizon, which promises a sense of direction, is to be sought in the gardens themselves, which are rewritten each year like a book, modified and developed further.” (Vogt, 2005: 13) A palimpsest, we are told, is a thick piece of parchment, which is reusable. The texts successively inscribed upon the surface often remain as traces, partly decipherable behind or between the newer lines or layers of text. A palimpsest is thus a two-dimensional writing board that deepens into a three-dimensional matrix of signs, inscriptions and texts overlaying one another (Marot, 2004: 7). While gardens, as palimpsests, have the ability to materialise and make visible the different traces of the past, history has no memory of the great majority of gardens that have graced the earth over the millennia.That is because gardens are not memorials. They may, as long as they last, be places of memory, but apart from a very few examples they do not exist to immortalize their makers or defy the changes of time (Harrison, 2008: 41). If anything, as in SLA’s proposal for Mill Park, they exist to re-enchant the present. In that way gardens are more too than just palimpsests. They are four-dimensional time-spaces in which we, following Mexican novelist Carlos Fuentes, who turns the original phrase on its head, are able to imagine the past in order to recall the future: “Remembering the future. Imagining the past. This is a way of saying that, now that the past is irreversible and the future uncertain, men and women remain alone with the scenery of today if they want to represent the past and the future. The human past is called Memory. The human future is called Desire. Both come together in the present, where we remember, where we yearn [...] We ought to imagine the past so the future, when it arrives, also can be remembered […]” (Fuentes, 2011, 11) Jardins d’amis Following the tradition of his Swiss colleagues in both writings and projects Swiss architect Georges Descombes has indicated something similar. His attitude towards intervening in the landscape circles around paying attention to that which one likes to be present where no one expects it anymore. As such Descombes work, much like SLA’s work in Mill Park, acts as devices for the revealing of forces that are or have become imperceptible in order to make tangible the recognition of changes in time and future potential. The sites of his projects become what Marot in his writings on Descombes project for Park de Sauvy describes as Jardins d’amis, meeting places for friends and colleagues not only from within architecture but from many disciplines: Engineers, artists, geographers, cartographers, historians, filmmaker, writers and poets (Marot, 2004: 58).


Urban landscape Park de Sauvy is placed in Lancy, a suburb to Geneva, in a small wooded area between the Voiret - a tributary running into the larger River Aire - industrialized agricultural land and the expanding suburbs of Geneva. In 1980 Descombes was to develop a playground in the area as part of a teaching experiment within Center for Architectural Research and Experiments (CREX), whose main remit was to develop architectural education through the concrete realization of ‘very small things’, temporary installations and ephemeral objects built in collaboration with their users (Marot, 2004: 58, Descombes, 1988: 6). By incorporating the tributary and topography of the area, the experiment ended up invoking not only the playground but also the larger territory in which it is situated. Through a series of precise garden installations Descombes introduces new layers to the site, which simultaneously reaches far beyond the original site demarcation but also points towards past traces and usages of the site in order to bring it into the future (fig. 2).

Fig. 2: Concrete steps in the wood leading to the banks of the Voiret. Park de Sauvy, Lancy. Photos by the author, 2012.

Palimpsestous River Aire As in the case of many other gardens throughout history Descombes project on re-naturalising River Aire in Geneva, initiated in 2000 precisely twenty years later than Park de Sauvy in Lancy, is a laboratory for learning about a third nature and the garden as a palimpsest in the making (see also Clemmensen, 2012). River Aire is placed in a similar urban situation as the Aarhus River and Aarslev Wetland and Lake Area, and has recently been undergoing similar changes. As such they both exemplify the challenges many rivers are facing in urban and industrialized areas. In order to achieve the overall objectives of the project the re-naturalisation is proposed through a series of four different phases, two of which have already been implemented. One of the main objectives of the Aire re-naturalisation, and the one objective, which was instrumental in getting the project initiated, is to reduce downstream flood risk in the flood plain of Aire, especially downstream of the Pont de Marais, in order to prevent the urbanised and industrialised areas in the vicinity of Geneva being flooded in periods when extensive rain and melt water arrive from the mountains. The collaboration led by Descombes between different architects and biology- and engineering offices developed an approach to the re-naturalisation of the river, which allows the river to create its own complex morphology, while it at the same time providing flood retention and easy access for the large urban population of Geneva. The total length of the canalised river governed by the competition is approximately five kilometres. Descombes describes it as a garden as well as a landscape laboratory in the making, in so far as it has no final state or one overarching solution, as seen for instance in the re-naturalisation of Aarslev Wetland and Lake Area, but rather many possible future solutions discovered through experiments with the river over time. No river is stable; each river has its own life (Descombes, 2009: 121). In this way Descombes’ approach to working with the River Aire, its water and its surroundings is very similar to how late Roger Deakin, British writer extraordinaire, in his enchanting Waterlog (1999), describes his personal swimming journey through Britain. Here Deakin states that ‘following water, flowing with it, is a way of getting under the skin of things, of learning something new’ (Deakin, 1999: 3) and further on, quoting D.H. Lawrence’s poem The Third Thing, that ‘water is H20, hydrogen two parts, oxygen one, but there is also a third thing, that makes it water and nobody knows what that is’ (Deakin, 1999: 5, my emphasis). This third thing, this unknown, Descombes has set himself out to explore by approaching River Aire as a garden, a certain third kind of nature. This may well be why, on May 25th 2012, Descombes was awarded the Prix Schultess des Jardins 2012 for his work on re-naturalising the river.


Urban landscape The Chocolate River The American poet Jim Harrison, in his collection of poems The Theory and Practice of Rivers (1989), writes eloquently that how the water goes is how the earth is shaped (Harrison, 1989: 3). This could easily have been the inspiration for Descombes work, most explicitly his proposal for phase three of the re-naturalisation process. Phase three comprises a lit majeur along the entire stretch of the channelized river in which a lit mineur is expected to develop and migrate. The lit mineur is Descombes response to concerns about the channelized riverbed lacking habitat value and visual appeal, as well as providing areas with deeper water in the otherwise shallow riverbed. The response was inspired by experiments with Swiss chocolate, its distinctive shape and warm milk. These in turn became the inspiration for the excavation of diamond-shaped depressions in the riverbed in order to create an initial lozenge pattern, which will provide the foundation for complexity whilst at the same time provide an intriguing landscape design. The expectation is that this particular lozenge pattern will be the starting point towards a restoration of the braided pattern that historically existed in the area of the river (Groupement Superpositions, 2012: 20) (fig. 3).

Fig. 3: The chocolate river (left, © G. Descombes), lozenge pattern (top right, © G. Descombes) and River Aire (bottom right. Photo by the author, 2012).

Gardens of change For Descombes running water seems to be a joy, which, again following Deakin, ‘always presents the architect or gardener with an opportunity for celebration: the chance to make something beautiful’ (Deakin, 1999: 68). Part of the re-naturalisation is proposed as a series of garden installations in the former channel. As described the river itself will be diverted and given space and freedom in a broad area along it, while the remnants of its concrete walls and floor will provide comfortable places to walk, as well as become part of a field of water gardens that extend for a long stretch of the river. Whereas the concept of the garden usually refers to an enclosed space, River Aire as an open-ended garden, as well as its integrated garden installations, are instrumental in establishing awareness of natural processes and creating situated knowledge of the river landscape across several scales (fig. 4).


Urban landscape

Fig. 4: Concrete installations and steps to a water basin in the River Aire. Photo by the author, 2012.

The handfuls of realisations that Descombes has placed along the River Aire are like fragments of a three-dimensional map of the site’s territorial substrate: a map addressed not to the bird’s-eye view, but to the thinking body of the walker; engaged in the breadth and depth of the territory (Marot, 2004: 74). Donald Schön in his book The Reflective Practicioner (1983) describes such an approach as a reflection-in-practice, a thinking-with-ones-feet (Schön, 1983). In this context, even though Descombes has been using historical maps, it has been, in the words of Deakin; ‘not to find his way but to get lost; to lose himself in the changing landscape.’ (Deakin, 1999: 51) As such, Descombes shows how a third nature emerges where human time is unfolding together with natural time. In this sense the open-ended gardens of River Aire are not restrictive but in fact generative, in marking out boundaries where the history of mankind takes place in its temporal unfolding. As architect Herman Hertzberger reminds us in his description of Descombes work in Lancy, which is also the case in his work on River Aire, it is precisely the boundaries that are marked out and draw attention aside from what Descombes has added to the site: ‘As if things had never been any different, the elements he adds to the environment lie there, as if unearthed by excavation, belonging to the soil, self-evident and quiet.’ (Hertzberger, 1988: 30) Descombes attitude towards intervening in the landscape makes visible the past, present and future connections between individual human behaviour, collective identity, small-scale complex systems and ecological processes. River Aire shows how a landscape architecture open towards change over time can (re)connect society and nature. We call it the loss of nature, or the loss of wildlife habitat, or the loss of biodiversity, but underlying the ecological concern is perhaps a much deeper apprehension about the disappearance of boundaries, without which the human abode loses its grounding (Harrison, 1992: X). Apart from representing the unfolding of human history, River Aires gardens of change represent not only a special form of gardening but also a form of gathering places for people and cultural and natural processes. This power of gathering is to a large extent about exchanging points of view and explains why the gardens of River Aire are not only places for dialogue but can be associated explicitly with the ideal of dialogue itself, ‘as one needs to learn the language in terms of which living things are organized, in order to speak the world not as discrete things, but as dynamic relations, and to practice the art of managing complex, living systems’ (Bateson quoted in Spirn 2000: 25). As we learn from River Aire our practices and language change and our daily rhythms shift. Through this learning, the nature of aesthetics and ethics shift towards what Leach describes as open to the texture as much as to the text of everyday life (Leach 2005: 141). In this shift substrate becomes substance. The re-naturalisation of River Aire shows how Descombes as a reflective practitioner has used the garden as a laboratory for experiments, which, precisely because the project is a materialisation of a third nature, makes the site open-ended and open towards change over time. Australian landscape architect Peter Connolly reminds us that real movement, to really move, is to become other than itself, in a sense that makes movement a qualitative change (Connolly, 2004: 203). In his work on River Aire Descombes shows how an openness towards self-organisation and change over time can lead to aesthetics becoming intertwined with an ethics of care towards re-naturalisation projects as integrated parts of our everyday surroundings


Urban landscape and not only parts of what Swedish landscape architect Sven-Ingvar Andersson has described as Sunday landscapes (Andersson, 1966). Weaving of things - or to context In her seminal book The Language of Landscape (2000) American landscape architect Anne Whiston Spirn reminds us that the word context derives from the Latin word ‘contexere’, or to weave. In that way context has an active root that belies its static common meaning: ‘A river, flowing, is context for water, sand, fish, and fishermen; flooding and ebbing, it shapes bars, banks, and valley’ (Spirn, 2000: 133). As Descombes shows us in the garden of River Aire this understanding of context can be broadened to also include weaving past, present and future together: “When you enter into a field of action, which is the field of your project, you have the context, but the context is also the past context. So it is not one instant moment. It is a complexity of layering of what has been and what is still there. This context is also full of projects.The past is full of a future, which has never been built.” (Descombes, 2012) As such Descombes weaves patterns of events, materials, shapes and spaces together in a continuum in order for River Aire to become a context of time relations. By being an open framework for change over time, as some gardens are, River Aire enables different otherwise separate spaces and times to meet and in the process opens up towards a human orientation. Instead of being a demarcated space designated for nature the re-naturalised river becomes an opening to other worlds and other people. Even though British walker and writer Robert Macfarlane in his recent book Old Ways. A Journey on Foot (2012) describes ‘Icknield Way’, a certain walking path in England, his words are fitting for Descombes work on River Aire as it too ‘seems to melt and combine, such that it seems not like a two-dimensional track but part of a greater manifold, looping and weaving in time even as it appears to run singularly onwards in space’ (Macfarlane, 2012: 55). The re-naturalisation of River Aire shows that the most effective approach to restoring rivers, lakes and wetlands will on the one hand be to give water its space and on the other hand to celebrate and make visible its dynamism and the human history related to it. By doing that the water and the palimpsestous history connected to the cultivation of the water can become a vital presence in any urban surrounding. Future reclamation and re-naturalisation projects in Denmark could look towards River Aire and Descombes Jardins d’amis for a way forward. References Andersson, S.I. (1966), ”Söndagslandskap och måndagsstäder”, In: Havekunst, pp. 121-128, Copenhaden: Arkitektens Forlag. Brønnum, R. (2010, august 25), Rem Koolhaas: De nye arkitekters 5 paradokser. Message posted to: http://www.rasmusbronnum.dk/2010/08/25/rem-koolhaas-de-nye-arkitekters-5-paradokser/ Clemmensen, T.J. (2012), The Garden and the Machine, Seminar: Designing Nature as Infrastructure, München: Technische Univeristät München. Connolly, P. (2004), ”Embracing Openness: Making Landscape Urbanism Landscape Architectural. Part II”, in: Raxworthy, J. & Blood, J. (2004), The Mesh Book, pp. 200-219, Melbourne: RMIT Press. Danish Ministry of the Environment, Environmental Protection Agency (EPA) (2011), Action Plan for the Aquatic Environment III 2005-2009. Retrieved February 28, 2013, from http://www.mst.dk/English/Agriculture/nitrates_directive/action_plan_aquatic_environment_3/ Danish Nature Agency (DNA) (2013), Årslev Engsø. Retrieved February 28, 2013, from http://www.naturstyrelsen.dk/Naturbeskyttelse/Naturprojekter/Projekttyper/Vandprojekter/Den_kommunalevaadomraadeindsats/bag_om_indsatsen/Viden_om_vaadomraader/Eksempler_paa_vaadomraader/AarslevEngso.htm Deakin, R. (1999), Waterlog. A Swimmer’s Journey through Britain, London: Chato and Windus. Descombes, G. (1988), Il Territorio Transitivo, Shifting Sites, Rome: Gangemi editore. Descombes, G. (2009), ”Displacements: Canals, rivers and flows”. In: Treib, Marc (ed.), Spatial Recall: memory in architecture and landscape, pp. 120-135, New York, NY: Routledge,. Descombes, G. (2012), Renaturalisation, River Aire, lecture held at the Aarhus School of Architecture, May 24th, Aarhus. Fuentes, C. (2011), La gran novela latinoamericana / The Great Latin American Novel, Madrid: Alfaguara. Groupement Superpositions (2012), Prix Schulthess des Jardins 2012, Zürich: Patrimoine Suisse. Harrison, J. (1989), The Theory and Practice of Rivers, Montana, MT: Clark City Press. Harrison, R.P. (1992), Forests - the Shadow of Civilization, Chicago: The University of Chicago Press.


Urban landscape Harrison, R.P. (2008), Gardens. An essay on the Human Condition, Chicago: The University of Chicago Press. Hertzberger, H. (1988), ”Between Things”, In: Descombes, G. (1988), Il Territorio Transitivo, Shifting Sites, pp. 30-31, Rome: Gangemi editore. Kienast, D. (1998), In Praise of Sensuousness, Zürich: GTA Exhibitions. Leach, N. (2005), ”Less Aesthetics, More Ethics”. In Ray. N (ed.), Architecture and Its Ethical Dilemmas, pp. 135-142, London: Taylor & Francis. Macfarlane, R. (2012), Old Ways. A Journey on Foot, London, Penguin Books Ltd. Marot, S. (1999), ”The Reclaiming of Sites”. In: Corner, J. (1999), Recovering Landscapes. Essays in Contemporary Landscape Architecture, pp. 45-57, New York, NY: Princeton Architectural Press. Marot, S. (2004), Sub-urbanism and the Art of Memory, London: AA Publications. Schön, D. (1983), The Reflective Practicioner. How Professionals Think in Action, Temple Smith, London. Spirn, A.W. (2000), The Language of Landscape, Boston, MA: Yale University Press. Vogt, G. (2005), About Books and Trees. Basel: Architectur Museum Basel.

32. Green roofs as Local Habitats in Singapore Darne S National University of Singapore abstract With the cities going skywards, green roofs might be one of the most feasible alternatives of injecting biodiversity within the extremely built-up urban context like that of Singapore.While there has been substantial research done on how green roofs can bring in biodiversity and how this ecological value that green roofs add to the urbanity can be developed as a part of detailed design, most of it has been undertaken in Europe and America, one has seldom assessed their ecological value and its potential to be developed into detailed design ideas for green roofs here in Singapore, they have mostly been tested and implemented for aesthetics and physical parameters. The paper undertakes biodiversity studies on select green roofs in Singapore in order to have a better understanding of association between plant diversity, maintenance regime and successful creation of local habitats. The green roofs chosen for this study are restricted within a certain area so that characters like site, surrounding context and location remain fairly constant and have variation in terms of the plant diversity i.e. planned and unplanned, maintenance regimes and irrigation. The findings highlight plant diversity and maintenance regime among many factors and bring forth the effects of their complex interactions with the inherent characters of the green roof itself like site, location, surroundings, area under consideration, soil medium, diversity of planned and unplanned vegetation and fauna etc which in turn affect biodiversity and habitat creation on urban green roofs. Finally based on a synthesis of the findings of the biodiversity studies a conceptual framework highlighting association between the plant diversity, maintenance levels, amount of biodiversity attracted and thus successful habitat creation on urban green roofs is presented. This framework presents new insights into better green roof design for creating local habitats and forms the basis for further interdisciplinary research. Introduction Loss of biodiversity Urban growth is occurring at an unprecedented scale. In 2008, for the first time, more than 50% of the global human population lived in urban environments (UNFPA, 2007). Much of this urbanization is occurring in developing countries, which are predicted to harbor 80% of the urban population of the world by 2030 (UNFPA, 2007). The developed world has already experienced an urban transition, with approximately 80% of people residing in towns and cities (UNFPA, 2007). Although urban areas remain a relatively small fraction of the terrestrial surfaces i.e. 4% globally, the urban ecological footprint extends beyond city boundaries and drives environmental change at local to global scales (Grim et al., 2008). On the island of Singapore, for example, urbanization had encompassed more than half the total land area by 1990 (Corlett, 1992), which contributed to the local disappearance of perhaps three-quarters of Singapore’s native species and habitat. By some estimates there has been a loss of 95% of natural habitats in Singapore in the past 183 years (Brook et al., 2003). A 2003 estimate has put the number of extinct species as over 28% (Extinctions in Singapore, 2003). In modern times, over half of the naturally occurring fauna and flora in Singapore is present only in nature reserves, which comprise only 0.25% of the land area of the country (Brook et al. 2003). Other estimates made in 2003 mention that the rapid habitat destruction will culminate in a loss of 13-42% of populations in all of Southeast


Urban landscape Asia. We are also witnessing an ‘extinction of experience’, whereby people living in species-poor cities are increasingly disconnected from the natural world (Miller, 2005). Urban green spaces are important for the provision of ecosystem services and can have a positive impact on quality of life, human health and wellbeing (Mitchell et al., 2008) (DevineWright et al., 2007). They provide opportunities for people to interact with nature and are, therefore, vital in fostering a wider interest in nature conservation issues (Miller, 2005). The importance of green roof as an alternative space The recent biodiversity research revealed that not only natural and semi-natural landscapes can be highly diverse in flora, fauna, and habitats, but that urban and industrial areas also display a wide variety of habitats, communities and organisms (Sukoop, 1998). Hence promoting and preserving this residual biodiversity within urban green spaces is one way to decelerate the rapid rate of biodiversity loss (Alvey, 2006). With cities going skywards, roof tops have often been referred to as “the last urban frontier” of cities in the sense that they represent the last significant remaining space that can be exploited for injecting and conserving biodiversity (Sia et al., 2008). Green roofs assume particular importance where high density urban development eliminates or severely restricts green space, or threatens or removes habitats at ground level. An investigation based on an urban ecological assessment proved the significance of green roofs for modern town-planning strategies. It showed that the extent of the area with a high environmental load could be reduced from 19% to 2% of the total (Brenneisen, 2004). There is general consensus on the fact that green roofs potentially increase urban biodiversity and there is a strong body of research work authent