Boston Society of Landscape Architects Spring Fieldbook Volume 14.1 | Page 28
Student Essay / Boston Architectural College
Play i n g N i cely To g et h e r
Erica Quigley
spillways to manage stormwater and increase plant and
animal biodiversity. They addressed cultural history by using
Olmstedian design concepts. Perhaps most importantly for
the future of the site, they created a memorable place that
will ignite a powerful sense of nostalgia in tomorrow’s alums.
Since my decision
nearly two years ago
to study landscape
architecture, I’ve
been gathering
information about
the field from practitioners, instructors, and publications.
The overwhelming message is that things have changed
dramatically in the last 15-20 years. What’s changed, and
how is the Boston Architectural College addressing those
changes? I’ll share my perspective as a second semester
Master’s student.
The landscape architects and designers I’ve
spoken with convey their satisfaction with creating
beautiful places, but they also speak of the current focus
on designing landscapes that perform multiple functions
for people and nature. I was fortunate to attend the
Natural Learning Initiative’s 2012 Design Institute, where
Robin Moore and Nilda Cosco presented spaces that
simultaneously work as playgrounds, classrooms, urban
gathering spaces, art exhibits, and habitats.
After reading James Corner’s essay “Terra Fluxus” in my
Design Theory and Inquiry course, I chose to write a paper
relating Corner’s ideas to Wellesley College’s Alumnae
Valley Restoration (Michael Van Valkenburgh Associates,
2001-05). As a Wellesley alum from the 20th Century, I
knew Alumnae Valley as Service Lot, an asphalt wasteland
that performed one function: car storage. While the rest of
Wellesley’s landscape was a significant factor in my choice
to attend in the first place, it can’t be denied that the
College followed the 20th Century trend of putting cars first.
Although I had been aware of the Alumnae Valley
Restoration and had walked through it, it wasn’t until the
paper assignment that I realized how well the landscape
accounts for complexity and change. After dealing with
the toxic soil and groundwater left over from industrial
activity, the designers created wetlands, swales, and
26
BSLA
Wellesley taught me to research and write papers, so I was
surprised when my Design Theory paper draft came back
covered in red ink. In that course, as in every other BAC
course, I’ve been required to represent my ideas graphically,
using both analog and digital techniques. Those I’ve
talked to in the field remark again and again that today’s
landscape designers must not only be proficient at both
hand drawing and computer graphics, but must know which
tool or combination of tools best communicates their design
intention. Once I had created sections, diagrams, maps, and
photo sequences that conveyed my paper’s thesis, I found
less red ink and a better understanding of how to express
my ideas visually.
Design Theory, like the majority of my courses so far,
included students of architecture, interior design, and
landscape architecture. Practitioners and publications give
me a sense that the design field has evolved to value each
discipline more equally than in the past. This evolution has
been reflected in the BAC’s Transdisciplinary Studio, where
our final project was to create an urban sculpture gallery
with both indoor and outdoor areas. The assignment
allowed students f ɽ