On this #ThrowbackThursday I am absolutely enchanted by the geometry of metal slide and human form in this 1953 photograph by Arthur Lavine, who is best known as the official photographer for Chase Manhattan Bank. I’m not sure how he ended up in Marty, South Dakota for this shot in which the playground slide (he called it a ‘sliding board’, which is interesting) is the tallest thing on the prairie. [from SFMOMA]
This past weekend, the inimitable team of Chris Wangro and his co-conspirators at Industria Creative extended the public art spectrum from play-ful to full-on play-able (revelers running at full-tilt into the inflatable bunnies don’t properly count), with Boston’s first Play-Day. The Lawn on D bills itself as a ‘Lab for Art’, and on Saturday it became a ‘Lab for Play’; testing installation concepts and playful interactivity with mash-ups of hopscotch and drawing, lounge furniture and bouncy balls, traffic cones and pool noodles, tubes and tapes, light and sound. Inside the cloud of a graffitied white parachute, strangers were instantly friends. And it was grand.
Since I started writing about spaces for play seven years ago my interests have broadened significantly, from initial concerns over ugly and boring permanent playgrounds (those are now improving) to a desire to understand the wider connections between play and art and place and people.
If you’re at all engaged with making or planning a space for play, I hope you’re keenly aware that you have the opportunity to create a space for community, using the medium of play. Doing that well requires thinking beyond the installation of ‘stuff’, and it is a task that doesn’t end with construction. Play-makers need to think deeply about programming playable space.
You don’t have to have the Lawn’s budget. What if you invited your community to reimagine the playground nearest you by covering it with that simplest of inflatables: the balloon? Or added sails of stretch fabric inspired by Virginia Melnyk’s Sail Boxes? How fun would it be for the kids to wrap the entire structure in a plastic tape tangle? Or add LEDs to the swings, just for an evening?
How do we design playgrounds so that they’re flexible and stageable for temporary design interventions and new kinds of play? How do we ensure that public spaces for play are made for people to be together, not just sitting apart on a loose collection of park benches facing a pile of plastic equipment?
Take a lesson from the Lawn on D about the power of spectacle, the need for humor (playgrounds are often strangely devoid of humor) and the way time-limited, temporary installations keep drawing people outside of their private spaces to participate in community because they know that something in the public space will be fresh and new and fun. That’s what I’ve learned from the Lawn on D.
I was pleased to collaborate with Fatherly, a website for millenial dads, on a series of playground pieces. Do check out their analysis of best cities for outdoor play, our list of 11 top playgrounds to visit, and read their interview with me (in which I hold forth with a bit more candor on some hot button issues than I generally do here at Playscapes.)
Or what about a mylar happening at your playground? “Shades of Jonah! I’ve just been inside one whale of a Happening! As part of what it calls its continuing series of environmental exhibits, the Architectural League of New York presented Les Levine’s Slipcover, a ‘Place,’ in its ground floor gallery…’Place’ is the ideal name for Slipcover, which consists of three rooms, the floors, ceilings and walls of which are covered in Mirro-Brite, a mirror finished metalized polyester film…The Telegram, April 22, 1967.” Note the emphasis on making ‘place’, something playground makers often forget in favor of making ‘stuff’. Levine’s acrylic bubble sculptures (1967) also provide scope for the playful imagination. Both were enjoyed by both children AND grown-ups. [source]
In thinking about creating a more flexible playground space, I’m inspired by this installation in Harayana, India by Romi Khosla design studio [first found at habitatkid], whose panels move to create new spaces and new pathways. A lovely idea, and very innovative for 2004! For this type of playscape to be installed in the US or Europe the pinch points of the doors would have to be addressed, but that’s an easy fix. For more inspiration, see also the vintage Czech playground previously featured here at Playscapes.
I really like that the new natural playground at the Garfield Park Conservatory is referred to as ‘V 1.0′. Even though in this case it means that there is a Phase 2 play project yet to be constructed, it reminds me that all constructed spaces ‘as designed’ are only V. 1.0, and they should welcome being changed according to the needs and desires of their users. Too many playground ‘owners’ prescribe what their users are permitted to do in the space–climb here only, slide here only, sit here only, no running, no skateboarding–and then fight back against those who want to use the space in other ways. That’s a battle in which both sides lose: the public doesn’t get their needs met and the ‘owners’ lose time, money, and goodwill enforcing ‘rules’ that actually. don’t. exist.
Safety, you say? Nope. The goal is to channel user needs/desires into safe pathways. Frustrating the user by ignoring their desires (say, for more adventurous, riskier play) will lead them to either ignore the space or literally to break it–unsafely–to make it work. When that happens, we shouldn’t bemoan the bad behavior of the public the space was designed to serve. Instead, we should acknowledge that the design didn’t actually serve them, and try again.
As to the Garfield Conservatory playscape, I particularly like that it accomodates performativity (note the stage) and is purpose-built for flexible additions like fabric hammocks and den building and twine-tying, and that they were brave enough to put in some TALL stumps, not just the boring short ones, along with a ‘very steep bridge’. Hooray for steep! Let’s see more steep, and more V 1.0, on the playground.
The infamous Pruitt-Igoe public housing development in St. Louis installed a forward-thinking playscape of timber forms by Paul Friedberg in the 1960s, though even a great playground couldn’t overcome the political, social and economic stresses that ensured the housing complex’s tragic demise. My favorite image is the one that shows the youthful residents appropriating the space by painting the timber blocks. I think it’s interesting that this graffiti-like intervention was ‘allowed’ in a low-income space; painting the playground probably wouldn’t have been permitted–much less encouraged as an art project for which the housing authority donated the paint!–in a higher socioeconomic setting.
Gaby over at architekturfuerkinder has unearthed an advertisement for the Timberform constructs that proclaims the new creative playgrounds as ‘life-changing’ for the young residents of Pruitt-Igoe, and it reminds me that the role of playgrounds in mid-century urban regeneration schemes has remained largely unstudied. If you’re a student in need of a thesis project, do get in touch.
Breivik would certainly welcome it; he is also the sculptor of Bergen’s lovely water rills, making runoff (drainage issues should be generally seen as an *asset* to a site) not just visible but also playful.
And I ask–for the millionth time–why playgrounds aren’t more beautiful? How would playgrounds be different if they had to qualify, like these examples, as pieces of a permanent art collection?
Play and Art seem to be in a never-ending dance of mutual admiration, and public works of art constructed as objects-in-themselves often become places of ludic pastime. With regard to playgrounds, there have been many attempts to combine these two concepts, mostly with specific object references and life-like shapes. A ship, a car, or a monster, are popular motifs used by designers of play areas.
Another trend in the creation of outdoor public play areas, is to disregard obvious connotations and metaphors in the designing of the play equipment, by the use, instead, of abstract shapes.
Image by Maier Yagod
In the 1960’s Aldo van Eyke and others focused on Platonic Forms, and creators such as Axel Nordell pioneered the use of shapes and forms harder to describe. The heyday of both these trends was the 1960’s and 1970’s. Nordell and others created what might be called abstractforms. It would be a mistake to call these forms amorphic, if only because they do have a form. In the field of architecture we see similar forms in what was called in the 1990’s, “blob architecture” or “blobitecture”. This trend, which definitely has its supporters and practitioners, can be found in most countries; although it is rarer to encounter such forms in play structures.
Image courtesy of Sue Ela – Construction process
When the Israeli sculptor Sue Ela started making soft and smooth sculptures, she never imagined that these might have a larger and more varied use. But her granddaughter immediately saw the potential of these soft non-aggressive forms and mentioned to her that one of her sculptures resembled a slide. With this, an idea was born, and Ela set out to implement this concept in her work.
After experimenting with small models and dolls, Ela was commissioned by the City of Modi’in to create unique public play-structures. The park is situated in a valley (the city of Modi’in straddles a number of valleys) and is adjacent to a shopping centre. The play structures themselves are comprised of hollow strip-like forms. They are a striking feature in the landscape for passersby. The apertures through which one passes from one structure to the next gives a moderate experience of spelunking. The experience of crawling from the bright outdoors through a dark area, transition, and then re emergence into the light is one which is an essential part of a successful play structure.
Image courtesy of Sue Ela
The city of Modi’in has an abundance of parks and playgrounds; park designers are seriously challenged to make their own distinct contribution. This playground definitely projects a sense of tranquility and fun.The first aspect one notices is the smoothness of this very tactile structure. A friendly feeling which draws users to it. Its spacing might diminish the parks intensity, but it gives each structure an independent existence. The scale of these custom-made play structures seem to be on a scale fitting and comfortable for young children (ages 4-10). There is a certain ease that one feels when you see kids encountering the structure.
Image courtesy of Sue Ela
The vegetation surrounding the structures could have been more dense and higher, this would have given the space less of an exposed feeling and more of an intimate sense of enclosure. The surrounding trees should supply much of the needed shade in the future. One can imagine that once the trees are fully grown, glimpses of these structures would be popping up through the branches. Discovery is one of the aspects which makes for a good part of a city.
The choice of colours is striking, emphasizing the inside and the outside of the play structures. The forms outlined in colour areas on the ground allow for additional types of games such as tag, stepping, not stepping on the lines and so forth which can also be played in groups.
Image by Maier Yagod
Sue Ela plans to create more play structures in other places, and is working on one in the form of a dove. She envisions children of various backgrounds and communities playing together. The dove being both a symbol of peace and having a sort of slide like bodily form. This project has yet to be realized.
Play structure in context – Image by Maier Yagod
The use of artwork or installations as play structures is a trend that is not always simple to realize. Regulations and costs deter municipalities from encouraging custom-made playgrounds. This playspace, at a total cost to the municipality of 200k NIS, is a happy and culturally enriching addition to the community. Encouraging the use of public artworks for recreational purposes is a positive initiative that municipalities can take; the added value in terms of building a sense of community and expanding fixed perceptions, is well worth the time, effort and investment.
Defying the usual norms of consultation, artist Ronan McCrea “purposefully did not mediate or discuss…or identify the markings as being anything in particular (particularly as being art)”, when he filled the drab asphalt play yard of a Dublin school with circles and arcs.
“The markings do not signify any game or sporting code, but are used by the children in their own play they invent for themselves everyday. Some circles are very large in diameter and extend into other tarmac areas of the school property such as the car park. Some are so large that in one’s imagination the circumference extends beyond the school property and into the hinterland of the neighborhood.
In some subliminal way the circles are linked in the artist’s mind with the image of childhood, education and ego from Joyce’s bildungsroman, Portrait of an Artist as a Young Man:
“Stephen turned to the flyleaf of the geography book and read what had been written there himself, his name and where he was: Stephen Dedalus Class of Elements Clongowes Wood College Sallins County Kildare Ireland Europe The World The Universe.”
A second part of McCrea’s project was to document the arc-activated schoolyard in use: he fixed a camera at an elevated position before breaks and relied on the children’s random movements in and out of frame to create the compositions. The resulting photos reveal the way in which the children’s play both incorporates and defies the lines and volumes traced by the arcs.
As if in answer to my plea of “why can’t playgrounds be more beautiful?” up springs a kaleidoscopic basketball court in the ninth arrondissement of Paris. At 22 rue Duperré, in the Pigalle neighborhood, an existing court tucked between two buildings has been overhauled due to the advocacy of Stéphane Ashpool, creator of the Pigalle fashion brand and committed basketball player, with funds from Nike.
My first thought was of Mondrian, but according to the project’s artistic director, Subreville Thomas at Ill Studio it’s actually inspired by the Russian constructivist artist Malevich and his images of athletes.
Art and Play and Urban Reinvention all at once…great inspiration for the movement to appropriate urban alleyways and vacant lots for play!
As part of a grand project revitalizing the interior of Schwäbisch Gmünd, Germany, A24 Landschaft designed a “Netzvilla”; a house of nets nearly 8 meters high, with an escape slide, of course. Reminiscent of the temporary play installations of Numen, the house of nets also reminds me of the Wallholla ‘wall of play’ by the Netherlands’ Carve, which soaks up as many as 60 kids within a small footprint. Both of these room-like designs construct playable space within a defined architectural frame, a great option for urban locations with space constraints.
Like a Wallholla without the wall, this linear playscape by JDS Architects traces a thin line down the “Wave’ of Kalvebod Brygge in (where else but) Copenhagen, the world’s best city for play. Wow, look at the height that Denmark is willing to allow kids to play at, with no ugly safety* surfacing in sight! The Wave project continues the development of some ideas JDS expressed in their Maritime Youth House, also in Copenhagen, utilizing similar wide sloping planes as roofs-floors-slides. Constructed way back in 2004, the Youth House’s undulating roofscape should rightfully be given credit for starting the whole ‘playable roof’ trend that has now been taken up by other designers.
Even though it’s properly a sculpture, the Alice in Wonderland statue in NYC’s Central Park is essentially used as a play feature: every time I visit there are 20 or so kids climbing up the rabbit and hiding under the mushrooms. It was thus in the 1970s too, when Linda Eastman (soon to be McCartney) took some rather sweet photos of Jimi Hendrix and band and kids draped over the statue. The playful images were his choice for the cover of Electric Ladyland, though the record label overruled him and picked something quite…different. And now our count of playgrounds-on-vintage-rock-album-covers stands at 2. [see the other one here]
See recently on a visit to London, this gentle, hilly playscape with with artisan-carved additions for turtles and fish. Billed as a community space rather than explicitly a playground, this simple intervention provides great play and picnic value in a small, gardenesque space: a much better choice than installing ugly safety surfacing and a set of poles and platforms equipment. Remember that the best place to begin any small play installation is with a hill: playgroundsshouldnotbeflat! This playscape is fenced, which I generally oppose, but its position along the Thames and the need to keep the area free from dogs make fencing a reasonable choice here. By Groundwork London. More from London in the next few posts, and see other turtle-hills in this past post.
Paige’s Note: As I’m working to close an investment deal at the moment, I’m reminded of how great it is to have Susan Solomon’s columns as a part of Playscapes. Not just because it helps me fill in the posting gaps when my own schedule reaches its overstretched limits(!), but also because her insight into the American playground scene is erudite, historically informed, and unsurpassed. In today’s ‘After the Deadline’ column, she touches on an issue that is a thorn in both our sides–discussions of ‘Nature Play’ and ‘Natural Playgrounds’ as if such a thing has just been invented…and by Americans of course! No, not so. Nature play and natural playgrounds as a formal idea began in the 19th century, and were strongly emphasized by philanthropists in the 1920s and 1930s concerned about children in cities (they didn’t call it a ‘nature deficit’, but much of the rhetoric is the same), then taken up again in the back-to-nature movement of the 1970s. Most recently, beautiful natural playgrounds were being installed in Europe by dedicated and thoughtful practitioners like Helle Nebelong, well before the johnny-come-lately Americans began waving the ‘natural’ flag. Europeans still exceed us in the development of the natural playground art, largely because they have avoided the death-grip of overzealous safety guidelines that restricts play here in America. I’m glad to see the increased emphasis on nature play in the United States, but anyone who tries to lay claim to originality either doesn’t know their playground history, or is simply unwilling to acknowledge those on whose shoulders they stand.
The Nature of Nature, by Susan G. Solomon
Taking a cue from Richard Louv, I suggest that we consider “Nature Design Deficiency.” Nature playgrounds in the US usually have to be constructed– albeit that that is an oxymoron- or they can be naturally wild areas where the kids are left to be on their own. So far, we haven’t done a particularly good job with the former and we rarely see evidence of the latter.
While it has been hard to find exciting American areas for exploration of nature, Europe does not lack in excellent models. Two of the best, each distinguished by large expansive sites and opportunities for varied experiences, are the adventure playground in Valby Park (Copenhagen, 2001) designed by Helle Nebelong and the Environmental Education Center at Sloterpark (Amsterdam, 2012) designed by Carve. Nebelong called for an organizing circular boardwalk built from dead trees from the site. Nearby are multiple opportunities for scampering on other dead trees, playing in sand, hiding in dense brush, accessing a series of hillocks. Carve’s creation is particularly noteworthy for ways in which kids can play near streams and even ford them with variously arranged logs or sail over them on a zip line; they can run on a bridge over the water while being aware that there is a railing (for wheelchair accessibility) on just one side. Carve’s work gives children lots of chances to wander where animals nest and to get lost in deep brush or wade into thick swamps.
American nature playgrounds are often timid by comparison. They frequently include off-the-shelf manufactured pieces, which have been embellished with some rocks or trees. A few of our better natural play spaces are in botanical gardens, zoos, or nature preserves with significant admission fees, thereby assuring that these could not become neighborhood hubs.
Two things could accelerate the appearance of engaging nature spaces on his side of the Atlantic: more information about safety “standards “ (there are neither national nor state guidelines for nature play), and affordable, local models. We are lucky to be seeing the emergence of both within the past few years. The National Wildlife Foundation now provides a way to think about safety precautions; the Prospect Park Alliance (Brooklyn, NY) shows us what a terrific nature playspace looks like and how it can be accomplished on a relatively slim budget; the camp at Princeton (NJ) Friends School illustrates how kids can manipulate nature themselves and create magical surroundings.
Patrons often feel uneasy about commissioning a playground with just nature and no equipment. Their fears may be assuaged now that there is some formal guidance. Robin Moore, of the Natural Learning Initiative, has undertaken that mission by forming a partnership with the National Wildlife Foundation (NWF). The result is National Guidelines: Nature Play & Learning Places: Creating and Managing Places Where Children Engage with Nature (http://natureplayandlearningplaces.org, 2014). Teri Hendy, the dean of safety information, was risk management consultant for the project. Allen Cooper, a lawyer and director of state education advocacy with the NWF wrote the chapter on “Risk Management”. While it does not purport to be “legal advice” or a “design standard, “ Cooper’s chapter indicates that building a safe natural environment should not be complicated. He offers a well thought out approach to risk-benefit analysis, following very much the way such things are handled in England. This is a common sense approach to make sure patrons and designers are aware of how and where children fall; recognize head entrapments and protrusions; assess the stability of objects (e.g. trees).
. The Donald and Barbara Zucker Nature Exploration Area (ZNEA) is a public venue, one at which adults can be as active as the children. It illustrates how urban areas can superbly support nature play. Paige Johnson wrote a perceptive report about this site on this blog in November 2013, shortly after ZNEA opened. I want to discuss something a little different: how ZNEA came about how and how its creation should resonate with anyone considering a natural play area.
ZNEA, composed entirely of trees, sand, and a single water pump, is in Brooklyn’s Prospect Park (often considered the sister park to Central Park in Manhattan since both were originally designed by Frederick Law Olmsted and Calvert Vaux in the 1850s). The Prospect Park Alliance, the advocacy group that also funds major park projects, faced a conundrum after Super Storm Sand (2008) and the earlier hurricane, Irene. Over 500 sizeable trees, some between 48-60,” fell in the park. Like most of the northeast, Asian Longhorn beetles have infested the site, which means none of the trees can leave the park (interestingly, the trees and earth could not be removed at Valby Park, too).
The Alliance chose an innovative way to deal with their losses. They decided to strip some of the most interesting felled trees and arrange them into an exploratory zone. The entire play area (the Alliance did all of the design and construction) was done in about six months and within the allotted $200,000 budget. The are several “rooms”, including a sand room where trees stumps ring a sand pit and an upside down stripped tree stands at its center; It is an eerie reminder of the storm but also a beacon that announces something unusual is taking place at its base.
The largest trees have been arranged in a separate, nearby area. Strewn as if Sandy had happened yesterday but actually carefully constructed, these enormous bare limbs offer areas for balance, hiding, running, even quiet reflection. Some trees have been anchored; others are so big they will never more. The scale and variety are remarkable.
The donation from the Donald and Barbara Zucker Family Foundations, which funded this project, meant that the Alliance could develop an underutilized section of the park, turning it into a lively nature center. Placed at the bottom of a deep grassy bowl, this exploration area does not need a fence; wayward small fry can be collected before they ascend the hill. Without any fencing, anyone can come into this space and climb the boulders that can be challenging to adults as well as youngsters.
Right now we are in the end, and often the most difficult part, of the American hurricane season. This is predicted to be a relatively calm year, largely because of El Niño which will be bringing different type of extreme weather to the west coast. Even during mild seasons, there is usually tree damage on the Atlantic and Gulf coasts and possible along the Pacific edge. The Midwest, too, has its share of intense weather, usually but not exclusively spring storms. The message here is that tree damage, while not desirable and often dangerous and dispiriting, can also supply an important raw material. We should recognize that and take at advantage of it where it is appropriate.
The other wonderful example of nature play, at the day camp run by the Princeton (NJ) Friends School, is equally enlightened and informative. Kids can come to the camp for a single week or as many of the eight weeks they choose. The camp occupies a deeply wooded tract, approximately one acre, on which the children can roam. This is not a nature camp, per se, but much of the daily activity focuses on constructing the “villages ” which are age specific. Construction starts on the first day of camp and improvements/ additions continue throughout the summer (it is almost a shame that these impressive structures come down at the end of the camp season). The materials are minimal- twigs, limbs, rope and twine- plus a bit of assistance from the counselors who also use knives. The results are inventive and inspiring. The process would also be easy to replicate in city parks and play areas.
This is truly a kid-designed playground, one that puts to shame the sham charettes and design sessions that purport to ask kids to be designers. Here, kids stalk the environment and figure out how to use what is at hand. It is all about building with nature, in nature. It is an ever-changing landscape that is an ideal we should all support and encourage!!
Americans no longer have an excuse for some of the lame nature playgrounds we have already built. We have a pronouncement about safety and we have at least two outstanding American prototypes for what nature playscapes might look like. Anyone thinking of nature play spaces should take these to heart and get to work!
Aaaand I’m back from the land of voting agreements and dilution formulas to the happier place of playgrounds…thanks for waiting! I talk alot here at Playscapes about the fact that playgrounds should be local: they should relate uniquely to their site and their community. But I really like the fact that this new castle playground installed in 2014 in Zulpich Germany didn’t attempt to directly compete with the turrets and battlements of the REAL castle just behind it. Instead, RMP Stephan Lenzen Landscape Architects used an reinterpretation of the castle: a series of faceted forts set in a traditional defensive circle that kids can range about, through and on via ramps and ropes and climbing walls. The red and white flag-like accents bring just enough color and visual appeal to accent the precise, modernist wood construction. Note that two of the forts rise higher than the others and a gap between them draws children into the open center ‘bailey’ just like a traditional castle gate does (visible in the background of the photo with the swing). The bailey–indeed the entire ground plane of the playscape–is covered in tons (literally) of sand, the original playground material. And no safety surfacing in sight, yay!
For Throwback Thursday, thanks to reader Mannie Ko for letting me know about this facebook page dedicated to chronicling the vintage playground elephants of Taiwan. It’s great to see that these are beloved and being preserved by their communities. I do love a playground elephant (see several previous posts on them here). Delightful!
And adding to our collection of playful pachyderms is this German example; providing unexpected whimsy in front of a severe modernist housing block in midcentury Mirow, Germany. [source]
Also from RMP Stephan Lenzen Landscape Architects is this thoughtful concatenation of play with garden and architecture in a pavilion designed to display the environment of North Rhine-Westphalia at a Dutch garden show. Over the last fifty years or so western culture has largely restricted play to the designated real estate known as the “playground”. So when re-integrating play into other public spaces–public squares, sidewalks, exhibition spaces–it is often necessary to add cues to say “play is welcome here!”. Lenzen’s architectonic interpretation of hills and valleys is quite playable just on its own, but the addition of chalk-drawing panels, climbing walls, and bean bags–all in bright red–*invites* children to play in a way that the wooden planes on their own would not. If you’re designing playable elements outside of a traditional playground space, think about adding cues to give the public–adults and children alike–permission to play there. Without them, you may find your playscape–no matter how thoughtful–lacking in players!
