Michael Grossert’s 3 Playgrounds, 1967–1975

"While the relationship between sculpture and architecture is still fervently being explored, it is worth wondering why the works that emerge from that conversation are more often illustrious museums or art pavilions than utilitarian playgrounds. If this has something to do with a stemming of pedagogical ardor in this century, it is still—take a look at your neighborhood playground—a shame. As Grossert himself said, his projects realized the idea of the “walk-in sculpture” that occupied him for years. Such ideas have neither flagged nor left the minds of our artists, but they are now usually called installations, their province is the museum or gallery, and their population has usually left play far, far behind."

From Quinn Latimer's review of Michael Grossert’s “3 Playgrounds, 1967–1975″ at New Jerseyy, Switzerland.

Swiss sculptor Michael Grossert contributed three playground pieces to the sometimes delirious playground conversation of the mid-century:  a play plaza conceived as a walk-in sculpture (at top, 1967, recently restored)  a climbing sculpture for a  housing park of thirty yellow, red, and blue polyester stackable elements of which half were fixed and half were left for the children to move as they pleased (middle photo, 1971, still in place) and another,  unrealized concrete landscape intended for the Résidence Grétillat in Vitry-sur-Seine, France which survives only as a model (1974) but has obvious links to his 1976 sculpture "lieu dit" (below).

(see also the exhibition's press release, with additional photos, here)

Playground Crochet by Toshiko Horiuchi

 Toshiko Horiuchi MacAdam, who orders yarn by the ton for her creations, is the textile artist behind the oft photographed net constructions at the Hakone sculpture park in Sapporo Japan. 

I love the story of how she came to be engaged with children's play:  "It all happened quite by accident. Two children had entered the gallery where she was exhibiting 'Multiple Hammock No. 1' and, blissfully unaware of the usual polite protocols that govern the display of fine art, asked to use it. She watched nervously as they climbed into the structure, but then was thrilled to find that the work suddenly came alive in ways she had never really anticipated. She noticed that the fabric took on new life - swinging and stretching with the weight of the small bodies, forming pouches and other unexpected transformations, and above all there were the sounds of the undisguised delight of children exploring a new play space."

From that point, her work shifted out of the gallery and a subdued, monochromatic pallet into a riotous rainbow of colors for children's playscapes.

Rainbow Net was produced in close collaboration with structural engineers TIS & Partners and landscape architects Takano Landscape Planning and opened in July of 2000 after three years of planning, testing, and building.

Note that the project began with a brief not for a playground, but simply for 'public art'.   Wouldn't it be great if when we heard 'public art' we automatically thought 'play'?

But innovative playscapes require an enormous commitment:

"...endless cycles of discussion and approval, with meticulous attention to detail...[including] an actual scale wooden replica of the space in Horiuchi's studio and accurately scaled crocheted nets using fine cotton thread. Even then, it was difficult to assess many things. What difference, for instance, would the weight of the real yarn make when everything increased in scale? All of these factors had to be calculated in order to arrive at a scientific methodology that could eradicate any risk of unacceptable danger." During final assembly, Toshiko crocheted ten hours a day, often on her knees, until the installation was complete.
With the current revival of the textile arts and yarn bombings everywhere, I'd love to see more crochet on the playground!

Castle at Wilson Park, Fayetteville Arkansas USA, Frank Williams, 1980

 I've just done an interview for a parks and recs magazine in which I noted the fact that standardized 'kit' playgrounds rarely worm themselves into a neighborhood's communal heart the way a playscape that is unique to its site can. 

In 1970 Fayetteville held a contest to improve the area around a natural spring. Artist and sculptor Frank Williams presented a scale model for a "fantasy play castle sculpture garden" that would eventually be known simply as "The Castle".  Frank called it  "Seven Points" and designed seven cement castellations  and a rock in the foot bridge with the number "7" in it.

Inspired by Gaudi and thinking that a structure already in 'faux decay' would little show the ravages of time and children, Frank embarked on the project with the support of the Arkansas Arts Council.  Incredibly, Williams did most of the ferro-cement and natural stone construction himself, outlasting multiple assistants and extending a three month project to a full year. 

Williams' website details the playground's constructions, and the trials associated with it:

"I had plans for landscaping and plantings that had to be scrapped. At least two bronze sculptures I had designed were dropped. And untold options and possibilities were ditched due to the practical concerns of time and money.

I pushed and we hurried but when the money was out helpers had practical choices to make and some had to find other paying jobs...ultimately it was me alone cleaning up and trying to plant a few purchased and donated plants and trees with the donated aide of a local landscaper.

But we did have the opening over that hot weekend."

Perseverance paid off in a place envisioned for both the 'young of age and the young of heart'; thirty years of children playing, teenagers hanging out, tired grown-ups dangling their feet in the water, and countless graduation and wedding photographs taken there by the citizens of Fayetteville.  How many playgrounds are special enough that the community wants to mark its special moments there?

At the castle's 25th anniversary celebration, Williams noted that it is a place "where many children forget about television and video games.” Amidst all the hand-wringing about childhood obesity, we need to acknowledge that grown-up playground makers aren't always making spaces that are interesting enough to keep children active.  Saying 'kids should play outside!' is the easy part.   Making places so engaging that they forget about television and video games is more difficult, but so important.

Lekeskuptur, Hugo Wathne, Stavanger Norway, 1980

Norwegian sculptor Hugo Wathne painted his concrete forms in bright colors for a sunny, open playscape at Auglend School in Stavanger, but left them unadorned for a stumble-upon glade in Middleheim Park, Antwerp.  Do any of my Norwegian readers know if these are still in place?

Playable sculpture by Robert Tully, Colorado

One of many good thoughts currently percolating around the idea of playable urban space has to do with the role of public art, which judging by my email alot of you are thinking about.   A shift in thinking of public art as something to be interacted with rather than gazed upon could play a significant role in moving the discussion of playable space away from demarcation (this area is a playground, this area is not) towards gradient :  a variety of playable spaces along a spectrum that extends from no-play (obviously say, railroad tracks) to devoted-to-play spaces (playgrounds) , but with all conceivable points in between. 

Reader and London playground chat attendee Lianne sent me the work of Robert Tully with which I'm quite impressed, not least because it so beautifully expresses the history and genius loci of Colorado, but also because it has so many creative, playable ideas from which to learn.

"Tradebeads" (Fort Collins, Colorado, cobblestones strung on stainless steel rods)

"Ripple Effects" (also Fort Collins, playable earthforms reclaiming a former dump site)

"Listening Stones" (Longmont, Colorado, parabolic seat carved into a river boulder to listen to the sound of the water)

 

"Gather Enough People" (cooperative play also in Longmont, instructions in the form of a riddle lead participants to open the scupture at the top by gathering three or more on the platform)

"Prairie Underground" along the same trail in Longmont lets visitors discover carved grounddwellers...the half-hidden nature of these carvings would delight children.  There need to be more 'hidden' things on playgrounds that can be discovered, over and over again.

"Kestrel's Way", same Longmont trail (I really must visit)--simply bending a standard trail out over a small incline provides a vertiginous experience that children love...the feeling of risk in a still-safe setting.  

"Waterline", same trail, reminds that 'natural playgrounds' must do more than plop down a boulder in some grass and call it good.  Adding a carving provides scope for endless crayon tracings!

"Visions born by this River", Gates Crescent Park by Children's Museum, Denver, uses river boulders with minimal carvings to represent native animals, inviting the children to use their imagination to complete the scene.

"Visions" is one of several dedicated playgrounds by Tully; another is the "Miner's Dream" in Breckenridge, Colorado.   Keeping on this idea of a gradient, I think it is significant that the dedicated playground space is only a part of a collection of eight pieces that form "a landscape based on history of the mining town, nature and imagination. Five pieces are in a playground while three are outside the playground on the plaza and in the river, breaking the usual playground boundary to become an overall sculpture about creating one's future from past materials."  They include "Human Scale," an interactive sculpture,with platforms that people can stand on like a giant miner's balance. Old iron wheels can be turned to move stone animals as counterweights and balance with an adult, and there is also a small "Three-Way Scale," designed for more complex balancing with sand.  "Slide and Steps," is a polished glacial boulder for sliding, and historic narrow guage rails are used as balance beams.  The stone and wood "History House" is sunken so kids can play in the attic, and the "Rock Person" provides the negative space of the human figure.

This has been a long post, but I wanted to include so many of Tully's amazing ideas...inspirational for playscapes everywhere.  All photos and text from Robert Tully's website. 

Stringy yellow tube playscape, Blanton Museum of Art, Houston, Texas

 

The Blanton Museum of Art at the University of Texas in Austin has a large outdoor installation of stringy rubber tubes that kids can tie into knots, or grab in bunches to climb or swing, or just run through!  I love to see unconventional play materials.

photos via about Austin.   I couldn't find the name of the designer or the date of the install (if you know, get in touch!) but it reminds me of this previously blogged 'Circle of Squares' installation made out of yellow pipes.

UPDATE:  Thanks to reader maggie for letting me know that this is a piece by Jesus Rafael Soto, known for his penetrables:  interactive sculptures of thin, dangling tubes designed to be moved through, in which the form of the sculpture is inseparable from the experience of the viewer.

"Centre of the World" climbing wall, Arkstudio Lamusuo, Vuokatti Finland, 2004

This is the most beautiful play installation I've seen since I started the blog...the "Centre of the World" climbing wall  by Arkstudio Lamusuo anchors the assembly hall of the Satuvakka day care center in Vuokatti Finland, giving it a planetarium-like feeling.  The material is a grained plywood, worked into topographic layers and accented with gold leaf.

It also belongs to the Municipality of Sotkamo's art collection. 

How many playscapes are beautiful enough to qualify for a place in a permanent art collection?  How would playgrounds be different if they had to?

Puckelball Pitch (the world's first!) Johan Strom, Malmö, Sweden, 2009

 

The world's first Puckelball pitch is in use in Malmö, Sweden, a city notable for its commitment to  creating new social spaces that encourage its residents to interact outdoors. 

Also called 'Mogul ball' for its resemblance to the moguls on ski runs, the puckelball pitch (made of artificial turf) is a protected design concept by artist Johan Strom, who thinks of it as a metaphor for life:

"Many live under the belief that life is a fair playing field, that both pitch halves are just as big and the goal always has at least one cross. But ultimately the ball never bounces exactly where you want it to and the pitch is both bumpy and uneven."

As one of those uncoordinated kids that was always picked last for team sports, I would have loved playing in a setting in which "the pitch’s irregularities neutralise the players’ skills. It is not at all certain that the best football player is also the greatest puckelball hero. If the ball doesn’t bounce where you think it will everybody has a chance."

The unevenness of the field is intended to invite more imaginative ways to play, and to encourage play between girls and boys, old and young, skilled against unskilled, on equal footings, challenging the physical elitism inherent in most sporting activities.  But serious footballers find it useful, too...for practice in responding to unpredictability.

How much do you want a puckelball pitch in your hometown?  Yeah, me too.  Let's start a movement.

(Malmö has more exemplary playscapes...watch for them in future posts!)

UPDATES:  see also photos of the puckelball field construction by Bo Johnsson and a video about puckelball by the municipality of Malmo.

Playscape Inspiration from Anthony Caro

Child's Tower Room (1984)

If you're looking for inspiration for the contest, mull over the work of British sculptor Anthony Caro (credited, arguably, with removing sculpture from its plinth)...

Duccio Variations No. 5 (2000)

Millibank Steps (2004)

Table Piece ccclxxviiii

Chelsea ziggurats (1997) made from railroad ties!

and his most playscape-ish piece, "Tower of Discovery", 1991

Stickworks Playhouses by Patrick Dougherty

Willow artist Patrick Dougherty has a new catalogue of his extraordinary and playful creations, available on his website. I was going to put this on my Christmas list, but I just couldn't wait...

(The Morton Arboretum blogged the construction of the "Summer Palace" , above, providing insight into how these structures are formed.)

Parque Gulliver, Valencia Spain, 1990

Gulliver's body morphs into slides, ramps, stairs and caves, scaled so that visitors are the size of the Lilliputians. A joint project by architect Rafael Rivera, artist Manolo Martin and the designer Sento.

Submitted by bianca, who is embarking on her own playground designs in Spain. [Thanks and good luck, bianca!]