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Designing Parks

ISBN 978-3-86859-381-5

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Contents<br />

LEONARD GROSCH / CONSTANZE A. PETROW<br />

4 <strong>Parks</strong> for People<br />

ROBERT HAMMOND<br />

8 Parallels<br />

11<br />

LEONARD GROSCH<br />

Learning from Gleisdreieck<br />

12 Pictures in My Head: What Drives Me<br />

15 Park am Gleisdreieck: Design Strategies<br />

16 Location—A Need for History<br />

21 Framework—Stability and Orientation<br />

27 Program—Activity and Community<br />

32 Multilayered Coding—Everyday Usability<br />

and Self-Realization<br />

40 Stage and Stands—Great Cinema<br />

43 Scale—Security and Freedom<br />

46 Types of Nature—Wildness and Design<br />

49 Detail—Precision and Sensuousness<br />

53 Atmospheres—In the Middle of Things<br />

and Truly Outdoors<br />

59 Outlook: It Continues!<br />

65<br />

Park am Gleisdreieck<br />

Facets of an Open Space in Berlin


151<br />

CONSTANZE A. PETROW<br />

<strong>Designing</strong> <strong>Parks</strong> as Lively Places<br />

154 Landscape Architecture as Urbanist Discipline<br />

156 The Performative Approach<br />

159 A Look Back: <strong>Parks</strong> in Modern Times<br />

162 <strong>Designing</strong> <strong>Parks</strong> as Lively Places—Twelve Essentials<br />

163 1. Develop with Multiple Voices<br />

165 2. Design Complexly<br />

168 3. Program Intensively<br />

172 4. Position Cleverly<br />

174 5. Fulfill the Promise of Nature<br />

177 6. Tell Stories<br />

180 7. Find and Strengthen Images<br />

182 8. Interweave It with the City<br />

185 9. Facilitate Appropriation<br />

188 10. Be Welcoming to All<br />

190 11. Vary Degrees of Publicness<br />

192 12. Continue Enhancing Together<br />

194 Conclusion: <strong>Parks</strong> for the Open City<br />

FRIEDER BECKMANN/MEIKE HAKEN/ANTONIA MUSCHNER<br />

197 A Park Full of Atmospheres<br />

The Perception and Production of Atmospheres<br />

in the Park am Gleisdreieck<br />

214 Bibliography<br />

216 Imprint /Image credits


<strong>Parks</strong> for People<br />

“To this day creating a contemporary kind of park remains one of the most difficult<br />

tasks for our profession.” GÜNTHE VOGT<br />

Urban societies are currently undergoing profound change. They are<br />

becoming more diverse in terms of ethnicity and culture, as well as older.<br />

Urban milieus and lifestyles are becoming increasingly differentiated, and<br />

inequality between rich and poor is also growing. For good and relaxed coexistence,<br />

lively and integrative public open spaces are hence more important than<br />

ever. They represent an efficient and also comparatively inexpensive way to foster<br />

living together peacefully in cities. “Efficient” in this context means the ability to<br />

attract various segments of the population, facilitate diverse uses, and thus offer a<br />

lively location with a laid-back and safe atmosphere. It is first such a location that<br />

enables an essential moment in urban life to occur: encounters between strangers.<br />

In many landscape architecture projects of the last two decades—and in particular<br />

those that developed from competitions—questions about aesthetic style<br />

and the goal of originality of form were raised before questions about potential<br />

utilization possibilities and the quality of spending time at the location. Images<br />

suitable for publication were given precedence over how a location performed as a<br />

public space. Appropriateness for everyday life was subordinated to suitability for<br />

events. Consequently, the market was given priority over the interests of the public—both<br />

the market of attention within the field1 as well as the economic exploitation<br />

of urban spaces as part of business-oriented urban development policies. In<br />

such cases, landscape architects did not only pursue their own concepts of value;<br />

they also reacted to the developers’ desires. As a result, however, not only the<br />

social and psychological but also the political aspects of urban open spaces—their<br />

ability to contribute to integration in society, social stability, and a vibrant public<br />

life—were often given short shrift.<br />

Some years ago, Wulf Tessin initiated an important debate on the aesthetic<br />

preferences of park users, preferences that conflict with many contemporary<br />

designs.2 The controversy that followed obscured the political explosiveness of a<br />

landscape architecture that satisfies itself and is understood by designers above<br />

1 See Franck, Ökonomie der Aufmerksamkeit. Ein Entwurf; 2 Tessin, Ästhetik des Angenehmen. Städtische Freiräume<br />

zwischen professioneller Ästhetik und Laiengeschmack<br />

4<br />

<strong>Designing</strong> <strong>Parks</strong>


all as an aesthetic object. Public spaces that are not designed explicitly with the<br />

goal of attracting people and being able to be used intensively in day-to-day life<br />

often remain bleak and empty—and hence do not do full justice to their possibilities<br />

as urban meeting places. Since the terrain of design in German landscape<br />

architecture was won back in the nineteen-nineties and the ecological aspects of<br />

open spaces have come to receive new attention as part of society’s growing perception<br />

of climate change since the naughts, it is now once again necessary to<br />

focus on the social role of landscape architecture.<br />

For this reason, this book does not address questions of aesthetics first and<br />

foremost but rather the social performance of open spaces. How is it possible to<br />

succeed in making a park or square “buzz”? How is it possible to get as many people<br />

as possible to visit it because it promises relaxation, variety, and surprises and<br />

because it celebrates the grandness of life in the city? Through seeking to answer<br />

these questions, in a certain sense, this book supplements the book Open(ing)<br />

Spaces: Design as Landscape Architecture, published in 2003. That publication<br />

communicates to students the tools for spatial design in landscape architecture—<br />

it shows how one designs spaces. But how does one create places?<br />

We are therefore interested in the possibilities for making open spaces stages<br />

for urban life—stages that are used intensively and have meaning for people. We<br />

call this a “performative approach.” Addressing the human scale and creating<br />

urban spaces filled with life, as Jan Gehl propagates for architecture and urban<br />

development,3 are by no means things that happen automatically in landscape<br />

architecture, either. “If your goal is to create a place … a design will not be enough,”<br />

the Project for Public Spaces notes.4<br />

Landscape architecture can be more than conceptually original and at the<br />

height of its time in terms of form. To be so, design must moreover comprise both<br />

a strong aesthetic, spatial concept and a sophisticated idea of a location as a social<br />

space: an idea of what uses a design facilitates, what atmospheres it allows to<br />

arise, and what settings for encounters and shared experiences it offers. What is<br />

therefore concerned are correlations between form and use, program and liveliness,<br />

design gesture and the popularity of a location, between identification and<br />

possibilities to participate. And, naturally, what is always involved is the question<br />

of how it is possible to succeed in making people feel happy in open spaces. This<br />

requirement should also be accompanied by the awareness that people interpret<br />

not only the messages of an overall design but also the subtext of materials and<br />

3 Gehl, Cities for People; 4 www.pps.org, accessed July 23, 2015<br />

<strong>Parks</strong> for People<br />

5


Parallels<br />

Greeting by OBET HAMMOND, Initiator of the High Line Park in New York<br />

The parallels between the High Line and the Park am Gleisdreieck are striking,<br />

from the use for railway transport and subsequent decline, followed<br />

by grassroots campaigns to save the spaces, and finally to the integration<br />

of planned and wild space for the public to enjoy. Both were opened in sections,<br />

slowly unveiling themselves to the public after taking nearly a decade from concept<br />

to realization. Both were used for freight and both fell into disrepair due to shifting<br />

economies, and, in Gleisdreieck’s case, war and a divided city. Since leaving their<br />

railway life behind them, they have found new life: instead of providing goods, they<br />

physically connect neighborhoods in their landscape. And within that landscape<br />

they connect locals.<br />

I find the decades-long activism work performed by Berlin residents to save<br />

and rehabilitate Gleisdreieck inspiring. From my own experience, I know how<br />

daunting projects of this scale can be. When I attended my first community board<br />

meeting in 1999, I expected to find such a group working to save the High Line.<br />

I was wrong: people wanted to tear it down. It was there that I met Joshua David<br />

and, shortly after this chance meeting, we founded Friends of the High Line, a nonprofit<br />

to help save the High Line. Knowing that in order to be successful and save<br />

the High Line from demolition, we had to engage the community. Neither he nor<br />

I had a budget or a background in activism or city planning, so we relied on feedback<br />

from the community to find out what it wanted out of the space.<br />

When we first began exploring this abandoned rail line, we discovered a<br />

secret garden, a wild space. Similarly, after years of neglect, the Park am Gleisdreieck<br />

had become rich with nature. What is unique about these modern urban<br />

parks it that they are really built by the community and take everyone’s need for<br />

public space into consideration. The community asked and fought for these green<br />

spaces. When I think of parks in European cities, I think of manicured gardens dedicated<br />

centuries ago to celebrate families like Hapsburgs or the Medicis. These are<br />

gorgeous spaces, but they are disconnected from the experience of living in a city,<br />

from those experiences that make urban life interesting. These jewel-box parks<br />

8<br />

<strong>Designing</strong> <strong>Parks</strong>


are also disconnected from their city’s surroundings; sitting in one you know you<br />

are in a park, but you do not know that you are in a magnificent place like Berlin or<br />

New York. These new parks give you a new vantage point for connecting with and<br />

observing your city.<br />

I really respond to the connection between the designed environment and<br />

the non-designed environment of Gleisdreieck. One of the things Joshua David and<br />

I worried about when we were planning and developing the High Line was destroying<br />

this wildness that we so dearly loved; the planners of Gleisdreieck call it the<br />

“Gleiswildnis,” or rail wilderness, a perfect phrase to describe the essence of these<br />

spaces. One of the beautiful things about the Park am Gleisdreieck is that, in some<br />

parts, you feel as though you are discovering something that no one else has seen<br />

before.<br />

Both of these projects gave the designers a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity:<br />

a chance to innovate a large expanse of an already well-developed city. These two<br />

parks were both forgotten-about spaces associated with urban blight, but through<br />

community action and innovative design, these relics are now destinations, desirable<br />

places to be in and around. Woven into the fabric of the landscape and into<br />

the lives of the citizens.<br />

Parallels<br />

9


Learning<br />

from<br />

Gleisdreieck<br />

LEONARD GROSCH


Location<br />

A Need for History<br />

Carefully analyzing the characteristics of a location and evaluating and interpreting<br />

them remains the basis for every landscape architecture design. The<br />

qualities of a location are unique. They already exist. At a time of increasing<br />

global alignment, it is important to design distinct locations through intensifying<br />

their specific qualities. At the same time, it is necessary to conserve<br />

resources and to derive the basic spatial and functional framework from the<br />

location. Building history further in such a way increases many people’s acceptance:<br />

Such open spaces are taken as a matter of course. Through appreciating<br />

the legacy of past times, a prudent and reflected examination of a location<br />

develops. It is about the desire to find meaning in locations. Arbitrariness is<br />

rejected. Last but not least, it is also simpler for landscape architects: Why<br />

devise something that is not intrinsic to the location when careful observation<br />

of the location is able to provide the spatial and thematic concept?<br />

What therefore does location mean? In my understanding, a location is made up of<br />

spatial qualities, of the concrete, of the structural legacies left behind by people<br />

of past eras, of an atmosphere that provides information about what a location<br />

needs, what would be suitable and what would be detrimental there, of technical<br />

constraints, and all this: at a particular point in time.<br />

Space<br />

For me, the first step consists of perceiving the qualities in terms of substance of<br />

the existing space and describing the decisive landscape elements that characterize<br />

it. What takes place at the same time (or at least can barely be consciously<br />

separated from this) is an assessment and interpretation.<br />

When we entered the site of the former Anhalter freight yard, walked onto<br />

the raised railway area, and left the framing, dense woodland that had established<br />

itself there behind us, we were impressed by the vastness of the clearing that<br />

16<br />

<strong>Designing</strong> <strong>Parks</strong>


LAWN<br />

MEADOWS<br />

RUDERAL FOREST<br />

ALLOTMENT GARDENS<br />

FRAGMENTS<br />

RESCUE AREA<br />

Westpark<br />

U1<br />

Elevated tracks<br />

viaduct<br />

WOODLAND FRAME<br />

CLEARING<br />

Mouth of the<br />

tunnel<br />

Delivery road<br />

U2<br />

Museum train<br />

Ostpark<br />

ALLOTMENT<br />

GARDENS<br />

Signal box<br />

Tracks and<br />

buffer stops<br />

Wall<br />

WOODLAND FRAME<br />

CLEARING<br />

PLATEAU<br />

Freight car<br />

scales<br />

PLATEAU<br />

Bunker<br />

Signal box<br />

EXPRESS TRAIN<br />

Bridges over<br />

Yorckstrasse<br />

WOODLAND FRAME<br />

Signal box<br />

Bottleneck Park<br />

17


Stage and Stands<br />

Great Cinema<br />

A park should bring people together. It should give rise to a feeling of social<br />

closeness and a shared identity. Creating a relaxed atmosphere can contribute<br />

to mitigating social tensions or even prevent them from arising in the first<br />

place. To achieve this, it is firstly necessary to encourage communication in<br />

a targeted manner and, secondly, to produce a feeling of togetherness. How<br />

can this be realized using the means of landscape architecture?<br />

The stages-and-stands principle orchestrates the coming together of people who<br />

would otherwise never take note of each other. People should do things and want<br />

to do things in the park: to enjoy life and show off, to let others share in their abilities<br />

and hobbies. For this, there needs to be someone who does something and<br />

someone who watches, and perhaps even marvels. This results in interaction and<br />

communication.<br />

In both halves of the Park am Gleisdreieck, there are formal stages and<br />

stands that are immediately recognizable as such: the stands already described<br />

at the mouth of the tunnel, the small stands by the dance area, and the Stelcon<br />

stands that we had layered together using the heavy-duty slabs with steel frames<br />

that were found on-site. The orientation is very important: One faces to the west,<br />

which is why it is used particularly in the late afternoon and evening for sitting,<br />

sprawling, and drinking wine; the other is oriented toward the south and is much<br />

frequented for sunbathing, picnicking, and reading. All three stands have surfaces<br />

extending in front of them like stages: The big stands at the mouth of the tunnel<br />

have a sandy area and the large meadow, the small stands by the dance area have<br />

sanded asphalt, and the Stelcon stands a surface of asphalt as well.<br />

I have observed in hindsight that some of the stage areas apparently still<br />

have too little animation quality to attract interesting activities. For these areas,<br />

events curated by a sponsor or citizens groups would be desirable for bringing<br />

smaller, everyday sports or music events onto the stage. Bringing them alive with<br />

temporary installations or gastronomy would also be conceivable. Both would<br />

40<br />

<strong>Designing</strong> <strong>Parks</strong>


FORMAL STANDS<br />

FORMAL STAGE<br />

INFORMAL STANDS<br />

INFORMAL STAGE<br />

The stages and stands are<br />

also part of the program<br />

NEST<br />

with fence for sitting<br />

PLAY TOPOGRAPHY<br />

with beam benches<br />

WOODEN SHACK<br />

with stands<br />

LARGE STANDS<br />

with city beach<br />

PLATFORM<br />

CLEARING<br />

with beams for sitting<br />

SMALL STANDS<br />

with dancing area<br />

STELCON STANDS<br />

with crossing area<br />

SKATER BOWL<br />

CHILDREN'S ROOM<br />

with fence for sitting<br />

CLEARING<br />

with beam benches<br />

FOREST OF POLES<br />

with edge for sitting<br />

YORCKSTRASSE ENTRANCES<br />

with COR-TEN steel steps<br />

STREETBALL AT THE<br />

MONUMENTSTRASSE BRIDGE<br />

41


Location<br />

1 Gleisdreieck is located in the<br />

heart of Berlin near Potsdamer<br />

Platz. This site was once home to<br />

freight yards. After World War II,<br />

it lay fallow, and many parts<br />

became overgrown. Two U-Bahn<br />

viaducts cross the site. A railway<br />

line runs through the middle of<br />

it in a north-south direction and<br />

therefore represents a strong<br />

spatial division.<br />

66<br />

1


25 An intensive feeling of wildness<br />

in the city is provided above<br />

all in the Flaschenhalspark.<br />

Relicts of the railway use help<br />

give this location its special aura.<br />

Mulch paths on a former track<br />

bed lead through this part of the<br />

park. They make it possible to<br />

experience it in a calm way and<br />

are well suited for jogging.<br />

88<br />

25


26<br />

26 – 28 In addition to the<br />

landscape architecture design<br />

and the areas that have been<br />

left wild, the Park am Gleis -<br />

dreieck also faci litates a lively<br />

garden culture. In the intercultural<br />

garden “Rosenduft,”<br />

women migrants garden together<br />

and grow the fruits and vegetables<br />

with which they are familiar.<br />

The allotment gardens integrated<br />

into the park incorporate yet<br />

another plant world as well as<br />

different “socio-natures.”<br />

90


27<br />

91<br />

28


42


42 The play topography on<br />

the green area in the Westpark<br />

represents an intensively used<br />

area. The surfacing of soft rubber<br />

granulate facilitates all kinds of<br />

locomotion and attracts people<br />

of various ages, who share this<br />

location as if a matter of course.<br />

105


Use<br />

Openness<br />

51 Besides specific and ambiguous<br />

use offerings, there also have<br />

to be large, use-open areas in a<br />

park. The broad clearings in both<br />

the Ostpark and Westpark are<br />

open to activities of all kinds.<br />

116<br />

51


Appropriation<br />

57 Several uses in the Park am<br />

Gleisdreieck were negotiated by<br />

citizens, including the Café Eule.<br />

Due to its alternative charm,<br />

the fact that it was realized with<br />

limited means, and its lovingly<br />

prepared small dishes and beverages,<br />

it stands out as a special<br />

location in the park.<br />

124<br />

57


“Activity in human life is the greatest attraction in cities.”<br />

JAN GEHL, LAS GEMZØE<br />

<strong>Parks</strong> are places of transformation. Gleisdreieck was once a “landscape of<br />

iron and steel,” a “magnificent temple of technology open to the air.”1 This is<br />

how Joseph Roth feted the location in 1924. Created during the peak phase<br />

of industrialization in Berlin, Gleisdreieck accommodated the Potsdamer and<br />

Anhalter freight yard. Decades of relentless activity were followed after World War<br />

II by decades during which the site lay dormant and forgotten. The iron and steel<br />

landscape became a wilderness. At the beginning of the new millennium, Gleisdreieck<br />

underwent a fundamental new transformation—into a place for leisure,<br />

recreation, and interactions with nature.<br />

It is not only the places where parks are created that change. <strong>Parks</strong> themselves<br />

are also changing and with them the ideas of what constitutes good park<br />

design. The Park am Gleisdreieck is a milestone in the development of parks in<br />

recent decades. It has not only become a destination park, hence an open space<br />

that draws more people than live in its surroundings. It also brings together a wide<br />

range of ideas that have already been successfully tested elsewhere. The history<br />

of its creation, its design, and the practice of further developing it have turned the<br />

wheel of what once existed a bit further.<br />

Based on the example of the Park am Gleisdreieck and with cross-references<br />

to many other projects of the past decades, in this text I will discuss current trends<br />

in the design and governance of parks as large, green open spaces. The focus is on<br />

the design by the Atelier Loidl with its ability to establish uses that are as diverse as<br />

possible and hence create a lively, popular location. At the same time, an extensive<br />

civic influence is visible in the Park am Gleisdreieck. This is reflected in the park’s<br />

range of offerings and atmospheres and therefore also in its role as an open space<br />

in the city. The park is a product of exemplary landscape-architectural staging, collective<br />

creativity, and a culture of negotiating diverse interests in urban open space.<br />

This interplay allows for conclusions on designing parks. How can they be<br />

designed as places that facilitate a broad spectrum of uses and are explicitly<br />

oriented toward attracting many people—rather than being just formally and<br />

aestheti cally innovative? How, therefore, can the “boon of life,” as Jane Jacobs<br />

called it,2 be influenced by design? And how can collaborative participation and<br />

possibilities for appropriation become integral components of urban parks?<br />

1 Roth, “Affirmation of the Triangular Railway Junction,” 106; 2 Jacobs, The Death and Life of Great American Cities, 89<br />

152<br />

<strong>Designing</strong> <strong>Parks</strong>


My inferences on designing parks incorporate empirically verified knowledge<br />

and the teachings of great urbanists on the conditions for vibrant urban spaces.<br />

They are nevertheless necessarily normative: they pursue value concepts and<br />

embody a particular attitude towards the city. In this, they in part clearly differentiate<br />

themselves from park designs of the nineteen-nineties and the naughts.<br />

In a first step, I would like to characterize this attitude in more detail. In the<br />

second step, I outline the design approach that develops as a result. As a third step,<br />

I situ ate the type of open space that this yields—the citizens’ park of the twentyfirst<br />

century—within the development of parks in the modern era and provide a<br />

summary of its significant innovations. The fourth and most in-depth section contains<br />

the practical application: concrete recommendations for designing lively<br />

parks.<br />

<strong>Designing</strong> <strong>Parks</strong> as Lively Places<br />

153


4<br />

Position<br />

Cleverly<br />

Another feature of good park design is that the offerings, equipment, and furnishing<br />

elements relate to one another. They are then used more frequently than those<br />

that are positioned on their own.67 Arranging use offerings close to each other can<br />

initiate what William H. Whyte called triangulation: Proximity provides the social<br />

glue that makes it possible for strangers to approach each other. In other words:<br />

Because many things are happening at the same time, opportunities for chatting<br />

arise.68 The park becomes more convivial.<br />

At Gleisdreieck it is possible to observe this communicative effect well at the<br />

skater bowl → pic. 110. A café and restrooms are located directly opposite this sports<br />

area. A main path leads past it, and the skaters’ tricks invite passersby to remain<br />

standing and watch. Offerings are also concentrated at the entrance at Hornstrasse<br />

in the Ostpark: Steps and a ramp lead from the street level up to the park plateau.<br />

This means that new people continuously enter the scene. Table tennis is played on<br />

the one side, while a kiosk and the Stangenwald (forest of poles) playground form<br />

a point of contact on the other → pic. 111. Two main paths intersect here. The meadow<br />

next to them is open for all kinds of activities. Two swings able to carry the weight<br />

of adults are also provided.<br />

The design of the Park am Gleisdreieck corresponds to the five ground rules<br />

for lively spaces formulated by Jan Gehl: assemble rather than disperse, inte-<br />

110 111<br />

67 See The Project for Public Spaces, www.pps.org; 68 Whyte, The Social Life of Small Urban Spaces, 94<br />

172<br />

<strong>Designing</strong> <strong>Parks</strong>


112 113<br />

grate rather than segregate, invite rather than repel, open up rather than close in,<br />

increase rather than reduce69.<br />

It is possible to study the effect of uniform distribution without highlights<br />

or points of intersection on a small area in the ULAP Park → pic. 112 nearby the Berlin<br />

main train station. Cuboid seats are arranged there in a grid under a canopy of<br />

trees—just so far away from each other that each person sits on his or her own.<br />

There are no backrests and nowhere in the park where more than sitting in isolation<br />

can occur.<br />

Invalidenpark → pic. 113 in Berlin also offers a prime example of the central<br />

problem of uniform distribution. Rather than allowing a feeling of being together<br />

in the park to arise, the spatial arrangement isolates the users. A large pool of<br />

water—too big for the few visitors not to become lost—occupies the center of the<br />

newer part of the park. The stone ramp that rises up in it seems monumental and<br />

prevents eye contact from one side of the pool to the other. In the winter, the pool<br />

is empty, the center of the park therefore a dead spot. The benches lined up along<br />

Invalidenstrasse stand separated from each other, their arrangement primarily<br />

arising from aesthetic motivations.<br />

For designing parks, this means arranging the offerings in such a way<br />

that they are related to one another. This results in crystallization and contact<br />

points at which several things occur simultaneously. People meet each<br />

other. This creates locations in the park that are particularly lively and interesting<br />

and therefore draw many users. As a designer, one should envision<br />

such hotspots in the park.<br />

69 Gehl, Cities for People, 233<br />

<strong>Designing</strong> <strong>Parks</strong> as Lively Places<br />

173


1<br />

Be Welcoming<br />

to All<br />

Appropriated spaces draw people to the park who would not use it otherwise.110<br />

Their charm of the alternative, the self-organized, and the realized with limited<br />

means—these spaces’ shabby chic—has an effect of lowering thresholds. Landscape<br />

architecture can also get this message across: through using simple materials,<br />

being functional, working with what is there, and offering niches—rather<br />

than putting visitors on open display alone. How such a relaxed design affects the<br />

atmos phere of a park can be experienced in Mainuferpark → pic. 136, 137 in Frankfurt.111<br />

Expensive materials, exotic plants, and “consistent over-detailing,”112 in contrast,<br />

signal exclusiveness. What developed is a design strategy that Wulf Tessin<br />

describes as “prevention architecture,” which deliberately influences the type of<br />

use and the spectrum of visitors by means of subtle or obvious control mechanisms.113<br />

It is also possible to steer activities that require space such as skating<br />

using such means.<br />

When a park is lively, this does not therefore automatically mean that everyone<br />

feels welcome. Young people may perceive designs, materials, and atmospheres<br />

quite differently than adults. Such things also look quite different from a<br />

middle-class perspective than from a position on the margins of society. It is not<br />

only public character and physical accessibility that regulate access to parks but<br />

also a welcoming gesture, particularly with respect to underprivileged population<br />

136 137<br />

110 On community gardens, see Francis, “Some Different Meanings Attached to a City Park and Community Gardens.”;<br />

111 See Petrow, “Hidden Meanings, Obvious Messages: Landscape Architecture as a Reflection of a City’s Self-Conception<br />

and Image Strategy.”; 112 Galmar, “Der Geist Kataloniens in Hamburg,” with reference to the Magellan Terraces in<br />

HafenCity in Hamburg; 113 See Tessin, “Präventionsarchitektur. Vom gestalterischen Umgang mit unsicheren Milieus.”<br />

188<br />

<strong>Designing</strong> <strong>Parks</strong>


138 139<br />

groups. “People need to feel that a public park is for them.”114 At the same time,<br />

no one group should dominate a public space → pic. 138. A large number of female<br />

visitors is a good indicator that that park is a safe, socially well balanced location.<br />

“If a plaza has a markedly lower than average proportion of women, something is<br />

wrong,”115 noted William H. Whyte.<br />

The Park am Gleisdreieck shows a good balance between careful detailing<br />

and robustness → pic. 139. There could still be more niches where people can feel<br />

comfort able and shielded. The design could also respond to a greater extent to the<br />

needs of older individuals. Short routes, comfortable benches, and, indeed, also<br />

flowers make parks attractive for them.116<br />

For designing parks, this means consciously avoiding signals of exclusion.<br />

Rather than preventive design strategies, the space as a whole should<br />

be structured in such a way that it meets different needs. If the park is considered<br />

from the perspective of women and girls, children and young people, the<br />

elderly, people with disabilities, and people with limited means, then everyone<br />

else benefits. The park then namely conveys security, is easily accessible,<br />

and offers comfortable options for sitting, restrooms, many possibilities for<br />

participating in what is going on, and affordable food. It is a relaxed place<br />

that signals to every individual that they are welcome.<br />

114 Low, Taplin, and Scheld, The Politics of Public Space, 199; 115 Whyte, The Social Life of Small Urban Spaces, 18;<br />

116 On the preferences of older individuals in parks, see Gröning et al., “Gebrauchswert und Gestalt von <strong>Parks</strong>.”<br />

<strong>Designing</strong> <strong>Parks</strong> as Lively Places<br />

189


Visiting a park is a commonplace event in the day-to-day life of many people.<br />

It is specifically this everyday quality that makes it particularly attractive<br />

for sociological studies, since it provides a possibility to take a closer look at<br />

the link between an individual, a quite banal-seeming action, and its social<br />

context. In this sense, a study of what goes on in a park and the complex<br />

inter actions that take place there is a good opportunity to shed more light on<br />

the relationship between human action and architecturally designed space.<br />

Within the framework of an empirical study, we asked how the design of a park<br />

might be interwoven with the subjective experience of its visitors. The Park am<br />

Gleisdreieck seems almost ideal as an example because here the interplay between<br />

architecture, its use and appropriation is still developing. In the course of the study,<br />

perceiving, or perhaps better, experiencing an atmosphere proved to be a meaningful,<br />

if often unnoticed, basic practice of a visit to a park. The apparently large<br />

role that atmospheres play in the experience of visiting a park led us to the idea of<br />

focusing our work on the way in which atmospheres are produced.<br />

To investigate the complex bases of atmospheres, we looked at two things:<br />

the ideas behind the atmosphere of the Park am Gleisdreieck that were developed<br />

in the course of planning and the atmospheres that park visitors actually experience.<br />

We were interested in the possibilities for influencing the activities of actors<br />

by means of a landscape architectural design. When assessing our empirical material,<br />

we crisscrossed statements by the main planner and the intentions of the<br />

design with the effect of this design that visitors perceive. What interested us as<br />

sociologists was what concretely ensures that people experience park spaces in a<br />

specific way, which factors influence how a space is experienced, and how these<br />

factors take effect. On the whole, with reference to the research that underlies<br />

this contribution, we asked how atmospheres are produced in the Park am Gleisdreieck.1<br />

1 The institutional framework of our one-year work was a teaching/research project at the TU Berlin. Under the guidance<br />

of Prof. Martina Löw and Dr. Gunter Weidenhaus, what was examined was how the constitution of spaces and the<br />

meaning ascribed to these spaces changed over the course of time.<br />

198<br />

<strong>Designing</strong> <strong>Parks</strong>


How Does One<br />

Examine a Park?<br />

The goal was not to be able to arrive at generalizable statements about<br />

particular circumstances but rather to examine the specific practices and<br />

interactions that are relevant to people’s “affective involvement”2 in a specific<br />

environment. For this reason, we decided on a study using methods for qualitative<br />

social research. They make it possible, even with a relatively limited number<br />

of cases, to reconstruct the construction and ascription of meaning that underlie<br />

people’s actions and that are expressed in their actions. We inquired into the situative<br />

practices of the uses that take place in the park in the sense of an ethnomethodological<br />

research program.<br />

To approach the subject, we first conducted three expert interviews: with<br />

Leonard Grosch, the main planner of the park; employees of the green space<br />

administration of another Bezirksamt (district administration); and a lecturer on<br />

open space planning at the Technical University Berlin. We also talked with sixteen<br />

park visitors between the ages of approximately eighteen to sixty-five on-site and<br />

conducted five- to fifteen-minute guided interviews with them. The questions were<br />

focused on people’s actions in the park, their opinions, and their favorite places.<br />

Sociodemographic features were not ascertained in the process.<br />

The fact that weather plays a role in how the park is perceived became clear<br />

in the additional, guided in-depth interviews.3 For them, a researcher took one<br />

man and one woman through the Park am Gleisdreieck in the fall and winter of 2014<br />

and asked them about their impressions. Both interviews have a length of around<br />

one hour. In addition, participatory observations and self-observations were also<br />

ascertained.4 The survey can therefore be subsumed in terms of method5 under the<br />

concept of focused ethnography. Altogether, data collection extended over several<br />

weeks; the corpus of data it provided comprises 250 pages.<br />

An explorative empirical study can, however, also not dispense with theoretical<br />

foundations. In order to retain a certain candor during the work in the park,<br />

we used various sociological approaches as heuristics. Heuristics allow for assumptions<br />

that—although they are based on theories—do not claim to concretely reflect<br />

2 Böhme Architektur und Atmosphäre, 26; 3 Breidenstein et al., Ethnografie, 80–85; 4 On the mix of methods, see<br />

Breiden stein et al., Ethnografie, 71–80; 5 See Knoblauch, “Fokussierte Ethnographie : Soziologie, Ethnologie und die<br />

neue Welle der Ethnographie.”<br />

A Park Full of Atmospheres<br />

199


LEONARD GROSCH is a landscape architect. He grew up in Munich,<br />

completed his training as a perennial plant gardener there, and<br />

then studied at the TU Dresden, the Royal Danish Academy of Fine<br />

Arts in Copenhagen, and the TU Berlin. He has been managing the<br />

competition department at Atelier Loidl since 2003, and been a<br />

partner in Atelier Loidl since 2007. With his team, he has won numerous<br />

big competitions and realized the projects that developed from<br />

them. The Park am Gleisdreieck was awarded the Deutscher Landschaftsarchitekturpreis<br />

(German Landscape Architecture Prize) in<br />

2015. Leonard Grosch lives in Berlin.<br />

DR. CONSTANZE A. PETROW is a landscape architect. She grew up in<br />

Berlin, studied at the TU Berlin, worked in various planning offices,<br />

and did her doctorate at the Leibniz University in Hannover. In addition<br />

to her extensive publishing activities and her research, which is<br />

dedicated to the contemporary work of landscape architecture and<br />

its interplay with social developments, she has also been teaching<br />

design since 2001, first at the Bauhaus-University Weimar, as a guest<br />

lecturer at the Washington-Alexandria Architecture Center (Virginia<br />

Tech) in Washington D.C., and since 2009 in the department of<br />

design and open space planning at the TU Darmstadt. Constanze A.<br />

Petrow lives in Frankfurt am Main.

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