The Knight Who Drowned

A Parable about Inflexibility by Thomas Grant MacDonald

There was once a poor but ambitious farmer who was determined to create a better life for himself and his family.  Towards this end he scrupulously examined his crops and the operation of his farm, always searching for practical ways to improve its operation and increase its yield.  He devised new methods of agriculture and husbandry that were laughed at by the local townsfolk.  However, in time the farmer perfected his new systems and eventually became rich.  Soon the farmer fell under the gaze of local officials, who felt threatened by the farmer’s growing wealth and influence.  The farmer was taken in front of the high court and placed on trial for his development of unconventional, heretical ideas.  Being a man of intelligence and practical resourcefulness, however, the farmer evaded the legal traps set by his prosecutors and was eventually acquitted of all charges.  Hearing of these events, the local Magistrate became impressed by the farmer’s cunning and ingenuity.  The farmer’s methods were implemented throughout all the realm, and he was elevated to Knight and gifted a beautiful suit of armor.  At first the Knight was very happy, but soon became terrified of losing all he had gained.  He renounced his inquisitive nature and subscribed unflinchingly to the dogmatic laws of the land.  He began considering all those who contested the status quo as his enemies, and wore his armor at all times for fear of being killed.


Eventually the Knight’s youngest son, who possessed the ingenuity that his father had long-since abandoned, devised a more efficient method of crossing the river that served as a boundary between his kingdom and the next.  The young boy employed his new method to quickly ferry people across the river at a discounted rate, reducing the unfair taxes levied by the Magistrate.  Upon learning of this, the Magistrate became enraged and commanded the Knight arrest his own son.  The Knight obediently rode to the crossing in his suit of armor, boarded the ferry, and demanded his son to destroy the new ferry and surrender himself to the Magistrate.  As they floated in the middle of the river, the son attempted to explain to his father the logic and practicality of the new system, but the Knight refused to listen.  The son then asked the Knight, “Father, why have you come to me with your sword and armor?  Can we not simply consider the practical merits of this system?”  The Knight, not wishing to debate the situation on rational grounds, drew his sword and reached to place his son under arrest.  The boy, being nimble and unburdened, dodged his father’s attack, sending the Knight splashing into the river, where he drowned under the weight of his own armor.

A Coin, Spinning: Glimpsing the multiple faces of Colombia

This summer I have had the great opportunity to work, travel, and study in Colombia, a country that lies in the extreme northwestern region of the South American continent and is home to over 45 million people.  Through a school connection I was able to secure a job at a small architectural office in the capitol city of Bogotá, where I have picked up some useful skills and a perspective on the design professions that I expect will be of great value in the future.  Over the summer I also participated in a study program organized by PennDesign, during which I met with leaders of prestigious design firms and explored the architectural landscapes Bogotá, Medellín, and Cartagena, with a particular focus on the ways in which design is responding to the challenges and potentials of informal settlement.

Typical informal development on a hillside in Bogotá, Colombia

Typical informal development on a hillside in Bogotá, Colombia | photo: Tom MacDonald | 2014

The architectural history of Colombia and the complexities of informal settlement are beyond the scope of this blog post, however I would like to say a few words about life in Colombia and how it has altered my perceptions on civilization.  Colombia is a developing nation that feels at times rich and exciting, and at other times uncomfortable, sad and risky.  In every Colombian city one gets the sense that a bright future is emerging, yet it is clear that many are being left behind.  Walking the streets you see an endless array of small independent shops and feel an air of excited entrepreneurship, yet it is unmistakable that this shining atmosphere lies juxtaposed against a shadow of extreme poverty and desperate criminality.  It is as if a massive coin is balanced on end and spinning around in the street, flashing the dichotomous faces of the country’s nature as you bump your way past it.

During my short time here I have personally sampled a bit of this duality, as illustrated by the following anecdote.  Upon my first arrival to Bogotá I had the good fortune to rent a room in the trendy neighborhood of Chapinero, where I resided comfortably in the company of two designers.  For the first few days I explored this neighborhood exclusively, enjoying cafes and restaurants that would rival those of any middle-class American neighborhood.  At this point I considered Colombia to be a developed nation, surely with its trouble spots, but clearly over-exaggerated in its reputation for danger and disorder.

Within a week I was enduring one of the worst illnesses of my life.  I had contracted an intestinal parasite from drinking water at a bar, and after an unsuccessful week-long attempt at fighting off the infection I found myself in a state of agonizing pain and extreme dehydration.  By this point I was certain that my initial judgement of the country was inaccurate and naive – Colombia was certainly not a developed nation on the level of the U.S., but an unhygienic and dangerous place I wished only to escape.  As I walked to and from work gripping my aching stomach I was induced to lend greater recognition to the conditions of poverty and risk that I passed along every street.

Giardia is a parasite found in contaminated water in every country in the world. It can cause chronic diarrhea lasting for several weeks, in addition to vague pain, weight loss, excessive burping, bloating, and fatigue. |photo: Dr. Stan Erlandsen | 1988

Giardia is a parasite found in contaminated water in every country in the world. It can cause chronic diarrhea lasting for several weeks, in addition to vague pain, weight loss, excessive burping, bloating, and fatigue. |photo: Dr. Stan Erlandsen | 1988

Upon reaching the point of fearing for my life due to the illness, I grudgingly implored my boss to assist me to the hospital for treatment.  At this point I expected nothing but a terrible experience from a Colombian hospital; surely this would prove to be a costly procedure coupled with limited medical competency and unhygienic conditions serving only to place me at further risk.  Again my perceptions on the country were reversed; I received excellent professional medical care in a clean, modern facility that was far quicker and infinitely less expensive than anything I have experienced in the United States.  Within a few days I was completely cured – though a thinner version of myself – and was once again enjoying the vibrant life of Bogota.

In the weeks following the incident I extended my exploration of the City, delving into skyscraper landscapes of downtown, the colorful historic district of La Candelaria, and the impoverished but surprisingly endearing outlying informal barrios.  I travelled to other cities and observed consistent patterns, and in time came to a singular conclusion: the country of Colombia exists as a state in which multiple distinct social and architectural realities coincide alongside and against each other, bleeding back and forth, lurching forward in the throws of resolving one another unto themselves.  Beginning to comprehend this condition through personal experience and critical architectural consideration has been a revelatory experience for me not only as a designer, but as a human being interested in understanding the concepts and trajectories of civilization.

El Bosque de la Esperanza (the Forest of Hope) in the Altos de Cazucá barrio of Bogota, Colombia | photo: Tom MacDonald | 2014

El Bosque de la Esperanza (the Forest of Hope) in the Altos de Cazucá barrio of Bogota, Colombia | photo: Tom MacDonald | 2014

My time in Colombia has felt as duplicitous as the country itself.  While at times uncomfortable and uncertain, I have been moved by the surge of optimism and potential for upward mobility that accompanies limited government interference and loose business regulations.  I have experienced the vibrance of evolving seaside cities and the beauties of tiny coffee towns tucked into misty green mountains.  I have looked down upon sprawling informal cities from swinging gondolas and walked the corridors of massive underground temples.  And I have enjoyed the culture of an easy-going people who dance salsa to the anthem of a rising country.  At times I have considered that Colombia is to the U.S. as the jungle is to a farm: perhaps more uncertain, but far richer, wilder in an enabling sense, and full of hidden opportunities waiting to be discovered.

The Scale of Sand

Landscape architects should not become fixated on large-scale solutions to large-scale problems; oftentimes the key to solving a very big problem lies in the infinitesimal.  One example of this idea is being played out along the eastern shore of New Jersey’s Delaware Bay, where efforts are currently being undertaken to restore migrating bird populations through remediation of beaches where horseshoe crabs breed and lay eggs.  The scale of this project spans continents and responds to a complex web of factors, including biological, geomorphological, and political, yet success or failure may ultimately be dictated by the designers’ sensitivity to individual grains of sand.

At Moore’s Beach, New Jersey, biologists Larry Niles and Amanda Dey are leading an effort to restore migratory bird populations through the remediation of beach habitat for horseshoe crabs.  Crab eggs, which have been historically abundant after the crabs’ breeding season, constitute a primary source of fat for birds as they complete flights spanning distances as far as South America to Canada.  Unfortunately, with the recent loss of beaches due to human development, climate change, and extreme weather events such as Superstorm Sandy, the number of crabs breeding along Delaware Bay beaches has been greatly reduced.  Without the crab eggs to sustain their journeys, many migrating bird populations have been decimated to the brink of extinction.  Along with this tragic loss of biodiversity come the effects of an upset food web, with far-reaching consequences that may impact human civilization.  It is easy to imagine how insect populations will surge without birds to prey upon them, upheaving sensitive natural ecologies and ultimately leading to increased pestilence among human farms.  Afflicted farmers will likely respond by spraying food fields with excess amounts of pesticides, leading to health problems, further ecological damage, etc.

Work by Thomas Grant MacDonald | 2013 | All rights reserved

Work by Thomas Grant MacDonald | 2013 | All rights reserved Work by Thomas Grant MacDonald | 2013 | All rights reserved

The scale of this problem may at first seem to dictate a large-scale solution, such as dumping thousands of tons of sand back onto the beach to restore crab habitat.  However, this is not the direction that the project leaders are taking.  The research conducted by Larry and Amanda has recognized that it is not simply the presence of sand that provides nursing grounds for the horseshoe crab, but the unique qualities of the individual sand grains that make up areas such as Moore’s Beach.  The size, shape, and consistency of the grains influence the overall structure of the beach, holding it at a specific grade and preventing it from being washed away.  Within this environment the crab eggs are protected from disruption but not oversaturated or suffocated, allowing them to develop properly and encouraging pregnant crabs to utilize the beach as a nursery.  To properly restore the beaches, project leaders have gained the approval of political officials, government agencies and local residents to bring in highly-specific sands from nearby sand mining operations.  Although such beach restoration efforts do involve the movement of many tons of sand and the careful use of heavy machinery, operations are highly targeted and relatively small in scale as compared to other go-to beach replenishment solutions.

The important work of Larry Niles and Amanda Dey looks promising and should be both commended and supported, but beyond that their approach should be incorporated by those in the design fields.  Landscape architects and urban designers would do well to rethink the notion of “scale-for-scale” interventions, i.e. a large-scale problem does not necessarily warrant a large-scale solution (this type of thinking is more the purview of engineers and infamous city planners like Robert Moses.)  Good landscape architects and planners should be prepared to initiate sensitive, site-specific design investigations that first look towards the fruitful complexity of a problem’s constituent elements before attempting to apply a large-scale solution.

Time Starvation



There ain’t none of it here.  It seems to be generally agreed upon by us design students that only we can understand what it means to truly “have no time.”  When most people say that they “don’t have time” it usually means that they have a busy day at school or work and a relatively small amount of time to relax, watch a sitcom on TV, do basic errands, etc. “Not having time” within design school studio culture has a more insidious meaning.  It refers to the notion that sleeping more than  five hours per night makes you a slacker, and doing anything outside of school during the week – paying bills, washing clothes, eating a decent meal – is anathema.  Relationships fall apart, bodies and minds are beaten with exhaustion, and beyond a certain threshold of days without sleep the stalking shadow of madness is glimpsed on the horizon.  Every action, every decision, is rigorously weighed on the balance of Time, with the mass of the Deadline hurtling forward like an incoming asteroid.

Now back to work – models will be critiqued in the morning.

Litmus for Landscape

A litmus test for a successful work of landscape architecture:

Does it fulfill the human need and inspire the human spirit?

Does it empower the systems of nature from the soil up?

Does it appear beautiful to Man, bee, bird, and wolf?