Posts by Jenni Zell

Photos by Calvin Abe

I get a good look at the Lower Los Angeles River (LLAR) and Compton Creek during my daily commute on the Metro Blue Line Train. Depending on the vegetation management activities of the Flood Control District and the season, what I see can be either hopeful or bleak.

In the summer, after a season of growth where sediment, vegetation, and wildlife establish their territory within both the soft bottom and concrete-lined waterways, I feel an optimistic hope that nature based infrastructure solutions can be restored to the region. Now, at the beginning of the rainy season when vegetation has been removed from the channel and replaced with high volumes of water flowing with suspended trash, pollutants, and dangerous levels of bacteria, it seems as if the ecological destruction caused by paving our watershed will never be mitigated.

However bleak my views about the river have become lately, there remains genuine reason for hope. In December of 2017, the Draft Lower Los Angeles River Revitalization Plan was released to the public, an important document outlining opportunities and constraints for significant future LLAR projects from Vernon to Long Beach. The plan can be viewed here.

The first pages of the document offer an eye opening assessment about the community living within the river corridor:

  • Poor (64.1% of households are considered low income and an estimated 2,500 homeless people live along the river)
  • Ethnically diverse (93% non-white)
  • Hot (only 2% of the watershed is covered by shade trees)
  • Without sufficient access to parks (1/3 of the people living within the river adjacent communities have 1/3 the park space than the current LA County average).

This Draft Lower Los Angeles River Revitalization Plan gets into the weeds in addressing site-specific revitalization project for 146 locations throughout the river corridor. The draft also proposes a Community Stabilization Toolkit to help ensure the community living and working within the river corridor is the same population that benefits from planned projects and programs when they’re implemented. The impressive analytics provided in the report will be valuable to the communities that will ultimately take the lead in realizing these efforts.

While many of the opportunities identified in the plan are sandwiched between the channel of the river and the 710 Freeway in the upper river segments, and do not restore the natural hydraulic and ecological functions of the river and flood plain, the middle and lower segments propose spreading basins, wetlands parks, and habitat corridors. Taken in aggregate, these river adjacent projects can have a significant positive impact on water quality.

It is disappointing removing concrete from the river channel is not considered feasible in this plan (except alternate configuration 3 at the Rio Hondo Confluence). However, the most significant impact of this plan may be in the tenacity the plan commits to finding buildable opportunities along the river corridor, combined with the proposed policies and programs for community stabilization. Taken together, this sober plan proposes an authentic vision of the Lower Los Angeles River that is a cleaner, healthier and better-connected version of its current state.

This vision of tomorrow’s river system does not displace people, funnel profits to private interests, or force an idealized version of another river from another place and time. Instead, the plan embraces the complex interweaving of natural and man-made systems representing the essential heritage of the Los Angeles River.

As 2017 year comes to a close, the AHBE LAB contributors are taking time to look back at our year’s worth of posts. We are each identifying the most memorable post and sharing what we found interesting, informative, and inspiring. Enjoy the flashback, and let us know which post you thought was most memorable.

Photos by Jennifer Zell

One of my favorite AHBE Lab bloggers is Yiran Wang. Her posts tends to weave together a thesis out of seemingly disparate elements, causing the reader to reevaluate ideas about a subject. Her posts, The Magic of an Isometric Perspective, is particularly memorable. She essentially claims isometric representations – as diverse as traditional Chinese paintings and the obsessively detailed drawings of Architecture Drawing Studio – determine how cities get built.

In a post by Gary Lai titled, Signs from the Beginning, a similar theme is explored, one where representation isn’t the spatial and physical destiny of the city, but becomes the vehicle of his professional destiny. In the process of telling his story of building a model in high school for a design competition, he discovered his professional destiny—sustainability.

Both of these Lab posts reminded me of a model I made in graduate school. In building the model, I was trying to discover how to make something that did not represent the landscape as a surface, but as a whole. Something that could not be viewed from one perspective, but needed to be picked up by hand and studied from multiple angles to be understood.


My grad school model was more interesting in its ambition than execution, but it shares a theme with both Yiran and Gary’s blog posts. As designers, how we represent places, buildings, and landscapes express our world-view, and in-turn the built environment.

The original posts here: The Magic of an Isometric Perspective and Signs from the Beginning

There is a growing awareness within the landscape architecture profession about the importance of integrating scientific disciplines to address current and future environmental challenges. We cannot continue following a path of precedent-driven design propped up by soft knowledge. We have witnessed the frequent failures of constructed ecosystems and native California landscapes that do not perform the way that they were rendered and sold.

Rather than robust landscapes woven into urban and suburban infrastructures that are depicted in our renderings and narrative reports, these promised landscapes are too frequently overtaken with exotics, unattractive, and ultimately inhospitable to the intended biota.

The profession of landscape architecture is becoming more skilled at storytelling and Photoshop. But the field is also falling short of integrating the scientific substance necessary to fulfill the promises of our simulacra. However, there are structural barriers that disadvantage our profession from deeper engagement with scientific methods.

  1. The materials we work with do not have the barcodes, or the digital footprint necessary for the easy aggregation of data to drive analysis.
  2. We don’t have substantial private investment feeding research.
  3. Our academic institutions don’t offer a doctorate of landscape architecture (except for a few programs tied to history) driving long-term and sustained studies.
  4. Our professional fee structure is based on billable time tied to the interests of our clients.

A few large landscape architecture firms have added research to their practice, but this effort, while valuable, cannot complete the heavy lifting required to build a structural knowledge base to better help us understand the implications of our design experiments. And, practice-based research will always be built on the backs of other professionals completing billable work.

Following the scientific method alone can sometimes lead to asking wrong or misleading questions, and the profession of landscape architecture will always integrate art and science to guide inquiry. Collectively, the profession must develop stronger tools for putting forward hard, explicit knowledge that can be shared, tested, and refined so that by developing a professional culture of knowledge creation and sharing, we can fulfill the promised of our best stories and pictures.

All photos: Jenni Zell

For decades Lewis MacAdams, cofounder of Friends of the Los Angeles River, has dreamt of making the Los Angeles River a swimmable, angler and boat friendly destination – a river more similar to the one that flowed across the Los Angeles basin a little over a century ago before the river was channelized and paved in concrete. A fragment of that former cottonwood-willow-and-gavel-lined river still exists today in Long Beach near the Willow Street Bridge. It is where the concrete-lined channel ends its 20-mile run, allowing the freshwater of its flow to mix with the saltwater of the Pacific
Ocean.

It is also the place where Calvin Abe and I recently witnessed an angler catch and release a 29.5” long, 14 lb. carp (a.k.a. Golden Bonefish). Calvin and I were photographing this location to document the astonishing diversity of resident and migratory bird species that can be found in the Willow Street Estuary and upriver, a location where the in-channel baffles slow water and collect sediment. The sediment builds all summer and autumn, supporting communities of vegetation and insects – an annual accumulation of refuge and food available for local wildlife until the Army Corps of Engineers removes the sediment and vegetation every fall in anticipation of winter rains.

Before the riverbed was lined with concrete there were at least seven species of fish that lived within the L.A. River and its tributaries, including southern steelhead and Pacific lamprey. The fish spawned in the river and spent their first 1-2 years in the waters before moving onto the open ocean waters.

Today, most of the fish in the river are washed out to sea along the low flow channel before they can grow more than a few inches. And, because the river is lined in concrete there is no place for the fish to bury their eggs. The ecological consequences of paving and channelizing L.A.’s River are stark, with native fish faring much worse than the birds and the other generalist species of wildlife that make their home in and near the L.A. River.

San Francisco Civic Center, 1991. Image: Jenni Zell

I don’t remember my favorite class in undergraduate school, it was after all the late eighties and early nineties. What I do remember is my favorite period of development. During my junior year I began experimenting with representation, and simultaneously ideas. It was also the period of development when I received my first “D” grade on a mid-term assignment.

San Francisco Civic Center, detail. Image: Jenni Zell

I liked what I produced for the class, and it is the only school project that I have lugged around with me through my many moves up and down the California coast and across the country. It represents the time after I had begun to internalize the rules of landscape architecture and bend and break those rules in ways that interested me.