Cornelia Oberlander Essay

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Cornelia Oberlander “Don’t call it soil,” Cornelia Oberlander corrects. “It’s growing medium.” We’re standing in the rain on the 25-foot-high hillock on the southeast corner of Robson and Hornby, a crucial detail in Oberlander’s collaboration with Arthur Erickson in designing Robson Square. “The Mound,” as it is known, is pleasantly rioted-over with rhododendrons, pines and vine maples. But none of this is growing out of soil. It is, in fact, a falsework internal frame layered over with three feet of dirt-like material (pumice is involved here) that’s light enough for the roof below to bear, while retaining the properties necessary to support plant life. Which is all quite technical, but also important in understanding the 82-year-old, internationally-celebrated landscape genius behind it, who is standing under her umbrella just now, having moved on from the mound itself to address the aesthetic unity of what may be viewed most advantageously from it: the flowing stramps and waterfalls of Robson Square, the serene cadence of planter boxes, the forested bridges over Smithe to the glassy, cathedric heights of Erickson’s famous Law Courts. I’d hardly noticed the Mound previously, I admit. But having attained its summit, seen its oddly private views, standing just then listening to Oberlander speak – this “undisputed Queen of the landscape scene” as architecture critic Trevor Boddy has described her to me, and he means in the world – I suddenly see The Mound as representative of her. A subtle feature of the design that launched her towards the fame she now enjoys. A bit of technical mastery, all but hidden in the quiet aesthetic effect that it achieves. “Gardens on a roof!” Oberlander says to me half an hour later, over lemon tea in the Gallery Café. “This is 1974, OK?” She’s very small. She’s very sharp. She speaks slowly, with intensity, clarity. She
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