It is human nature to want to come home to a beautiful house, a place to relax and refresh every day with a renewed sense of vitality. Space is also a valuable asset, so it is not only aesthetically pleasing, but a good investment to create lovely and welcoming rooms for sitting, dining, relaxing, and entertaining. In a land of concrete and steel, some of the most treasured spaces on the planet are the homes we build. Here is the original site.
A way of swapping one world for another is to move into a roof garden and out of the city. The crowds on the streets below are abruptly gone, and with them all the accompanying cacophony of cars, buses, subways, stalls, and all the incessant drills, beeps, clangs, bangs, and swooshes of construction in a town that is rebuilding itself forever.
When I stand in one of the terraces or roof gardens I have helped to build, all of this noise seems to dissipate into the faintest of hums. To me, city gardens feel more like tiny paradises than gardens anywhere else, perhaps because the contrast between daily life and the garden’s peaceful rest is so wonderful. No other place in the world has gardens that are more elusive or important for the well-being of people.
For more than just the obvious monetary reasons, but also for the monumental effort needed to make them exist at all they are elusive. In order to grow even the smallest garden on top of a house, imagine bringing thousands of pounds of soil and plants up stairs and elevators.
Perhaps part of what gives them such an air of extraordinary rareness and rarity in the world is the immense difficulties faced in bringing them into being. It’s always with a feeling of adventure and exploration when I reach such a garden, as if I were privy to behold a hidden treasure unsuspected and unknown to the throngs on the streets below. A roof garden is truly a living gem of wonder and elegance, nestled between clouds and skyscrapers, a little emerald certainly admired even by the birds that fly above it and must look down in amazement to see this concrete jungle actually sprouting life from the buildings below.
In the sense that they must at once flee the city and be inspired by it the gardens that I design are rather paradoxical. In these parks, reminders of the city are all around us, with skyscrapers peeping out over the trees here and there, railings and reinforcements on the roof structure reminding us of the ever-present and intrinsically fragile existence of life in the sky, and those aeroplanes and helicopters flying overhead with the birds.