Abstract
Landscape architecture is a young discipline relative to other design-based fields, such as engineering or architecture. The unique knowledge, processes, and capacities of landscape architects—central requirements of a recognizable profession—are currently broad and largely undefined. The profession needs to have clearly defined knowledge domains recognized by other disciplines and the public. This study used four sources of evidence to identify core landscape architecture knowledge domains: (1) a census of land design and development professionals from the 1970s; (2) a sample of U.S. landscape architects in the early 2000s; (3) two systematic reviews of articles published in Landscape Journal over a 25-year period; and, (4) courses offered in accredited first-professional Master of Landscape Architecture (MLA) programs across North America. Ten knowledge domains were identified, none of which were unique to landscape architecture. Two domains, design and natural, were identified by all data sources to be core to landscape architecture. However, the connections between knowledge domains, rather than the domains themselves, and a focus on conceptualizing appropriate change to the landscape, might more appropriately define the core domains of landscape architecture.
INTRODUCTION
Landscape architecture is a relatively young field in comparison with professions such as architecture and engineering (Newton, 1971). Professions offer unique knowledge and skills, domains that are very clear in many fields but are currently broad and largely undefined in landscape architecture. This study investigated the domains of landscape architecture identified by practitioners, researchers, and educators, using the definition of a profession as “individuals who … are accepted by the public as possessing special knowledge and skills in a widely recognized body of learning derived from research, education and training at a high level, and who are prepared to apply this knowledge and exercise these skills in the interest of others” (Australian Council of Professions, 2018, emphasis added).
A profession’s vitality is derived from its relationship to its work (Abbott, 1988), which is determined by the components within a profession and the public’s perception (Figure 1). A profession cannot control the public’s perception with a high degree of certainty, but it can reliably influence and direct its parts. These components are a profession’s problem-solving process and its academic knowledge. Each can influence the profession’s claim over knowledge territory, its embedded values, and its ability to compete for work with other professions.
A profession’s work is informed by its specialized knowledge, which not only separates a profession from an occupation or trade but is also the means by which professions compete (Abbott, 1988). Therefore, this body of knowledge should not be easily understood or gained without higher education and training if a single profession wants to lay claim to it over others (Abbott, 1988; Baird & Szczygiel, 2007; Macdonald, 1995).
Academic knowledge serves three main functions within a profession: legitimacy, research production, and instruction of students (Abbott, 1988). Legitimacy requires that the cultural values of society are reflected and linked in the profession’s practice and education—or “a public interest dimension of professional activity” (Swaffield, 2002, p. 184). In addition, academic knowledge adds to a profession’s legitimacy by identifying its knowledge foundation. Research within a profession increases the depth and quality of disciplinary-specific knowledge and leads or adapts the profession to discovery in a mutual feedback system (Nassauer & Opdam, 2008). Finally, academic knowledge serves to instruct students, bridging the divide between the disassembled and logical world of the academy with the problem-solving world of practice (Abbott, 1988). Knowledge domains—broad areas that contain detailed and interrelated facts and understanding—claimed within a profession must be clearly and thoroughly represented for that profession to have an identity. If these functions are compromised, a profession’s jurisdictional boundaries become less clear and more vulnerable to transgression from competing professions that may have stronger claims from the public’s or academy’s perspective.
Fundamentally landscape architecture has robust tendencies because it has advanced its position within applied and scholarly communities. Questions about when a landscape architect is required to do work, however, remain uncertain and “the social and political influence of landscape architecture remains marginal in most countries” (Swaffield, 2002, p. 186). As an example, in Ontario (Canada) provincial professional title legislation and a landscape rehabilitation act identify registered landscape architects as capable of drawing up rehabilitation plans for surface extraction sites. Yet the act goes on to say that engineers, professional land surveyors, or other similarly qualified professionals might also engage in rehabilitation plan development (Corry et al., 2008). Within cities, landscape architecture domains can also be unclear, as architects, urban designers, transit planners, and civil engineers might all stake their territory on giving cities form and function. What constitutes the landscape architecture domain might be vigorously disputed. Even basic planting design—something some might argue is central to the profession—is not clearly the domain of landscape architects alone. Horticulturists, landscape designers, arborists, and gardeners may claim jurisdiction over that work.
Neither the Bureau of Labor Statistics (United States) nor Employment and Social Development Canada use the word “profession” when describing the occupation of landscape architecture. However, both characterize the work of landscape architecture consistently as including design, preparation of drawings and specifications, and coordination of project execution— none of which are exclusive to landscape architecture (the Bureau of Labor Statistics categorizes the occupation by code 17-1012 and Employment and Social Development Canada by code 2152). Design, drawing and specification, and construction supervision and documentation are also listed as parts of engineering and architecture occupations, among others.
This level of uncertainty and competition for work raises an important issue: does landscape architecture have a specialized, recognizable body of knowledge? This study investigated that issue by considering the three areas identified in the definition of a profession: research, education, and application. Research conducted by landscape architecture scholars was used to identify current and trending knowledge domains within the profession and how it differs from others. What is taught within professional landscape architecture educational programs, accredited by a professional society, was used to identify the requisite knowledge domains. Finally, opinions of practicing professionals were used to identify how landscape architects apply their knowledge and skills.
The specific question addressed in this study was, “What are the core knowledge domains of landscape architecture?” This question was approached from the perspectives of research, education, and practice and explored similarities between them.
METHODS
A fixed, multistrategy approach to interpret and integrate data (Robson, 1993) was used for this study. The data were acquired opportunistically and included:
A study of the profession of landscape architecture, a technical report sponsored by the American Society of Landscape Architects and the Ford Foundation [Fein, American Society of Landscape Architects (ASLA), and Ford Foundation 1972]. This study is colloquially known as the Fein Report and is referred to as such throughout.
The 2004 LABOK report (“Landscape Architecture Body of Knowledge Study Report,” American Society of Landscape Architects et al., 2004).
Powers and Walker’s (2009) review of 25 years of scholarship, and Gobster, Nassauer, and Nadenicek’s (2010) review of scholarly productivity.
The course titles of every accredited MLA program in North America (2015).
These sources provided data that could help identify knowledge domains within the three perspectives of interest: the Fein Report and the LABOK report probed the knowledge thought to be important to practitioners and their work; Powers and Walker (2009) and Gobster, Nassauer, and Nadenicek (2010) identified scholarship published in Landscape Journal over a 25-year-plus period; and the Fein Report, the LABOK report, and the course title review provided perspective on advanced educational programs in landscape architecture. Course titles were drawn only from accredited graduate programs because these are the highest-level first-professional degrees achievable in North America and accreditation standards for master of landscape architecture programs are more intensive (see next paragraph). Course title use is an established technique to evaluate curricula content in professional programs (e.g., Shivley, Garry, Kogan, & Grandin, 2016). Although course titles are less representative of specific content than course descriptions are, titles represent the official program of study as agreed on by the faculty and the accrediting body [i.e., the Landscape Architecture Accreditation Board (LAAB; United States) or the Landscape Architecture Accreditation Council (LAAC; Canada)].
The LAAB and LAAC mutually require that professionally accredited programs provide a rigorous and thorough preparation for future landscape architects. The organizations use the same language in their standards, requiring that the curriculum for any accredited degree provide “core knowledge, skills, and applications of landscape architecture,” with the requirement for a master of landscape architecture degree to include “instruction in and application of research and [/or] scholarly methods” (note: LAAC uses “and/or” for research and methods where LAAB uses “and” only; Landscape Architectural Accreditation Board, 2016, p. 10; Landscape Architectural Accreditation Council, 2017, p. 6).
This study considered only English-language information focused primarily on the United States and Canada. For each data source, text phrases were categorized and summarized to rank knowledge domains on a scale of relevance to the profession (Deming & Swaffield, 2011; Gobster, Nassauer, & Nadenicek, 2010) Where phrases were thematically similar, they were grouped on semantic terms—“research” and “critical inquiry,” for example, were collapsed into one domain. Raw data or values from primary data sources were used, when available, ahead of interpretations by other authors.
Domains identified by any source were included in the list of domains of landscape architecture, while “core knowledge domains” were only those that were referenced by all data sources listed previously.
RESULTS
The results are organized and described here chronologically, and they are consistent with the sources identified in Methods. Tables and figures are used to visually compare data from different sources and identify core and peripheral knowledge domains. Each data source is described separately before integrating and comparing across all four sources.
The Fein Report provides an inclusive census of landscape architects and others. The study began in 1967 and was completed in 1972 and involved a pilot phase with 202 people before questionnaire development. The resulting self-administered questionnaire was limited to four question themes (scope, concern, leadership, and profile of landscape architecture) and was distributed to 8,297 people, including landscape architects (public and private practitioners, university faculty, students), consulting engineers, architects, planners, clients (mostly governments, commercial developers, and Fortune 500 executives), and natural and behavioral scientists. Sixty-three percent of questionnaires were completed (5,227) with the highest response rates for American Society of Landscape Architects (ASLA) members and government clients (Table 1). The response rate is high relative to current response rates for questionnaires and online surveys.
The questionnaire was effectively a census of all ASLA professional members, but only an undefined sampling of students because no population list was available for them. Architects and planners were randomly sampled, and only those engineering companies that employed landscape architects were sampled. ASLA responses are generalizable within a one percent margin of error (Dixon & Leach, 1977), but other groups are uncertain because their population at the time of sampling is not known. To compare the results of the Fein Report with the other data sources, only the responses of those labeled as landscape architects by the report (ASLA members, non-ASLA members, students, and faculty) were used.
The LABOK report was directed at ASLA, Council of Landscape Architecture Review Boards (CLARB), LAAB, Council of Educators in Landscape Architecture (CELA), and Canadian Society of Landscape Architects (CSLA) members. It sought to identify practitioner core competencies and fundamental knowledge domains expected of graduates, asking questions on history and criticism; natural and cultural systems; theories and methods; design, planning, and management; engineering; materials; technologies; communications; values and ethics; and professional practice (including documenting and administering work).
The LABOK study samples were small compared with the Fein Report. After an initial focus group (17 participants) and pilot survey (10 respondents of 24 people contacted) ASLA sent the survey to 500 members (250 associates and 250 full members). CELA’s full population was contacted: 222 assistant, associate, or full professors. CLARB selected 505 of those writing the professional exams. CSLA sampled one-quarter of their membership (180), restricting the respondents to those who spoke English. Supplemental respondents were contacted, including additional associates and those known to the LABOK task force. A total of 1,458 questionnaires were sent, with 255 returned (17.5% response rate). The highest response rate was for CELA, with low rates for CSLA and ASLA members (Table 2). The overall response rate is substantially low given the population sampled and the topic’s relevance (Adler & Clark, 2008). There was also a discrepancy between the reported response rates within the LABOK report—the numbers found in the written text were different from those found in tables. The numbers reported in this article are the same as those found in the published 2004 LABOK report.
Landscape Journal manuscripts for its first 25 volumes were classified into content categories by Powers and Walker (2009). Their purpose was to classify the subjects pursued and published in a journal dedicated to scholarship in landscape architecture. They inventoried each journal issue and used predetermined search terms to initially categorize content, followed by open textual content analysis to confirm classification of 312 manuscripts. They arrived at 11 subject categories, the top 3 of which constitute 56% of the published papers (Table 3).
To explore the diversity of subject matter and research productivity in landscape architecture, Gobster, Nassauer, and Nadenicek (2010) reviewed the first 27 volumes of Landscape Journal using online index databases and classified article content by expert interpretation. They arrived at nine categories of subjects in the journal, and the top three constituted 59% of the published papers (Table 3).
The final data used in this study were the course titles within every accredited MLA program in Canada and the United States. At the time of initial inspection (2015), 56 first-professional degree master of landscape architecture programs accredited by LAAB/LAAC (52 in the United States, 4 in Canada) were identified. Program websites were used to find and collect course titles, and each course was inductively coded into a single category (Babbie, 2015; Deming & Swaffield, 2011). Electives were classified as miscellaneous and not considered central to a professional body of knowledge because students were given a choice as to which elective they were going to take. After the initial categorization, it was found that there was a predominance of courses with names such as “design studio.” To make sure that these design courses were categorized as effectively as possible, a subsequent step reclassified them under any term other than “design” or “studio” to check content. For example, “construction studio” or “ecological design studio” would move to categories of construction and ecology, respectively (Table 4).
FINDINGS
The pilot study that preceded the Fein Report’s full questionnaire identified social (aesthetics, comfort and pleasure, public welfare and enjoyment) and ecological domains as central to the practice of landscape architecture. These were consistent across all respondent groups (ASLA members and nonmembers, faculty, and students). In the full questionnaire (Fein, ASLA, & Ford Foundation, 1972), these domains remained central when asked what “should be” the core of practice, yet their ranks shifted ecological needs as more important—ranked first (or tied) by ASLA and students, and second by non-ASLA and faculty respondents. The result suggests that although ecological needs were important at the time, they were considered to be even more important to the future of the field.
The natural and social domains remained central in the Fein Report when respondents ranked subjects that were important in accredited education. Principles of design and ecology were ranked as the top two subjects necessary, and these were the only subject areas on which there was full agreement across respondent groups. Construction was ranked third by ASLA and nonmembers and faculty—all other subject area ranks vary more than these (fine arts/aesthetics, conservation, social and behavioral sciences, problem solving, geography, botany/horticulture/agriculture, business management, history).
The LABOK study identified a number of categories, including some descriptors that are not knowledge domains (for example, “urban,” “miscellaneous”) which were eliminated. Ranked highest in LABOK as being necessary in an accredited education program was construction, followed by natural and design domains. In the domain histogram (Figure 2), a point of inflection after the top three domains indicates a division between these three and the lesser ranked planning, social, technology, and other knowledge areas.
LABOK also ranked domains important in application. Similar to education, construction and natural domains ranked highly, and planning and profession domains increased in importance. LABOK identified four domains as being critical to the mastery of the profession, with design as the leader, followed by natural, construction, and media. It is notable that in application, design was less critical than other domains, but in mastery it was ranked highest. If design was parsed to look more carefully at the constituent knowledge areas, construction and theory are equal in the leading position.
The Powers and Walker (2009) review found three leading knowledge domains published in Landscape Journal: history and culture, landscape planning and ecology, and human and environment relationships. Their ranks competed for leading positions across editorial periods, with over a third of articles about landscape planning and ecology between 1982 and 1988, and a quarter of articles about history and culture in 2003–2007 (Figure 3).
Gobster, Nassauer, and Nadenicek (2010) found that 27% of all articles published in Landscape Journal between 1982 and 2009 were about landscape history (people or preservation). Theory, criticism, ecology, and aesthetics—a broad classification—was second-highest with 19% of articles, followed by landscape perception and assessment. Over the four editorial periods of Landscape Journal (to 2009), a trend toward more diverse content emerged from three principal domains between 1982 and 1988, to a leading domain (landscape history, people, preservation) with five contenders in 2003−2009 (Table 5).
Accredited master of landscape architecture programs had 13 course title categories: design; studio; natural; construction; planning; social; urban; theory and history; profession; research and methodology; media/technology/communication; capstone; and miscellaneous (including electives).
Three of these are not knowledge domains—studio, capstone, and urban—and “miscellaneous” was not possible to categorize as knowledge. These were excluded from subsequent classification. Notably, studio and miscellaneous were very important in curricula (ranking fourth and second overall, respectively), so the course content appears foundational. “Design” was differentiated into more descriptive domains if it appeared with an adjective such as “environmental;” otherwise, it remained as its own domain.
The top short-listed domains were natural (186 courses), media/technology/communications (180 courses), theory and history (138 courses), construction (111 courses), design (103 courses), and studio (103 courses). Planning and social domains were ranked lowest (Figure 4).
SYNTHESIS
Using the data from all five sources, 10 knowledge domains were identified: design; construction; natural; social; theory and history; media, technology, and communication; planning; profession; research; and education. There were some notable gaps in domains found to be important within the three perspectives under investigation. Of particular note were the results comparing the knowledge domains important to practice. Only three domains were found to be important to practice within the Fein Report: design, construction, and social. Out of the 10 identified knowledge domains, all but research and education were found to be important early in a landscape architect’s career in the LABOK report. Knowledge important to practitioners at the mastery level in the LABOK report (2004) included only design, construction, natural, theory and history, and media, technology, and communication. Within research published in Landscape Journal the only missing domain was construction. Whereas in education, all of the three data sources included all of the knowledge domains except education.
Only two knowledge domains appeared in every source and division and thus were deemed core: design and natural. Social was identified in all but LABOK’s mastery level of knowledge, and it ranked lowest in course titles in accredited programs. Construction was a knowledge domain in all but the Fein Report and Gobster, Nassauer, and Nadenicek (2010). History was not considered important to practice in the LABOK results, while theory and history were missing from practice relevance in the Fein Report. Research was not important to practice in any source, but arguably in a scholarly journal venue its importance might be implicit. Planning and profession domains were not found to be important in the Fein Report but did appear in the other data sources, as was the domain media, technology, and communication.
DISCUSSION
The design knowledge domain might be expected within landscape architecture. Within academic programs, design teaching in studio settings broadly includes social and natural subject domains like ecology, conservation, aesthetics, communication processes, community engagement, application of aesthetics, problem solving, and principles of design. Although design is roundly reported as a principal knowledge domain, the consistency of the natural domain in the data might be less expected, especially in programs that focus on urban design.
Natural knowledge includes biological and physical components of the landscape such as ecology, conservation, geography, horticulture, microclimate, soils, biophysical sustainability, and arboriculture. These subjects are central to landscape architectural education and practice, while other subject matters, such as social (e.g., perception and preference, assessment, social justice and public welfare, democratic access), were not consistently highly ranked.
Based on this interpretation of the results, landscape architecture has no knowledge domains that would be considered unique to the profession; all of the identified domains are also claimed by other professions. Certainly design is not the sole responsibility of landscape architects, just as natural, social, theory, communications, technology, and construction belong within other professions. This might suggest that the intersection of these domains and the focus on conceptualizing and guiding appropriate changes to the landscape might be the bases for landscape architects’ uniqueness.
While other professions may reasonably claim aspects of design, construction, communications, natural domains, and others, the ways the knowledge domains are applied by landscape architects could be how it competes directly with these associated professions. As a consistently leading domain, design might be described as a locus where integration and synthesis of the natural, social, historical, technological, and built dimensions of knowledge occurs to provide practical and desirable landscape change. Design in teaching and practice can be the skillful integration of information central to synthesis (e.g., microclimate, hydrology, soils, vegetation, culture, and aesthetics), as well as a capable integration in the voids among knowledge domains (those areas where knowledge is incomplete but a solution is still required).
The data we reviewed suggest that the synthesis of knowledge, achieved through basic and integrative design instruction, is anchored in natural knowledge, social, and construction domains. History, theory, and media/technology/communications were not universal knowledge domains yet are integrated into program curricula and parts of normal practice even as the data sources vary on how central they are. By organizing and showcasing the connections between landscape architecture’s knowledge domains in basic and integrative design, the profession could further solidify its boundaries, thereby strengthening the profession’s jurisdictional claim over specific knowledge domains, how they interact, and the work they effectively address. Based on our findings, a prudent choice for landscape architecture would be to explicitly acknowledge and address these knowledge domains and their interdomain relationships in research, education, and application through actions such as curricula design, research at the core of intentional landscape change, and interdisciplinary practice that acknowledges domain boundaries even while transgressing them.
CONCLUSION
The Fein Report identified that design and natural domains were central to practice and that history and research were important in education. Thirty-five years later, the LABOK report found that design, natural, and construction domains were critical to application, mastery, and education, but that theory shares that importance while history and research were considered less universal. Program curricula (circa 2015) acknowledged the importance of design, construction, and natural domains, with theory, history, and research being found less critical. Landscape Journal titles (2009 and 2010) also rank design, construction, and natural highly, but include theory, history, and research often in increasing trends over time.
The data sources used here point to 10 possible knowledge domains within landscape architecture: design; construction; natural; social; theory and history; media, technology, and communication; planning; profession; research; and education. However, the data also showed that changes to the profession over 50 years have moved it into domains over which other professions could also claim jurisdiction and have shifted the importance of certain knowledge domains. In fact, none of the knowledge domains identified in this study are unique to landscape architecture. The key may lie in the connections between knowledge domains and how they are applied by landscape architects in identifying appropriate changes to the landscape.
The findings imply that curricular design might benefit from considering the core knowledge domains and how they form an integrated whole. If the collection of knowledge domains and the interstices among them is unique to landscape architecture, then attending to this in the curriculum of professional education programs is central and advisable. Education programs already consider the structure and content of their curriculum and are accredited in part on that basis, but being particularly attentive to the boundaries among core knowledge domains could build critical capacity in future landscape architects in an age of multi-, inter-, and transdisciplinarity.
A deeper and more thorough understanding could come from future research into specific knowledge areas within landscape architecture. For example, current and representative survey of practitioners and the knowledge they think is important, as well as what they think will be important in the future is called for to replicate the Fein Report, which is now 46 years old. With more new landscape architecture faculty with doctorates publishing research, the diversity of journal venues increases. Therefore, a broader scan and more thorough understanding of landscape architecture research published across many journals could help identify where academic landscape architects think the profession is going in the future. A closer inspection of course curricula with more detailed data could bring further clarity to whether the educational programs in North America are teaching important skills and imparting core knowledge from the perspectives of practitioners and scholars. Professional recognition and awards from practice can be reviewed for consistency in core knowledge areas. Additional deep knowledge might be gleaned from intra- and supra-professional groups like the Landscape Architecture Foundation, Landscape Architecture Canada Foundation, International Federation of Landscape Architects, and Environmental Design Research Association. Their perspectives, meeting themes, and summits offer insight into the profession’s future development. Finally, having a thorough understanding of the knowledge boundaries of other professions could help the profession target future boundary expansion while identifying areas of weakness that could be bolstered by practitioners and academics.
AUTHOR CONTRIBUTION
William N. Langley contributed the majority (approximately 70%) of the effort of the manuscript, gathering, interpreting, comparing, and summarizing the findings and in preparation of the first draft of the manuscript. Drs. Robert Corry and Robert D. Brown contributed equal amounts (approximately 15% each) as supervisors of the project. Corry prepared the subsequent drafts of the manuscript and is the corresponding author.
PEER REVIEW STATEMENT
This submission was peer-reviewed by four peer reviewers selected by the Editorial Office. Their contributions are gratefully acknowledged and appreciated.
ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
None
Footnotes
William N. Langley is a landscape designer and horticulturist in Sudbury, Ontario. His consultancy, Gardens by Nathan, focuses on collaborative landscape design, development, and maintenance using a reflective, systems-based approach.
Dr. Robert Corry is a Professor of Landscape Architecture at the University of Guelph, Ontario. He teaches ecological principles for landscape design and his research investigates agricultural land conservation and reclamation of damaged lands for ecological and social consequences. His publications range from assessing alternative landscape plans for ecological outcomes to informing agricultural policy to achieve multiple objectives, and appear in Landscape & Urban Planning, Landscape Ecology, Landscape and Ecological Engineering, Ecological Restoration, The Canadian Geographer, Journal of Soil and Water Conservation, and Geografisk Tidsskrift.
Dr. Robert D. Brown is a Professor in the Department of Landscape Architecture and Urban Planning at Texas A&M University. His research focuses on microclimatic urban design for human health and well-being. He is the Director of the Microclimatic Design Laboratory and Coordinator of the Microclimatic Design Research Group. Recent research has included designing the 2020 Tokyo Olympic marathon route to reduce thermal stress on athletes and spectators; measuring the relationship between urban design and emergency medical response calls during heat waves; and assessing the amount of ultraviolet radiation received by children in school grounds.