A Waterfall to Remember

Thomas Cole. Oil on canvas, 1826, 43 x 36 in. The Westervelt-Warner Museum of American Art in Tuscaloosa, AL.

So often artists make nature the subject of their art, giving power to the elements through a personified interpretation of their chosen element. In this, and many other paintings by Thomas Cole, a member of the Hudson River School and an American Romantic painter, nature is depicted as untamed and untouched by growing urbanism and American expansionism. What strikes me in this painting is the impression of sublimity, of cleanliness that the painting conveys. The rocks are violent. The water is violent. And a man stands insignificantly above the waterfall, as if he has found himself standing in a nature that is unwilling to compromise itself.

How did art that imitates nature lose its sense of nature? One of the projects that our company is currently working on is a luxury swimming pool that has been designed to look as 'natural' as possible. Obviously, residential man-made waterfalls and rock swimming pool features have been around for a long time, but I heard my dad say to someone the other day that his goal for this project is to really look 'natural'. Some part of me understood the quality and significance behind his words: most swimming pool rock features look anything but 'natural'...

So, whether man-made waterfalls (the kind that we build) have lost their sense of nature because of manufactured rocks that are used in construction or because boulders have been chiseled and cut apart to be rid of any imperfections or because mortar is visible, it's clear to me that making this swimming pool look natural will not be an easy task. David has already said that he wants to personally choose every stone, boulder, and rock that is going into this project. I think that's a good start. The real challenge will be to construct the formations as a talented sculptor would his masterpiece, keeping in mind that nature's real beauty lies in its imperfections, in its violence, and in its purity.

The Waterfall and the Eglantine 

William Wordsworth

  I

'BEGONE, thou fond presumptuous Elf,'
Exclaimed an angry Voice,
'Nor dare to thrust thy foolish self
Between me and my choice!'
A small Cascade fresh swoln with snows
Thus threatened a poor Briar-rose,
That, all bespattered with his foam,
And dancing high and dancing low,
Was living, as a child might know,
In an unhappy home.

II

'Dost thou presume my course to block?
Off, off! or, puny Thing!
I'll hurl thee headlong with the rock
To which thy fibres cling.'
The Flood was tyrannous and strong;
The patient Briar suffered long,
Nor did he utter groan or sigh,
Hoping the danger would be past;
But, seeing no relief, at last,
He ventured to reply.

III

'Ah!' said the Briar, 'blame me not;
Why should we dwell in strife?
We who in this sequestered spot
Once lived a happy life!
You stirred me on my rocky bed--
What pleasure through my veins you spread
The summer long, from day to day,
My leaves you freshened and bedewed;
Nor was it common gratitude
That did your cares repay.

IV

'When spring came on with bud and bell,
Among these rocks did I
Before you hang my wreaths to tell
That gentle days were nigh!
And in the sultry summer hours,
I sheltered you with leaves and flowers;
And in my leaves--now shed and gone,
The linnet lodged, and for us two
Chanted his pretty songs, when you
Had little voice or none.

V

'But now proud thoughts are in your breast--
What grief is mine you see,
Ah! would you think, even yet how blest
Together we might be!
Though of both leaf and flower bereft,
Some ornaments to me are left--
Rich store of scarlet hips is mine,
With which I, in my humble way,
Would deck you many a winter day,
A happy Eglantine!'

VI

What more he said I cannot tell,
The Torrent down the rocky dell
Came thundering loud and fast;
I listened, nor aught else could hear;
The Briar quaked--and much I fear
Those accents were his last.