The problem with evaluating golf course architecture is it's half science and half art. I find there is a lot of threads that talk about specific details and are trying to determine hard and fast rules. I assume they would like to make the evaluation of golf course architecture more scientific.
In my opinion, you can't define how to create exceptional golf architecture.
Assuming that is the end goal.
The problem lies in half of golf course architecture is “art.” So for perspective, I thought I would share some ideas on how to evaluate “art” to point out the complexities of trying to evaluate golf course architecture (when the artistic side is so important).
Is it beautiful? The main problem with this is we all have our own opinions on what is beautiful for us. See Justice Potter Stewart for best explanation on this. I may like Prairie Dunes, whereas another golfer may like the TPC at Sawgrass. Others prefer Winged Foot. We all have a setting that stirs us more than other landscapes, although most golfers like more than a single setting. But this is still completely personal to us. Yes, you can talk everything from composition to symmetry to framing to flow to movement, but beauty is still “in the eye of the beholder”. And we all like different things from each other.
As a quick aside, I will say, that is why site selection seems to be far more important than architecture to many.
It’s unusual to find anyone who doesn’t respond to being at the ocean. It’s a small segment of the golfing world who could be more impressed with an exceptional design in an average setting over an average design in a great setting. For example, anyone who thinks the renovation to Pinehurst turned it from average to spectacular is judging solely on the presentation. The basic concepts of play barely change other than smaller details. It was a great golfing experience already before the changes.
So what’s next … art is evaluated on skill and technique. I think most golfers do clearly get the aesthetic side of this one and do enjoy brilliant detailed work. I do think this is why the current leading architects are popular, their detail work is often brilliant and most players can see the difference. The more overt details and techniques are front and centre in their compositions and “we do like what we see”. Still, as I said before what you appreciate does fall into that personal taste, although many are capable of “appreciating both early Pete Dye and late Pete Dye at the same time.
While we struggle to define how we get rhythm and flow, I do believe about half of golfers can feel this when they play and respond to it as part of the experience. The majority of golf architecture junkies can breakdown the mixture of experiences along with the variety of challenges. So these aspects or technique are understandable.
In a recent podcast I spent a great deal of time talking about the importance of tie-ins. Tie-ins are one of the most obvious ways some architects measure the skill and technique of other architects. It’s the last 25% of what makes a great course possible. I find this is the most over-looked “important” aspect of design, whether by golfers, builders or by architects building courses.
The most important part of technique is the selection of holes and the formation of a journey. It is the single most important part of creating the composition. I will say with blunt honesty that everyone thinks they are capable and that only a handful of architects truly are. There’s a difference between something that works and something that is sublime. I once tried to explain the complexity by saying – it’s not what you can find, but it’s what you can let go of that defines your ability to find the best possible journey. If you want a quicker example, take Doonbeg, proof that the “entire journey matters more than the individual holes.
Are you with me so far?
So this is where things get a little more out on the edge … I believe all great work comes from either having a philosophy or at least an intention. Designing holes is not enough to ever achieve anything great (my opinion).
There must be a goal, for example ample utilizing width for playability and the ability to move freely through the design through choice. Or another option can be the philosophy of “you must earn every advantage” (essentially this was Bob Cupp’s argument against Pacific Dunes when we played it together). Max Behr’s concept of “playing freedoms” is my greatest personal influence on how I want you to feel when playing my own work. There needs to be some underlying belief in how you want players to feel, or as either Bill Coore or Ben Crenshaw once said its how you want to treat them.
I think I’ve talked about my delving into rollercoaster design to understand heart rates and emotional response to understand how to influence rhythm in the round. Again, like beauty, we don’t all experience rhythms the same way. What I’m getting at is art at its best is not just “pretty”. It has some deeper underlying message. Whether architects want you to: “earn it” or “enjoy it” or something in between, personal connections to the work matter.
But it doesn’t end there …
The artistic side of the game can represent a “tip of the hat” to past ideas or a past style, which is pretty common. Or it can be provocative, when someone like Pete Dye takes a “do the opposite of what’s popular” approach and offers up ideas that contrast the current movement. That’s a statement and engaging for many. Think Mike Strantz at Tobacco Road and the love/hate reaction that it creates with so many.
And that brings us to the word unique.
We can all admire something that borrows well from past examples. We can appreciate when a course is consistently clever and well-conceived from beginning to conclusion, but for some, nothing moves the needle more than the experience of playing something that has no comparison point. That moment of pure surprise where an architect has made a most unusual choice and provided a surprising new riddle (or at least great twist on a known riddle) leave us gobsmacked. “Wow, that was different ...” It’s why as much as I like Bill, Tom and Gil, I’m need the emergence of a divergence.
So I’ve left you with lots to think about (and only cost you two minutes of your day). What I’m trying to say is golf architecture is not created through a checklist or a series of basic principles. It is far more nuanced and is far more dependent on an emotional reaction to what you see and what you experience.