I played golf with Mike DeVries this summer, and I shared some opinions about golf course aesthetics. Essentially, I said if it looks like good golf can be played on it, then it is beautiful. After years of golfing experiences, I have a reasonably keen eye for golf terrain, and can see what yields golf shots of great interest. One of the great joys of playing an excellent course the first time is the chance to visually interpret each new challenge.
Mike sent me an article relevant to my thoughts. I'm not much for reading golf literature, let alone quoting it. The article is "Art in Golf Architecture" by Max Behr, from the Bulletin of Green Section of the USGA, dated May 16, 1925.
Max Behr writes:
Repton, the great landscape gardener of the 18th century, has perhaps most concisely and perfectly stated them:
"First it must display the natural beauties and the hide the natural defects of every situation. Secondly, it should give the appearance of extent and freedom by carefully disguising or hiding the boundary. Thirdly, it must studiously conceal every interference of art, however extensive, by which the scenery is improved, making the whole appear the production of nature only. And fourthly, all objects of mere convenience or comfort, if incapable of being made ornamental, or of becoming proper parts of the general scenery, must be removed or concealed."
Max Behr writes:
"It must be evident that there are two methods in which golf architecture is pursued. In the one we see the architect, with plasticine or contour lines, inventing regardless of the nonconformity of situations to his ideas; and, thus, feeling himself free to modify the ground to his will, it is 'his destiny' to be in bondage to the winds of fashion and reflect in his work the psychology of his time. Driven by a self-complacency in his omnipotence, the bark of his architecture, without the rudder of geological law, must drift from one fallacy of design to another. Only thus it would seem that 'freak' architecture can be explained."
As an aside, Max Behr is challenging to read. Long meandering thoughts with a considerable vocabulary in his arsenal. I had to look up "lineaments" and peripatetic", and found his use of the words was profoundly accurate.
OK, my turn:
Nature is not random. Plate tectonic movement, heat and gravity, the erosive action of water ⎯ these occur where they must. Volcanoes explode, water falls, trees root, and minerals crystallize, all on a path of least resistance. It takes time, but physics and evolution conspire to create a perfect landscape. Perfect and infinitely different. Some are well suited for golf.
Max Behr writes:
"And greens are now being purposely tilted toward play, and enfeebled skill rejoices. The upshot of such an unsubstantial philosophy of golf must be to reveal every feature of nature, with nature robbed of its mystery...Is golf to be robbed of all illusion? Is the walk between shots to be, only, a tragic and dull affair? Does not the very essence of a sport lie in that suspense between the commencement of an action and the knowledge of the result?"
Recently I discussed the aesthetics at Stone Eagle Golf Club. Stone Eagle is an interesting study in aesthetics, a course that dramatically clashes with its rocky, arid environment. Dark green grass would not grow without unnatural assistance. On the other hand, the course contours match the land, sand bunkers fade effortlessly into the similarly colored terrain, and native plants adorn the landscape. Course aesthetics are as good as they can be.
The aesthetic beauty of a golf course is measured by how natural it looks and the quality of the golf shots it yields. In my experience, artificial ponds, and unnatural looking landforms such as containment mounds, do not yield exciting golf shots. An exception could be made for a peaceful greenside pond in a parkland setting. Flower beds and broad shallow ponds generally don't look natural and are therefore poor aesthetically.
Aesthetically my favorite courses are on sandy dunes. I see the light green turf and the undulating ground and it looks appropriate. I feel the wind and see the ball will roll and know that the golf will be fun. It's beautiful. Others see a parkland course as the pinnacle of aesthetics.
A final example:
I played Riviera this fall and my host pushed his drive on the 5th hole, leaving himself a shot over that big knob short of the green. I don't think that knob is a natural feature, but it is so strange and out of place that one feels it must be natural, because there's nothing remotely similar on the course. He hit his second weakly; we thought there was a chance it carried the crest. Unfortunately, the club keeps the grass a foot long on the knob, and we never found it. Why would they do such a thing?