When a Man Crosses a River

Years ago I heard this old saying, which goes, "When a man crosses a river, the man ends up not the same as he used to be, and so does the river."

To me it means that every journey changes you, which is true no matter whether you are a man, a woman, or as this saying goes, the road itself.

It was based on this idea that I designed the landscape of Beit Halochem, back in the days I worked as an architect. I gave a lot of thought to the person moving along every path across the site, what she sees, what changes around her with every step, how her mood is affected, how a transition occurs, a transition from the soaring lines of unusual geometry in the building, to an echo of this geometry in the land around it, to a faint echo, finally overcome by the softening, rounding hand of nature, around the far fringes of the site.

Here is a model of Beit Halochem, designed by the architect David Yanai:

And here are some freehand sketches of my vision for how it would sit against the slope of the Carmel mountain. This was my plan for the entire site:

And here, a few sketches of this and that spot in the site: