Kate Tabony
“Every place, be it agricultural landscape, post-industrial site, or public park, has complex story threads hidden from plain sight. As designers at Nelson Byrd Wotlz we are asked to untangle these disparate threads and weave them into a tapestry that has the power to tell the stories of the land in new ways.”
#WomenWhoBuild meet Kate Tobany,
Kate is an Architect and Designer for Nelson Byrd Woltz Landscape Architects. In her current role Kate has designed and managed a variety of projects across the continental United States. Kate has been instrumental in the design of Sleeping Rainbow Ranch (an off-the-grid research center in Capitol Reef National Park), a project she had worked on during her time with Solar Design & Analysis, and the The Land Bridge and Prairie project at Memorial Park (Houston’s largest urban park), a project she has worked on during her time at Nelson Byrd Woltz. Prior to joining Nelson Byrd Woltz, Kate was the lead design architect at Alloy Workshop where she led the design of a number of award winning projects. Kate is also the recipient of the Suzan Kolarik Underwood Prize which she received for her thesis research during her time at Princeton University.
Kate sat down with ArchNative (virtually of course) to discuss her journey in Architecture, her thesis research, what have been the most rewarding aspects of her career thus fas, and of course her advice for women entering the field.
Tell us a little bit about yourself and your journey in Architecture?
I think my journey in architecture really began in my dad’s garage when I was about 15. We had ordered drawings and plans to build wooden kayaks, and my dad patiently guided my brother and me through the process of measuring, cutting, bending, and gluing. And while we did not design the boats, it was the first time I had the opportunity to use the tools of building to create a space with a very specific purpose and engage in the process of translating two-dimensional drawing and flat pieces of plywood into three-dimensional curving forms.
My first deep dive into ecologically driven architecture and true collaboration came in my fourth year of undergraduate at the University of Virginia Architecture School. Our studio was dedicated to the design of an entry into the first Solar Decathlon Competition. As a group of young architects and engineers, the act of designing and building a fully solar powered house was exhilarating; it just felt very meaningful to be making something real rather than working on the realm of the theoretical. The project fundamentally changed the way I thought about architecture and design as intrinsically connected to its surroundings.
The knowledge gained from the Solar Decathlon propelled me onward to Santa Fe, New Mexico where I joined a very small firm to assist in the design of an off-the-grid field research center in Utah at Capitol Reef National Park, as well as various solar powered residences in Northern New Mexico. We employed cutting-edge solar technologies and used traditional adobe bricks that were formed from the earth and dried in the sun. Perhaps this time in New Mexico foreshadowed my eventual switch to landscape architecture, as we used materials and processes unique to each site to shape spaces and structures that performed more like plants than buildings.
After graduate school in architecture and a brief stint in New York City with LTL Architects, I made my way back to Charlottesville where I joined a small design-build firm called Alloy Workshop. It was here that I was able to hone my understanding of the processes that transforms a design into physical form. Over the eight years I worked there with some incredible carpenters and inspired designers, we built dozens of projects, and, in the process, I learned the language of building.
From there I sought to further expand my experience and work in the public realm. I had long admired the work of Nelson Byrd Woltz, but when I learned more about their approach to design—telling the stories of the land through the lens of culture and ecology, I realized that I would love to put my design energies toward helping further their mission.
What was your first introduction to the field and what made you decide to pursue it as a career path?
I grew up in West Virginia, very near the Laurel Highlands where Frank Lloyd Wright’s Fallingwater is located. The way the structure and the site blurred into a continuous form, had a massive effect on me as a teen. I had no way to articulate it back then, but to imagine that an education in architecture might give me the tools to (maybe) someday create something half as magical as that place was enough to compel me to check the Architecture School box on all my college applications.
While studying Architecture at Princeton University you received the Suzan Kolarik Underwood Prize for your thesis research. Can you tell us a little bit about your research and your experience at Princeton University?
I studied at Princeton from 2006 to 2008. It was 2008 when we started to see the cracks forming in the US economy and what would eventually become the sub-prime mortgage crisis. In the fall of 2008, we began to see that the suburbs in certain areas were literally emptying out due to mass foreclosures, with images of boarded up houses leaving the cul-de-sac to the fate of vandals and squatters. My thesis research asked the question: how can the typical suburban landscape be reformatted for an economic age in which mortgage lending is not an option? How can we use the existing structures of suburbia in the sub-prime economic reality to find a new life for an outdated mode of living?
The project was a form-based theoretical investigation in which I essentially sliced houses into fragments, Gordon Matta-Clark style. The Superdivision, as I called it, is essentially a subdivision consisting of foreclosed structures that are literally sliced—from roof to foundation—through a sub-division. A grid of shared paths cut through and connected the house fragments, and these fragments became a combination of shared and private spaces that could offer a new mode of suburban living. The Superdivision’s goal was to re-organize, densify, diversify, and open the closed and gated communities, breaking down the single-family bubble, and allowing new model for partially communal home ownership.
A real highlight of my time at Princeton was getting the opportunity to work with Liz Diller for my thesis research and many other brilliant architectural minds including Kazuyo Sejima, Mario Gandelsonas, Sarah Whiting, Paul Lewis, Stan Allan and so many others. It was a real gift to study under so many incredible design thinkers.
Memorial Park Stone Bench Mockup
You are a Designer for Nelson Byrd Woltz, what does your job entail and what does a typical day look like for you?
Nelson Byrd Woltz is a landscape architecture firm that uses the tools of design to reveal and amplify hidden histories, cultural phenomena, and ecological systems of a site. Every place, be it agricultural landscape, post-industrial site, or public park, has complex story threads hidden from plain sight. As designers at NBW we are asked to untangle these disparate threads and weave them into a tapestry that has the power to tell the stories of the land in new ways.
My primary focus over the past couple of years has been Memorial Park in Houston, Texas. At 1500 acres (more than twice the size of NYC’s Central Park), Memorial Park is Houston’s largest urban park, and contains one of the largest urban forests in the country. NBW is in the process of realizing a series of projects – defined in the Master Plan that NBW completed in 2015 – in response to the devastation caused by a drought in 2011, which led to the loss of 50-90% of the tree canopy in part of the park. The project that I am currently working on is the Land Bridge and Prairie – a 96-acre project is currently under construction and will reconnect the north and south halves of the park, which were cleaved apart when a six-lane highway through the park was added decades ago.
The Land Bridge project was conceptualized by NBW as a series of four new tunnels placed over the highway, covered with soil harvested from the site to create a native prairie ecosystem. The project will provide safe passage over a busy highway for people and wildlife and offer new recreational opportunities for park users. Adjacent to the Land Bridge to the north and south, we are creating a native Gulf Coat Prairie habitat. The Prairie will function as a stormwater management tool, using the deep roots of the native prairie grasses to soak up stormwater and create a more resilient park against the threats of climate change.
My days typically involve a lot of communication, working with the extended design team to address design questions coming from the construction crew on the ground. Aside from my incredible colleagues at NBW, I work with other architects, engineers, lighting designers, ecologists, soil scientists, meadow and prairie experts, graphic designers, and many others to collectively implement the design vision. But the days I spend drawing, sketching, and modeling, or visiting the amazing sites that we are working on are my favorite.
“By embracing this not-knowing, I have been able to maintain a certain openness. I ask a million questions of my colleagues and collaborators and approach design problems from a place of curiosity and humility. ”
How do you approach each project? Where do you draw inspiration?
I recently read an article that reference the Zen Buddhist concept of the “beginner’s mind” of shoshin, and the concept really resonated with me. Having had no formal training in landscape architecture when I started working at NBW, I was forced to uncomfortably embrace the fact that, while I have extensive design experience and a good handle on built systems, I knew almost nothing about the primary medium of landscape—soil, water, and plants—aside from novice experiments in my own yard. By embracing this not-knowing, I have been able to maintain a certain openness. I ask a million questions of my colleagues and collaborators and approach design problems from a place of curiosity and humility. I am fortunate that there are so many incredible people at NBW with very deep knowledge of the field. I have taken it on as a personal mission (for selfish reasons mostly) to draw out this knowledge. With my colleague Christian Kochuba, we’ve started an informal knowledge sharing presentation series that amplifies the voices and expertise of my colleagues. We call the series In The Weeds and has thus far been great way to connect with each other and share ideas and information.
What has been the most rewarding part of your career so far? What has been the most challenging?
Seeing the Clay Family Eastern Glades at Memorial Park open has been a definite highlight of my career. This was the first project in the Master Plan and was completed during the summer of 2020. And even though I have not been able to set foot on the ground there yet due to COVID, through social media I have been able to witness some beautiful life moments in a project that I helped to design. I have seen photos of couples getting engaged next to the lake, children gleefully sliding down the swooping stone walls at the East Terrace, masked and distanced picnics on the lawn, and people occupying the space in unexpected and wonderful ways. A colleague in Houston just told me that he saw a coyote when he was there last! It is incredibly gratifying to see and hear about people (and animals) enjoying space that I helped to create. There is nothing like it really.
The most challenging part of my career has been my transition from architecture to landscape architecture. When I started work at NBW, I didn’t realize how incredibly hard it would be to learn a new discipline mid-career. I am a licensed architect, but I had to re-learn how to draw plans, note details, and conceive of space making with living, changing materials. I felt at times, like I was starting all over from scratch! Those difficulties, however, are overshadowed by the gratification I feel daily from working in a field and with a company that aligns so well with my personal values.
What has been your favorite project to work on?
One of my main goals when I started at NBW was to work on large scale public projects that have a positive net effect on the world. The Land Bridge and Prairie project at Memorial Park checks both these boxes. The entire team - from the clients, the construction team, and design team - is united in the goal of creating a wonderful space for people and an impactful ecological restoration. I look forward to bringing my family here one day and seeing my boys, who are four and six, clamber up the mounds or walk through the prairie grasses.
One benefit of working from home for the last year is that my kids have been able to witness the evolution of this project over my shoulder. From the site cameras’ video feed they have delighted in seeing dozens of bulldozers pushing giant piles of dirt and watching as the tunnel arches were erected section by section. They have also seen how I work and what it means to design something of this scale. I hope that when we get to visit the completed project together one day, they might remember something of this process.
I also really enjoy working on smaller scale projects closer to home. Catlin Road Farm is a residential project where we were tasked with designing a family’s 35-acre property. In collaboration with a local architect, we designed family gardens adjacent to a new house and implemented walking and jogging trails around the larger property. We developed plans for managing invasive species and introducing agricultural cattle grazing. It’s a real joy to work with people from my community and design within our local ecosystem.
What is one piece of advice you have for women entering the field?
Design is an expansive field of study. An architectural education will set your foundation as a design thinker but try not to limit yourself in how you imagine applying those skills. Let your unique obsessions and curiosity guide your career.