In an age of speed, distraction, and constant digital mediation, one of the most radical things a person can do is stand still in a landscape and really look.
That kind of attention sits at the heart of both painting and park-making. In October 2024, artist and landscape architect Erika Huddleston spent weeks doing just that in Atlanta’s Deepdene Park, part of the Olmsted Linear Park in the Druid Hills neighborhood. With a temporary studio near Grant Park, she returned to the same locations day after day, sketching, observing, and gradually building each piece over time.
Rather than relying on maps or aerial views, Huddleston focused on what she described as the “other layer” of a landscape, the details that only emerge through presence. She noted leaves suspended in spider webs, the shifting canopy, and the familiar rhythm of runners and neighbors passing by. Over time, she became a kind of fixture in the park, documenting the lived experience of the space in addition to its scenery.
Her process echoes something Frederick Law Olmsted understood well. His landscapes were never meant to be static scenery. They are living environments, shaped by ecology, movement, and community, and best understood through immersion rather than observation at a distance.
Huddleston was also drawn to Deepdene’s character within Atlanta’s broader landscape. Unlike more formal park spaces, it retains a sense of immersion and wildness, offering a feeling of stepping away from the surrounding city into something more restorative. That quality, central to Olmsted’s vision, invites a slower kind of attention and a deeper engagement with place.
Art offers another way of understanding these landscapes, not through analyzing plans or data but through thoughtful attention. It helps people see what is already there, and in doing so, can deepen connection and care. In that way, artists and park designers share a common ground: both shape how we experience and value the spaces around us.
Huddleston’s time in Deepdene is a reminder that Olmsted landscapes continue to reveal themselves slowly. The longer we stay, the more we notice. And in a moment when public landscapes face growing pressure, that kind of sustained attention matters. It deepens connection, invites care, and reminds us that these places are meant to be experienced.
