I recently came across a thoughtful piece by a fellow landscape architect reflecting on her relationship with professional competitions. Her perspective was clear and grounded:
“There’s no real need for them from a business standpoint. I have a steady flow of projects, and when I do find rare moments of free time between travel and work, I prefer to dedicate them to my loved ones — or to mentoring and educating others. That’s always been my priority.”
I deeply respect that view. But for me, the motivation is different.
My decision to participate in competitions has little to do with commercial benefit. It’s about challenge, exploration, and creative growth. I’m drawn to unconventional briefs, complex themes, and the discipline of working to a deadline. The process itself is stimulating — and I always find it fascinating to see how peers around the world respond to the same topic. In international competitions, the diversity of thought and freedom of interpretation are especially powerful.
Over the years, competitions have become a space for both personal and professional development — a form of internal dialogue: Can I meet this challenge? Can I stretch my perspective?
Each entry, from concept to final submission, allows me to rediscover and refine my creative voice.
My decision to participate in competitions has little to do with commercial benefit. It’s about challenge, exploration, and creative growth.
I’ve had the privilege of participating in competitions I’m truly proud of:
— Repurposing a tram depot into a public park in Almaty, Kazakhstan
— Revitalising a riverside promenade in Amsterdam, Netherlands
— Designing conceptual gardens for the Métis competition in Canada
— And imagining a Mars base for two astronauts, as part of a NASA brief
These aren’t day-to-day commissions — they’re opportunities to push boundaries, experiment freely, and explore ideas that may never be realised, but are nonetheless essential to creative evolution.
Competitions remind me why I do this work.
It’s not about awards or recognition. It’s about the process — the thinking, the making, the learning.
And sometimes, just proving to yourself that you still can is more than enough.
