Looking Good is Easy. Making It Work is the Point.

Landscape architecture has always shaped how people experience their communities, supporting health, connection and a sense of place. What’s changing is how clearly that impact is being defined and expected.

As communities face more visible and complex challenges, the public realm is under greater scrutiny. Outdoor spaces are increasingly seen as essential infrastructure, not just a way to move people from place to place, but also as a way to shape how they experience their environment along the way. With that shift comes a more direct question: what are these spaces actually doing for the people who use them?

To explore how that idea is playing out in practice, I spoke with RDG’s Bruce Niedermyer, PLA, ASLA, LEED AP. He shares how the profession is moving beyond intent to action, and what it takes to create spaces that truly perform for the communities they serve.

What does “action through impact” look like in practice?

In practice, it means designing with a clear path to implementation, but also with a deep understanding of the story a place holds. It’s not only about having a strong idea; it’s about shaping something that can be built, resonates culturally and delivers meaningful impact. Every project comes with constraints, of course. Budget is the obvious one, but it’s rarely the only one. There are also political realities, stakeholder priorities and the physical and cultural context of a site: its history, identity and spirit of place. Increasingly, the importance of cultural landscapes is being recognized through organizations like the Cultural Landscape Foundation, which advocates for the stewardship and understanding of places shaped by human experience over time. 

Projects like Plaza de la Raza show how design rooted in culture and community can turn constraints into spaces that feel authentic and lasting. So, the work becomes about finding a way to move an idea through those constraints without losing its intent. That’s why I tend to focus on what a project can realistically become. Sometimes that means pushing. Sometimes it means adjusting. Most of the time, it’s about finding a path that keeps the core idea intact while making it implementable. Because at the end of the day, if it can’t be built, it can’t have an impact.

How is the role of landscape architecture evolving when it comes to supporting public health and social infrastructure?

We’re hearing more about social infrastructure now, and it’s a helpful way to describe what the public realm actually does. Traditionally, infrastructure has been about efficiency and utilities — roads, pipes, systems that keep things running. Those are still critical, but they don’t fully account for how people interact with each other or with their environment. That’s where landscape architecture plays a larger role.

The focus has expanded beyond basic function to how people actually experience a space, how they move through it, how they use it and whether it becomes part of their day-to-day lives. We’re also seeing more data that connects these environments to public health and economic outcomes, which helps move the conversation forward. When you can show that the public realm supports wellness or reduces strain on other systems, it starts to influence how decisions get made. Even with that, though, much of the impact still shows up in quieter, more subtle ways.

We often talk about health in built environments; how do outdoor spaces uniquely contribute to both physical and social well-being?

The physical benefits are pretty clear: parks, trails and open space give people opportunities to move, exercise and spend time outside. But what’s just as important is what happens between those moments. We often talk about “sticky spaces”— places where people want to stay. That could be something as simple as a bench, a shaded path or a comfortable edge along a street. Those are the moments where people pause, interact and start to build connections. And that’s also where scale matters. A lot of investment goes into private spaces, and those can be great, but they serve a limited group. When that same level of intention is applied to the public realm, the reach is much broader, more people benefit and the impact builds over time. In many cases, these spaces also become quiet teaching tools, helping the next generation understand the value of the public realm and see landscape architecture and related fields as meaningful and attainable paths forward.

Where do you see connection and belonging show up in less obvious ways?

Streetscapes are a big one. We tend to think of parks as destinations, but there are all these smaller moments along the way that shape how people experience a place. During COVID, you saw things like parklets pop up outside restaurants, simple interventions that created space for people to gather outdoors.

A lot of that comes down to comfort. Lighting, traffic buffers and bike infrastructure all contribute to whether a space feels usable and friendly. When those elements are done well, the public realm shifts from something people move through to something they actively engage with. Those smaller decisions might seem minor on their own, but they add up. Over time, they shape how people use a space every day, even if they don’t consciously think about it.

What separates a space that looks good from one that truly works, and how do you evaluate its impact?

I think it really comes down to performance. A space can be visually compelling, but if it’s not functioning — if it’s not managing stormwater, supporting ecology or working for the people using it, for example — it falls short. It also comes down to who the space is serving. Some environments are beautifully designed but cater to a very narrow audience, while others may be more understated but support a wider range of users and activities. That’s where impact really comes into focus.

There are quantitative metrics such as foot traffic, usage patterns, economic activity, etc., and those are important. We have better tools now to track that kind of data, and it helps tell part of the story. But I tend to value the qualitative side just as much. That evidence shows up in the conversations you have with people, in the way they describe a space and in the things they notice without being prompted. It’s also reflected in how people connect to the stories embedded in the landscape — how a space acknowledges history, celebrates identity or reinforces a sense of belonging. Those signals aren’t always easy to measure, but they’re often the clearest indicators that something is working. Ideally, you’re bringing those two perspectives together, quantitative and qualitative, to understand not only how a space performs, but how it’s experienced over time and what impacts it’s having on the lives of its users.

Can you share examples where that kind of performance and impact come to life?

At La Vista City Centre in Nebraska, around the Astro Theater, there were early concepts developed for the site that technically worked— it got people from point A to point B — but it didn’t necessarily create a good experience, especially when we anticipated large crowds moving through the space. We rethought that framework pretty intentionally. By opening up views, improving circulation and reworking how the space functioned, we were able to turn what could have been a back-of-house condition into something that felt like a destination.

We also layered in elements people could engage with, like the “Wall of Nines,” which tells a story about the origin of the community, when homes were sold for $9,999, and a large community table that creates a place to gather. Even the way we handled the grade change became an opportunity to add something more interactive. Now, people don’t just move through that space, they spend time there. They notice things. They ask questions. That shift — from movement to engagement — is a clear indicator that the space is performing differently.

At a larger scale, you see similar ideas play out in a project like The LINC in Springfield. That project focuses on a five-mile rail corridor that, at its simplest, could convert a rail corridor to a trail corridor. But the real opportunity is much broader. The corridor moves through a range of conditions, including residential neighborhoods, downtown and areas near major civic and cultural assets, so the approach has been to respond to those differences in environment, rather than apply a single solution. The goal is to transform that corridor into a spine for movement, but also for development and long-term investment. And because it’s being implemented over time, its impact will build gradually, through how people begin to use different segments, how surrounding areas respond and how the corridor becomes part of the city’s daily life. 

Together, those projects show that impact isn’t just about whether something works at a single moment. It’s about how it performs, how it’s experienced and how it evolves over time.

How has your perspective on good design evolved over time?

At its core, good design still has to function; that hasn’t changed. What has evolved is a greater awareness of how many different layers need to come together for a project to be successful. I was reminded of that in a recent project meeting, when a client paused and said, “You have to tell that full story to more people. There’s so much more to consider than meets the eye.” It’s not just about the design itself, it’s about the people involved, the systems at play and whether the project can realistically move forward. There’s a phrase I come back to: “nothing about us without us.” We must design with users of the site — both now and in the future — to ensure we’re doing it right and doing it well.

At the same time, no single perspective is enough. Our role is to bring those inputs together — community insight, technical systems, feasibility — and turn them into something cohesive and workable. When that alignment happens, we can create spaces that are used, valued and become part of the community over time. That’s when you know the design is doing what it’s supposed to do.

Expectations for the public realm are evolving, bringing increased emphasis to the role landscape architecture plays. As projects grow more complex, success depends not just on a strong vision, but on the ability to carry that vision through, turning ideas into spaces that truly support the people who use them. That requires a deeper understanding of impact, and a commitment to carrying that intent from concept through construction. World Landscape Architecture Month helps bring visibility to this work, but the real opportunity lies in what happens beyond it. The challenge (and the responsibility) is to continue connecting vision to action, creating spaces that don’t only function, but meaningfully shape how people experience and connect with their communities.