Photos: LAT/Spencer Weiner
I was reminded of the title of James Howard Kunstler’s satire of Las Vegas, “Utopia of Clowns” when I saw today’s LA TIMES article about the newest excesses in swimming pools.
“Today homeowners have moved well beyond the simple requirement of a hole in the ground. Instead, they crave Las Vegas-style amusements: remote-controlled flames, sound-activated dancing lights and the illusion of endless water. They want custom tile and real stone, architectural lines that match the house, and artwork and antiques near the waterline.”
These pools are made for show, not for swim.
There is the Mel Blumenthal family of Newport Beach and Santa Monica. They live next to a swimming pool with a glass wall that is visible from their “aquarium room” inside the house. When the family is finished with their huge Sunday breakfast, the kids can jump in the pool, and the parents can watch them while sitting on the couch.
“So fixated on water is this attorney and art connoisseur that he added to his weekend getaway a serpentine pool that coils from the entrance to the back gate, a 14-foot-long aquarium, an oversized spa, and koi ponds with mini Old Faithful-like fountains and five arcing water jets.”
In the Matt Parsons’ home you can find “a 2-ton, 16th century bronze cannon, pulled from a shipwreck and craned into place on a grassy slice of his Newport Coast home.
Three connecting lagoons stretch out 57 feet — and are surrounded by river rock, making his yard look as if it were spliced from the Kern River. On the outside edges, water slips over the tawny stones, leaving them perpetually glistening. In the deepest pool, stone walls descend 11 feet to the bottom. On the top, there are manhole-sized stone disks to step across. Behind it all is a view of the Santa Ana Mountains.”
This arrangement only cost $600,000.
While praising the “fun” of these funhouse swimming pools, the visuals show these creations to be ugly, excessive, gross, gargantuan, pompous and juvenile. They are badly proportioned and anything but relaxing. You need a sedative after taking a swim under the dancing waterfalls.
To stretch the psychological analogy a bit further: What kind of people would turn the once lovely backyard swimming pool into a Donald Trump travesty in travertine?
Here in Van Nuys 