on site | Yellow Lawns, Yellow Lines and a Curving Wall: A Summer Afternoon at the Serpentine
I didn't expect to see London, and especially this vast green space formed by Hyde Park and Kensington Gardens, like this in the summer of 2026. London, which we always know for its mild summers, was truly very hot this summer. It was so hot that the grass was scorched, and much of the park had turned bright yellow. Seeing the pavilions, which we are used to seeing on lush green lawns, instead on yellowed vegetation felt quite different.
Guest writer on site: Taylan Tosun | Architect, MS. Landscape Arch.
I didn't expect to see London, and especially this vast green space formed by Hyde Park and Kensington Gardens, like this in the summer of 2026. London, which we always know for its mild summers, was truly very hot this summer. It was so hot that the grass was scorched, and much of the park had turned bright yellow. Seeing the pavilions, which we are used to seeing on lush green lawns, instead on yellowed vegetation felt quite different.
I was reminded once again how relevant the visual scene created by the pavilions and installations is to their context. A small note, though: Don't try to walk through London's miles of shadeless parks on an empty stomach and in the midday sun during what's been called "the hottest summer in the country's history," as I did. I wouldn't recommend it unless you're willing to risk sunstroke…
As a landscape architect and architect, perhaps the first thing that struck me was how much the ground had changed before the structures themselves. It's very clear that the same design can be interpreted completely differently in a different season or within a different vegetation. I dedicated an afternoon of my London trip in August 2026 to the Serpentine, and I want to talk about two works I experienced there, Jesús Rafael Soto's yellow installation and LANZA atelier's Serpentine Pavilion this year, from my own perspective.
Stepping Inside Yellow
After spending minutes watching the swans, geese, and many other bird species on the Serpentine Lake, the first artwork I encountered as I walked towards Serpentine South was Jesús Rafael Soto 's Pénétrable BBL Jaune installation , which stood out even more brightly in the already yellowing park .
From a distance, it appears quite clear, graphic, and almost two-dimensional. Thousands of yellow PVC tubes hanging down from a steel frame create a dense yellow surface when viewed from a certain distance. But the real challenge isn't looking at it from the outside; it's entering it.
The moment you step between the tubes, much of the orderly geometry you perceive from the outside disappears. Yellow lines obscure your field of vision, brushing against your shoulder and face, making it difficult to see clearly even a few meters ahead. The people, trees, and movement in the park outside continue to appear as fragmented images through the yellow lines.
Perhaps the most beautiful aspect of Soto's Pénétrable series is this: if you haven't come across it, I highly recommend researching this series, which has a very deep history. The viewer is no longer someone standing in front of the artwork, but becomes a part of it, moving within it. At the same time, the image of the people walking inside constantly changes when viewed from the outside; they transform into silhouettes that appear and disappear within the yellow surface.
The park's appearance that day unintentionally placed the work in a different context. The yellowed grass, the yellow tubes, and the dark green trees in the background created an almost tone-on-tone scene. The installation, which I would normally expect to stand out much more from its surroundings, unexpectedly blended into the park's color palette that day.
A few steps further, this light and dynamic experience created by the yellow lines gave way to another spatial experience established by a much heavier material.
a serpentine: Where Does a Wall End?
An open wall, a lightweight roof, recurring supports, and a choice of materials appropriate to the context…
In many ways, this year's Serpentine Pavilion questions whether these components, familiar to us in many ways, can transcend being merely a structure and simultaneously become a boundary, a space, a threshold, and ultimately a pavilion.
LANZA atelier , founded in Mexico City by Isabel Abascal and Alessandro Arienzo, designed the 2026 Serpentine Pavilion, also known as a serpentine . Opened to the public on June 6th, the structure is located in Kensington Gardens, directly in front of Serpentine South, and functions as a multi-purpose public space hosting events, performances, a café, and seating areas throughout the summer. The café function, in particular, was a perfect remedy for my thirst at that moment.
What's striking at first glance is how minimally constructed the structure is: brick, recurring load-bearing elements, and a barely-there covering. Yet, upon closer inspection, the functions of these simple elements begin to intertwine. The wall doesn't merely separate; it supports, directs circulation, defines space in places, and becomes permeable at various points.
The Idea Behind the Curve
The pavilion's name quite clearly describes the design's starting point. LANZA referenced the serpentine wall , also known as the crinkle crankle wall , a type of curved brick wall particularly associated with English garden culture.
These walls, progressing with successive curves instead of a straight line, become laterally more stable thanks to their geometry and can be constructed with thinner sections. Therefore, the curvature in the pavilion is not merely a visual preference; it is a decision where form and structure directly generate each other.
The name "a serpentine" takes on a double meaning here. On the one hand, it refers to this traditional wall typology, and on the other hand, to the winding form of the nearby Serpentine Lake.
The choice of brick is also part of the same contextual relationship. Brick, one of the most familiar materials in British architectural and landscape culture, creates a very natural visual connection with the facade of Serpentine South, which is right behind it. However, the material is not used here in the massive wall form we are accustomed to.
Small gaps are left between the repeating brick supports. This allows you to perceive the continuity of the wall on one side while continuing to see the trees, people moving, and light behind it on the other.
Alessandro Arienzo describes it beautifully:
“The curved nature of the walls makes the passage of time much more visible compared to straight walls. Because the movement of shadow and sunlight suddenly accelerates or interrupts; this directly changes the feeling of being in the space. Another important point is that the wall is permeable: there are very small gaps in it… While perceiving the wall, you can simultaneously see the movements taking place behind these gaps; like children running or trees moving in the wind.”
Once you're there, this description becomes quite understandable. While inside the structure, you never feel completely "inside." The light, semi-transparent roof continues to let in daylight, while the gaps between the bricks maintain a visual connection with the park. Rather than a clear line between inside and outside, a constantly shifting threshold is created.
Landscaping doesn't begin where the pavilion ends.
One of the things I particularly liked was that the structure didn't end with the main pavilion.
The long seating element next to it continues the same curved geometry and the same brick material. At another point, the curved brick pavement separates from the main structure and extends outwards. The wall, seating element, and floor repeat the same design language at different scales.
In this way, the pavilion is not read as a singular object left in the middle of the landscape. The form is broken down into small parts, spreading outwards, and the boundaries of the structure gradually become blurred. At some point, it becomes difficult to keep track of where the wall ends and the furniture begins, and where the furniture ends and merges with the floor.
Perhaps this was what interested me most about the pavilion as a landscape architect. The relationship between architecture and landscape is established not by placing a few plants around the structure, but directly through the extension of the same formal language to the ground and functional elements.
The engineering side of the structure also reveals a more complex system behind its apparent simplicity. Despite the inherent stability of the curved geometry, the pavilion's temporary and demountable nature necessitates a different solution than a traditional brick wall. Thin steel elements and a prestressing system hidden within the bricks support the structure, allowing it to be dismantled and reassembled at the end of the season. I think the success lies in the fact that this entire technical system remains almost invisible. What is visible from the outside is still very simple: brick, curve, light, and shadow.
Two Different Movements in the Same Park
As I left the Serpentine, what stayed in my mind were not so much two "objects" but two different ways of moving.
In one instance, you almost forge your own path as you pass through Soto's yellow tubes. In the other, you unconsciously follow the curve of a brick wall, peering out through its cracks, sitting in its shade, and then watching that same geometry break away from the pavilion and spread into the landscape.
One is described as an art installation, the other as architecture. But when experienced in the same park and just a few meters apart, this distinction becomes somewhat blurred. Both are less objects designed to be viewed from a distance, and more works completed through the movement of the body.
And perhaps that's precisely what made seeing them together that day so interesting. Amidst a landscape yellowed by the heat, quite different from the familiar image of a London park, one with subtle yellow lines, the other with brick curves that made a heavy material surprisingly permeable and dynamic, compelled us to read our surroundings a little more carefully.
I think this is what I remember most from an afternoon I spent at the Serpentine: two different works that remind us that the space is not just something we look at, but something that changes as we move within it.
Project Details
Penetrable BBL Jaune
Artwork: Pénétrable BBL Jaune
Artist: Jesús Rafael Soto
Series: Pénétable
Type: Kinetic / spatial installation
Location: Serpentine South, Kensington Gardens, London
Year: 1999, 2023 edition
Material: Steel structure, yellow PVC tubes. Size: Approximately 10 m long.
Company: Serpentine
a serpentine,
Project: a serpentine, Serpentine Pavilion 2026 Program: Serpentine Pavilion 2026
Architectural Design: LANZA atelier
Lead Designers: Isabel Abascal, Alessandro Arienzo
Design Team: Alejandro Márquez, Genevieve Parkes, Eric Valdez, Jorge Zaldívar, Alejandra Richard, Lara Carolan, Sofía Yáñez, Luis Herrero, Roy Kim
Project Leader: Julie Burnell
Curators: Tamsin Hong, Liz Stumpf
Technical Consulting / Engineering: AECOM
Implementation: Stage One Creative Services Ltd.
Location: Kensington Gardens, London, United Kingdom
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