Ashley Sun is a Singapore-trained Senior Landscape Architect based in Dubai, working with Cracknell. With a portfolio across Asia and the Middle East, she focuses on sustainable, ecologically responsive design in urban contexts.
Her early career ignited her passion for regenerative design and biodiversity. In Singapore, she contributed to projects emphasising nature-based solutions, community resilience, and climate-sensitive placemaking, which guides her practice in Dubai amid arid climates and urban development.
Ashley is a SILA-Accredited Landscape Architect and previously served as Honorary Secretary of SILA, enhancing the profession’s voice in academia and design discourse. She is dedicated to collaborations between designers and marine scientists to highlight coastal ecosystem vulnerability and promote conservation through thoughtful, place-based design.
WLA | What was your path to becoming a landscape architect?
AS | My journey into landscape architecture began long before I even knew the term existed. Growing up in Singapore and Taiwan, I was always fascinated by the way nature and the city coexisted—how a shaded walkway, a lush courtyard, or a small pocket park could completely transform the feel of a space. I was drawn to these in-between places, where the built environment softened and made room for life to thrive.
I pursued a Bachelor of Arts in Architecture, followed by a Master of Landscape Architecture at the National University of Singapore, where I came to understand just how layered and interdisciplinary this field truly is. I was especially drawn to ecology, materiality, and the cultural narratives embedded within landscapes. My time at NUS laid the foundation for how I approach design today—with curiosity, empathy, and a systems-thinking mindset.
After graduating, I joined a studio in Singapore. That experience shaped so much of who I am as a designer. I worked on projects that were bold yet sensitive—designs that embraced biodiversity and regenerative thinking. It taught me that landscape architecture can be both visionary and deeply rooted in place.
A few years later, I made the move to Dubai to join Cracknell. I was seeking a new challenge—an unfamiliar climate, a faster pace of development, and the opportunity to work at a regional scale. Designing in the Middle East has pushed me to think more creatively about sustainability, particularly in water-scarce environments. I’ve worked on public realm projects, hospitality landscapes, and large-scale masterplans, always with a focus on creating spaces that are meaningful, resilient, and experientially rich.
WLA | What is the most rewarding part of being a landscape architect?
AS | For me, the most rewarding part of being a landscape architect is seeing people truly connect with the spaces we create, for instance when a child instinctively runs barefoot through a water feature, or someone pauses under a tree we fought to preserve. It’s in those quiet, unscripted moments that the work feels most alive.
I love that this profession allows me to work across so many layers—ecological, social, cultural—and translate abstract ideas into tangible, living systems. It’s incredibly fulfilling to know that our designs can restore degraded environments, bring communities together, and spark a deeper awareness of the natural world, especially in places where it’s so often overlooked.
Ultimately, it’s the long-term impact that excites me—the idea that something we plant today might still be growing, adapting, and inspiring decades from now.
WLA | What do you try to incorporate in all your designs?
AS | In every project, I try to weave together ecological intelligence, cultural relevance, and human experience. I believe that good landscape design should do more than look beautiful—it should function as a living system, respond to its environment, and create a sense of belonging for the people who use it.
One project that deeply shaped my thinking was the coral rehabilitation initiative at Keppel Bay in Singapore. What started as a small idea around coral preservation grew into something much more layered—a coral viewing pit integrated into the landscape, where people could lie back on a hammock and observe the living reef below. It was an invitation to slow down, to notice, and to reconnect with a part of nature often hidden from urban life.
This experience also led us to explore how coastal landscapes could be both protective and poetic. To better understand the dynamics of coastal vegetation and tidal ecologies, we took to the water—literally—kayaking along Singapore’s shoreline, studying how different plant communities anchor and shift with the tides. These observations became the foundation for a coastal green seawall, one that could soften hard edges, support biodiversity, and become a space for discovery rather than just defence.
That process reaffirmed something I hold onto in every project: that design should not dominate nature, but listen to it—interpret it, support it, and, when possible, invite others into that relationship too. Whether through layered planting, immersive thresholds, or playful ground planes, I aim to design landscapes that are resilient, sensory, and alive—places where people can feel the quiet richness of nature in motion.
WLA | How do you see the future of landscape architecture?
AS | I see the future of landscape architecture as one that’s increasingly rooted in care, collaboration, and courage.
We’re no longer just shaping spaces—we’re responding to a climate emergency, biodiversity loss, and growing social inequalities. The landscapes we design today must hold more than just function or beauty—they must be adaptive, healing, and inclusive. I believe our role is evolving—from designers to stewards of living systems, facilitators of dialogue, and advocates for ecological and cultural resilience.
Working across different climate zones has deeply informed this perspective. Starting in the tropics of Singapore, I learned how landscapes could thrive through density, softness, and shade—how rain, humidity, and lush growth became design tools. Moving to the arid Middle East challenged me in completely new ways: how to design with scarcity, how to express generosity in water-wise planting, and how to create comfort without relying on excess.
I’m still learning—constantly. Every site teaches me something new about how climate, culture, and ecology shape the way people experience landscape. And I think that’s part of what the future demands: a mindset of continuous learning and deep listening, especially when working in unfamiliar contexts.
I’m also increasingly excited by cross-disciplinary collaboration. Some of the most enriching conversations I’ve had weren’t with designers, but with marine scientists, conservationists, and coastal engineers—like when we explored the potential of green seawalls and coral rehabilitation in Singapore through fieldwork and kayaking studies. These experiences remind me that landscape architecture is not just about form, but about connecting systems, stories, and people.
As we move forward, I believe we must design not for permanence, but for evolution—embracing change, uncertainty, and resilience as part of our design language. Ultimately, I hope the landscapes we create don’t just endure, but inspire people to care—for place, for nature, and for one another.
WLA | Thank you to Ashley Sun for taking the time to answer our questions.
Photography by Alessandro Merati; Copyright Cracknell
