Juniors in Cornell’s landscape architecture design studio are taking on a tall challenge this fall: to imagine the future of Seneca Meadows, New York State’s largest landfill.

The landfill is currently seeking a permit to expand its current operations, increase the landfill height by 70 feet (making it equivalent in height to a 35-story building), and extend its operating life by at least 15 years.

Hannah Hopewell, the Cornell CALS landscape architecture faculty member who teaches the studio, asked her students to imagine the future of the landfill, if the expansion is approved. Her students’ assignment this semester is to look far beyond the 15-year horizon of the current land use application—to create their visions for the landfill 200 years from now.

Their designs should reflect the values of four key stakeholders:

• New York State, which has established a goal to reduce greenhouse gas emissions by 80% by 2050
• the Cayuga Nation
• local residents
• the Earth itself

“Just like putting the two halves of the flute together to make it work, we must put important knowledge into our children for the success of future generations.” —Dan Hill, member of the Cayuga Nation and caretaker of the Gayogohó:nǫ˺ SHARE Farm, where students visited him as part of their class

Scroll through students’ preliminary visions for the future of Seneca Meadows landfill.

Layers of Change – Generational Transformation and Renewal of Seneca Meadows: “I took a timeline approach that considers the changes in the landfill site over seven generations—from the Haudenosaunee, to deforestation, to stripping of the land, to the current landfill. I took an optimistic look at possible futures moving forward, if we do reach a zero-waste goal. My design allows for an exploration of these different futures. Perhaps there is an area left unbuilt, leaving room for the unknown of what will get built here.” —Annika Schon ’26

Energy Generation for Water Health: “I looked at how to integrate energy harvesting and water purifying infrastructure into the landfill site, to serve the growing community of Waterloo in 200 years. My design uses mushroom-like solar structures, in which the caps are covered with solar panels. The caps are also inverted to collect rainwater, filter it, and feed it into a network of aqueducts that transport the water to the community.” —Hibiscus Chen ’26

Building Grounds for Health: “I envision a plan to detoxify the landfill site over 200 years, transforming it into a landscape that benefits the surrounding environment. Using plants for phytoremediation and processes of podsolization for filtration, the site will become a ‘purifier’ and a new kind of wildness. Future visitors will walk through a terraced landscape made from this ‘new’ soil, learning about the regeneration of healthy soils. The design aims to restore ecological life honoring Haudenosaunee connections to the Earth, waters, and all creatures as kin.” —David Ding ’26

Synthetic Topographies: “As I drove through the ridges and valleys of Pennsylvania over fall break, I thought about how the landfill as a topography interrupts its flat terrain. I considered naturalizing its exterior slope by using specific tree species such as Eastern Cottonwood for phytoremediation, as leachate and methane outputs lessen over a period of 25–50 years. The interior valley of the landfill would be devoted to more direct forms of remediation, and the processes on the site would change dramatically over the next 200 years.” —Drew Farrell ’26

Sovereignty of the Land: “My goal is to steward the landfill, so that it can eventually sustain itself. My design would bring back Black Brook, reconnecting it through wetlands to recreate the natural ecosystem. Large-scale biodigesters would extract methane gas and produce solid matter that can be used as fertilizer to cultivate the land. Species like sunflowers would be planted to detoxify the landfill’s soil, and people will oversee the restoration of the air, the water, and the land.” —Angel Selenis ’26

The Landscape Beaneath: “I looked at what was happening underground—beneath the capped landfill—as the layers of waste are compressed over time. Similar to the formation of sedimentary rock, the layers of trash have the potential for hardening as they are compressed. So, over time, the trash of today becomes a sort of synthetic rock. I will look at ways to speed up this process.” —Yunxi Han ’26

Eel industry and the Seneca Meadows Landfill, year 2200 (Graphite, Gouache): “My vision focuses on undamming the Seneca-Cayuga River, which has been dammed and channelized since 1813, to allow the eels to return. To help bring back the eels and a healthy ecosystem, my design includes a water treatment plant that will feed safe, drinkable water into other systems on the site, including an eel processing plant that supports food sovereignty for the Haudenosaunee.” —Mia Arruda ’26

Cycle of Renewal: “I took a spiritual view that looks at the tension between life and death, and the opportunity for renewal. Related to the Haudenosaunee creation story of the Finger Lakes, I envision a hand cradling the site with trees growing from the waste. The trees perform a phytohydraulic function, as their roots penetrate the ‘dead’ layer of waste and renew the groundwater.” — Amelia Abraham ’26

High Ground: “I spent fall break volunteering with Hurricane Helene relief in North Carolina. There, the parking lots of places like Target were cordoned off to provide temporary parking for trucks helping with the recovery. That got me thinking about the likelihood of flooding in Seneca Meadows region over the next 200 years. The landfill is already elevated and hardened, and I imagine it multi-purposed to serve as a center for safe distribution of supplies and other disaster relief functions.” —Henry Ley ’26

The lay of the landfill

Seneca Meadows accepts roughly 21% of the total waste generated in the state.

According to a 2023 New York Times story, the existing landfill rises about 300 feet above the surrounding landscape—a height which is roughly the same as the Statue of Liberty. More than 1000 trucks day and about 100,000 trucks year travel to and from the landfill, hauling waste from New York City (which accounts for about 25% of the total as of 2021), from across New York State, and from municipalities in other states and Canada.

Residents of the surrounding communities live with the truck traffic, odors, and emissions from the landfill, as well as potential longer-term impacts on soil, groundwater, and human health. They include members of the Cayuga Nation and residents of the neighboring town of Seneca Falls.

Hannah notes that the Haudenosaunee, as well as other community members, have some real concerns about the landfill—that it’s contaminating the water.

“For the Haudenosaunee,” she says, “water is sacred and fundamental to all life. At the end of the day, it’s the Earth that sustains us—and is going to sustain us in the future.”

The voices of many teachers

To introduce her students to all sides of the story, Hannah invited guests representing many stakeholders to speak to her students.

Mark Benjamin, community relations manager for Seneca Meadows, took the students on a tour of the landfill and discussed many of the systems within the site—including the process of sorting, burying, and monitoring the waste and leachate for contaminants. The students experienced the view planes, holding ponds, roadways, smells, and wildlife firsthand. They also saw the caged falcons that the landfill staff release for an hour each day, to prey on the swarm of wild gulls that flock to the site to feed on trash.

Students heard from Peter Mantius, an investigative journalist, who shared his in-depth knowledge of environmental and socio-political conditions at the landfill and answered their questions.

Stephen Tulowiecki provided geographical context on land use at the Seneca Meadows site. The students learned about the oak savannah which previously existed in this area, including evidence of strategic burning practiced by the Haudenosaunee to enrich the soil for cultivation of food.

Hannah shared input from Sachem Sam George, one of ten Sachems (chiefs) of the Cayuga Nation, who serves as a representative on the Haudenosaunee Environmental Taskforce. The mission of this group is to identify environmental problems in their communities and work to find solutions, including public advocacy around projects like the landfill.

The class visited Dan Hill at the Gayogohó:nǫ˺ SHARE Farm, where he shared the creation story and stories of the lands, the animals, and the birds. Dan also shared the importance of oral traditions, of storytelling as a way of sharing culture, and of Deep Listening—which the students practiced.

Cornell faculty members Michael Charles ’16  a Diné (Navajo) engineer, and Johannes Lehmann, Liberty Hyde Bailey Professor and a soil scientist, will also be sharing their knowledge and perspectives with the students prior to the end of the fall semester.

The role of an ally

Hannah tasked the students with bringing this plurality of voices and values together to inform their design proposals. She challenged the students to make invisible relationships visible, as a way for them to embed the stories of the land into their maps.

Students started with mapping the various layers of the landfill site—including the critical zone where soil, water, and air intermingle to perform ecological services, such as air and water filtration. They also considered the voices of the sovereign people of the land, their ancestors, and the living Earth (including birds, trees, water, and so on).

Hannah’s goal is to help her students bring new dimensions of understanding to land in their work.

“Why is some knowledge more important than others?” she asks. “Think about Dan Hill and the various ways he could hear the birds. This is really important knowledge about landscape. We want to kind of equalize different forms of knowledge, to spark new ways of thinking about our collective future.”

“The act of drawing a map of the landfill helped me realize what it is I’m interested in. I started thinking about a large-scale shift in how we see waste as a society—and opening up the landfill to repurpose the waste into aggregates that can be used in other places.” —Drew Farrell ’26

 

 

Hannah recently arrived at Cornell from Aotearoa New Zealand, where she was born, educated, practiced landscape architecture (with the Māori firm TOA Architects) , and taught at the School of Architecture and Design Innovation at Te Herenga Waka, Victoria University in Wellington. She grew up keenly aware of the social and economic inequities experienced by the Māori people.

Though she is of English and Scottish ancestry, she identifies as hoa haere, or what we typically call an ‘ally.’ She says this term captures her commitment to honor the treaties made in colonized lands and ensure that her work contributes to land justice.

Hannah’s goal for her students and their practice of landscape architecture is to bring all of the layered values, relationships, and legacies to light, make them visible, and honor them.

“Everything’s always driven by values one way or another, just sometimes they’re disclosed, sometimes they’re not. So, we’re working to clarify our values up front and actively use them in the design process.” she says.