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I was recently in Townsville for Evoke, the regional architecture conference.
My duties - if you could call something so enjoyable a duty - included hosting a session featuring Australian artist Robyn Backen, and landscape architects Matthew Flynn and Ana Maria Pinto from Costa Rican practice, VIDA.
My grandparents used to live in Townsville so it was a place I visited often as a kid. It's been a long time since I've been back, though, so here are a few thoughts from a whirlwind trip.
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Stegastein viewpoint. Image: Erik den Yngre via Wikimedia Commons under CC license.
In Norway, the national tourism and transport infrastructure work together to connect, respect and celebrate the jaw-dropping landscape.
Read more, and wish you were there, courtesy The Guardian.
Last week I travelled to Adelaide for the annual Architecture Conference.
Despite this being my first visit to the South Australian capital, I've spent many hours studying its famous town plan at uni, and even more time applying myself to its equally famous wine in my down time.
Of course visiting somewhere 'in real life' is always a different proposition, and initial impressions of a city can be both superficial and revealing: some things the locals take for granted leap out in contrast to the visitor's home, whereas other things that stand out to the holiday-maker may mask deeper realities.
So with that not-so-subtle disclaimer, here are 10 things that I noticed in my brief time in Adelaide...
Read moreLast week Amalie travelled to Geelong to attend a meeting of the AILA National Council.
Here's what she did when not in the meeting... highlights from 1.5 days in Geelong and 1.5 days in Melbourne!
Click here or on the title to get started.
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Question: What could be better than sh*t-hot sculpture in a beautiful park or garden?
Answer: Not much.
At least not in the humble opinion of your correspondent. And as proof I tender into evidence, Your Honour, Exhibit A, the Sculpture Garden at the Art Institute of Chicago.
There are two gardens at the Art Institute, the one to the south designed by the remarkable landscape architect Dan Kiley, and the one to the north by the equally influential Laurie Olin.
It’s separated from the Art Institute’s be-columned façade by some fruity balustrades and planted urns, a get-up that sits surprisingly comfortably beside its more contemporary neighbour.
Olin’s sculpture garden was completed in 1960 and it’s a deceptively simple space. A generous path surrounds a central garden, half of which is open lawn, with the other half given over to a lush floral display.
Gorgeous as the plants are, they struggle to compete with the art. Cubi VII is a stainless steel work by David Smith, installed here in 1963.
The showstopper work is Flying Dragon by Alexander Calder. The painted steel sculpture landed amongst the flowers in 1975, and good luck to you if you think you’ll be able to visit without taking about a thousand photos.
Very simple stone benches line two sides, and they’re detailed so you can face into or away from the path.
The north of the garden is a linear space, with trees lining a soft path.
A Henry Moore bronze, Large Interior Form, juts its hip and tips its head at the end of the way.
A tall wall terminates the eastern end, providing a backdrop for Ulrich Ruckriem’s untitled work, a slab of infinitely textured and coloured granite.
The sculpture garden changes character with the weather. An overcast day clears the crowds, leaving the green garden pulsing with chlorophyll in front of the pale Art Institute building and the pale sky.
When the sun comes out so do the people, flocking to the lawn, and seeking out the quiet seats, the sunny spots, and the shade.
It’s a beautiful thing.
If you were a Mongolian-born, Chinese-raised architect son of Scottish missionaries, what sort of houses do you think you’d design?
For Beni Burnett the answer was simple.
He arrived in Darwin 1937, after travelling through Japan, North America and Europe, and before that working in China and Singapore. His first task: designing housing for high ranking military personnel and public servants.
Burnett brought his knowledge of south-east Asian architecture to bear, creating a suite of houses ideally suited to living in the tropics.
A precinct of houses at Myilly Point, selected for access to ocean breezes. They survived the war, and Cyclone Tracy (one was lost) before being threatened with demolition in the mid-1980s, when a major development was proposed for the site.
Saved by the community and the National Trust, four houses remain today, of which the Burnett House is the most wonderful.
Burnett House is a two-storey residence set in a relaxed and shady tropical garden paradise.
The garden beds are edged with local stone, and contain a big fruit salad of orchids and ferns and bougainvillea and crotons and more.
Whilst waiting for plants to establish in the rocky, escarpment top location, kerosene tins gardens were planted close the house.
Inside the house, the lower level contains a large living room, with original concrete floor and inlaid compass rose.
The walls all open up, with either big casement windows, French doors, or adjustable asbestos cement louvres.
The ceiling is way above, drawing hot air up and away from the living zone.
The upper floor overhangs, creating shade and protection for the windows, and generous verandahs between the living room and garden.
Upstairs are the private rooms, all leading off a central corridor, with the bathroom at the back.
Bedrooms are reinterpreted as sleep-outs, rather than internal, closed rooms. The beds all had mosquito nets, and could be moved around to follow the breeze.
Beside each bedroom in the centre of the house is a small private dressing room.
Louvred saloon doors connect the sleepouts to a central private sitting room overlooking the water.
The combinations of windows and louvres are also used on the upstairs walls, with Burnett even devising a simple locking system that allowed the louvres to be fixed open or closed in a variety of configurations.
Views to the garden are ever-present, assisting with the perception of coolness.
But it’s a lot more than perception. When the Burnett House was built there was no power, so there were no ceiling fans, let along air-conditioning. On the day we visited it was in the mid-30s outside and yet inside the Burnett House it was cool, shady, breezy and very, very pleasant.
It was too early for G&Ts but an Earl Grey tea would have gone down very well indeed.
The super-helpful National Trust lady who showed us around was busy baking cakes for the popular Sunday afternoon high tea at the Burnett House, so if you find yourself in Darwin, make sure you treat yourself to a visit.
