The official journal of the New South Wales Chapter of the Australian Institute of Architects. Documenting architecture and the profession since 1944. The editorial committee contribute towards planning, sourcing material and editing. An important cultural focus for the NSW Chapter for more than 75 years, a broad cross-section of views from students, graduates, architects and academics are provided in articles passionate about the creative act and practical dimension of architecture.
Dindarra, the Kuku Yalanji word that translates in English to ‘between’, is the theme of this edition. It delves into aspects of architectural experiences from interactions between Country, First Nations Cultures and the Western systems that immerse our architectural practices – Michael Mossman, guest editor.
Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander readers are advised that this publication contains an image and stories of a person who has passed away.
Produced with the assistance of the Alastair Swayn Foundation. Find out more at: alastairswaynfoundation.org
The disciplines of architecture and town planning are intrinsically interrelated yet in practice are often considered separately from one another. My understanding is that there are intersections between these disciplines but rarely do the systems behind these professions collaborate through sharing knowledge and project outcomes in meaningful ways.
An ambition of our practice since we started eight years ago has been to explore and find ways to embed cultural, environmental and social value in our work. We believe that valuable architecture must balance functionality with poetics, nurture community and connect people, not only with each other, but with the broader world around us.
In an interview a few years ago, I was asked how my upbringing has shaped the way I practice architecture. Why equity in practice was so important to me and what drives me to question craft and function. A few years later, that same question was asked with a follow-on question – how has that upbringing on Country shaped me as an architect? The answer to this is through this yarn.
A participatory approach to architecture has the capacity to foster community and the role of the architect can be central to this process.
Being engaged in a community requires certain conditions to be present, and often requires a catalyst of sorts.
Personal connections to the south coast, coupled with an overwhelming desire to help where possible, Takt studio has been involved in a number of community recovery projects.
We first drafted this ‘rather portentous call for contributions’ in July 2020, when the world was beset with pessimism. Our call was not an invitation to even bleaker pessimism, but rather for positive assertions of where and how architects can break out of this habit of building the wrong thing in the wrong place out of the wrong materials.
I could quote the statistics – 18,600,000 hectares burned, 5,900 buildings destroyed, 34 lives lost, 1,000,000,000 animals killed. I could tell you about better building practices – strengthened BAL40 guidelines, a revised National Construction Code, new and improved fire attenuation materials.
Let’s consider that precursory to the NSW Architects Code of Professional Conduct, an architect could carry a duty of care to place; an obligation to be in tune with the long-term impacts of our profession, practice and production.
Simply put, rammed earth is an ancient technique for constructing foundations, floors and walls using raw materials such as earth, chalk, lime or gravel. It has been used to create buildings around the world whose beauty and robustness are still visible today, like the Alhambra in Spain and the Great Wall of China, both built more than 1000 years ago.
Working as an architect in Australia and abroad, my approach to the design of towers has evolved.
Once upon a time, the Oxford English Dictionary defined an icon as ‘Image, statue, painting, mosaic etc of a sacred personage’. In respected contemporary literature today, although this definition is often expanded, the quintessential meaning remains unchanged.
The disciplines of architecture and town planning are intrinsically interrelated yet in practice are often considered separately from one another. My understanding is that there are intersections between these disciplines but rarely do the systems behind these professions collaborate through sharing knowledge and project outcomes in meaningful ways.
An ambition of our practice since we started eight years ago has been to explore and find ways to embed cultural, environmental and social value in our work. We believe that valuable architecture must balance functionality with poetics, nurture community and connect people, not only with each other, but with the broader world around us.
In an interview a few years ago, I was asked how my upbringing has shaped the way I practice architecture. Why equity in practice was so important to me and what drives me to question craft and function. A few years later, that same question was asked with a follow-on question – how has that upbringing on Country shaped me as an architect? The answer to this is through this yarn.
Within our practice, we aim to amplify the voice of Australia’s First Peoples, extending into the fabric of the built environment to inform architectural expression in a vibrant and engaging way. It is through the social construction of our environments – the spaces we live and work in – that critical relationships are defined; relationships between people and with the natural world.
The 2021 National Standard of Competency for Architects (NSCA) identifies the skills, knowledge and capabilities required for the general practice of architecture in contemporary Australia. Significant new content is introduced in new Performance Criteria (PCs) focused on engagement with First Nations peoples and understanding and respecting Country.
Kaunitz Yeung Architecture’s deep commitment to participatory design and local construction is central to the story of belonging for each project. The former builds a rapport and ownership between the project and the users. The later enables an enduring connection to place and Country.
Richard Leplastrier and his stories of Uncle provided a framework to teach architecture as a vessel that shares songlines, stories, cultural lessons and knowledge systems.
The passing of Uncle Max Dulumunmum Harrison was a great blow to Australia’s living knowledge. Australian architecture had the privilege for almost 20 years to learn from his teachings, through ritual and story. The breadth of knowledge covered over this time is hard to tell in just a few stories, yet, stories have power. Power to transcend time, culture and prejudice. This is what Uncle Max showed to us. Uncle Max’s stories came from deep knowledge that intertwined culture, nature, history, perception and wisdom in a way that our siloed Western thinking struggles to do.
While 22.5% of the work architects do is for the government, only a small percentage of the industry work within government itself (AACA: Industry Profile, 2018). For those of us working in architecture and other built environment professions within the government, it can feel like you’re an alien in a foreign land. More often than not, you are one of few designers in your workplace, and, perhaps more significantly, a minority within your profession.
Simply put, rammed earth is an ancient technique for constructing foundations, floors and walls using raw materials such as earth, chalk, lime or gravel. It has been used to create buildings around the world whose beauty and robustness are still visible today, like the Alhambra in Spain and the Great Wall of China, both built more than 1000 years ago.
A participatory approach to architecture has the capacity to foster community and the role of the architect can be central to this process.
Being engaged in a community requires certain conditions to be present, and often requires a catalyst of sorts.
Personal connections to the south coast, coupled with an overwhelming desire to help where possible, Takt studio has been involved in a number of community recovery projects.
“It’s a luxury to have land space taking up different building functions”, and notes BVN principal architect Ali Bounds “no longer prudent to simply have workplaces or schools that operate between certain hours leaving building stock empty outside of these programmed times.”
When we think about community today in our local NSW context, our varied lived experience can obscure its common meaning. This is exacerbated by our highly privatised built environment, developed by European colonisation through the physical demarcation and division of land, and systematic allocation of individual property rights. Our context seen through this lens, holds more affinity with the condition of immunity, understood as exemption from obligation to share (land) with others.
While preparing the works of architect Paul Pholeros for archiving in the State Library of New South Wales, a lecture outline for architecture students in Papua New Guinea, circa 1995, was unearthed.
Communities are dealing with the impact of the loss of their landscape. Solastalgia is a modern term used to describe the distress some people experience that is caused by changes to the environment, both built and natural, more often than not brought on by climate change.
Samantha Rich and Danièle Hromek on First Nations women working in spatial disciplines.
We first drafted this ‘rather portentous call for contributions’ in July 2020, when the world was beset with pessimism. Our call was not an invitation to even bleaker pessimism, but rather for positive assertions of where and how architects can break out of this habit of building the wrong thing in the wrong place out of the wrong materials.
I could quote the statistics – 18,600,000 hectares burned, 5,900 buildings destroyed, 34 lives lost, 1,000,000,000 animals killed. I could tell you about better building practices – strengthened BAL40 guidelines, a revised National Construction Code, new and improved fire attenuation materials.
Let’s consider that precursory to the NSW Architects Code of Professional Conduct, an architect could carry a duty of care to place; an obligation to be in tune with the long-term impacts of our profession, practice and production.
Australia has long prioritised the movement and shelter of cars over the movement and shelter of people – and this has impacted on the liveability of our cities and the health and wellbeing of residents.
At Sydney-Open, a livestream panel discussion chaired by Adam Haddow on new heritage asked what buildings saved from demolition have changed the city for the better. Panelist Richard Francis-Jones put forward the Sirius building but also suggested that while the building was saved something more important has been lost.
Sahibajot Kaur chats with Justine Clark, researcher, writer, co-founder and director of Parlour, to discuss the impacts of the pandemic on the way we are working.
Our concept of living has dramatically shifted in the last six months. With the need to stay put, the pandemic has forced everyone to consider how and where they live.
Architectural practice, for better or worse, is at the mercy of the ebbs and flows of larger societal forces, whether that be the political, economic, or, as we find ourselves in now, a global health crisis.
The pandemic, recent bushfires, drought and flooding which caused massive destruction of human and natural habitat make us dramatically aware that our lives and wellbeing are not separate from the environment we live in. Hippocrates warned us 2000 years ago that we cannot ignore nature, dominate it or control it. He told us to listen to changing patterns in nature, respect them and work with them.
When considering what are we doing in the architectural and built environment space to address our post-pandemic and climate-impacted world, I reflected on my architectural education and recalled the work of Christopher Alexander.
Working as an architect in Australia and abroad, my approach to the design of towers has evolved.
Alongside private market-rate housing and government affordable housing, there is a space for housing that is lower cost and is both community and sustainably orientated.
