I have been arguing about the need to protect Melbourne’s heritage architecture in The Grapevine for years. In recent times, it has appeared that the State Government and particularly the Victorian Heritage Council are far more interested in “job creation” than “heritage protection”. Three recent examples highlight the immediate problem at hand: the demolition of Lonsdale House, the gutting of Hamer Hall and the proposed 40% demolition of the Windsor Hotel.

Yet these are the tip of the ‘iceberg’ of destruction that is likely to hit our city in the coming year.

Thankfully, I am not the only person concerned about taking some action to defend Melbourne’s built heritage.

In recent times, a new advocacy group called Melbourne Heritage Action has been formed, and I am proud to say that I am a founding member. Many of the people involved with Melbourne Heritage Action were previously associated with the Save Lonsdale House movement (I am not one of them). Whilst the group is still in it’s infancy, I am impressed with the breadth of expertise we have pooled, as well as the broad community support. Even the National Trust has come on board to lend a hand, which is fantastic! Community interest is growing, too.

^{The Windsor Hotel}

Melbourne Heritage Action seeks to promote an awareness of Melbourne’s built heritage, using a range of social media,  public submissions, public campaigns and demonstrations, where need-be. Through these mechanisms it is hoped that we will raise community awareness, which will entice the State Government (and other responsible agencies) to place a greater value on heritage protection.

At present there is a lot of work to do.

The beautiful Equity Trustees building stands to be gutted and altered, the Spencer Street Power Station is about to be skewered by the legs of a skyscraper which will stand over it, and the Scots Church Hall and Melbourne’s first multi-storey car park are to be levelled, but only if the developers get their way.

^{Melbourne Heritage Action founding members (L-R): Helene Athanasiadis, Katrina Grant, Rupert Mann (President), Adam Dimech and Jim Barrett. (Image: The Age)}

In an election year that has also been witness to the Planning Minister’s questionable handling of the Windsor Hotel saga, there is considerable public interest in heritage and planning matters. Today, the Sunday Age has published an online article about Melbourne Heritage Action, which I hope will help garner further interest from the public.

If you’d like to help defend Melbourne’s significant buildings, and raise community awareness about planning and heritage matters in Melbourne, go to the Melbourne Heritage Action website at http://www.melbourneheritage.org.au/. If you think you can make a contribution or want to become more deeply involved, please send an email. We’d love to hear from you!

Three weeks ago, Melbourne’s famous Hamer Hall hosted its final concert before closing it’s doors to make way for a $128.5 million renovation, funded by the State Government.

Originally known as the Melbourne Concert Hall, the complex was designed by Sir Roy Grounds and opened in 1982 after a lengthy land dispute with the City of Melbourne, ongoing engineering problems and industrial action that had hampered its construction for several years.

^{The exterior of Hamer Hall, illuminated at dusk}

After its opening, the Melbourne Concert Hall became a much-loved cultural hub, playing host to the world’s finest performers, orchestras and groups from Australia and abroad.

Whilst the Melbourne Concert Hall wasn’t very striking from the outside, the interior was fitted-out by expatriate designer John Truscott, who created a distinctive and luscious environment in which the public could enjoy a ‘special night out’ in the city.

^{Cadbury-Schweppes Room}

John Truscott’s opulent interiors are very special: The colours have been very carefully selected to create a rich atmosphere (a signature trait of Truscott’s).

From the box office with its gold-leaf ceiling to the lobby spaces with their rich red carpet or the verdant green of the Cadbury-Schweppes Room, Truscott created unique and distinctive interior spaces that contained only the finest of furnishings and fittings. The use of padded leather as a ‘wallpaper’ in many of the corridor spaces is certainly something I have never seen elsewhere, but suited the building extraordinarily well.

Sadly, it seems that most of Truscott’s legacy is to be destroyed during the renovations.

The huge glass chandelier in the foyer, created by Michel Santry and called Arcturus, is to be removed permanently. And if  the official preview images are anything to go by, there won’t be much of Truscott’s work left when the renovation is complete. The Victorian Arts Centre website states rather vaguely:

“The important contribution made to the interiors by interior designer John Truscott has been a key consideration in planning the redevelopment of Hamer Hall. The proposed changes to the interiors, both in the foyers and the auditorium, have been arrived at following considerable thought and care to ensure that the existing interiors are retained as much as possible”.

I don’t see much evidence of this.

^{Illustration of the planned refurbishment of Hamer Hall}

Last year I made a detailed photographic study of Hamer Hall as part of Melbourne Open House. Recognising the significance of Hamer Hall’s interior architecture, and suspicious that the State Government would trash yet another of our modern architectural masterpieces in it’s never-ending quest for the “modern” , I made a studious attempt to capture the essence of Hamer Hall, before it was all destroyed.

And destroyed it will be.

The original plans showed a horrible glass shard that would pierce the rear balcony to create a new entrance, but the latest renders seem to have omitted this particularly ugly feature.

^{The latest render of the redeveloped Hamer Hall.}

We can’t halt progress forever, but it seems a tragedy to me that we care so little about mid- to late- 20th century interior design. The National Gallery of Victoria had it’s interior destroyed, now it seems to be Hamer Hall’s turn. I wonder what we’ll have left from this period, if even John Truscott’s work is not considered significant enough to preserve?

Some pictures, for posterity:

It is with deep sadness that I advise readers of The Grapevine that the Minister for Planning, Justin Madden, has approved the hideous Windsor Hotel redevelopment that I wrote about in October.

After the fiasco surrounding a leaked government memo that revealed a plot to hold a “sham public consultation“, approval from the Minister already seemed like a fait accomplis. Then last Wednesday (16 March 2010), the Heritage Council of Victoria granted approval for the redevelopment plans, subject to various revisions. So it came as no surprise when the Minister made his announcement today.

The following ABC News Victoria clip outlines the whole saga beautifully, including the Minister’s woeful performance at today’s press conference.

I won’t outline my objections to this project again, as they’re already outlined in my previous blog post.

I’ll just reiterate my disappointment at the vandalism that’s about to be wreaked upon the grand Windsor Hotel. I made the effort to write a lengthy submission to the Heritage Council, objecting to this proposal, but it seems it was in vain. Nevertheless, they have removed some of the “rough edges” from the design, which is of some value.

To those in Melbourne, I say enjoy this view, one last time… because it won’t be there for much longer.

Melbourne’s famous Rialto Observation Deck will close at the end of the month, costing 30 people their jobs and our city it’s finest viewing point.

I am sorry to see the loss of this marvellous local attraction. Aside from its spectacular views and excellent facilities, I also enjoyed the peace and tranquillity that could be found on the breezy Melbourne 360° viewing platform.

The Rialto Observation Deck was opened in 1994. Back then, Jeff Kennett was Premier, Victoria was recovering from a terrible recession and the Rialto was the nation’s tallest building.

After it’s opening, the Observation Deck immediately became a hit with locals and visitors alike. From the 55th floor of the Rialto Tower, one could see right across Melbourne’s metropolitan area as far as Mount Dandenong and across Port Phillip Bay.

However, in 2006 the Rialto was superseded in height by the Eureka Tower, which  opened an observation deck on their 88th floor; 33 floors above the Rialto’s. And whilst I felt the Eureka Skydeck was a much poorer facility, it seems many people disagreed with me.

In some ways, it came as no surprise when the Rialto’s owners announced that the facility would be closed down. They gave no particular reason for closure, but I am guessing it may have been in part because of competition from the Eureka Tower. A classy restaurant will replace the observation deck when the building is redeveloped in 2010.

ABC1′s Stateline programme has a nice video tribute to the Rialto Observation Deck, which you can view here.

This week, I visited the Rialto Observation Deck for one last time. Here are some photos of the occasion:

In July 2008, the Royal Australian Institute of Architects awarded its “25 Year Award for Enduring Architecture” to the former Clyde Cameron College building in Wodonga, Victoria.

The citation provided an opportunity to look back at the College’s inception and later demise, both architecturally and politically, since the college was mired in controversy from start to finish.

^{Clyde Cameron College, now Murray Valley Private Hospital}

A Chaotic Structure

I visited the Clyde Cameron College site in January 2009. I’d read about it in The Age and via the RAIA but had never seen any photographs of it.

When I finally saw it for myself, I was initially confused yet also somewhat impressed; confused because of the eclectic array of buildings but impressed at the boldness of the design.

Clyde Cameron College (as I will refer to it) consists of an array of small satellite buildings arranged around a central administration centre. All of the buildings are linked by enclosed corridors, and the whole complex is composed of concrete, steel and glass. The front porte-cochère is a heavy mass of off-form concrete, with a smaller concrete tunnel leading visitors into the main reception. From there the rest of the College sprawls.

^{Two corridors meet at a glass atrium. Part of the bizarre architecture on the site.}

Taking a walking tour of the site, I could see how each component of the College contributed to the whole. In some cases, the design was more coherent than others, but at each turn my interest was aroused. Small classrooms were linked to apartments by enclosed glass corridors. Rooms were designed with jarring shapes, and a variety of textured concrete and besser bricks has been utilised.

Kevin Borland’s influence in the design of Clyde Cameron College is abundantly apparent, with many stylistic reminders of the Harold Holt Memorial Pool. Yet the design of the College is far more adventurous than Borland’s earlier work and contains far more detail, even if that detail consists of various rounded or square ‘chunks’, tubular tunnels and curved stairwells in keeping with the béton brut ideal.

As I strolled, I could feel the complex coax me further, if for no other reason than to see what architectural absurdity would be encountered next. I was not disappointed, for the absurdities were in heavy abundance.

It’s Time. Maybe.

As intriguing (and confusing) as the Clyde Cameron College complex is, the rise and fall of its tenant organisation, the Trade Union Training Authority (TUTA) is as chaotic and brutal as the building that housed it. Brutalist architecture was wrapped in ideology, and understandably, so was TUTA.

TUTA was established under the Trade Union Training Authority Act 1975; a hasty attempt by the Whitlam Labor government to establish such an organisation before the government was thrown out of office.

^{Clyde Cameron College after construction, circa 1980. (Image: DOCOMOMO)}

Named in honour of the then-serving Minister for Labour, Clyde Cameron College was to provide participant-centred approaches to adult education courses which were ideologically and politically independent from individual unions and the Commonwealth Government. To achieve this, academics from the Centre for Continuing Education at the Australian National University guided the development of the curriculum in those early years.

The incoming Fraser Coalition government gave begrudging support for the establishment of TUTA, but only agreed to continue the building of the College on account of its status as being politically neutral.

Because of the tumultuous political environment of the 1970′s, TUTA didn’t believe that it’s funding for the project would be secure if there was a change of government. Hence, in what would be considered a scandalous affront to public administration today, the contract for building Clyde Cameron College was tendered at the design sketch stage. Construction was commenced in haste with the priority being that construction should be as advanced as possible as soon as possible, despite the lack of detailed architectural drawings and plans. It should come as no surprise that a massive budget blow-out occurred. A $3 million project quickly became a $6 million project.

Given the client, it was agreed that the building should be used to express the trades and craftsmanship of the builders who constructed it. Brutalism was believed to be the best way to fulfil that ideal.

Today, it could be seen as an absurd concept that a “raw” and “unembellished” building should showcase trade skills, but in the 1970′s that made good sense. And so it was that the Clyde Cameron College was eventually built.

Kevin Borland was proud of his team’s work in designing and building Clyde Cameron College, believing that he’d created an architectural masterpiece. Borland submitted his design to the Royal Australian Institute of Architects (RAIA) in 1979 but received no award, as he later wrote with notable bitterness, in Architect magazine in 1982:

“(Clyde Cameron College) was adjudged on completion in the 1979 Awards for the Building Awards, two architects regarding it as the best building of 1979, and two non-architects as the worst with the chairman not exercising his casting vote, hence it received no award, not even a citation. It has subsequently received a great deal of publicity overseas and is now the source of numerous visits by International Trade Union authorities.”

It wasn’t until 2008 that the RAIA finally acknowledged his work with an award for enduring architecture.

In Accordance with Change

The first years of TUTA’s existence were a success. Aside from Clyde Cameron College, TUTA had campuses in each state and territory capital city which operated in a semi-autonomous manner. Enrolments rose, and feedback from students was positive.

^{One of the residential rooms at Clyde Cameron College, 1980. (Image: NLA)}

However, according to Voll (1997), things changed when the Prices and Incomes Accord was enacted and the Australian Council of Trade Unions (ACTU) started having direct involvement in the operations of TUTA.

I won’t detail those changes here, but suffice to say that the curriculum was changed at the insistence of the ACTU. As the union movement started to view TUTA as one of its own tools, the Accord was to be uncritically endorsed in the curriculum. Also at the insistence of the ACTU, the method of teaching changed from participant-centred to instructive. According to Voll (1997), enrolments and student satisfaction fell, especially when key courses were abolished and replaced with arguably partisan subject matter.

This change meant that the support which TUTA had received from the Coalition had evaporated. Abolition of TUTA was proposed as policy in John Hewson’s Fightback! campaign of 1993, and finally enacted when John Howard was elected to government in 1996. The Liberal Party believed that taxpayers’ money should not be used to advance the cause of unionism.

That year, the affairs of TUTA were wound-up and the Clyde Cameron College was closed. The building was sold to private owners, who used it as the basis for establishing the Murray Valley Private Hospital.

As it Currently Stands

Fortunately, and despite its tumultuous past, the Clyde Cameron College building remains largely intact, save for a small extension on it’s northern side. Given that the building was designed as a residential college, its transformation into a hospital has been remarkably successful.

That said, the building has not aged well, as is common for many Brutalist buildings. The concrete, most especially on the tunnels, has become stained with black grime and requires cleaning. The gardens, which were once so well maintained have been allowed to disintegrate on many parts of the site.

Not long after I visited the Clyde Cameron College in January 2009, the Heritage Council added the building to the Victorian Heritage Register.

With its controversial political past, it’s hastily-executed construction and it’s status as a unique example of Australian Brutalist architecture, I hope that funds will be made available to perform some restorative works on a unique Australian building.

References:

^{Borland, K. (1982) Projects in the Albury-Wodonga area. Architect, August, p. 17}

^{Cupper, L. (1980) Public funded trade union education in Australia. Industrial Relations Journal 11 (1): 57-68.}

^{Day, N. (1977) Essential Speed. Architecture Australia 66 (1): 78-82}

^{Evans, D. et al. (2006) Kevin Borland: Architecture from the Heart. Royal Melbourne Institute of Technology Press, Melbourne, Australia. ISBN: 9781921166204}

^{Hutson, A.E.W. (2003) ‘Architects Group and the pipe dreams of Clyde Cameron College’ in Gusheh, M. &  Stead, N. (eds), Progress: The proceedings of the twentieth annual conference of the Society of Architectural Historians, Australia and New Zealand. pp.158-162. Sydney, Australia.}

^{McDougall, M. (2009) Adding to the recent past: Challenges in distinguishing new work from the not so old. Proceedings of the ‘(Un)Loved Modern’ Conference. Sydney, Australia. [Full Text]}

^{Szego, J. (2005) To be Brutal, our modern heritage is set in concrete. The Age, 23 December, p.8}

^{Voll, G.R. (1997) Time’s up for TUTA – A Corporatist Casualty. Proceedings of the Association of Industrial Relations Academics of Australia and New Zealand Conference. pp.592-599. Brisbane, Australia. [Full Text]}