It
stands in the Jacaranda City on high ground shaped by the bend in the
Clarence river, well above the depths of the flood waters that
frequently swell the wide waterway to unbelievable heights and
incredible velocities. The reference for this extreme event, its
physical memory, is the elevated bridge connecting Grafton and South
Grafton, that unusually hovers high over a tall void, an open space
soaring some thirty metres above the river, defining past limits as
if it were a flood marker. In full flood, a person can stand in an
open boat and touch the underside of this heroic, heritage-aged
structure that quaintly, dangerously, supports a road that narrows to
tight, ramped bends at each side of the river. The depth and volume
of flood water is truly astonishing, simply incomprehensible on a
fine, sunny day when the innocence of the sparkling sheen of the
broad flow of the river leaves one questioning the unusual effort
that has gone into the making of the old bridge, its clearance. This
building on the bend in the river is safe from inundation. It is a
pale salmon brick building on an open corner block that has the
rigorous austerity of a Romanesque abbey. It reminds one of Cluny,
and Clairveaux Monastery too, with its ecclesiastical simplicity, its
repetitive openings and massive scale: its weight; its solidity; its
austere commitment to an ideal revealed here in the brickwork
detailing.
It
is a big building, massive, of an unusual scale for a small country
town, with thick masonry walls made to appear more solid by the
depths revealed at the openings that layer space and its enclosure.
Each void has its own brick vault that tunnels back into the wall to
the leadlight windows. The concept for this diagrammatic engraving of
form starts at the ambitious western front that opens to Duke Street
and its large jacarandas at the intersection with Victoria Street,
with a huge spanning arch frame form that vaults back to the wall
containing the entry door. One is reminded of the yawning jaws of the
RORO ferries in Shetland, their height, void and form, and their
greeting. This entry layers space too, shaping a visual thickness as
it modifies size in the sequence of the approach. The Gothic-arched outer doors
open as angel's wings to reveal the small porch recess that is
enclosed by a pair of secondary rectangular doors, more unassuming
and human in size and welcome. The entry progression moves from the
awe-inspiring arch of the cosmos, of God, to the glory of angels, to
the modesty of man, to reveal the inner intimacy of axial sacred
place. The arch is repeated identically inside the church to define
the eastern sanctuary – God's place/face. It is a ghosting that
enriches the approach through remembrance.
RORO ferry, Shetland
This
is Grafton's Christ Church cathedral that was opened and dedicated on
25 July 1884, The Feast of St. James. (Freeland, in his book on Hunt,
wrongly records the date as the 15th). The building we see
today was constructed in two time frames. It was not until 1937 that the
three final three bays of the nave and the western porch were
completed. It is the work of John Horbury Hunt, architect. Hunt was a
Canadian who stopped off at Sydney on his way to India. He stayed.
His is a body of work that is outstanding. His life was an heroic
commitment to his profession and to animals. He loved both and was
involved in establishing the RAIA and the RSPCA. Sometimes stubborn,
sometimes rash, he was satirized as “The Eccentric.” Some say
that he was too ' spirited.' He was known to frequently try to
supplant other architects to get work. Sadly he died almost
penniless, aged 66; John Horbury Hunt: October 1838 – 30 December
1904. His story needs to be read to be appreciated in full: see
J.M.Freeland's book, Architect Extraordinary
– the life and work of John Horbury Hunt 1838-1904
Cassell, Australia, 1970.# Freeland tells how Hunt even designed his
own clothes. His waistcoat had pockets for pens and scales, while his
hat held a roll of paper. Freeland quipped that Hunt could prepare a
detail literally at the drop of a hat.
John Horbury Hunt
Hunt outside his home, Cranbrook Cottage at Rose Bay
Christ Church Cathedral, Grafton
Hunt
was a meticulous architect. He detailed his buildings beautifully and
insisted on quality work. 'That famous and amazing old juggler of
brickwork' as he was described in the September 1938 edition of
Architecture, was known to have grabbed the trowel to show the
bricklayer what he wanted. One can see his critical eye and his
knowing care everywhere throughout the building. Brickwork was Hunt's
medium because it was the locally made and readily available
material. Country regions had brickworks; some still do – e.g.
Warwick, in Queensland. One needs to know that this lean, wiry man as
the images show him, had the best architectural library in Australia.
The image of his studio at Cranbrook Cottage in Rose Bay, shows the
wall of books. No one knows what happened to this collection of architectural publications. He had a standing order for boxes of books to be sent out
from London. He knew what was happening on the other side of the
globe. His world was no ill-informed backwater. His works show his
understanding of current events. It is Arts & Crafts at its best,
at least the equal to the work of Philip Webb et al.
Hunt planned a square tower with a spire for the southern side of the cathedral, but it has never been built
English bond with occasional variations
Even
though few perpends align as all of the text books demand, the cathedral is a masterpiece in
brickwork, a master class. The building, obviously of cathedral
size and scale, is grand but only quietly imposing. It does not boast too much
or gloat as it forms its grasp on space and place. It is compactly
eye-catching, if only for its obvious rigour, its fineness and
finesse: its meticulous attention to detail in every square
millimetre. It was Alvar Aalto who, when asked what grid he used in
his designs, said that he designed to a 1 millimetre grid. Hunt
designed likewise, in miniature. The cathedral is a carefully
constructed design, figured out in every way, in every piece, to
create the whole, and all of the holes: but one has to say that its
success is satisfactory only in part, in spite of the detailing.
There is some disquiet about the integrity of the massing. One has to realize that, even
though total care and attention might be given to every detail, this
effort does not necessarily make a good building. Campbell Scott of
Hayes and Scott, latterly Hayes, Scott & Henderson, detailed
beautifully and precisely, but frequently his buildings were less in their entirety than the combination of the beautifully considered parts. His
brick Queensland University of Technology refectory building, that
seems to have been inspired by Colin St John Wilson's Gonville &
Cais residential courtyard blocks, is one case in point. Here Scott detailed the
location of every brick to the precise millimetre, but the building works too hard to shine. It can be admired for its tenacity, but it
struggles as a conglomerate, a collation. a coalition of specific details. It
appears to carry a burden.
So
too with Hunt's cathedral in Grafton. Christ Church Cathedral
seems to have had more effort put into the detail than into the
resolution and relationships of some of the forms that can appear
randomly ad hoc, too loose; a little messy, out of control. Hunt's
gem is St. Peter's in Armidale. Freeland used a photograph of its
interior for the front cover of his book. Here the design is complete
and satisfying in every way, on every scale, from the smallest of
details, to the most complex of architectural parts, to the broadest
of town planning gestures realized in its siting and address. It is
exquisite. The fence with its gates shapes the boundary that
resonates as ripples from the events in the building as they reach
out to touch it. The form is monolithic, unquestionably coherent,
integral: organic, both in form and decoration. It has all of the
elements of a masterpiece, but one instinctively knows Hunt would
have rejected this and claimed it only as good work, an attitude a
little like Fritz Schumacher's concept of personal responsibility.
St. Peter's, Armidale
Details of St. Peter's, Armidale
The buttress is extended to become a wall
The northern fence pier (southern pier below)
Grafton's
Christ Church had a fence too, but now it has gone, leaving the
cathedral to stand framed by the ambiguity of street space and trees.
Evidence of the fence remains as pillars at the sides of the western
end. How a fence might have helped the whole is not known, but the
scheme suffers from a fragmentation, a certain random arrangement, an
accidental gathering of pieces, as if the concentrated effort to deal
with the detail got just too much. One might assume that the
detailing took an enormous effort. It is a fatigue not seen at
Armidale's St. Peter's that is more solemnly joyous, more carefully
resolved as an integrated whole. Newcastle's larger Christ Church
Cathedral has similar problems with parts of its massing and its
cohesion to those at Grafton. It too is beautifully detailed but suffers a latent
awkwardness in parts that seem too self-conscious. Maybe Hunt was
able to control smaller buildings better than the larger and
more dominant and demanding cathedral forms? His little church at
Murrurundi seems to support this thought.
Christ Church Cathedral, Newcastle
Hunt's St. Paul's church at Murrurundi
Interior of St. Paul's, Murrurundi
The change in window size marks the end of the first stage of construction.
There is only a slight difference in the new brickwork and the slates
Still
Christ Church at Grafton mesmerizes in spite of some gritty, gawky parts. It entrances as it engages the eye with admirable portions,
allowing one forgive the larger clashes. The openings are enigmatic,
appearing to be semicircular, while actually being slightly pointed
arches. The repetition of elements throughout the whole is classic
Romanesque; the seemingly random fragmentation is pure Arts &
Crafts. The wall extensions and profiling that make the bell tower
and the front buttress extensions are classically in
style, as are the brick coursing details. Hunt is almost erratic
here, adding and shaping the projecting courses, (his first sketches
indicate how premeditated these were), all to suit particular
functions and relationships, and various juxtapositions, being
willing, it seems, to accept less or a mess, as seen in his earthing
rod, flashings and his downpipes.
A detail illustrated by Hunt in his sketch plan (see Freeland)
All
of these elements display a similar insouciant bravado. Hunt seems to
have enjoyed accommodating unwieldy, disrupting clashes between his
visionary ideals and raw necessity, almost willy-nilly, with some
cheeky perversity. These elements slide and slice and swing down and
around the neatly detailed brickwork walls and buttresses, avoiding voids. Peter Cook
was unable to achieve this looseness with such nonchalant
necessity at the Bond University Abedian School of Architecture in
his 'downpipe' wall: see - http://voussoirs.blogspot.com.au/2013/11/bond-downpipes.html This apparently uncontrolled outcome
in Hunt's work contrasts starkly with the precision of the placing of
each brick and the lining and aligning of each joint. The work is a
lesson in brick detailing if not in precise plumbing detailing,
though we too could learn to be as free with ordinary, simple things;
to be less pretentious, more relaxed with our efforts, instead of
forcing predetermined 'aesthetic' outcomes and seeking to explain
them as clever, intellectual resolutions: see - http://voussoirs.blogspot.com.au/2015/06/ronchamp-rest-areas-and-meaning.html
Walking
around the cathedral one can enjoy some parts, then might cower,
wince at others. The primal cringe has to be the sight of the added green rails
and concrete ramp access, not Hunt's work that sometimes leaves one
pondering, asking why, even as the asperity is admired. These
statutory additions that do not appear in Freeland's 1970
photographs, are the work of another who appears to have lacked the
drive and commitment of the master, his the eye and feeling, for it
does clash rudely with the original effort and intent. Architects sometimes struggle to acknowledge another's efforts and ideals. There seems to
be a certain satisfaction in destroying these. For the record, one
has to mention Cox Rayner Architects. This firm demolished the entry
to the Kangaroo Point Boardwalk in Brisbane, rendered the decorative
brickwork on the South Brisbane TAFE Block E, and demolished the
sunscreens on Block M – all of my projects. I was never asked about
the first or the last; the rendering of Block E took place in spite
of my objection to it. So much for Moral Rights!
The access for persons with a disability has been added
The
more one looks at the cathedral, the more one is repeatedly drawn
back to the tiny parts and their refined placements. The building is
a beautifully pieced mass that has a few larger scale problems,
issues with its wholeness, its completeness. Hunt's houses seem to
suggest that he is happy with a cluttering of busy forms, e.g.
Booloominbah, Armidale. Could the problem be that a cathedral
has fewer parts to bring to the 'interesting' disorder? Is this why
his smaller buildings are more successful, having a greater variety of
pieces available to amass for the density of the assemblage?
Booloominbah, Armidale
This 'complex' portion of the cathedral is only the equivalent of the top right hand detail in the image above
The entry ledge
The
western front is impressively open and bold, echoing the inner
sanctuary arch that is similar to that at St. Peter's, but it lacks
some certainty in its presentation; not in its marvellous mass, but
in the tenuous nature of the idea. There seems to be a formal weakness here. It
looks too timid, too shy to sustain its commitment. Perhaps there is really nothing to commit to, other than what looks like a narrow ledge? One looks and
hopes for more in the relationship, but it always falls short in
spite of its welcoming wonder. It feels empty. Rarely does a brick arch appear so
magnificent; seldom does a celebrated entry confirm itself so
tentatively. Perhaps in Kahn's work one might see another grand arch
like this, or in ancient Persia and Rome. The problem at Grafton
seems to be that the generous, high arch frames so little; such a shallow,
limited, somewhat mean depth that reads like the top landing of the stair rather than a significant place for congregation. It appears to be at odds with itself,
unsure of its bold gesture, lacking the confidence needed in this
declaration of entry, welcome. The entry arches of Chartres come to
mind too, but these entries have depth and a mysterious darkness as
well as the wonder of sculpted delights. St. Peter's has this quality,
but not Grafton that has less decoration than St. Peter's. It is far more austere. Hunt decorates with bricks, almost playfully, forming
patterns with a caring, predetermined delicacy that results in a
calculated hardness, a self conscious rigidity rather than a dance.
Hunt knows no dancing delights. His work is all rigour: rational,
hard, formidable, tough; certain in knowing how and why things must be. There
is no lightness of touch here, just correctness. Hunt limits his
approach to the strict rules of the system, as if it were Lego; and he is inventive.
Christ
Church Cathedral at Grafton stands as one of Hunt's exemplary
structures, but it is not great. It does reveal the man in every
detail: brilliant but with flaws, as Freeland tells us. It is a
building that has attitude only because it was designed and detailed
by a man with attitude, and with the skill and determination to
achieve his vision, to implement his ideals. It is a beautifully
principled building, a true master class in masonry. One might hope
that more architects today might know their buildings and love them
the way that Hunt has worked on and cared for this place. It is truly
a dedicated project, not just dedicated on 25 July 1884; it is the
work of a dedicated architect, one completely devoted, committed to
his work. One can see this hand clearly in all of his projects. They
are all the result of the exemplary effort of one whose life was his
belief. He was a man who could do and would do no less than the very
best in every precise detail, in every grain of sand that makes his
whole world. Many found this annoying, intimidating and frustrating. Christ
Church Cathedral Grafton stands out from the rest of the buildings in
Grafton because of this cogency. It does suggest that one's attitude to work
and life can and does have an impact on one's output. This idea has become extremely unfashionable, now openly mocked by our era that
seeks its indulgence in the ad hoc hope of the primal promotion of
unique, uncontrolled, self-importance seen as inspired genius: 'selfies.'
The windows on the east
Hunt's
world was otherwise, although his taking others and their mediocre
efforts to task might have made him appear similarly self-centred,
arrogant. His was a world of feeling
for form and detail that knew necessity; knew how beauty lay in the
rightness of the tiniest detail, in precision, not in some grand
gesture of presumed brilliance. Kahn's earnestness comes to mind, and
his subtle, caring question: 'What do you want, Brick?' One can see
Hunt asking and answering this question everywhere in this structure,
time and time again. It is a building that coheres, sometimes
awkwardly, in spite of its struggles; maybe because of them? Hunt's
effort can be seen to have the same energy as struggles hold in their
twisted tensions: a persistence. The wonder of Hunt is that he is
able to subdue, to manage, to control these stresses; to embody them; to resolve them into a stringent
beauty that holds and demands respect and recognition not for the
pure pride of personal glory, but merely for its achievement.
Every brick joint has been lined
Even though high and remote, the brick detailing remains specific and precise
This,
one feels, is all that Hunt really wanted. It is what he would have
appreciated. We need to come to acknowledge this in our work today
and recognize that personal matters do have an impact on outcomes;
that the question 'What must I do?' still needs to be pondered and
answered if it is 'good work' that we are wanting; for this is what
we need, not the singular search for spectacular architecture,
although stunning outcomes might be more flashy, make more publications and get
more tongues wagging about the iconically clever proverbial 'ME.' Our
places will be enriched by an aggregation of good work, not by a few pieces
of flashy work, for the built environment is a conglomerate of
ordinary things that can accumulate and interact, and generate
extraordinary outcomes in lives. Searching only for extraordinary,
different things in architecture has become a sad norm that does
little for the whole, the holiness of life. They stand alone.
Hunt's decoration
It
is never the 'extraordinary' that needs to be captured in things unique, different and amazing. Rather, the qualities
that make ordinary things extraordinary need to be sought out:
those characteristics that are extraordinary in a quiet and lasting
way. It is the “depth and height” of architecture's “length and
breadth” that needs to be recovered; rediscovered;
revealed: c.f Ephesians 3:18 'May be able to comprehend
with all saints what is the breadth, and length, and depth,
and height;' (KJV)
Grafton cathedral's bell tower
P.S.
THE BELL TOWER & THE HALL
At
Grafton, Hunt also built the bell tower and the hall on the cathedral
grounds, more modest structures that still glow with his deliberate
rigour. It is interesting to see how his attention to detail
reverberates even into the ordinary, everyday materials like
corrugated iron and timber; how he is able to create a
hierarchical clustering of open spaces in this relationship in which
the cathedral dominates, but not too much. The brick hall has a large
corrugated iron roof with neatly detailed miniature gabled vents,
decorated fascias and an end wall facing the cathedral that
consciously mimics the cathedral's openings in a blank wall. The bell
tower acts as a focus/locus, a fulcrum between these two brick
buildings that stand in open lawns scattered with trees and bushes.
It is interesting to note how form and detail interact to create
grandeur and the everyday, with each standing proud and determined,
co-operatively, side by side without apology, envy or complaint.
The bell tower and hall
The hall's gable roof vents
The end wall of the hall that references the cathedral with its blind windows
Cathedral, bell tower and hall
# Another excellent publication on Hunt is:
John Horbury Hunt: Radical Architect 1838-1904, Museum of Sydney;
authors: Peter Reynolds, Lesley Muir, Joy Hughes
This publication also illustrates St. Peter's, Armidale on its cover.
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