One sits listening
to the Abedian School of Architecture talks at Bond University with a
notebook and pen nearby in the case, just in case. The taking of
notes is an awkward distraction that disturbs simple attention,
disrupts ordinary listening, so one is hesitant to begin jotting
things down. Note-taking is constantly postponed in the hope that it
may not be required at all; that memory alone might suffice. Then,
out of nowhere, unexpectedly, a different set of words will demand
attention and precise recording: somehow they stand out as being
relevant in some unknown way, so they are jotted down for a reason
yet to be revealed; then some other significant words are heard. The
gauge of importance is not clear or certain: it is about feeling,
innuendo and logic – perhaps.
The process becomes
addictive; or is it that one’s attention gets redirected through
the pen: that one listens through the hand? Speech is recorded,
scribbled down quickly with a fluid, fast ballpoint in order to keep
the words in their original, verbal context, rather than as a
recalled, recycled version of a ‘or something like this; words to
that effect’ statement recreated by a ‘maybe’ memory that
easily accumulates, aggregates more than is required to be
expressively correct, by dragging in one’s thoughts, opinions and
misunderstandings. Notes of exact spoken words and their sequences
give a raw sense of feel and touch to their expression and its
meaning that allows other layers to be perceived, sensed; for
different attitudes to be exposed; for philosophies to be hinted at.
Things unsaid can be subtly revealed.
So this piece will
start with the words that were jotted down, scribbled direct from the
speaker’s mouth onto the lined pages of an A5 notepad in awkward
but accurate scrawl:
“I wanted to do a
house that was architectural.” (on recycling an old house)
“. . . kooky
custom details in it.”
“There are no
doors or windows; only horizontal and vertical planes.” (The ideal
is the Barcelona Pavilion)
“. . . drove a
Range Rover into the sea at night.” (as a young man)
“. . . before that
(my house inspired by Ankor Wat) I used to kinda do anything.”
“House with one
idea: you should be able to write it down.”
“Could cook all
day.”
“A caretaker for
materials.”
“The most boring
shot I have shown ever.” (by photographer who has worked with DH
for 25 years)
“. . . painted
funny colours.”
“Won a Dulux
colour award; no Dulux paint.”
“Each facade has a
Z facade.”
“A fun little
interior 2.4 x 3.6M.” (Tuga House)
“. . . weird
things happen with ladders and handrails.”
“Minimal living.”
“A building
designed in ergonomic sections.” (early library)
“It fell down once
or twice - (prototype)
“Eventually burnt
down.”
Early prototype structure
Question time:
“You should’ve
seen some of the other shit I’ve done.” (on the large drop
outside the big windows of the Stradbroke house)
“Will swear black
and blue that it was 900mm and eroded to 1.5M”
“I live on the
edge of codes – stair handrail stuff: I have very little interest.”
“I take
responsibility for own work.”
“FLW spoke of the
plans at various levels – 0; 1.5; 1.8; 2.4M).”
“I believe change
in levels absolutely important.”
“Only on 2-3 jobs
have I been allowed to do what want to do.”
“Horizontal and
vertical planes plus landscape – live in between.”
“I absolutely have
rules.”
“I have whole lot
of set rules.”
“I never deviate
from them.”
“Architectural
details are poetry – syntax and grammar.”
“Sing song; write
poetry.”
“. . . hidden in
architectural detail.”
“What aroma; how
feel; how wear with time.”
“Language of
architecture.”
“Smell; touch.”
“Concrete has
smell: what implications, e.g. next to bed”
“I keep my timber
inside now except for decks.”
“I am a 7/10
carpenter – I do form work.”
“I look, see and
sketch.” (in response to Ankor beginnings and theories of Ankor
maths, beliefs, etc.
“Doing a PhD on
myself – details.”
“Peter Stutchbury
lives nearby; good friends with Rick (Leplastrier).”
“We dine regularly
together - each week.”
“I don’t have
much documentation.”
“I give a feeling
of intention to the client.”
“Will be like this
. . . I like steel; or will head in a timber direction.”
“On top of
costings.”
“Gyprock
everything.” (to save)
“Family, cooking;
c.f. architecture.” (personal interests)
“Cooking has
traditional practices.”
“Ask a busy man if
you want to get a job done.”
Ankor Wat
The evening talk of
4th November 2016 started shortly after the due time with
a brief introduction by Prof Adrian Carter.# At last these talks are
now beginning to be punctual. AC told how, many years ago, he had
taken a group of Danish architects to see the Drew Heath library
building in Tasmania. He noted that everyone appreciated the craft of
the place that was both designed and built by Drew Heath as a young
man. AC mentioned that Rick Leplastrier had a high regard for DH,
dropping in the line, perhaps for everyone’s admiration: “I spoke
with him just today.”
Drew Heath
Drew Heath stood to
speak. He said that he usually yelled, a habit from working on
construction sites. Puzzlingly, his first image was of Ankor Wat. It
showed ancient, sculptured stone walls with decorated openings being
strangled by the roots of a giant tree. He started his talk by
explaining that at 50 he had an epiphany in Cambodia, at Ankor Wat.
His vision was that architecture would be the placing of a deck in
between these walls (those in his image): this, he said, would be the
ideal (with no windows or doors). He failed to elaborate any further,
leaving one to wonder how simple shelter might be incorporated into
this biblical-like, green vision in this historic place; but he did
move on quickly to show how his inspiration has generated his own
house in McMahon’s Point, Sydney. His home was on a site bounded by
three street frontages, a building with no elevations. The site was
covered with vegetation; living areas were interspersed on several
levels in such a way that all connections were external. Plant growth
was allowed to discover its own ambitions both inside and out, if
such definitions make any sense in this experience. Intrusions, like
those seen at Ankor Wat, were welcome, indeed, encouraged.
Place-making was the creation of a scaffold for growth; a framework
for living in, moving through. Shelter seems to have been redefined;
and architecture too. Little things were all important.
Heath House
Folding door
The long table
The house had a very
long table – “I like cooking: children one side of the glass
wall; adults the other.” The place was a conglomerate of details
that were discovered and resolved as they were revealed as issues in
the process of making. Details of a latch were illustrated - “I
love the scratches on the handle;” and an image of the wheel/cog
control for a large door was shown. One was reminded of Kevin
McCloud’s rustic hut and his clever handyman mate who made the
special pieces for his wheel and cog operable-wall control; and
George Clarke’s redesigned caravan and his smart mate who did
likewise for the folding-out side wall of the reconstructed mobile
unit. Drew Heath had his handyman mates and similar solutions too. Is
this the latest fad? It was all very cute, ad hoc and bespoke, and
carried a sense of special TV show difference to entertain the
audience with its quirkiness. This strategy set the scene for the
evening.
George Clarke and his fold-out caravan
Kevin McCloud's hut with its fold-out wall
The core of this
intuition was vegetation that could ‘eat everything up’
triffid-like. Did DH not realise that the growth over Ankor Wat was
destroying it; that the world was working hard, spending millions of
dollars to control this destruction by removing the vegetation? Water
was cleverly slowed down at this house so that it could stay on the
site, for the plants. Living became a performance, a movement over
levels. “My children are all athletes.” Are they gardeners too?
“Architecture is in your face – close.” DH stood with his nose
fifty millimetres from the rear wall in front of nothing but off-form
concrete. He had made his point: details were critical. The image on
the screen showed a super-sized image of the latch: as seem from
50mm?
Then on to other
projects - the Kyoto House at Byron Bay: “Each house needs just one
idea that can be written down.” It was difficult to see the
‘Katsura’ touch here apart from some internal timber detailing
and the main elevation that was temple-formal and symmetrical with
kinked, tilted extremes. There were interior spaces here, but little
vegetation. This house must have been built prior to the epiphany.
"Kit of parts"
More projects were
shown: the container house; the recycled house; the Z house; the houseboat; another house that DH spoke about as being ‘a kit of
parts’ all purchased from the hardware store, Bunnings. Apparently
he built everything in this building, even the steel windows. DH
finished the talk early with his first building, a library in
Tasmania, DH’s home state. This was the building visited by AC and
his tourist team many years ago. These projects revealed a
cross-section of this design-build practice that was still
continuing. DH had a special skill that combined the design process
of the architect with the construction process of the builder,
allowing details to be developed on the way, and other modifications
to take place as time and circumstance allowed.
Recycled "architecture"
Library building
DH spoke of how the
leftover bits and pieces were frequently used to create parts for the
spaces: stairs; benches; cupboards; shelves. Surplus concrete was
often poured into moulds to make light fittings, pavers, benches and
basins. It was in this sense that he commented that “We should be
caretakers for materials,” and avoid waste. He elaborated on how
his completely recycled home was demolished and re-built using the
same materials “architecturally” - whatever this might mean –
to give the owners many stories to tell of how this part was from ‘X’
and that from ‘Y’ in the old cottage. He told how he had woven
stories into the new; narratives and details: “Architectural
details are poetry – syntax and grammar. Sing song; write poetry. .
. . hidden in architectural detail. Language of architecture" - but what does it say? DH
saw architecture as details. Indeed, he was doing a PhD on “himself”
- on architectural detailing. His enthusiasm for seeing architecture
from 50mm could explain his vision for it becoming a conglomerate of
little things. Is DH short-sighted?
This research – or
is it proselytising? - was interesting as it gave a layer of things
seemingly ‘philosophical’ to the ‘practical’ DH work that
appears to have begun willy-nilly. Attention to detail seems to have
been something that has arisen in parallel to, and has intermeshed
with his subsequent epiphany, for the early work displays this
singular intrigue with piecing parts and making.
Container house
There is little
point in going over the Drew Heath projects in any descriptive or
analytical manner. The work can be viewed on-line – see:
http://www.drewheatharchitect.com/
What is more relevant is to look closely at his words, his ideas, to
try to make sense of these: to develop some of their inherent logic;
to highlight any latent inconsistencies; and to point out any
concerns. Words can reveal more than what seems to be their intended
meanings. One can start with DH’s epiphany. He explained this with
his perception that the only architecture that he really liked, that
had depth and meaning beyond mere magazine attractiveness, was
ancient architecture: hence Ankor Wat. He found most new work too
“architectural” - but in spite of this understanding, he never
displayed any interest in the contexts from which the ancient things
had grown: “I look, see and sketch.”
Ankor Wat sculpture
It was Ananda
Coomaraswamy who pointed out the necessity for understanding origins,
so that misunderstanding will not be perpetuated: see Christian
and Oriental Philosophy in Art;
that it is never acceptable
to bring modern attitudes to the reading of older works. If one is to
understand the old works,
then one has to understand their
roots in culture, society and
beliefs; their
meanings and
relevance. This
work was
never art for art’s sake; never
personal expression. It
is a point that DH dismisses, ignores
completely. His approach looks
like inspired
visual thinking and physical
making. What happens to meaning when
it is perceived
and managed only
by
personal whims? This is the danger that Coomaraswamy mentioned in his
writings. DH needs to do more than look, scribble and
visualise.
Barcelona Pavilion
Ludwig Mies van der Rohe - "God is in the details"
Even
retreating to the ‘God is in the details’ approach, as he seems
to do in order, so its
appears,
to give substance, maybe
depth to his work, leaves the
whole a mere assemblage to be discovered by others, or to be embalmed
in his idea that a project needs one idea, a concept so clear that it
can be written down: c.f. the Kyoto house: “House
with one idea: you should be
able to write it down.”
That DH appears to have so
self-consciously grasped what
is seen as the simplistic
Mies mantra is only confirmed
with his statement that “There
are no doors or windows; only horizontal and vertical planes.” The
vision
is illustrated
by DH in
the Barcelona Pavilion. How
does this strategy really
fit into his work that seems different, more complex
and random than
this pure, precise,
geometric classicism that
reeks of rigour? It is a very
strange attitude, as it seems to have been another epiphany after he
had designed and built a houseboat. One struggles to see the
immediate relevance of these words and
ideas beyond the
photograph of Mies’s iconic
building. Might
Aalto have been a better reference? Perhaps Carlo Scarpa?
The houseboat
Barcelona Pavilion - is the water the attraction?
Is this pavilion seen as Mies's houseboat?
There
is another matter to consider: the photographs. In the first note
jotted down, DH says: “I
wanted to do a house that was architectural.” This
is a telling statement as it suggests
that DH has expectations on designs that are more than just
‘buildings:’
they have
to be ‘architectural,’
whatever this
is. It is odd; was it
not the superficial
‘architectural’ qualities that made him prefer old architecture?
Maybe one can see his
approach to ‘special’ imagery in the photographs of his work. The
photographs are very slick; special, unique
ways of seeing through particular
lenses, peculiar angles
and posed alignments.
He mentioned in his talk how one image must have been “The
most boring shot I have shown ever.” DH
does not like ‘boring’? His
Internet site shows an array
of highly contrived images
that he
has chosen
to illustrate his projects. They are, ironically,
all ‘architectural’
shots. DH seems to choose those ‘special’ images to promote his
buildings. Does one come to see his work differently through these
photographs? - see
http://voussoirs.blogspot.com.au/2014/04/seeing-what-we-believe-idyllic-visions.html * What is the real character
of the work as experienced in the everyday rather than as special,
memorable
representations created
by the use of
unique angles, clever depths of focus and
bespoke contexts? One
wonders: were any of these
images photo-shopped?
This
sense of things having to be ‘architectural,’ both as image and
idea – perhaps just ‘different’? - suggests a certain
deliberateness in the work, a self-consciousness about achieving
particular outcomes with the ambition, it appears, of being uniquely
noticeable. This apparent aim makes it easy for one to be sceptical about the intent. That the vision of Ankor Wat, a deck within the walls
being intertwined with the uncontrolled vigour of tropical growth
(forget the openings), might be the dream for future work, seems to be
something to grasp on to, some bold, bespoke concept to direct the
detailing of the making; maybe to provide some broad organisation, a
strategy for the stories? How this ideal matches the idea of
‘architecture’ is enigmatic. One thinks of the cliché that says
that architects cover their mistakes with ivy.
The
sense of things having to be different seems to be as important to
DH as the detailing. The
little container house comes to mind here. It is a beautiful concept,
cleverly, carefully
detailed and nicely made. One can see the simple rigour and logic in
the place
that has been promoted
in various advertisements and by the architect. Yet DH commented that
it was built without any building approval – just built. This
raises the issue of things different and unapproved being promoted as
some popular
ideal, as something
attractively desirable for
everyone to aspire to. The DH
photographs endlessly juggle the visuals of this project in just
about every possible way, even
adding quirky cycle positions and ‘active-Toyota’ people.
How is one supposed to understand this ‘I do what I like’
attitude that lies behind the works? As
DH said, “You should’ve
seen some of the other shit I’ve done. I
live on the
edge of codes – stair
handrail stuff: I have very
little interest. I take
responsibility for own work” - as
if others don’t; and as if
this casually
‘creative’ approach might
be possible for everyone to
indulge in. Strangely,
DH declared that he, ‘being responsible’: “Will
swear black and blue that it was 900mm and
eroded to 1.5M” Yet, in
spite of the ignoring of the very rules that everyone else has to
conform to, DH notes that “I
absolutely have rules. I have whole lot of set rules. I
never deviate from them.” So it seems that as long as the rules are
those created by DH, he is happy to conform to them. It reminds one
of those who have boasted that they read only what they have written.
DH said that he “could
write his rules down.” Is the first rule
to ignore all rules made by others?
The
great irony is that DH cares for the details, the micro decisions,
but is loose with
the macro decisions. The engineering of the container house was
described casually as: “What do you think - a 200 UB?” and doing
it! It seems like he
is eulogising, promoting
the great Aussie ‘She’ll be right mate, it just takes a bit of
common sense’ attitude to life: ‘Bugger
the professionals! They know
nothing.’
This larrikin sense of the DH world is a concern. He was one who, as
a young man, “.
. . drove
a
Range Rover into the sea at night;” whose
architectural philosophy before his epiphany was a vague: “.
. . I used to kinda do anything.” Yet
he now professes
a belief in God as being in details, (nowhere
else?), in pieces
and parts that make only
horizontal and vertical planes:
“There are no doors or
windows; only horizontal and vertical planes.” There
are no 'walls;' 'floors' become levels: “FLW
spoke of the plans at various levels – 0;
1.5; 1.8; 2.4M).
I
believe change in levels absolutely important.”
Ankor Wat sculpture
Chartres cathedral
Yet
the symbolism of the
architecture of the past and
its rich decoration is
grounded
in doors and windows; consider Chartres cathedral; the
Dogon house. The DH world
spins into ambiguity and a complexity of contrasts that seem to stand
unresolved. Is it this way just to make a good, meaningful story?
DH identifies his personal
interests as “Family, cooking,” and compares the latter to
architecture, noting that “Cooking
has traditional practices.”
Has architecture traditional
practices? Well, yes; but DH does not appear to be interested in
these. Why? His interests seem
to be rooted in the details
of the building, not in
the
rigour and coherence of the
ideas. He boasts that he
knows where everything is in the hardware store; and in his
buildings,
too,
so that he sees them as a “kit of parts” - some
kit; some parts! It reminds
one of Alvar Aalto saying that he used a 1mm grid for his work.
Dogon house
Ankor Wat sculpture
Architecture
has an astonishing tradition that is ignored at one’s peril. DH
seems to realise this as he latches onto Ankor Wat,
but fails to take things any further than his
raw seeing. What does he
think of the sculptures of Ankor Wat? He
seems to like the idea of being St. Paul at Ankor Wat,
as though this will give depth, substance,
maybe mystery to his
building, work that includes mates that do quirky, bespoke things: “.
. . kooky
custom details in it. . . . painted
funny colours. Won a Dulux colour award; no Dulux paint. Each
facade has a Z facade. A fun little interior 2.4 x 3.6M. (Z House) .
. . weird
things happen with ladders and handrails.” Is
architecture just a game of doing strange
things differently: to be
quirky, kinky, offbeat, way-out, unconventional?
'Z' house
The
DIY sense of this practice belies its real sense of searching for
difference in re-use and whatever, using the concept of being “a caretaker for materials”
perhaps somewhat
like the Murcutt “touch the ground lightly” dream promotion, even
when the house might be on an underground concrete tank. Creativity
seems to be seen as being a larrikin, a non-conformist, producing DIY
bespoke, green, recycled,
‘architectural’
inventions while
breaking all
rules made
by others. The
anti-intellectual intellectual, (“I’m
doing a PhD”), appears to
make a brand out of a
determined disinterest
in formal boundaries, almost
belligerence. It is the
opposite world of Charles Eames who used all standard parts ‘off
the shelf’ for his
Californian house,
a true ‘kit of parts’
that embodies a sense of specific limits, controls and systems. DH
uses all special parts, differently; bespoke pieces, bespokely.
The concern is that the Eames approach appears to have a greater
future than the DH ‘special’ world that seems
to be all about ME and MY
UNIQUE houses; and MY talks;
MY PhD.
Eames house
This
looks like
a hybrid world, with the
larrikin approach intertwined like the walls at Ankor Wat
with things
architecturally bespoke. Is
this the builder matching his architectural mates Stutchbury
and Leplastrier? - “Peter
Stutchbury
lives nearby; good friends with Rick (Leplastrier).
We dine regularly together -
each week.”
It is a world of seemingly
ad hoc theory and meaning
implemented through
simple seeing and personal sketches, and very little documentation:
“I
don’t have much
documentation. I give a feeling of intention to the client.
Will be like
this . . . I like steel; or
will head in a timber
direction.”
As with living in an
un-sheltered shelter, such apparently
random approaches might make
for good architectural yarns
for Bond Abedian
evenings - DH did start by
saying that he could say anything because no one knew him! - but
how does this approach fit into the everyday? The issue is that
spoken about in the Rick Leplastrier
blog - one-off quirkiness:
see -
http://voussoirs.blogspot.com.au/2015/01/richard-leplastrier-ephemeral.html
Both DH and RL see
a house as something like a boat; to
be detailed as a boat; trimmed like a boat; operated as one. This
approach appears
to place them
into a unique ‘nautical’
world with specialist
interests and attitudes that
exclude much of the
population. The unanswered,
perhaps
never-considered question is: what is the best
housing model for the new
city? What is the future city
to become? (Adrian Carter would make it Utzon’s Kingo
housing scheme!) The
DH/RL world fits into the realm of the sailor’s yarn: stories from
afar. Unique, Kevin
McCloud/George
Clarke-like
special TV detailing
makes for interesting
performances, but what about the many?
What about the everyday world
and its experience; its
relevance? Is architecture
really just
special, grand?
– see:
http://voussoirs.blogspot.com.au/2013/08/is-architecture-just-grand.html
McCloud and his hut with its bespoke chair
Ankor Wat sculpture
In
spite of the inconsistencies and the
apparently arbitrary,
theoretical stances
it seems
to embody, the DH world holds
an astonishing attraction. Drew
Heath is really the builder
of ancient times
who was the architect. He loves the old, but appears
to fail to grasp its reality
beyond his practise. Is his
world just intuitive? Does
the theory
get dragged into place from
other occurrences, perhaps as
happenstance, maybe to
match mates he has made
mentors? His is a hand-made world like that of the earthships – see
http://voussoirs.blogspot.com.au/2012/03/earthships-and-bananas.html
Maybe it can, as with the
earthships, only hold true sense and
relevance when DH
is in
control? This organic relationship between design and making holds
the meaning of old action that DH seems to know about, but struggles
to articulate. He really needs to come to understand what he loves in
the old and why, rather than
appear to merely selectively speculate;
then
he might be able to explain
his actions
as an
integrated, enriched
wholeness.
Gosh, who, today in this world of random, careless, greedy
builders willing to argue and
litigate rather than solve
simple problems, would not want to engage a man with the
commitment, care, skill and
responsibility of DH? We need
more Drew Heaths; and more research into the past understandings too.
Coomaraswamy is an excellent beginning. His essay, Why
Exhibit Works of Art, would be a
good introduction into his
research on
and understanding of the work
of other times. We need to know, not to just
guess or misinterpret to
accommodate whims.
Is the idea the story; the 'narrative'?
Ankor Wat sculpture
#
P.S.
On
sponsors, Adrian Carter usually thanks those companies that have
given money to support the talks, as he should. One of these is the
local door and window company, DUCE. AC awkwardly, somewhat
pretentiously, sounds this name as “DU-SAY” as though it might be
European, perhaps French. Why he does this is not known. Is it that
things “architectural” must be uniquely different, as DH appears
to believe? If one telephones the company, the telephonist sounds the
name simply as it looks, as “D-USE.”
* P.P.S.
22 November 2016
Architects like to show their projects so that they are presented in a particular way, in order to create a unique image to define how the work should be seen; for others to dream about, to drool over. This is frequently achieved by isolating the selected images from their contexts; 'framing the shots' in a special manner to reveal preferred vistas.
If one visits Google Earth Street View, one can see the complete context of the Heath house at 10 Mitchell Street, McMahon's Point, the award-winning house (extension?) inspired by Ankor Wat. Not one of these 'everyday' images was shown by Drew Heath. Why do architects like to be so 'special'; 'specialised'? Does 'architecture' rely on such tricks for its identity?
The other frontage of the 'house with no elevation.'
The side elevation of the old home
The neighbouring context
The street context
On things 'everyday' see:
and
http://voussoirs.blogspot.com.au/2011/03/harry-everyday.html
26 December 2016
JUST STROLLING AROUND STREET VIEW
26 December 2016
JUST STROLLING AROUND STREET VIEW
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