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The old adage tells one to never judge a book by its cover, yet one inevitably does form an immediate opinion, however fine a glimpse the first sighting might be. Perhaps the advice should be to never let first impressions become permanent guides or fixed assessments that determine future understandings; that one should leave these intuitions fade away as quickly as they appear.
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So it is that one reforms and begins looking at the book with an open mind, refreshed, a term that, unlike ‘gay,’ happily is still relevant to ordinary, everyday experience, as in having a cool drink, and is also understood by our digital world as involving a restart: in both cases, one pauses, cools off and begins again.
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The Robin Gibson book looked good on the shelf with a bold identity that seemed to reference some of the qualities of Gibson’s work with its stark black and white, calculated clarity, and aloof, anonymous, self-conscious arrangement of voids. Its formal title, Light, Space, Place: The Architecture of Robin Gibson, (Uro Publications, Melbourne, 2022), has been located vertically, sideways, by the graphic designer, literally as an aside, modestly, in small, upper and lower case letters, in favour of a grandly assertive, bold, black, block headline statement, 'ROBIN GIBSON,' placed over a grid,* all in Gibson’s favourite HelveticaA font which was the fashion of the 1960s for smart, avant-garde design that was primarily promoted by the pre-eminent graphic designer of the time, the late Michael Bryce AM AE K St.J.**B
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The first sighting of the inside pages of the book was online, ‘LOOK INSIDE.’ This preview raised the question: what were the large black numbers throughout the text? Logically, they could not be page numbers or section identifiers; what might they relate to? Why so dominant? There was no immediate answer to this, even after asking a colleague who had started to read the book: he seemed as puzzled as myself.
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When the book was finally in the hand, loaned by this friend, and after one had started to peruse the publication in more detail, it was eventually discovered that the large graphics were a scrambled mix of sectional divisions and years that used the bold letters and numbers, over 30mm high, as a graphic theme for the book design that appeared to work just too hard to be dramatic, wanting, so it appeared, to be visually arresting rather than simply informative. One thought of the work of László Maholy-Nagy, and Alan Fletcher (of Phaidon), and wondered why this might not have been an inspiration, a guide to greater inventive subtlety in the management of information.A
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On starting to read the book from front to back after flipping through the pages from back to front as lefthanders do, and letting the eye be caught by whatever comes up - the immediacy of the process sometimes captures interesting and revealing surprises - one relaxes and opens the hardcovers to reveal sparse pages with text scattered across gridded voids, and an index that dramatises the divisions into six dense, bold numbers in a set of fine, horizontal lines. One soon notices that the pages are a combination of different papers - a mix of coloured, matt, and gloss leaves defining various segments - a strategy that brings to mind the old AJ magazine, (The Architects’ Journal), of the 60’s and 70’s that used a similar concept for its monthly publication.
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One wondered again: was the graphic designer really seeking to emulate Gibson’s self-conscious use of formally abstracted arrangements of styled spaces and blocked masses shaped in an array of stark materials?
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Again, one shrugged off these thoughts, settled down, and formally began the reading. Larger books might look impressive siting on the table or standing on a shelf, but they are always difficult to read: how does one hold them? Do designers ever consider this? Does one sit or lie and balance the mass on the body, or use hands awkwardly, or a special Koranic-styled prop to support the publication?*** The task is never easy. Phaidon’s Le Corbusier Le Grand remains unread because a stand of appropriate size has not yet been found. The perusal of this publication has only reached the intriguing ‘flip through’ stage; maybe this is as good as it gets?
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Following an Introduction by the State’s architect, (the State supported the publication) - these opening overviews are preliminary words that are usually read last in order to overcome preconceptions - one comes across a statement that the authors must have considered to be significant, given its isolated prominence and larger font. It reads:
Architecture is work done by human beings for human beings. If it achieves this successfully, then it can be judged as an architecture which is truthful to the expression of its time. (p 12)
What is the text trying to say? What are the ‘it’s and the ‘this’ referring to? The statement reads like a pastiche of Louis Sullivan quotes.+
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The words are ascribed to ‘Robin Gibson n.d.1’ Checking the reference, 1, one discovers that the lines are from an unpublished speech, ‘Opening of the Belconnen Library’ given in September 1981 in Brisbane, a document that is held in the Gibson Family Collection; (p.21). The n.d. is formally correct++ but it seems that the date of the speech is known; it is just that the text has not been published. Is this notation of the reference setting a bar too high for itself; being just too proper?+++ Awkwardly, less precisely, the quoted words say nothing definitive in spite of their prominent positioning, suggesting some motherhood vision of architecture which is seen to be relevant for an era only when people are involved and care for each other - or something like this. One wonders why such a muddle of words might be selected to start the book, and be identified with such academic accuracy without further comment. It looked like a worrying omen.
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Moving on, trying to be fair and ignoring this puzzle - is one just too pedantic?+++ - one reads that Gibson’s public work, as described by the joint authors of section 1, Dr. Deborah van der Plaat and Lloyd Jones, encourages people to ‘mix and intermingle’ in an urban context; ‘people of all shapes and sizes.’ The latter quote attributed to Gibson seems a sad, perhaps cynical or patronising observation on what could be interpreted from the subsequent comment, as the ‘undersized/oversized,’ maybe ‘uncouth’ public of all varieties that needs, one reads later, to be ‘educated.’
One worries about this cliché idea that sees architecture as something that needs to be taught to the ‘unwashed’ masses, (‘of all shapes and sizes’), to allow its special qualities to be appropriately appreciated; suggesting that good architecture is superior, something socially and intellectually transformative - ‘cake for the masses’ as it were - able to make ‘better’ people of the unruly crowds when ‘exposed to good architecture on a daily basis.’F This was an early Modernist proposition. Maybe Gibson really held these views, but something needs to be said about this, perhaps noting that it was a platitude remaining ‘in the air’ at the time of his training, carrying through into the 1960/70s. This concept needs some comment; history has to be more than a carefully produced and structured hagiography.C
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The concern is that this attitude appears to be contrary, or different to that suggested in the quote at the beginning of section 1 - ‘by human beings for human beings’: equals for equals - making this first text look more like a preferred intellectual ‘humanist’ position rather than a practical guide involving real care, tolerance, and understanding. The words look as though they are just something hopefully ideal to talk about, to impress, leaving one to ask if Gibson’s work is truly for the people, as he seems to want to claim, or just more straightforward rational modernism that is concerned with itself as something learnedly superior, there for the good of the masses - to improve people.D It is a position that places the architect on a pedestal. Is this how Gibson saw himself: better than most; heroic; making him appear domineering; condescending? Did he wish to see people in his buildings just for their decorative occupancy, as one might devise for a rendering?: p.13 – it was reported that the ‘main thing on Robin Gibson’s mind was PEOPLE’. In fact, ‘he just can’t wait for the place to open so that the complex can have its most important ingredient – people of all shapes and sizes.’ One brings to mind the architectural illustrations with people in a perspective, small and large to suit the location and juxtaposition, in place to provide the ‘interesting,’ persuasive, visual composition.
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One is left wondering if the authors are trying to see Gibson’s work with a new eye, as he hoped it might be perceived, using his words that tell of his designs relating to place and people. The notion of Gibson’s public work in Brisbane, the Art Gallery, Museum, Library, and Performing Arts Centre of the Cultural Centre, and the Queen Street Mall - culture and commerce - being linked by the river and the bridge to give rich and meaningful interactions for the public, (p.13 - The link that connects the two), seems fanciful as an everyday experience: we are not talking about the Seine in Paris. Have the authors ever walked this link at any time, in any season: wet/dry; hot/cold; humid/windy? – see https://voussoirs.blogspot.com/2012/08/most-livable-citiy.html. The trip is a journey involving its own particular centredness, issues, and determination that seems to divide, to isolate, and create defined nodes out of the two sides of the river separated by the bridge - a ‘them and us; here and there’ standoff highlighted by the opposing chic of the State Library and the slick and colourful styling of the Brisbane City Council Tower and Library building (Denton Corker Marshall). This bridge ‘dumbbell’ connection is more an intervention than a conjunction. Even though the cliché might say bridges do create links, this experience suggests otherwise, that the connection is merely a physical fact making more of an impact on transport than urban design, as the bus lanes crossing the river, and the major bus station squeezed in between the Performing Arts Centre and the Art Gallery and Museum buildings assert. A closer look at the situation reveals that only the western walkway/cyclepath of the bridge opens up into the Art Gallery precinct, with the eastern walkway swinging into the Southbank Parklands, away from the Performing Arts Centre that has no obvious open public space entry like the gallery has. Like the bridge, one notes that the Performing Arts Centre has one ‘useful’ side, with river views only from the northern stair access.I
It is not as though Gibson ever worked hard to link places, even though his words might like to suggest otherwise. All the connections between the Art Gallery, the Museum, the Library, and the Performing Arts Centre portions of this Cultural Centre precinct, lack any native organic necessity and convenience, with the different, separate access ways feeling more like an awkward set of uncomfortable detours, a tricky ‘All Stars’ challenge to be traversed, just like the distracting walk across the river that one has to endure to get to this complex from the CBD. We have to be careful not to indulge poetic niceties that ignore the real everyday experience in our ‘architectural speak.’
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There is a clash here between the described intention and experience, and the reality, a schism that again becomes evident when highlighted by another Gibson quote noted a little further on in the text. Gibson is reported as speaking with commitment about the civic pedestrian link across the city from Central Station, along Anzac Square,# through the General Post Office, across St. Stephen’s Cathedral precinct, and onwards, down to the river. The quote seems to have been selected to illustrate Gibson’s apparent interest in urban connections ‘for the people.’
p.14
Commencing at the Central Railway Station and the Sheraton Hotel, the walk continued: . . . through or beside ANZAC Square, across Adelaide Street, through the Post Office Square and the Post Office, across Elizabeth Street through St. Stephen’s Cathedral and down past the AMP and Needham (sic, Naidham) House to the river. As this link is traversed, it will unfold the new high-rise developments skirting the squares ( including Gibson’s CML Building), the wonderful post office design by FDG Stanley, past the stones of the foundations of the original building housing the female factory of our early settlement and onto the cathedral grounds containing the delightful original St. Stephen’s building, built in 1874 to a design by Augustus Welby Pugin, an architect famous for his writings and for his work on the details of the British Houses of Parliament in London, which was designed by Barry.
It is interesting to note that Gibson takes his detailed description of this link to the river no further than the cathedral. Did his interest really run out here? It appears so.E
No one worked harder to develop this thoroughfare to the river than Neville Twidale (https://voussoirs.blogspot.com/2021/03/neville-twidale-gate-builder.html) who wrote his thesis on this idea, and continued to promote the concept during his working life. Sadly, after trying repeatedly - such was his commitment to the concept - he could not convince Gibson to maintain the link through to the river, a waterway that Gibson speaks of so lovingly in the context of the Art Gallery project that ironically turns its back to the river, (well, its front), offering river views only from the private spaces.## Visitors to the gallery are given the interior pool to consider as a ‘natural wonder’ see note . . .p.14 his aim was to evoke in the occupant ‘the same response they feel in a beautiful, natural environment out in the bush or on top of a mountain. I want them to think, “what a beautiful spot” ’ - and to remind them of their location: viz. that there is a river there that cannot be seen. Glimpses through the open ends of this pool are supposed to orientate visitors too, but one end is an enclosed sculpture garden, while the other gives a framed view of a small part of the Performing Arts Centre.
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The river is again put to one side in Gibson’s work on St. Stephen’s that closes down any possibility of an extension of the axial connection to the river as envisaged by Twidale. There is not even a stair to Charlotte Street from the cathedral precinct, just a tall, blank concrete wall with a balustraded garden on top of it – a substantial barrier creating a dead end. The only nearby access from Elizabeth Street through to Charlotte Street is a secluded lane that exits in the southwest corner of the cathedral site, that connects to an access way along an adjacent property, (originally the Bank of Queensland), to reach Elizabeth Street, well away from the urban axis promoted by Neville Twidale, and spoken of in glowing terms by Robin Gibson.### One can perhaps see a certain humbug here in these words and actions that look as though they supported no intention of ever implementing Twidale’s core vision for the city beyond what suited Gibson.B
When in the Commonwealth Government Works Department, Neville Twidale did all of the work with Post and Telecom to redevelop the central walkway through the General Post Office that was critical for his vision. He promoted the idea with some of the first perspective presentation drawings of Jane Grealy, had it accepted as a strategy, detailed the walkway and rearranged the adjacent accommodation, documented the work, and supervised the construction in this heritage context. Brisbane owes the achievement/implementation of this core concept to his enthusiasm. Walking through the GPO, one can again enjoy the civic laneway that was an original part of this project, and a vital link in the concept celebrated by the GPO tower.
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It was Twidale’s great disappointment that Gibson closed down his vision at HIS, (Gibson’s), cathedral space, with HIS, (Gibson’s), idea, as if this might be the preferred terminus in the city;G or was it that he considered the link to the river irrelevant as there was no further work for him? Gibson’s words are hollow and need to be shown as such. There is no point even talking about his care for people and his ideas on urban integration when poor, contrary outcomes like this are realised.
The facts do not fit the preferred fiction. Might the motto of the book be; ‘Never let truth get in the way of a good story’? Perhaps these inconsistencies reveal Gibson as a persuasive, perky personality, not only keen to get his own way, but also wanting to shape his own history. Are these the qualities that made him so successful?
One pauses: one has only read the first two pages of the first section! The book should prove to be an interesting read. One, perhaps, should never judge a book by its first two pages; still, there is the writers’ recognition of the importance of beginnings, even that of the very first sentence. This publication seems to be making things difficult for itself.^
So the reading continues . . . on to page 21. ^^
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See also:
ROBIN GIBSON – THE POSTSCRIPT: https://voussoirs.blogspot.com/2025/02/robin-gibson-postscript.html
and
ROBIN GIBSON – THE QUEEN & THE FOUNTAIN: https://voussoirs.blogspot.com/2025/02/robin-gibson-queen-fountain.html
NOTES
*
The grids used as a graphic design device in the book seem appropriate. One day, striding through his office with his typical concentrated burst of assertive energy, Gibson paused temporarily and asked his senior assistant, (there were no obvious partners even though the name claimed this), “What are you doing?” It seemed an odd question, as though everyone had to be immediately answerable to Gibson, able to account for every second of activity. One soon discovered that everyone was, and had to.
The answer was an innocent, “I’m looking for a grid,” as if this might be the great challenge of architecture.
Aalto once responded to the student’s question, “What grid do you use?” with the answer: “One millimetre.”
The Gibson grid cannot be recalled, but probably related to car parking. Vertically, Gibson liked 6 risers to the metre, giving risers of 166.6mm, where an appropriate tread would be 285mm. In Gibson’s buildings it is not unusual to find the stairs to be awkward, feeling too steep: e.g. Post Office Square where one feels safer walking across the curve of the stairs.
**
So much so that, by the 1980s the cliché complaint/jibe in the profession was that the world was being ‘Bryced’ and conscious steps were taken by some to avoid the suave Helvetica graphics by using other less slick, more responsive, contextual styling and different fonts. Eric Gill’s crisp Gill Sans started to become the preferred alternative with its clear, pure geometrical forms. The digital world has transformed things dramatically. Instead of being limited by typewriter fonts, transfer systems like Letraset, and guides like stencils, we now have immediate access to thousands of letter styles, a situation that encourages many to turn graphics into a visual fruit salad.
***
One wonders: is the book well enough made to be repeatedly opened up flat on a table? It looks to be assembled from two dozen sewn bundles of leaves that have been glued together like a paperback, in spite of its size and solid, glossy, thick cardboard covers, leaving one to worry about the flexibility of the adhesive over time, and the endurance of the cover connection to the inner mass of pages. The binding is already showing signs of sagging after only two readings.
+
Robin Gibson once boasted, apparently like Elle Macpherson, that he never read anything but what he wrote. Perhaps he should have reconsidered these words in his speech that seem to try to amalgamate Schumacher’s and Lincoln’s concepts: ‘good work’ with ‘of the people, by the people, for the people’ into a feel good statement about architecture. Gibson’s boast about not reading may have been an exaggeration that sought to say that he copied no one; that his work was completely original, inspired by his own ideals and achieved by his personal genius.
++
What does the (n.d.) mean? (the question was put to Google’s Gemini):
In an APA reference or citation, n.d. stands for ‘no date.’ You use n.d. when you cannot find a publication date on the source you are trying to reference and cite; it stands in for the year that is normally in the date position. Here is an example reference entry with no publication date available: Willemssen, J. (14 Feb 2020 . . .
+++
The response to this question has to be no, as the work has an academic source that should be precise and rigorous in all aspects, not only in presentation and form. Ignoring the problem with such vague statements, and placing the words in this iconic position with such precise rigour in referencing, seems problematical, leaving one to be concerned about the handling of the subject as a whole with such tolerance shown for this one quote. Are matters just accepted, catalogued, and placed into a rational context to create the ‘Gibson story’ as Gibson might want it to be?
#
Strangely the submission made by Callaghan and Jamieson for Ideas for Anzac Square are nearly identical to the scheme finally implemented by Gibson, even using the idea of locating the hall of memory, (or a similar place . . . one forgets), in the powerfully symbolic location directly under the eternal flame. There was no communication with anyone following the submission - nothing.
Ideas competitions are like this. The recent City Hill Ideas Competition in Canberra seems to have done the same: called for ideas, collected them, picked the eyes out to develop a scheme under the guise of ‘people input,’ with no prizes, or any credit or recognition, ignoring everyone once the submissions have been received. There was never any feedback from this invitation either. Architects are frequently seen as a source of free ideas.
Gibson had his ‘sources’: see The Fountain Story and the concept for the grassy slope. It is interesting to read on p.241 about the flagpole outside the Queensland Pavilion Expo’88: A flagpole, constructed at the entrance of the pavilion, was suspended in place using tensioned cables. One is immediately reminded of the Skylon that was the centrepiece of the Festival of Britain, 1950, which was a pole suspended in space by tension cables. Gibson went to England shortly after this occasion in 1954.
##
The discerning visitor would say that the Art Gallery and the Performing Arts Building both ignore the river in spite of Gibson’s rhetoric and the impressive architectural photographs. Both buildings could function similarly anywhere else; they are interiorsH that relate intimately to their special place conceptually, (consider the Stanley Street spatial extension as the internal pond of the gallery), and exteriors that equate to sculptures that are displayed in the city on the riverbank. The buildings rely on the water substantially for the enhancement of their own appearance and ambience. The river plays a role similar to that of the hills Gibson refers to, for the public to admire.
The Art Gallery fronts the river with its private spaces, and the Performing Arts Building sits sideways, parallel to the river, denying the user the enjoyment of generous river views from the interior public spaces.J One has to make an effort in both buildings to get a glimpse of the river from the interior or otherwise. The juxtaposition of the buildings and the river, that comes from the decision to site these buildings in this riverside location, makes it difficult to understand how Gibson seems to want to treat the river only as part of a Modernist assemblage rather than as a part of the integral experience of the place. One is always aware of the river, just because it is there as a part the location, as a landscape element for the building to relate to and to be photographed with, not for the people to share beyond what the city offers at a public park, only here things are far more formal; less inviting: (p.73 . . . the street and how it is terminated is equally the province of the public as that of a park.) - it is not a picnic area. The river looks like a compositional element, a part of the empty space of the plaza approach to the art gallery, an approach forgotten about in the Performing Arts Centre which feels separated from the river by a roadway that becomes a promenade that announces the Southbank Parklands ahead.
One has to remember that Gibson wanted the fountain in front of the Art Gallery to be as grand a display as the water spout in Lake Burley Griffin - water was seen as a compositional spectacle.
Of all of the buildings that form this cultural complex, it is the library that has some connection with the water and the CBD opposite, with its water and city views able to be enjoyed by the public using this service. The museum is literally in the back blocks, in something of a no man’s land, relating to neither street nor river, left struggling for its identity while dominated by the bridge over Melbourne Street to the Performing Arts Centre, and the main bus station below. Again, only the private spaces of the museum are given river/city views above the Art Gallery.
The overhead bridge link has an interesting story: its ‘icecream’ roof form, (not mentioned in the book), is a homage to the Paul’s Ice Cream sign that once decorated the approach to the old Victoria Bridge. The image is reproduced in the Gibson book.
###
No doubt the bravado of the man would allow him to argue that this meagre connection fulfilled the vision; the suggestion lies in the text, p.14: The adjacent development provides a walk which protects pedestrians from the weather while relating the pedestrian with the Cathedral grounds. It gives protection until it connects to the uncovered lane that goes through to Charlotte Street. Gibson was never wrong – https://voussoirs.blogspot.com/2014/03/on-death-of-robin-gibson-architect.html. Neville Twidale’s vision was for a civic, axial link, not a zigzag path through the city buildings. Gibson’s grand (Opera House) stairway to the cathedral would have facilitated this vision with the southern end of the stair aligning with the GPO laneway. Prior to this new set of stairs, the entry into the cathedral precinct was via a pair of stairs in a stone wall, one to each side of the axis. The book notes that the heritage authorities were not pleased with the demolition of this wall: p.59. It seems that Gibson had his own rules for heritage issues. Beyond the cathedral, Twidale envisaged the route continuing along Market Street to connect with the nodal space on the river walk which is just north of the new Kangaroo Point Bridge.
The completion of this cross-city link would have been a significant urban gesture for a river city which Gibson claimed he was responsive to and cared about. Sadly this generous gesture was apparently not something he warmed to or really felt strongly about. The failure to be able to complete this link was Neville’s great disappointment after achieving so much of his vision.
^
The book notes that Lloyd Jones is writing a PhD on Robin Gibson under the supervision of Dr Deborah van der Plaat.
^^
From the original flick through, it seems that the book promotes the ‘ideal’ architectural image as framed by the camera. There are very few architectural drawings, detailed plans and elevations that tell so much more about a building without the prompting of the persuasive image selected by the lens manipulated by the photographer for the best ‘visual impact’ possible.
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MORE NOTES ON COMPLETING THE BOOK
The remainder of the book has not changed the initial review, but further notes have been recorded to identify and explain the issues raised, and to highlight some different matters.
Concerning exhibitions at the Queensland Art Gallery: Gibson likes to talk about lighting, but the displays seen at the gallery have had serious issues with displays – see:
https://voussoirs.blogspot.com/2014/01/a-mere-shadow-of-quilt.html
https://voussoirs.blogspot.com/2014/02/reflections-and-shadows-california-here.html
Hot Modernism (mentioned in the text; it was an exhibition in the State Library):
https://voussoirs.blogspot.com/2014/10/hot-modernism-architecture-in.html
Rayner:
https://voussoirs.blogspot.com/2014/05/water-boarding-place-with-highwayman.html
Digital Archive of Queensland Architecture: Robin Gibson
https://qldarch.net/architect/summary?architectId=606
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In Gibson’s own words in the Hooke address, p.72: it is incumbent on us . . . to be vocal.
This second set of notes that expands on issues in the book has been compiled after the first text was written following the reading of the first few pages. These notes use letters to identify their provenance; the notes that relate to the first writing have been identified by symbols.
For the post-read review, see: ROBIN GIBSON – THE POSTSCRIPT.
For the story of the queen and the fountain, see: ROBIN GIBSON – THE QUEEN & THE FOUNTAIN.
For errors in and queries about the text, see; ROBIN GIBSON – POSTSCRIPT.
A
On book design: the size, structure, and weight of a book is as much a design matter as its graphic appearance.
The credits in the book mention the designers - Toko - but say nothing about the font or typesetting other than this was also done by Toko. The font appears to be very close to Helvetica with only a couple of variations: the lower case ‘g’ is different to the classic Helvetica form; and the capital ‘R’ lacks the Helvetica subtle flare on the tail.
B
There are a few references to grids in the text that suggest their importance to Gibson:
p 56. looking for a cathedral grid: I remember, one of the times that Robin came to one of the meetings he was just over the moon because he had finally established a grid for the floor tiles that located all of the pillars within the grid . . .
p 59. I came to appreciate the simplicity and perfection of the design.
One might observe how Gibson has turned the cathedral into a Presbyterian church, using a white (pinkish white), plain, simple protestant style finish throughout, with the carefully, rationalised addition of the managed elements of the Roman Catholic church.
One senses something of a Protestant interior in Gibson’s refurbishment; something Presbyterian. Having just looked at some images of St Magnus Cathedral in Kirkwall, in the Orkney Islands, Britain’s most northerly cathedral, one is repeatedly surprised by the decorative detailing and its variety. The floor is a jigsaw of patterns, scaled both large and small; it is a true celebration of surface. The eye is constantly engaged by the variety and invention in design beyond mere considered calculation. In St. Stephen’s, Gibson has removed all subtle variations and applied a singular rigour reminiscent of the austerity of Protestantism.
To gauge the difference between the cathedral and the protestant chapel, one can look at the Italian Chapel on Orkney, south of Kirkwall. This interior is all decoration, a beautifully painted cathedral. It is the antithesis of Gibson’s sterile, considered, gridded purity. The Italian Chapel is a truly magnificent delight, everything the Presbyterian interior is not. The stern, millimetre efficiency of the dour sideways kirks in Shetland, highlights the difference between a joyfully rich exuberance and a stern, enforced efficiency that demands compliance. It is this Protestant rigour that has been applied to St. Stephen’s.
There is also the civic grid, the axis from central Station, across ANZAC Square, through the General Post Office, and the cathedral grounds, down to the river that Gibson talks about: see p.59
C
It’s an odd observation, but one can hardly get approval from the family to write a book on Gibson and access all the records if one is going to be critical of Gibson; in this sense, the book can only be a hagiography.
D
Gibson was happy to promote the lie of partnerships, and enjoy the benefits of this fantasy, so why should one consider other statements without questioning them and their intent? One has to view Gibson’s statements with the understanding that this is a man prepared to play with words that he thinks will keep his clients (and others) happy; as happy as he seems to want those who use and see his work to be, with his unique expression.
Gibson’s renaming of his practice as Gibson and Partners seems to tell everything about him. No one knows anything of any partners; he was always a lone practitioner with staff. It might have been more correct to have the practice called Robin Gibson & Staff. There are some staff members who should have been made partners, but this again tells us about the man who always liked to be in control, was always right, and would do anything to achieve his ambitions.
P 73 I commenced private practice so as to achieve a freedom of architectural expression . . . (to give) results for clients which expressed an individual approach.
p.74 informed clients receive informed buildings: does this suggest that Gibson couldn’t suffer fools?
E
p 59. On the civic grid: He was always looking for the grid that ran from Central Station through the post office and the Cathedral grounds, up to Kangaroo Point. . . . he always wanted streets to run down and have a glimpse of the river. He was talking about those sorts of things.
- but Gibson did nothing to facilitate this!
p.329. Kenniger talks of this link to river, but there is no mention of Gibson stopping it.
It seems that Gibson tried to reconstruct the story, suggesting that his Post Office Square was the linchpin that completed the connection between the cathedral and Central Station:
p 237 ANZAC/Post Office Square.
Gibson designed the new Post Office Square so its grassed surface met Queen Street at street level . . . Pedestrian viaducts at the upper level cross Adelaide Street and continue along the perimeter of ANZAC Square, linking these two major spaces with Central Station. . . .
Gibson envisioned Post Office Square to form the central element to a wider urban scheme, linking Central Station to the grounds of St Stephen’s Cathedral through ANZAC Square and the General Post Office.
The concept of linking the river to the city is forgotten. Now his idea is different and forgets the river. Post Office Square has become the central vision.
p.73
How often do we find the work of architects offending when related to the larger urban fabric – often destroying the imaginative opportunity to create great cities . . .
F
p.74 . . . architectural decisions . . . require the injection of the creative thought of the architect.
. . . Only then can buildings be created increase the happiness of those who use and see them; (end Hooke address)
G
Gibson also seemed to have his own ideas about heritage. He received an award for his heritage work on St. Stephen’s, but the book records that the ‘opera house stairs’ he designed for the front of the cathedral were criticised by the heritage authorities. The original tuff wall with its cast iron balustrade was demolished to create this grand approach. The heritage award that he received made no mention of this. Gibson seemed to want to manage heritage matters just to suit himself
H
p.68 art gallery is primarily an interior:
the art gallery and the performing arts centre are interiors. I consider Robin’s strength lay more in terms of interior design, rather than the form of the building. (Colin Christ)
I
p.329
Here the text also talks of the CBD link to Cultural Centre and parklands over bridge. One has to note there is no essentially necessary or convenient link other than that the bridge is there and does span the river. It is not a very pedestrian friendly bridge, and has some very awkward transitions for the pedestrian who has to negotiate the major city busway at either end, and local traffic routes.
J
p.173 (Art Gallery)
Dividing the exhibition spaces from administration and service areas (which block off the river) are a series of shallow reflective pools known as the Water Mall, which connect the interior of the gallery with its external site. This sophisticated architectural element also serves as an orientation device for the building’s users . . Located externally, at the north-western end of the Mall, is an enclosed sculpture garden and cafe.
The claim seems to be ambitious; that the pools known as the Water Mall connect the interior of the gallery with its external site appears to be an exaggeration, as one end is an enclosed sculpture courtyard, and the other frames one corner of the Performing Arts Centre. We need to be careful not to create visions with our words that are nonexistent, merely hopeful ideas, just because the building is open each end. One might be able to see if it is raining, but not much more.
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