CARBON 2

This article is part of a set - CARBON 1, 2, 3 and 4 - that has relevance for CPD: see note in CARBON 1.

Carbon: the case for tree change

• by: SPECIAL REPORT: DEB RICHARDS
• From: The Australian
• April 20, 2012 12:00AM 

 Andrew Grant says the need to find new ways to reduce carbon emissions is urgent. Picture: Tomasz Machnik Source: The Australian

 

FOR the past 12 years, Andrew Grant has known that planting trees can be good business. An early entrant into the complex world of carbon pricing, Grant says he is "rapidly becoming the grey old man of Australian emissions trading".
Having been the lead adviser on the NSW government's ground-breaking Greenhouse Gas Abatement Scheme, which from 2003 required energy generators to reduce carbon emissions, Grant left his environmental advisory work at Ernst & Young to head a start-up company in 2005.
He now claims CO2 Australia is the country's "leading carbon business", dealing in carbon credits earned through planting trees and paid for by high-emission polluters. The trees suck carbon dioxide from the atmosphere, in measurable amounts, and polluters get credit for having reduced the amount of the gas that would otherwise have been in the atmosphere.
While some plantings become managed permanent forests, others offer different benefits. The vision is for salty, eroded or acidic farmland to be transformed. Cash-poor farmers are paid to plant trees that arrest land degradation, something they could not otherwise afford. This replenishes the land, provides wind breaks and an ongoing lease income for the farmers and, most importantly, helps combat climate change by locking away carbon. The client company gets one carbon credit for every tonne of carbon dioxide saved.
With major clients such as Woodside and Eraring Energy, CO2 Australia already has 22,000 hectares of plantings, equating to more than three million trees, and is protecting 3500 hectares of native bush. Over a 30- to 50-year growth period, this reduces carbon emissions by 15 million tonnes.
CO2 Australia expanded to New Zealand after an emissions trading scheme was introduced there in 2010, and it has since diversified into being a carbon trader in its own right. Grant expects the July 1 start for the federal government's carbon tax to be a boon, as it will open up a new customer base in Australia and internationally. "The carbon credits are the same metric, no matter where in the world the project is based. It speaks a business language - price it, trade it, build it."
Carbon dioxide is already the fastest-growing commodity trade in the world. As the federal Minister for Climate Change, Greg Combet, recently pointed out, the World Bank's 2011 report on carbon markets showed a near 13-fold increase in four years - from about $US11 billion in 2005 to $US140 billion in 2009-10. "The sheer scale is amazing," Grant says. "It has the same growth dimension as social networking."
Planting trees is, however, very "land-hungry". As part of its voluntary carbon reduction program in 2007, Qantas offset its carbon emissions from a single day of domestic and international flights - 40,000 tonnes of greenhouse gases produced by 950 flights carrying 100,000 passengers.
CO2 Australia's offset solution for that single day's worth of emissions involved more than 200,000 trees in permanent forests covering 130 hectares.
Grant says climate change is happening faster than originally predicted and the need to find new ways to reduce carbon emissions is urgent. Several studies show that tree plantings, renewable energy and energy efficiencies can all play a role, but will not be enough to do the job on their own. "We have to pursue all known solutions, we have to find some more, and we have to do it all quickly."

CARBON 1

One proposition on CPD is that the Board of Architects of Queensland should be taking a far more pro-active role in promoting seminars that will allow architects to gain the required points for this continuing professional development. If one accepts the idea of CPD, then it makes sense to have quality sessions properly managed and promoted, that could be truly useful to the profession, rather than throwing open the opportunity for any and every Tom, Dick or Harry to start a business running point-accruing seminars only because the Board has made this accumulation of numers a necessity for registration. By raising this concept, one has an obligation to show what might be possible by way of example. The Australian Business Magazine 'The Deal' - issue April 2012 Vol 5 / No 3 - published a section on Carbon. The four articles are published here for information, along with the suggestion that the Board might like to arrange for these folk to be speakers at seminars in the future - see CARBON 1,2,3 and 4. It would be a good start to the CPD programme.

Whether one agrees with it or not - both CPD and carbon - it appears that things to do with continuing education, carbon and energy will be here to stay. What impact will these have on architecture? It is a reasonable question that needs to be explored and debated. On carbon matters, the tri-generators spoken about in CARBON 4 are of particular interest, as is the strategy for managing energy in Sydney CBD. While the subject is intriguing, what we must always remember is that architecture is more than things environmental. We should be careful not to be attracted to the fashion of the day and neglect the richness that is architecture. Remember history - both the history of architecture and that of the big money spinning programmes that were developed to save the world: QA - quality assurance, and Y2K - the turn of the century drama. We forget these at our peril.

Carbon: making the big switch

• by: SPECIAL REPORT: DEB RICHARDS
• From: The Australian
• April 20, 2012 12:00AM 

 How much the carbon price will hurt depends on a company's place in the energy chain, says KPMG's Nick Wood. Picture: Adam Knott Source: The Australian

 

DESPITE the many cries of alarm about the effects of the carbon tax as its implementation date draws near, the private sector is getting down to serious carbon business.
From July 1, the federal government's Clean Energy Future legislation imposes a price on carbon emissions and stimulates investment in renewable energy while encouraging energy efficiency and improved land management. It represents a significant structural change for the economy, with the pain to be cushioned by incentives and compensation packages.
Nick Wood, associate director of climate change and sustainability at KPMG, has been readying CEOs and CFOs all over Australia and advising them to see it as an opportunity. "There are issues, but it's not a disaster waiting to happen," he says. "It's really about the speed at which business can adapt. You want to make a smooth transition, not too fast or too slow."
In fact, the carbon "tax" is not a tax in the true sense, but a way of "costing in" the gases that have been generated as byproducts of our thirst for growth and high standards of living. The theory is that if the activities that create these gases are made more expensive, then there will be a natural inclination to switch to less costly - and therefore "cleaner" - technologies. The big question is: Can severe adjustment pain be avoided while we develop another way to fuel our high living standards?
The effects will vary across business sectors. "It requires different actions, depending on where you sit in the food chain," Wood says.
The companies that produce more than 25,000 tonnes of carbon dioxide a year are the big emitters that will be directly liable. They include power stations, mines, heavy industry and waste disposal. Based on data submitted to the National Greenhouse and Energy Reporting Scheme, it is expected that about 500 companies will fall into this category.
They will be paying $23 per tonne of carbon, increasing by 2.5 per cent a year for three years. After 2015 the pricing becomes flexible and will be determined by an emissions trading market. The revenue will help households cover higher electricity charges, and the rest will be ploughed back into industry assistance and investment in clean technology and energy efficiency.
It's been estimated that the top 10 companies will pay nearly $4 billion a year, minus whatever government funds they get. Coal-fired electricity generators, such as Macquarie Generation, will attract little compensation and will feel the brunt. Macquarie recently said it would lose $100 million of its projected $140 million profit this year. "For this tier the carbon price means the company must buy and sell a lot of carbon credits," Wood says. "How it interacts with the energy market will determine its success."
Surprisingly, there is still a role for coal in this energy future, if the cost of the carbon can be justified financially. Electricity markets are highly complex, but companies that have done their homework are already positioning themselves. Explaining its plan to purchase 100 per cent of the Loy Yang coal-fired power station and the adjacent brown coalmine in Victoria, Australia's largest energy generator and retailer, AGL, says the carbon price has provided certainty for investors.
The government's $9.2 billion "jobs and competitiveness" program includes a range of assistance packages for "trade-exposed" big polluters, such as cement works, petroleum refiners and steel and aluminum makers. The Minister for Climate Change, Greg Combet, told parliament recently the carbon price would effectively be reduced from $23 a tonne to $1.30 a tonne for many of these businesses. The assistance is to be reduced progressively and will be reviewed in 2014.
According to Wood, these industries have multiple liability issues. The quality of their data and how they structure permit buying and selling within the company will be key factors. "The core mechanism of the carbon tax is straightforward. Complexity arises in how a company makes the transition."
The next sector down is at the sharp end. Medium-sized manufacturers, infrastructure and building products companies and the food industry will be buying materials on which the carbon price has been levied. Electricity costs will be higher, so usage and costs will need to be factored into monthly reporting. Also, the compliance requirements will be tricky, and the management of product cost increases must be watertight and transparent, because the Australian Competition & Consumer Commission will be vigilantly policing unjustified price hikes. Woods says this sector needs to work out how it will reduce electricity costs, and to identify any carbon "hot spots" within the supply chain.
The retail sector will need to look for energy efficiencies to address increased power costs. Yet that may not happen. There are doubts whether price signals alone are enough to meet the 80 per cent reduction goal for greenhouse gases by 2050.
Price hikes of 20 per cent a year in electricity charges due to infrastructure and other non-carbon- related factors have not provoked a widespread change of behaviour. In theory, efficiencies such as changing lightbulbs, switching off appliances, adopting new, less electricity-hungry technologies and processes should be easily achievable, with a quick cut to emissions, lower costs and higher productivity. But there is still resistance.
A 2011 Australian Industry Group survey of its membership found that while energy-intensive firms considered energy efficiency part of their core business, more than two thirds of the far more prevalent small to medium-sized enterprises had not improved efficiency in the previous five years. A number of them were even less energy-efficient.
Caroline Bayliss, of the not-for-profit Climate Group, says the solution lies in helping business see the need to innovate and adopt best-practice methods. "It's not just about compliance. It's about transforming the market, so that business brings carbon emissions down and pushes profits up."
The Climate Group is a global organisation initiated by Tony Blair while he was the British prime minister. Here in Australia, Bayliss works to bring governments and corporations together to identify ways of doing good business with lower carbon demands. Companies such as IBM, Origin Energy and General Electric are exploring ways to co-ordinate with government to build "climate- smart precincts" in which integrated services and information and communications technologies reduce energy costs and emissions.
The Climate Group will be investigating the role of electric cars in corporate fleets and is involved in other leading-edge integration projects. "This is showing what can be done," Bayliss says. "It's about thought leadership. The carbon price won't do this on its own. To have a new low-carbon economy, you need to have a positive outlook and to actively seek opportunity."

CONVICTION

Australia is different. There are numerous circumstances where one is left questioning just what this difference might be and why it is there. In Britain, one is allowed to build one’s own home, carry out one’s own electrical installation and install one’s own plumbing: but not in Australia. Here one is not even allowed to replace a tap washer or an electrical plug – but we do it. One is not even allowed to trap a nuisance possum or scrub turkey – but we do it. There is a rogue attitude amongst this difference too. Where did this come from?

When entering the UK and when leaving it, those with UK passports are allowed free access and exit without having to complete forms or undergo any other inquisition. A friendly welcome is offered. But Australia insists on those it has granted passports to, filling out forms that require all types of detailed information, when both leaving and entering the country. So much for passing through the port! The passport has the same status as any other in the world and means nothing in particular for an Australian, other than to prove one is. Roguish behaviour at immigration is treated with disdain and one is likely to find oneself locked up for any cheek or refusal. Where does this attitude come from?

Then there is the regional difference. There is the clarion call that declares that Queenslanders are different; that Sydney differs from Brisbane and Melbourne; that Perth is different from Townsville. Why? How? It is merely topography? Is it geology? Social?

While browsing through a book of old drawings and paintintgs of Brisbane one day - Historic Brisbane and its Early Artists by Susann Evans, Boolarong Publications, 1982 - I was surprised to discover a pen and grisaille  wash drawing of a vista of the Moreton Bay Settlement looking from South Brisbane - by Henry William Boucher - illustrating the buildings from the windmill on Wickham Terrace on the left to Kangaroo Point on the right. A small building near the windmill was labelled 'Treadmill.' What was this? It is just open parkland at present. What used to be there? What has now gone?

Looking more closely at the drawing gave no further information. What was this? A grain mill? No, the windmill ground the grain. Reading the associated text on a previous page under the title The Treadmill on Wickham Terrace, explained that this was a device for punishment and was an extremely cruel form of discipline. Men, frequently in leg-irons, were forced to tread this mill for fourteen hours at a time, and were whipped if they stumbled. A fall could kill or mame. It was managed by cruel guards and was the most extreme form of punishment that this convict settlement could offer. It was feared. One convict wrote that it 'robbed even death of its terrors.' It was the malfunctioning of the original windmill sails that made the treadmill a necessity. The treadmill was initially used to suplement the windmill but became a necessity when its sails proved inefficient. I had known that Moreton Bay - a totally closed military camp - was the place that the worst of convicts were sent to, but I had never known of this pitiless device. Does its ghost still linger? Can the cries of the men still be heard in the silence? – on the wind?

The method of operation on the treadmill was for the convicts, in leg-irons or without them, to grasp an overhead rail with both hands and tread the 9-inch wide steps or treads, as if walking continuously upstairs. They had to step out briskly or be painfully hit on the shins by the next tread as it came round and so for long periods, often in steaming heat, they were forced to tread unremittingly, as though on a long march. (ibid., page 14.)

The thought arose: do the ghosts of the suffering convicts and their brutal guards still haunt us? Does Australia have this lingering pain and desire for punishment as a part of its silent culture? Does government still have the lack of trust and the desire for control that those in the past held for their prisoners? Have rules for control in our laws and paperwork become stained with the past extremes? Is this why everyone, even those with passports, have to complete forms at ports? Is government merely continuing on with its old habits? Is this why ordinary people are banned from building?

Perhaps this is why the Board of Architects has developed its CPD programme? One can just not trust people – even architects – to do the right thing. After all, Francis Greenway was a convict; and architects, along with artists and nurses, were listed as those who were most likely to contract AIDS. The idea seemed to be that being ‘arty,’ architects were probably pansies, and AIDS came from homosexual contact. Had this trait been observed in the convicts? Could this careless perception of things subtle and beautiful only have arisen in those applying brute force and managing by strict control?

These generalisations are simply astonishing, but given the latter proposition, arguing that convict ghosts still linger in our midst is not so silly. The thought of the suffering on that treadmill in Wickham Terrace still gives nightmares. Such agony and hatred does not disappear, any more than, as Rem Koolhaus suggested, the energy and enthusiasm of the Russian constructivists did. His proposition was that this energy was transferred to America where modernism thrived. Did the convicts’ anguish and the guards’ disregard tarnish our society?

The more one thinks about place and its character in Australia, the more one can believe that our past has infiltrated into our present systems, albeit very subtly. This could explain why Australia is different and why cities vary. What else lingers in our present and changes us today? Conviction? – a conviction to govern all as untrustworthy incompetents? A conviction to cheat the system? Is this lack of trust why we have CPD, because we all know that it will become a numbers game, in spite of any different intent or spin? What the profession needs is the conviction to act to overcome such silliness. Learning is more than convicts ticking boxes and guards checking these. It is more than a roll call where one makes claims for being and another looks to confirm this. This only means that the tick of approval has been allocated at this time, for this particular circumstance. Nothing else. Architects, like others, do not want to be controlled as convicts once were. Francis Greenway had the conviction to take government on. Why not us? Why is the professional body doing nothing other than re-enacting a past of subservience? One wonders: will we be put on the treadmill for protesting? – for questioning? Is this why there is silence?

ANGRY BIRDS

The manchester store in Penang populated three floors with crowded rows of products - cloth, curtains, clothing, complete with accessories and sundries. It was all a rather daunting clutter; but there had been a promise to buy the grandchildren a 'little something' from this trip back to beautiful Penang. The mixed cultures in Georgetown offered a wonderful variety of choices, especially in clothing and food. The Indian community seemed to manage mainly money exchanges and fabric - including clothing. Gold and food was handled predominantly by the Chinese community, but there were other more mixed uses too that involved the many cultures that thrive in the framework of the original British settlement. The Malay community seemed to form the Government bodies. The British left in 1957.

The idea was that we might be able to select a tee shirt with a printed something on it to tell of Penang. So we thumbed and fumbled through the racks. There was little that attracted the eye. Were we too fussy? There was an abundance of choice but, once size had been selected, the graphics on offer were either too cliche or too crass - too sentimental or too dainty - with the tee shirt base colours being either too rudely bright or too pastel. We discovered a dark green olive tee shirt that looked an attractive hue for an eleven-year old. On removing it from the rack, it revealed a not unattractive graphic in bold, blobby colours with the words 'Angry Birds' under it in cheeky, grafiti-styled lettering. What did all of this mean? We were bamboozled, so we asked the attendant. She told us that she really had little idea about the meaning of 'Angry Birds,' but said that the tee shirts sold well and were popular with the children. Well, this seemed a good enough recommendation, so we purchased what was very likely the only tee shirt acceptable to us. It was dutifully carried down three floors to the cash register staff by the attendant who thanked us and left us to pay for this purchase. The process reminded us of other older eras that managed sales with a relaxed, formal ease when both time and manpower were plentiful - before the days of time management and functional analyses: time and motion studies. The system looked remarkably extravagant to our eyes that were more tuned to strategies that were shaped to maximise efficiency. The tee shirt was processed, wrapped and paid for. A hand written receipt was passed over to document this tiny transaction. When opened by the grandchild, the tee shirt proved to be a winner. It was put on immediately, displayed with pride and not taken off for some days.

Angry Birds turned out to be a computer game that the children had on their ipods. Watching the game being played explained the graphics and clarified the references. Each Angry Bird had its own unique character and characteristics. One by one, they were placed into a slingshot and fired at their adversaries, be these caged birds, cats or some other invention. It was so basic that one wondered what all the fuss was about. Touch the screen near the slingshot, move the finger back as though stretching the rubber band - and the graphic did just this - adjust the angle for the planned trajectory, and then remove the finger to release the bird. If all went well, the cat or other adversary in the line of fire would explode on contact with a direct hit, or respond similarly as the surrounding structural elements collapsed on top of the 'baddies.' Then another bird jumped into the sling for the next shot. The aim was to eradicate all baddies. Scores were accumulated for every element and baddie demolished or blown up. After all birds had been used, or when all cats or the baddies had been exterminated, a banner would appear on the screen declaring the achieved total score in a bewildering roll count of numbers, a little like the roll of the wheels in a poker machine This dramatic presentation was highlighted by stars that burst out like fireworks as larger stars were stamped onto the screen to declare which level of three possible outcomes had been achieved. Level one was the lowest and most rudimentary of outcomes, seemingly requiring little skill or guile. One had to discover subtle and more shrewd approaches and strategies in order to reach the higher levels. The whole game was accompanied with dramatic music, thumping and banging to suit the various stages of the game in the same way that 'Who wants to be a Millionaire' uses background sound to emphasize the trauma, drama and wonder of the occasion. If one did not eradicate all cats and baddies, the large banner would flash onto the screen with a sigh of despair, declaring for everyone to hear that you had failed. All of this only offered the player the challenge to get the baddies or to achieve a higher level in the game which turned out to be a set of thirty different games. With three levels per game, this particular set offered the player ninety game opportunities. The other matter that drove one on to succeed was that the next game could only be accessed once at least a level one had been achieved on the game before it. The whole Angry Bird game was an intricate maze of challenges that stimulated more and more effort until all ninety levels had been achieved. Then there were other sets to be tackled. The children knew all about the particular details, tasks, rules and characters. The bright yellow stars that accumulated under the graphic marker for each game made everything obvious. The voids disclared that more effort was needed, while all achievement was praised with copious stars, both bold and bursting. Basically this was a war game with praise and encouragement being given for destruction and extermination.

It was some weeks later while searching the App Market for an app to allow me to use the tablet for writing documents like this one, that I stumbled upon an Angry Birds Space app. It was in fact recommended by the editor as one of the best free aps for the week. Free! Gosh, I might as well download it and explore this Angry Bird phenomenon myself. When children are around it is just impossible to get the ipod out of their hands for longer than half a minute; and during this half minute, the little fingers are still poking around larger digits that they see as moving too slowly. Now there was a chance to experience the game at my own pace without any distraction. It is important to think about things, not only because of the hidden structure of the games, but also to review what the games were doing to the player. So Space Birds was downloaded. It only took about thirty seconds and the games could start. It turned out to be an 'olympic' occasion.

Game one was clicked, a screen with space-styled things moving slowly across it appeared, along with the slingshot and the cats in some structure surrounded by a circles. Aim, fire. The birdie  went spinning around into infinity, completely missing the cat. Oh, I see - gravity. One has to allow for the distortions to the trajectory caused by planets. Clever. So with this trial and error learning curve, one kept going until the cats were exploded. There were many fails and loud sighs, but when one achieved an outcome, stars appeared to grade the outcome in tune with the triumphant fanfare. There was no better praise than having three stars pounded down to complete the set and the level three outcome. Then on to the next game - and so on. It was all very clever. Each game offered a new challenge to be decyphered, and this had to be resolved on each of the three different levels that explored different possibilities and methods. The process intoxicated one, drew one in and on, so that there was only me and my tablet. The rest of the universe was excluded as I explored the tricks in this Angry Birds Space. The designers must have had fun in creating this entertainment for it involved complex logic and mathematics. Of course, some games and levels were easier than others. It appeared as though the programming of these games included variations to allow for immediate success or possible repeated failures until a certain effort had been made. One became cynical when certain combinations gave outcomes that varied from time to time. Still, it was all very intriguing. It also engaged the player in a self-centred delight, so much so that I have to record that I finally, after much perseverance on some games, achieved level three on two sets of thirty games - a grand total of 180 games. Now with repeated failures and the required repetition, this probably meant that I had made, say, over one thousands attempts, with all the time this required. It was truly astonishing. One can see how young minds get sucked into timelessness and indulgence  - and why parents ban such things! I don't ever want to go through this experiment again.

The experience does raise some questions about our new technologies and architecture. Are they changing us? Is the nexus between machine programme and man making us more and more introverted and self-interested? Is it emphasizing our singular self-importance? Is it making our architecure into a game - e.g. how clever can one be, with the stars appearing metaphorically in ones own eyes when the most extreme distortions have been successfully interralated to become a building programme? Do we need to take steps to counter this isolating and self-important-making technology? I recall students becoming extremely impressed with their own very sketchy and unresolved work when carried out on computer drawing programmes that allow many and varied complex images to be created from the most rudimentary arrangement of lines. 3D vistas galore only made the maker more than self-satisfied with his/her own searching efforts, so that what would once have been indecypherable scrible becomes a set of images that are handed in as a final design - which leaves the student considering him/herself as being close too genius.

Now this is student work. If architectural practices manage the results of machine manipulations in a similar manner - even only with a small percentage of likeness - one has to be concerned. Here the rough sketch created by the computer ironically relies on the computational skills of the computer to be turned into a building in the real world. It is so self-referential that it carries all of the problems of inbreeding. There is nothing objective left to test the outcones, especially when the maker, too, is being so impressed with the outcomes of his/her key pressing. One has to wonder if it is this circumstance that is giving rise to the extreme personal confidence with such randomly distorted forms and images that are being transformed into real buildings for real people with real functional requirements. Do we need Angry Birds to begin demolition - even demolition of egos - so that true critiques can reveal new challenges that can touch us rather than startle and amaze or puzzle? Is it the Hirst effect where exaggerated difference is glorified as genius for all of us to gaze at in anxious and humiliated, shy wonder, always fearing to ask the question or express any doubt because of the sheer gaul being displayed? While this observational query might be somewhat speculative, what is clear in architectural offices today is the way computers have taken over as the primary thought process. Before anything is started, computing issues are attended to. In the documentation, these same matters arise, leaving the finer issues in design and detailing muddied, if not by technique or process, then by the necessities of mathematical patterns. How many times does one see the command 'mirror and 'copy' being used to replicate similar situations without the required adjustments being completed for the new situation? And there are many other examples too. Can one ever recall time-consuming discussions in the office concerning which pen or pencil, or set square, should be used for a drawing? Can any discussions on how an eraser can be used be remembered?

Technology has transformed architectural practice and architecture - and ourselves. While it takes time to be able to use new systems unselfconsciously, as the electric guitar has shown, we do need to ensure that we are not being dragged off into a brave new world that distorts everything just because it is there. We have to be better than this and avoid the distracting tricks of new games. Raw human life and qualities do not alter. Architecture needs to be handled gently and guided carefully with a modest questioning and earnest seeking, and not be driven by self-centred diversions and pumped-up egos. History is one way in which we can gauge our efforts. It can help us remember - to recall, not only the possibilities of the past but those of the future as well; a future, one hopes, that can be assessed side by side with the past and not be mocked as less - for being so carelessly and indulgently frivolous. The core of tradition is remembrance. We forget at our own risk. Consider UR and compare.

STAR RATING

It seemed a surprising juxtaposition - the footballer in smart 'civilian / business' clothing and the different, so-called tensegrity bridge: see ARCHITECTURAL AMBASSADOR blog. What was the message here? The headline played with odd references: 'Locker champions a fresh field.' What was this word play suggesting? The text soon made it clear: 'Locker has been appointed an ambassador for Queensland architecture.' One wondered, who has appointed him and why? Again, the text made this partially clear: 'working with promotional programme HEAT.' What is HEAT? - 'a Queensland government initiative.' Gosh, this was all news for me. I wondered who thought this idea up and why Darren Locker had been chosen.

As if to explain this point, the article continued with a quote from Locker: "I've seen a lot of architecture around the world and as other countries speak different languages, so, too, there are different architectural languages. I want to introduce people to the style of architecture we have in Queensland."

This all sounds somewhat reasonable, almost as though Mr. Locker might have had some words put into his mouth or suggested to him for him to adapt. Language and form do have an intellectual basis in things architectural, just as context does. But why does a government take such an initiative? Who is to be introduced to this work? It all had a strange ring to it. Why choose a chap with good ball skills and game sense to promote things subtle and sensitive? Rugby League has a reputation for being a rough, tough game.  Why use this contact to promote whatever Queensland architecture might be? Lockyer's architectural commentary appears to be somewhat limited: "That house is just so fantastic, I love it." Is this two statements or one? It is not clear, but there is a difference. What is going to be said about Queensland architecture? How? When?

More quotes are given. The words 'conceptual stage' are used to professionally describe the new house being designed for his family - "We didn't tell him (the architect) how many rooms we wanted or that kind of thing" - and then we are given: "The good thing about a house that has been architectually designed is that you never get bored with it. You come home every day and you just really love the space you live in (and)  it makes you happy, and life is too short not to be happy."

One is left a little unsure about the quality of architecture that can bring happiness, and hopes that Mr. Locker has given his architect a budget. One of the recurring complaints with the profession has to do with budgets - how dreams of clients and / or architects frequently clash with costs. As for ensuring happiness, architects know very well how often marriage problems stimulate a desire for a new future with a new, architect-designed house as the solution for everlasting bliss, only with the time and energy required for this task becoming a distraction that postpones the inevitable. Happiness has many different and diverse roots and necessities if it is to endure.

Is this a good idea? Mr. Locker is very well known and is extremely popular. He is sometimes called a 'legend.' Does architecture need such an individual for its promotion? Will the idea be counterproductive? What is the idea? Indeed, what is 'HEAT'? A Google search reveals that the RAIA is involved. A video clip of Queensland's ex-premier extolling the virtues of this idea and offering her full support is played. One has to wonder what all of this means now. Given that the new premier has scrapped the previous premier's literary award, will this new government support this appointment?  The Google listing starts: HEAT - Queensland's new wave of environmental architects . . . HEAT Architecture is an international business initiative with a simple objective: to raise the international profile and export sales of Quensland architecture.  . .

The next listing tells more: As you would be aware, HEAT, Queensland's new wave of environmental architects, is a major marketing initiative of the Creative Industries Unit of.  . . I have to admit to being totally unaware.

Well, there is more to be discovered about this. One remains puzzled about the whole affair. If the analogy of different countries having different languages is useful and true, then why on earth is Queensland's 'architecture' being exported, as the blurb suggests? Surely the argument is that architecture is regional - specific to its context? Why seek to impose our happiness onto others? Is this possible? Is it sensible?

Perhaps the idea of using stars to promote architecture is as problemmatical as using them to score an environmental rating for buildings. One has to be very careful with things environmental - and with architecture. The category of 'environmental architects' is a concern. Why not just architects? The situation is even more alarming when one recalls that the two newest schools of architecture in the southeast region of Queensland are both a smaller part of the environmental studies departments of their respective universities. There seems to be a real danger of things architectural being watered down to issues environmental alone. That wonderful, broad intellectual base of architectural studies could soon be diminished. Architecture does include things environmental, but it is much more. Subtle issues such as those worked with by the Scottish nature artist Andy Goldsworthy could easily be shoved aside in favour of calculations and statistics, and detailed studies of the past like those of John James at Chartres and its region could quickly become an anachronism; as could the work of Christopher Alexander on the nature of order. We specialize at our own risk. Architecture must retain its own place in this world on its own substantial grounds. The danger is that turning it into an environmental export commodity to be promoted by footballers is likely to demean it and belittle all those who retain a commitment to its' complexity - to its' rich intrigues; its' beauty; its history; its' rigour; its' intelligence.

A TRY IS NOT A TRY

 It was an elegant move. The player chased the ball down, grabbed it close to the line, carefully controlled his balance as he ensured his feet were both just inside the line and, all with one graceful swing as he fell, passed the ball back to a colleague who ran across the line to place it under the goal posts. Rarely does Rugby League offer up such a pleasing spectacle. But there were still doubts. Was the line touched? Was the player on side? Was there any interference? These events all occurred within a couple of seconds, so the eye alone could not be relied upon for such a complex assessment. The referee lifted his arms and, with mirror movements of his hands, outlined a rectangular path in space. He was calling for the opinion of the video referee. After what seemed a long wait, the television screen switched from closeups of anxious players to large graphics. The eye stared expectantly at the wide white blank. Finally, text forms appeared, spinning through the void to declare in huge green, triumphant letters, the word 'TRY.' The font was bold and extended, as if to scream out the result with a certain finality.

 

'TRY' - isolated in this extreme manner, the word sounded strange. It was somewhat like the circumstance where a familiar word is seen for the first time differently, leaving one puzzled about its use and its spelling. 'TRY'? It was a strange name for success. One might have spoken about the way that the team had been trying without success for some twenty minutes to score. Now that the player has managed to get the ball over the line, the effort is named a 'TRY.' One tries to achieve outcomes in various other situations, but the outcome is not named a 'TRY.' 'TRY' sounds like an attempt that has not given the planned or preferred result. Why is it used here for success - when the goal has ben achieved? Indeed, other games call such an outcome a 'GOAL,' a word that seems to hold more logical sense in its context. Why does Rugby League have its own ironic naming? Is it just poor English - a player's try; his successful attempt?

Anyhow, one can be sure that whatever the case and the logic, the players will keep on trying to score a try. Yes, it's all rather trying, but it does highlight how complacent we can become with our language - and our architecture too. The presence of meaning is easily blurred by our familiarity with things. It was only when he knew that he was close to death that Dennis Potter came to understand that startling wonder of the presence of a simple flower. If we became more aware of our environments and their forming, then we might care more for our places and work harder to overcome our complacency. At least we could try rather than continue to enjoy our entertaining distractions. Consider: a door is not a door; a window is not a window.

ARCHITECTURAL AMBASSADOR

Lockyer champions a fresh field

• From: The Australian
• April 05, 2012 12:00AM

League legend Darren Lockyer says he is relishing his new role as ambassador for Queensland architecture. Picture: Mark Lobo Source: The Australian

 

DARREN Lockyer has always been more than a rugged face and a husky voice, and in his retirement from professional football the former Brisbane Broncos, Queensland Maroons and Kangaroos captain is the champion of a new field.

Lockyer has been appointed an ambassador for Queensland architecture, working with promotional program HEAT, a Queensland government initiative. "I've seen a lot of architecture around the world and as other countries speak different languages so, too, there are different architectural languages. I want to introduce people to the style of architecture we have in Queensland."
Lockyer, who was born in Roma in the state's southwest, reveals how his interest in architecture began when, in the late 1990s, he drove by a house in the Brisbane suburb of Bardon designed by local architect Shane Thompson and thought: "That house is just so fantastic, I love it."
Now 34, married to Loren Pollock and with two children -- Flynn and Sunny -- he is building his first family home and has commissioned young Brisbane-based design firm Owen and Vokes.
"It's at the conceptual stage," he said. "At one of the first meetings with Paul (Owen) I walked out thinking that things would go really well because instead of Paul asking us what sort of house we wanted, or what it should look like, he asked: 'How do you live, can you tell me the way you guys live, and we'll design the space and structure around that feedback.'
"With two kids, and in time more kids coming, it's important that everything is on one level and the kids can go out on to a grassed area. We didn't tell him how many rooms we wanted or that kind of thing, it was that we wanted the children to be able to play, but in the afternoon we wanted to be able to invite friends over and have a glass of wine -- and we wanted to be able to entertain, but not have the kids under our feet.
"The good thing about a house that is architecturally designed is that you never get bored with it. You come home every day and you just really love the space you live in (and) it makes you happy, and life is too short not to be happy.
"If you spend a lot of time at home, particularly when you are raising a family, being in an environment that you are really happy to be in makes you really productive in every other area of your life."