Tell-tale mannerisms

Painters sign their name in a corner of their canvas. Even Banksy signs his name on a brick on the laneway wall. The same goes with architects, I guess. Their stylistic quirks become a signature of sorts. Frank Lloyd Wright's work is recognisable, as is Gaudi's, as is Harry Seidler's. I am starting to realise the same can be said about Walter Burley Griffin.

How does one personalise an incinerator? WBG did it with his choice of building material, for starters. He loved the solid granite and less-solid sandstone of the Australian bush that is everywhere on the Castlecrag peninsula. However, there are two other signatures to this building. See the art-deco like design scattered around the building, the angular design. I can find that in his domestic work. See the narrow slits-for windows. That, too, is in his domestic work. Show you next post. There is another shot of the incinerator that I did not realise I needed. Did not realise was THERE. I have to go back and get it. Will take me a coupla daze.

Reverberating sewage and garbage

A reverberatory incinerator uses a vertical top gravity feed process. It was an Australian patented design by Essendon engineer John Boadle. It achieved much higher efficiency preheating and partly drying the refuse whilst it moved down a sloping, vibrating grate within the combustion chamber. The combustion chamber was designed to ‘reverberate’ heat on to the incoming refuse. The vertical top gravity feed process required incinerator buildings to be built on steeply sloping sites or embankments.

So, yes, in answer to Letty's query of yesterday, an incinerator for burning stuff, just not amputated legs! Household refuse and sanitation bins. As you can see from the clipping, there were NIMBYs in those days, too. Eventually these complaints became a crescendo and the incinerator was stopped in 1974. It was converted into a restaurant for a few years, then a set of offices for architects, then it remained empty for a decade. Then Willoughby Council came to the rescue, and voila, The Incinerator Art Space.

Burley Griffin and his incinerator fetish

The Willoughby Incinerator was dedicated in September 1934 based upon a design by Griffin and his business partner, Eric Milton Nicholls. It now stands in Bicentennial Park, Willoughby [close to the leisure center], with the local council spending squillions to restore it to heritage standard as an art space. I will focus upon this building this week. Today I show you the roofline of the incinerator, and the lift to take folk like myself down to the exhibition space avoiding the rather steep, but safe enough, steps. Why do I say 'fetish'? There is another municipal incinerator designed by WBG over in Glebe. When I google, I find that they designed and built 18 incinerators, 12 of them in Sydney, two of which are still standing. This one looks a bit like a crematorium, which figures. Show you tomorrow. What do you think of Richard Goodwin's 2011 "Exoskeleton Lift"? Complements the incinerator - but the Art Space was open on ANZAC Day, whilst the lift was locked.

From his castle to his incinerator

Something there is in me that is becoming less and less enamoured of ANZAC Day, its plastic sincerity, and overweening jingoism. But like Douglas and Wilde, this is a perfidy that dare not speak its name, lest I be stoned, and forever regarded as an inner-city latte-sipping leftie. So it was with heavy heart, but tripping feet, that I took my camera for a walk yesterday, not into the den of flowing amber that were the streets of the CBD, but along part of the Griffin Federation Track, through Northbridge down to Bicentennial Park, Willoughby, where stands the reverbrating incinerator that Walter Burley Griffin designed and built in 1934. My camera leash was relaxed a little, and way allowed to lead onto way. On Sailors Bay Road, opposite the Shore playing fields, I loitered round a series of half-a-dozen shops, no doubt conceived and owned by bright young things with shiny degrees in modernity. They could, of course, be tax deductions for struggling consultants, but that would be unkind of me, not to say libelous. 'The Cookery Book' must surely be blemish-free. The facade of the building is tawdry, and mangled above the awning, lacking respect and maintenance in equal portion. My interest was aroused by the 'Haron's Building' emblazoned across one wall. Had the 's' been chipped off? Who was Haron? Of course, Google came to the rescue being the repository of a wondrous number of half done family trees. Haron was one William Bede Haron, who entered upon this life in 1846 and departed it in 1926. Initially a drayman, he later became a builder.

Walkways and reserves - Turret Reserve

As my knowledge of this fascinating area deepens, I realise that I should have presented things differently. But I guess the bumpy ride is in real-time. I have shown you Tower Reserve already, as I wanted to explain the derivation of the name, Castlecrag. The reserves and walkways were part of the plans originally drawn up by the Griffins for both the Castlecrag Estate and the Haven Estate. I have included the plan [c. Griffin Society] as a separate page, and given time and head-space, will note the location of each of the reserves. There are seven reserves in all, not including the Haven Amphitheatre which is in a category of its own: Cortile Reserve Turret Reserve The Keep Reserve Lookout Reserve Tower Reserve Oriel Reserve Casement Reserve

The Turret Reserve I stumbled across by noticing a signpost between 12 and 14 The Parapet. Being a timid, law-abiding creature, it is confrontingly bold to just bowl down a 'sort of' track beside a house, just like any peeping-tom. I was given heart with this one by a jogger puffing up the track. Luckily, it burst into a full blown walkway of generous proportion part-way round, with glorious views. However, I was intimidated when the track narrowed again, and turned around BEFORE the glory of the 'turret' itself. So, shall make a point of entering from the other direction to get the reserve in all its glory. It was well used by joggers, and by dog walkers. And by people offering to help me ... but I must do it myself.

Come into my parlour ...

This garden gate is in The Parapet which is littered with realised designs by Walter Burley Griffin. Do you see the similarity with the garden gate shown last week from 215 Edinburgh Road?

Thomson House - 156 Edinburgh Road

Interesting task to walk around the Castlecrag Estate (Burley Griffin's first development) and try to pick the "WBG houses". I have a list of them, but trying to pick them by style alone is a challenge. I thought this was one, and I was not out by much. The house next door is the Felstead House, built in 1924. But what of this rapidly deteriorating specimen?

It is 'the Thomson House' built in 1946 from a design by Griffin's partner, Eric Nicholls, remembering that Griffin passed away in 1937. I guess it has been 67 years, but I still find this kinda sad. The most recent sale that I can find was 1999 when it changed hands for $1,450,000. It is on an 850sq m block. The garden is overgrown, but I suspect the adding of the second storey has obliterated the clean lines of the original house. The sandstone decoration I find a delight, as are the entrance way and the garage, which could also do with some TLC.

Neither urban nor suburban, but more natural reserve

Sign-a-holic perhaps, but my local council is at least keen on hawking the benefits of my new area. Both these signs are within 250m of my new abode. Long-necked turtles, goannas, sugar-gliders, buff-banded rails, swamp wallabies, and eastern spinebills. I won't hold my breath though.

More than just joining in ...

Community participation is a badge of honour in many areas of Sydney. I have lived in three such: Glebe where the Glebe Society has aims including the conservation of our Victorian and Federation heritage, ensuring progress is based on best-outcomes and is resident-friendly, providing the community with input into decisions which affect them,and the enhancement of community spirit. Paddington where the Paddington Society has aims including To maintain all features of Paddington having beauty, architectural or historical value. To preserve existing open spaces and expand these for the health and enjoyment of our community. To maintain harmony with existing architectural patterns where new buildings are constructed. To prevent disfiguring of premises, streets, and open spaces by ugly advertisements, poles, wires and "unseemly structures". To protect residents from noise and other nuisances that prevent the quiet enjoyment of their homes. And now, Castlecrag where the Castlecrag Progress Association has objectives including To do everything possible to promote and further the interests of the district of Castlecrag or other nearby areas where it is possible that benefit could accrue to the advantage of the district and could enhance and stimulate the community life of residents of Castlecrag and environs. To conserve the natural and human heritage of Castlecrag for the benefit of future generations. The first two could be read as attempting to create gated communities.

Dross amongst the gold

Outlandish is not the first word that springs to mind when one walks/scrambles around Castlecrag, whereas it was over in Paddington. Here, they like architecture to be avant-garde and edgy, but not eclectic.They are neither Newtown nor Fitzroy. In my gutter crawls I would frequently stumble [!] across a derelict building, but a small frission travelled my spine when I perchanced upon an abandoned building on Edinburgh Road.

The house is low, off the road, on a double-block with a due-north aspect over pristine bushland. Boasting unimpeded views of Crag Cove in Middle Harbour, this property traded in May 2011 for $2.4m.

Pick your draw up. It is derelict, right. Full or rats and roaches, snakes and spiders. And two years later, in a static market ... it sits here.

Curvaceous

Here is a close-up of the gate from yesterday that so entranced Letty. It is a doozey, isn't it? Known as the Moriarty House [after the owner], this was designed by Eric Nicholls in 1940 and built in 1942, Nicholls being another of WBG's partners in he GSDA. For mine, is art-deco style, but speak up if I am wrong. I am known for taking a long-bow, but here I have a choice of two. Firstly, this design could be in homage to Griffin's contour focus for his roads, although this example of gate is on Edinburgh Road which is broad and straight with just a couple of kinks. However, the gentle cascade of sods of newly ploughed earth also comes to mind. The rock used in the pillars and fence are a direct reference to the rock used by Griffin in his houses.

Updating the Griffin model

Walter Burley and his architectural partner, Marion Mahoney, moved into their own house on the Castlecrag Estate in 1925. I will show you their house in a later post. My point is that 1925 is a while ago, and only 15 of their designs were made manifest. So, was it a vision, or a mere fancy?

What I am endeavouring to do, is to show you how the Griffins imbibed - for folk from Chicago - a foreign landscape, and made it their own. I have shown you the prestigious 15 The Citadel, and teased you with smears of landscape. Today, I want to show you how glimpses of the Griffin legacy can still be seen in architecture around Castlecrag through the decades since the Griffins moved to India in 1935. Did I mention that the suburb that is Castlecrag today, was originally three development estates - Castlecrag Estate, Sunnyside Estate, and Wireless Estate - with decreasing levels of involvement by the Griffins or by their business partners? Needless to say, I live on the old Wireless Estate. The median house price in Castlecrag is $1.75m.

Anyways, to my untrained architectural eye, there is an whiff of Griffin to each house illustrated. What is missing is a splash of humility, even in the face of natural beauty. But humility is a sparse commodity nowadays.

The knack of being inconspicuous ...

In 2007 I took a 4WD tour from Adelaide to Uluru for 10 days. There were 10 of us in the long-wheel base vehicle, including the driver. I was the only Australian on the tour, the other 8 were mostly European backpackers, with a couple of tourists thrown in. In general, Australians do not value, nor respect, their environment. They use it, for their recreation, but don't put a value on it.

Walter Burley Griffin [1876 - 1937] and Marion Mahoney Griffin [1871 - 1961] were Americans from the mid-west, who having won the design competition, lobbed in Australia in 1912 to bring their vision for our National Capital to fruition. Anyone who knows Canberra today, will acknowledge that Canberra is perfectly sited within its landscape. The design - drawn by Marion - uses the natural landscape to perfection. Each hillock has its special purpose and the river running through it echoes that same narrative.

The Griffins attempted to do the same with the Castlecrag peninsula, which was and is, a landscape of a totally different ilk. And the era was different. The Greater Sydney Development Association [GSDA], purchased an interest in the Castlecrag estate in 1921, and the Great Depression began to bite in 1928/9. However, the Griffin's love of the harbour landscape, its hilly precipices, its mossy gullies, and its water glimpses saw them develop designs that endeavoured to squat their domestic buildings into that landscape.

Griffin House # 1 - The Fishwick, 15 The Citadel

Although Walter and Marion Griffin were prodigious designers, only 15 of their domestic houses were constructed.The Fishwick was built in 1929. It was not a good economic period. The client was Thomas W Fishwick, a representative of John Fowler & Co of Leeds. Built on a wedge-shaped block in The Citadel, it presents a forbidding narrow façade to the street, but has panoramic views to The Spit. Each of the Griffin houses is instantly recognisable, with their flat roofs and natural rock construction. I will try to set up a page for a map of Castlecrag to orient readers. Wish me luck ...

Scarpering is no longer an arrow in my quiver

Gingerly, I descended from The Bulwalk down to The Scarp, which reminded me of lanes around Saint Andre-de-Roquepertuis, just north of Avignon. By now, I had walked for 90 minutes [but in reality not very far], and was looking for a walkway on my right to take me back up to Edinburgh Road. I found it, and turned to snap The Scarp, looking west, which is the second shot. A Scarp, by the way, is the inner wall of a moat. The outer wall of a moat, is the counterscarp.

A stairway to paradise

This is the upper track that leads down from Tower Reserve, through The Bulwark, out onto The Scarp. All these tracks were included in the development plans drawn up by Walter Burley Griffin. They are mostly fairly rudimentary, which is probably deliberate.

Shitting in one's own nest

In Tower Reserve, between The Citadel and The Bulwark, stands the crag of Walter Burley Griffin's castle. It bears a residual resemblance to WBG's memories of Edinburgh's dominating Castle Rock, but only on a good day, and if the wind is from the right direction. On Google map, there appears to be an extensive Tower Reserve, but in reality development has encroached on the lower reaches, with backyards using it as an uncontested 'extension'. WBG was not involved in the development long enough to ensure safeguards were in place to show this landscape feature to its best advantage.

With my trusty stick, I beat my way along a series of paths/walking tracks/goat tracks in the general direction my country-girl head dictated. These goat-tracks are well sign-posted, which is a blessing. Gingerly, I made my ascent, and was well-rewarded. Facing south, I could easily see Centrepoint Tower, and facing East ... voila ... the Pacific Ocean in the distance with Sailors Bay in the foreground. The houses in the the mid-ground must be at Seaforth, indicating that the Spit Bridge is not too far away.

Of cabbages and kings

Conceits, of course, can be taken too far, so far that the elasticity afforded the concept snaps, and what was vision, is mere elitism.

Burley Griffin took his remembrance of Edinburgh Castle, and the rock upon which it stood, and filtered it through the development of his ideal suburb. Streets were designed and planned to follow the contour lines, with foreshores preserved for public access. This can clearly be seen when looking at a street map. However, the geekiest thing that WBG and his wife, Marion Mahoney Griffin [MMG] did was to name these streets after prominent features of castles.

A 'Sortie Port' is the same as a 'Sally Port'. Armed men go out on 'sorties', yes? Indeed, they 'sally' forth.

So let me acknowledge Griffin's conceit, and match him: "And I tell you, you are Peter, and on this rock I will build my church, and the powers of death shall not prevail against it." [Matthew 16:18].

Surely not ... let's bring it all crashing down, with this little beauty, snapped just two streets away.

The loathe-love tango

Generally, there are only two reactions to Canberra, Australia's national capital. People either loathe it or love it. Canberra was founded 100 years ago, in March 1913. It was a totally planned city, which is why people loathe it. They whinge that it has no soul, no colour, no character. It is a totally planned city, planned by Walter Burley Griffin and his wife, Marion Mahoney Griffin, both from the United States of America. In 1920, the Griffins moved their attention to Sydney, where they bought options to a swathe of land overlooking Middle Harbour. A rocky outcrop provided Griffin with the name of his holding, Castlecrag, as it reminded him of the ‘Castle Rock’ on which Edinburgh Castle stands. The main access road, running the length of the peninsula is Edinburgh Road. The Griffin vision was to develop an estate that was totally in-synch with its natural surroundings, which would attract like-minded citizens. Walter and Marion moved into their own house on the estate in 1925.

How long is a piece of string?

Before you can assess the length of that proverbial piece of string, it is necessary to find a beginning, and once found, an ending. My piece of string is a narrative - a story arc. Something that I scrabbled around in the dregs of this keyboard for all last week.

The fog may have risen, but that did not necessarily mean that I could see clearly now. I was still blinkered by a hankering after colonial-Sydney. Poor, silly me.

So I scheduled in some meanders around my new digs, sticking to streets, and paved paths so as not to cause my daughter unnecessary angst. I take my mobile with me, and give a return time. If I deplore being molly-coddled, then I have to think ahead. Not easy for the obstinant, and pig-headed, I do admit.

The arc of this small suburban settlement is determined by its physical attributes. Castlecrag sits upon a knobbly finger of peninsula that juts into Middle Harbour, barely 7kms north of the Sydney CBD. To understand the genesis, and growth of this glade, one must start from the natural world. Not a bad place to start.