studio sisu

I discovered Mairead Murphy's workspace, Studio Sisu, via her Instagram. Drawn to the generosity of daylight, the openness of the plan, the pristine styling and the artfully dishevelled character of the original warehouse, I've been absolutely hankering to see it in the flesh.

The delightfully down-to-earth Mairead (pronounced Mah-ray-d, I found out the embarrassing way) was kind enough to show me around. The space proved to be just as striking in reality. Entering through a small courtyard, Mairead emerged through a pair of large antique doors. We headed straight upstairs to the main workspace, where the shift in natural light conditions made it all the more dramatic. With a generous lounge area, large communal table for both meetings and breakout, plus the more private "phone-call" swing, this is the kind of space that would make the daily experience of coming to work an exciting one.

Mairead shared a few stories about the pieces in the space. We chatted about the re-upholstered arm chair she found on the side of the road years ago, the antique doors she had restored and the stories behind the various artworks. Perhaps that's what makes this space so interesting for me. It raises the bar for workspaces, treating the space as a place for living and not just working.

It's clear that it took hard work and determination to get Studio Sisu to where it is today. Mairead and her partner bought the space as a run down warehouse shell seven years ago. It sat idle for five years while they furiously saved. They abandoned the original plan to convert it into their home and instead turned it into Studio Sisu, to coincide with Mairead launching her own practice. They did as much of the physical labour as they could, seeking external help for joinery and services. That's a lot of time, sweat and personal energy invested into this little studio.

Studio Sisu is truly breathtaking and I think that has a lot to do with Mairead's sharp eye, many talents, hard work and inspiring determination. If this is anything to go by, I can't wait to see what emerges from her young practice.

The Commons, Brunswick

I think I found it. Urban living utopia, that is. Jodi Newcombe, founder and Director of Carbon Arts, was kind enough to show me through her apartment at The Commons in Brunswick.

Designed by Breathe Architecture, The Commons has quickly become the poster child of sustainable multi-res development. With social and environmental sustainability at the forefront of every design decision, this eight-star rated building stands miles apart from your typical speculative developer project. The result is an eco-village filled with impressive facilities, liveable spaces and a palpable sense of community. The fact that Breathe’s director, Jeremy McCleod proudly calls this place his home is testament to his utter belief and commitment to the project.

Walking through the entry, Jodi explains that the bricks were recycled from the building that once occupied the site. The flecks of old graffiti are scattered across the wall; a romantic gesture hinting at the building’s history as well as a means of minimizing landfill. A blackboard notice board on the wall reads “Please be careful not to spill bin juice on the floor, makes me sad [insert sad face]” accompanied by smiling cartoon animations. The tone is wildly different to the neighbourly conduct I've seen in my time.

We continue through to an enormous bicycle storage facility. Due to strong public transport connectivity and proximity to local shops, the project team convinced council that bicycle parking could be provided in lieu of carparking. The residents also have access to a car share program parked in front of the block. I’m sure this was no easy feat and fortunately, the successful battle sets a precedent for future projects.

We then took the lift up to the roof terrace which includes the roof top garden (supported by an in-house compost system), photovoltaic panels, large communal outdoor living area and even a bee hive. Oh yes, and the rooftop is blessed with absolutely killer 360degree views over Melbourne. At this point I’m wondering how this place is even real.

We finally arrive at Jodi’s apartment. A 72sqm two bedroom space (with one bedroom converted into a study). On top of this, Jodi has 20sqm of outdoor space spread across two balconies and a central courtyard. The impression of spaciousness is immediate, with generous doses of natural light and ventilation filtering through.

Reduction of materials and processes drove much of the interior design. The concrete ceiling is exposed, giving the added benefit of taller ceilings. The bathroom has raw concrete floors and copper tapware, eliminating the chroming process. Recycled timber was sourced from a range of sites for the flooring, meaning the species in each apartment varies. Joinery is made from unfinished formply with simple cutouts in place of joinery knobs.

Admittedly, I had seen photos of The Commons unfurnished and was concerned it might be a little hard and cold. However, Jodi’s apartment well and truly dispelled that as myth. In fact, the raw materiality injects the space with soul and unique sense of character. It’s a beautiful, homely space to be in and if it were mine, I would happily live there long term.

Although commercial success wasn’t the sole driving force for this project, The Commons has proven that this kind of development has legs. I was excited to hear that Breathe are planning a second development of a similar vein, and there are murmurings of others planning similar developments, using The Commons as a model. It’s so exciting to see this initiative create a shift at a broader scale and raising the bar for apartment living.

In all honesty, The Commons was one of the most inspirational buildings I’ve ever visited. I would encourage every architect, interior designer, developer and curious soul to find their way in. The good news? Jodi’s place is listed on Airbnb. Huzzah! Now please form an orderly queue.

  

high court, canberra

One thing that Canberra has above other Australian cities are grandiose civic buildings. Edwards Madigan Torzillo Briggs' design for the High Court must be one of this country's finest examples of Brutalist Architecture.

Built in the 1970s, the building is a grand hall with three courts suspended internally and a series of ramps and stairs linking between. The structure is predominantly concrete, with glass draped across one face of the forty metre tall building.

The concrete in the main hall has been formed with sculptural details that are finely detailed but strong and robust in character. The waffled ceilings, chamfered reveals around openings and gently curving edges sent me and my camera into quite the frenzy.

skyspace, james turrell

If you follow me on Instagram you might know that I've been in Canberra working on a set design for a dance piece. It's happening all again in Melbourne in five weeks, so I'll share a bit more about this later.

While in the neighbourhood, I visited James Turrell's Skyspace at the National Gallery. A circular pavilion within a square pavillion, the whole structure is partly submerged under water. Descending down a ramp through the moat, the textured ochre walls, sandwiched between the open sky and bright blue pool, draw immediate attention to the quality of light, colour and form within the room.

Upon entering the central round pavilion, attention immediately shifted to the sky through the oculus in the domed ceiling. I visited at dusk which coincides with the light show. The domed ceiling shifted from one colour to another; white, grey, orange, pink then purple. With each shift the sky transformed in colour and depth, at times looking infinite and other times looking like a flat coloured disk. When the dome turned a pale lavender, turning the sky a sea green, I gently slipped away.

It may not have knocked my socks off in the same way as his work at Naoshima (after that there's no coming back) but it was yet another example of Turrell's mastery in light, colour and perception. Well worth the visit!

cockatoo island, sydney biennale

Last weekend I escaped to Sydney for the weekend and managed to visit Cockatoo Island for the Biennale. Setting off from the wharf at Circular Quay, the ferry ride marked a distinct severance from Sydney CBD and a passage into a new world.

Set within the context of a pre-settlement convict base and shipyard, the Biennale imaginatively uses the site to create an exciting cultural playground. You can probably tell from a few of my art-free photos that I was quite enamoured by the site itself. From the sound installation occupying the low, cylindrical bunker, to the giant waterfall projection in the cavernous warehouse, the site’s qualities are fully exploited.

Gerda Steiner and Jörg Lenzlinger‘s installation was particularly memorable. The interactive installation uses low-tech methods attached to gym equipment to delight the visitor. Bubbles, flailing coloured flowers, dancing skeletons and clanging symbols are activated as the equipment is used. With some of the reactions occurring on the opposite side of the room, I became hyper aware of my movement and the movement of others in the room.

I only had a couple of hours to explore so I’m sure I missed out on seeing it all. However, I saw enough to be convinced that travelling to Sydney for the Biennale is well and truly worth it. I’m half tempted to fly back and check out the other Biennale sites…

fraser st

I'm breaking the unplanned blogging silence with some shots from a recent little styling job for a house that was an old Chamberlain Javens Architects project.

Images above by me and images below by Fraser Marsden.

grundtvig church, copenhagen

If you've been following me for a while, you may remember that this Danish church was one of the my first posts. My admiration for this monolithic brick structure hasn't subsided in the least, so I'm excited to share these photos from my in-the-flesh visit.

The approach to the building wasn't quite what I was expecting. Located outside of the city centre, the church was built as part of a new housing development in the 1910s. A series of identical houses were formally arranged along an axis leading up to the church entry. I found the solid brick facade a little severe, particularly in tandem with the surrounding housing development. It felt like Metropolis meets new suburbia, which was a little unnerving.Yet when I cracked open the side door, all apprehension dissipated. This space was as sublime as I had been expecting. The beauty of the brick detailing, the gentle vertical rhythm and the almost foggy pale glow of light washing down the nave - nothing let me down. On top of that, there was nobody else in there. I had his heavenly space, all to myself. How blissful and surreal.

rundetaarn, copenhagen

In seven and a half helical rotations, Rundetaarn in Copenhagen transports pedestrians from the footpath to the top of the observatory tower. The steady incline to the top spirals between a monolithic brick floor and the rhythmic curves of the vaulted ceiling above. Embedded halfway up the journey is a gallery space, which during my visit, housed a exhibition on hand drawings. Super bonus, Secret Garden style.

Now that's what I call an arrival procession done right.