the george hotel - harry b gibbs

The George Hotel. St Kilda Victoria, Australia.

Here, I discuss specifically the four-story corner structure, a landmark of the suburb of St. Kilda in Melbourne, Victoria. 

Hotels, often the domain of designers and architects that have been given a certain element of 'free reign' or, perhaps a little more artistic license than can often be witnessed in the finished products that are the more mundane commercial structures such as office blocks and other administrative structures. Hotels are, and always have been places for people to unwind, relax, indulge in gastronomic delights, escape the reality of their own day-to-day. Hotels are buildings that need to be designed in an alluring manner, to be as much of a draw card in many instances, as the food and fare that are sold inside the buildings. In today's diverse society we are used to our food and beverage needs and wants being served from many and varied types of operations from as varied a range of buildings. However, in the 1800's the 'hotel' was the cornerstone of the social-lives of all those affluent enough to enjoy them. Most hotels provided all the social, entertainment, refreshing beverage and accommodation needs to a population local to that particular institution, and it is by this rational and by this design that the legendary George Hotel came to be.

The 1890 construction on the corner of Fitzroy and Gray streets in St Kilda is a facade known not just to today's St Kilda locals, but to a whole generation and more, of people who have been seduced by the new wave of culinary pursuits pedaled by the commercial inhabitants of this building. The flaking white paint, circular turret sporting a single flagpole and the corner entry to what is known today as the Melbourne Wine Room have become not just a significant landmark of a significant Melbourne precinct, but an icon of good times, refinement of design and of an individual who is in many ways responsible for the dining habits of an entire city; Melbourne.

The Harry B Gibbs designed building was completed in 1890, and adjoined the earlier five-story building on Fitzroy street to become what we accept today as the George. Gloriously detailed in a fashion now completely absent from almost all adjoining commercial architecture in the area, the George serves as a time-marker for every significant era in the area's past. In the days when St Kilda was a fashionable sea-side resort town for Melbourne's well-heeled who would arrive by train across the street at the 1857-completed St Kilda Train Station, to the seventies and early eighties before the great hotel was abandoned when it was the host of the 'Crystal Ballroom', the venue for visiting punk rock outfits such as the Sex Pistols. The George has seen many turbulent times as a seedy and often undesirable hang-out for drug-dealers, bikies and other low-life that prompted the cancellation of the hotel's liquor license by Victorian Liquor and Gaming. A sad end to a long life that started as one of the most glamerous and well-appointed hotels in the entire state.

Few buildings, even of the same era in Victoria have the same level of detailing. A detailing that lent elegance and prestige now in its purposefully disheveled state, as it did in the late 1800's when it was brand new. As a design, the lure for me is the detailing. It is a quality that is largely absent from building exteriors today. It is a quality that lends distinction, and cachet like chrome detailing on a car. And having lived in an apartment behind this glorious building, and walked past it nearly every day, visiting often to drink and dine like many others who lived in the area I developed an great appreciation and fascination with it that makes it specially significant to me.

In summary I will add, there were periods in the Hotel's turbulent history when it came close to being knocked down and re-developed. These were the seventies, and the proposed re-design would have dated within 20 years. The George has stood the test of time, consulting architects in the early nineties were wise in retaining the buildings flaking facade, worn like a nod to all the decades of glory and neglect that it had seen like the wrinkles on an old lady's face.

We can thank the late Don Levy Fitzpatrick, a pioneer of hospitality for having the vision to purchase the building in the late eighties, sympathetically renovate it, and establish some of Australia's simplest and best food and beverage concepts within its many cavities, for this great design's life lasting into the new century.

Many designs are altered for the eyes of generation's appreciation, but some designs are so correct that they need not be toyed with. The George Hotel is one of those.

cameron offices - john andrews.

Cameron Offices, Belconnen Town Centre. Canberra, Australian Capital Territory.

In the volumes of varied disciplines in the school of architecture, one common thread must surely be consistent - the pleasure of inhabiting the structure. Whether it be as a residence, or as a building used for shorter stays, any building must surely have to conform to various measures for pleasurable human occupation for it to then be considered a successful design.

 

In the short life of the Brutalist movement, it seems as though that fundamental was in some ways bypassed, as so many of the Brutalist structures designed and built in the seventies and eighties have since been de-commissioned, their intended purpose having been unachievable or simply, they were unpleasant buildings to inhabit.

 

Not all, but almost any true Brutalist building is a working design, a commercial structure housing, more often than not, administrative businesses or car parks, or buildings that have no reason for soft aesthetics to play any part in their success as a matter of commercial longevity for either their creators, or their eventual owners. The Cameron Offices in Belconnen, a satellite of Canberra, Australia's national capital are a perfect example of a superstructure designed along a set of principals, to satisfy a need. Sadly, not by any shortcoming of their brilliant creator John Andrews, their purpose was contrived and the vast, dominating structure lasted barely 20 years before being almost completely demolished in 2007.

 

The Cameron Offices were designed with the intention of becoming the focal point of the centre of Belconnen. Their construction began in 1970 and took a whopping seven years to complete. The basis of the design is a series of pavilions, seven in total, linked by walkways. Gardens in between each pavilion were planted out with native Australian vegetation and look as though they served as gigantic atriums for office staff to spend their disposable time wandering around and conversing. One can imagine what John Andrew's period artistic renditions of these atriums might have looked like.

 

The primary material of construction is concrete, and I think that speaking for myself this is potentially why like many other examples of Brutalism, this design is so inspiring to me. Concrete, an unwieldy material - not for the amateur craftsman, not a material that someone can really imagine using unless they have the equipment and the experience necessary to manipulate it. Relatively complex in construction and heavy when complete, with a cold and unwelcoming air about it. But the Brutalist architects like Andrews did magnificent things with concrete, Cameron Offices had several outdoor sculptures such as the 'Optic Galaxy' a seven meter high assembly of curved geometric arrangements and a water fountain that offered relief from the sharp angles of the rest of the building. In engineering terms the offices were a triumph; a system of  large pretensioned beams spanned over the courtyards, creating a pergola effect over the gardens and at the same time connected to the post tensioned columns which supported the floor slabs of the wings. The floor slabs stepped back on the north elevation as the building approached ground level, creating natural overhang shading to the glazed walls. Brilliant? Possibly, but not brilliant enough.

 

The concrete finish was very porous, allowing it to become stained by moisture over the years and in Canberra's cold and often bleak winters, this cement behemoth was not a particularly comfortable place to be. It was drafty and unwelcoming and many former workers from the government offices that inhabited it dont look back with fondness.

 

Having raised these points, and noting now that the building is almost 90% gone, it might raise questions as to why this building, this mega-structure rates as one of my favourite designs. It was a prominent building, in an undeveloped area. When it was built, it was Australia's largest office complex and, it raises emotions in people: some love it, whilst others loath it. Many of the traditionally more appreciated eras of architecture dont promote such emotion, intrigue or even disgust.

 

The Cameron Offices was listed on the Australian Heritage Listing as it was a very significant design within the movement that it belonged. Strangely, and despite the heritage listing that it received, more of it was demolished than was previously understood by most architecture enthusiasts and lovers of the building were lead to beleive. It was somewhat misplaced, had a complicated and ultimately a short life - but it broke with convention, made a statement and made people take notice. Love it or hate it, all will agree that it was truly unique, it will be remembered by design junkies, architects and the Canberra inhabitants for years to come.