Anthony Albanese has a whole raft of housing problems right now.
His housing policies have been roundly criticised as lacking in ambition and vision. They don't aim high enough. They won’t supply sufficient houses to meet demand. But that's not what this column is about.
His housing policies haven't added a single house to Australia's stock in the last two and a half years in government. And the crippled building industry is going backwards. But that's not what this column is about.
Given housing is a key issue, he made a poor choice for housing minister in his first ministry. The least experienced, least qualified (Julie Collins is the only minister with no tertiary education), whose previous experience had been in agriculture. But that's not what this column is about.
He picked a fight with the Max Chandler Mather, and come off second best, when MCM forced Labor to increase the Housing Australia Future Fund by a billion dollars. It invoked lingering insults for the Greens, not a great idea when you're soon to be in minority government with them. But that's not what this column is about.
Albo just spent $4.3 million on a house at Copacabana on the NSW Central Coast, at a time when housing is the pre-eminent issue in cost of living, for mortgagees and renters. Bad optics at best, stupid politics at worst, criticised from the left and right. But that's not what this column is about.
So, what is today’s design-based column about? It’s about the appallingly bad design of that house in Copacabana. It’s a dog. A 3-cans-of-Pal-a-day dog of a house.
Copacabana is a beautiful, contained basin, with houses in dress circles, mostly looking south west, down towards a crescent beach. Well sheltered, it has both prospect and as aspect.
Albo’s house has none of this. Sitting high on the edge of a cliff, it's exposed to southerlies on one side and western sun on the other. And a public park between you and the view. A diabolical sandwich without sand.
The house plan is badly planned, chopped up at angles, full of amorphous spaces and awkwardly shaped rooms. It has few windows facing north, and is way over-glazed to the south and west (given a horizon obsession). A glazed quartz-shaped box viewing New Zealand.
The south-facing outdoor terrace area (erroneously described as sunny – only for an hour when the photo was taken) has no cover for rain, sun, or wind. It lacks all the carefree comfort considerations a decent seaside house has.
The House attracted some commentary about its possibility as an early retirement house. Presumably a result of the impending loss to minority status at next May’s election. He denies that of course, and I’d encourage that thought, because retirement in that house would be miserable.
Post Scriptum
Put up or shut up. I know a little of what I speak, of both Copacabana and beach houses, having designed one there 30 years ago. Located in the basin, the roof slopes down the hill, over stepping forms. It picks up northerly sun and southerly views with covered decks on both sides.
A pole frame house, lightweight timber infill, with judicious glazing, it has a seaside energy, engaging with the climate of salt spray and sand on the feet. Ken Woolley once saw me sketching it in a very tedious RAIA meeting, and complimented the ideas taken from his Mosman house. It's a cherished memory.
design-i #2, 23 Oct 2024. Researched and written by Tone Wheeler, architect / Adjunct Prof UNSW / President AAA. The views expressed are his.
design-i is a new column on design ideas that replaces Tone on Tuesday. Old ToT columns can be found here and you can still contact TW at [email protected] .
