Lacemaking

Lorne, Victoria, Australia

The intricate lacy cast iron railings, porch adornments of many an Australian- high style hotel and vernacular cottage alike kept the cameras busy last month.

Queenscliffe

A theory expounded by delightful Sydney guide Rob, that the delicate railings and decorative bits were transported from the UK as ballast, got me scratching my head. As did the incredible wealth of the filigree trims, despite those patriotic WWII scrap metal drives, which saw most of the post 1850 private and public gates and cast iron railings in Great Britain chopped off at ground level.
This article recalls communities coming together to beat fences into swords (my own husband recalls streets lined with stubs of former railings in post-war Lincoln) and raises some disturbing questions about where all that iconic English fencing ended up.

Ballarat

All that being said, despite brief mentions of local metal drives in Australia, the cast iron filigree remains down under, in abundance. Guidebooks direct the traveller to each town's special precinct - and other towns are just, well bedizened throughout (Ballarat and Queenscliffe to name two.) Melbourne claims to have more decorative cast iron than any city in the world. I hope to go back to count.

Incidentally, the LondonGardens article (link above)  reports that many traditional iron craftspeople have been in recent years restoring England's pre-war cast (or wrought - more later) glory, that being the first stop for most homeowners restoring historic properties. And no wonder.

Chatterton Iron Works of New South Wales specialize in restoration and reproduction of balustrades and lacework. Their website contains hosts of photos for anyone feeling like indulging in some armchair ogling. And they're the go-to people for koobaburra mailboxes. Just sayin'. The site demystifies the various forms and designs of iron lace, and says it better than I, so I invite you to visit.

Incidentally, if you really want to indulge here's a Pinterest  gallery that keeps on giving.

John Ruskin, that Victorian arbiter of taste and craftsmanship, considered cast iron 'cheap and vulgar.' It was Ruskin who recoiled at the manufacturing frenzy occasioned by the Crystal Palace which housed London's Great Exhibition of 1851, and all the manufactured goods therein, evangelizing for a return to honest craftsmanship which spurred the Arts and Crafts movement.

Coincidentally,  I just started Bill Bryson's At Home, which begins with a description of that cast iron and glass wonder. The same day I resumed my online course The Architectural Imagination, after a winter hiatus, and what is the lecturer introducing but The Crystal Palace, and the impact of iron on architecture from that time? Fascinating. Well for me, maybe.

Queenscliffe

Lorne

I found a paper on the history of iron smelting in Australia published by the Illarawarra Historical Society (I know, who else would read this stuff?) According to this (undated) treatise, the Colonial Government was not supportive of  early smelting  operations* using native raw materials (they lasted from 1848-1928) but imported iron as ships' ballast (hence, Rob's theory was partly correct) which was manufactured into goods in Australia.

[* the 1873 Derwent Iron Works operating in Battery Point, Hobart, was one such local enterprise.]

Ballarat Mining Exchange portico

 Ballarat had better luck with gold than iron ore, but to their credit they struggled valiantly for a few years, closing in 1875, defeated by imports which were less expensive than their locally produced iron. The gold rush of 1857-57 produced a demand for upmarket decorative cast iron which lasted until the end of the century.

 The graceful (imported) iron filigree of the portico over the front doors of the important Ballarat Mining Exchange might have been an affront, were it not for the ridiculous amounts of money the gold rush brought to that city. More later.

Hobart

Some writers call these boom style terraces. This particular finely restored terrace is in The Rocks, Sydney. Once workers' housing, its residents now include gallery owners and high end rentals. The Terrace has generated a lot of interest in heritage circles.

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Port Arthur, Tasmania

Of the tiny L-shaped workers' cottages which line old suburban avenues and dusty small town streets I didn't manage to grab a sample (as I typically had my nose in a map, my eyes scanning for street names while in their neighbourhoods.) This simple example is in the recreated Port Arthur Historic Convict Site, a World Heritage Site in Tasmania.

Picturesque 1890s cottage in Lorne, Great Ocean Road

Fell for this cottage on Smith Street in Lorne, on our way to Teddy's Lookout, over the expanses of the Great Ocean Road. It's a guest house now. Pick me!

Oh! Oamaru!

former Bank of New Zealand

I believe we made the woman's day. We ventured into the tourist information centre in Oamaru, South Island, NZ to inquire about a heritage architecture walking tour guide. She bustled off to locate some photocopied pages, stapled snugly for convenient browsing in a brisk wind. It appears the tourism powers that be had stopped printing the guide, but she had persisted in photocopying the sheets for just such a moment. She was vindicated.  We were set. Gleaming white Oamaru was about to reveal her stories.

Oarmaru is uncannily white. It reflects the sun like those iconic Greek villages. The imposing c1865 - 1885 civic and commercial buildings seem to glow from within. At its heyday Oamaru was known as 'the Whitestone City.' Today it's considered "New Zealand's most complete streetscape of Victorian commercial buildings."

Australian Mutual Provident Society, St. Luke's Church

former Oarmaru Chief Post Office 1884

 Oamaru was first settled by Europeans who identified its uncannily open terrain as appropriate for sheep grazing. Bad news, no trees for building. Good news, the discovery of locally quarried limestone. Shipping from Oarmaru's (not natural) harbour created grain and wool wealth from the 1860s, and the harbour precinct expanded handsomely. Hotels and banks and customs offices were built of the impressive white stone. I find it fascinating that more pedestrian grain and wool stores and warehouses also aspired to architectural splendour.

L. Bank of Otago/National Bank 1871
R. Bank of New South Wales 1883

 When only classical would suffice. How to communicate the solidity of your banking house? A pedimented portico would do nicely.

The former Bank of New South Wales  was converted to an art gallery in 1983.

L. Union Building 1877 R.Smith's Grain Store 1882

 The Oamaru limestone was said to be extremely easy to carve, which explains the incredible complexity of the building facades
(that and the Victorian penchant for overdecorating...)

 Over time, the importance of Oamaru port dwindled, and it closed in the 1970s. The city has expanded to the north, sparing the port district the demolitions and commercial sprawl associated with progress.

 Today the town's c19 architectural treasures are the perfect fit for a new economy of tourism blended with traditional crafts and preservation dedication. The Oamaru Whitestone Civic Trust is committed to preserving the Victorian precinct and making it a worldwide destination. From the buzz in the streets, town square, galleries and workshops, I'd say they're having success.

Oh, and elegant Oamaru is also the (self-proclaimed) steam-punk capital of the world! For another visit. You can have a read about this unlikely pairing here. Or why not start at the steam-punk HQ and have a wander. Loved Oamaru. Hope to revisit.

Criterion Hotel 1877

Rock On and On

 Throughout our Australian wanderings, we gathered as much history as we could, in museums and from the interpretive panels we came upon. The fascinating old neighbourhood of Sydney long called The Rocks did not disappoint. I'd been travelling there for some time, thanks to a wonderful work of adolescent fiction by New Zealand born Australian author Ruth Park, loaned by friend Larry in preparation for the visit. I believe he understands my tendency to time travel when in company with early buildings.


The novel Playing Beatie Bow is based on a time slip, which takes a modern girl back to the 1840s Dickens-grimy seaport neighbourhood of The Rocks. I recommend the book highly.

The top two photos are not actually  of The Rocks in 1840, but a preserved shop/house of the era interpreted at Susannah Place Museum. Have a look at their site, and some of the historic photos of the neighbourhood which Ruth Park peopled for us. (Only Frank McCourt, in my experience, has painted so well, the grittiness and community which could exist side by side, in such a place.)

A walk around today's somewhat sanitized old neighbourhood yields lots of descriptive panels, with archival photos providing the before and after.

What captivated me about the area was, well, the rocks. The old buildings and even older trees seem to sprout directly from the sandstone cliff down which the early town tumbled. Ancient stone stairs, a street running through a rock tunnel created by convict labour with pick and shovel, fernss clinging to the exquistely eroded stone...all are difficult to capture in photos, but anchored in my heart forever.

And over-arching everything, the familiar Sydney Harbour bridge (opened 1932) which was the  unstoppable force which began to change the precinct forever. Several hundred buildings were demolished during its construction.

The area had been embattled since the early 1900s (a bubonic plague outbreak put authorities on alert, and the 'slum' area was assumed by the state - the plans were to level the lot, and build modern high density housing.) The neighbourhood of moth-eaten buildings tumbling higgledy-piggledy down sandstone outcrops became especially endangered during the 'improvement imperative' of the 1970s -heritage armaggedon in so many neighbourhoods worldwide. Regent Park, down under.
It was a struggle to preserve the Rock's historic buildings. Admittedly, it was not heritage preservationists, but citizen activists opposed to the demolition of the old buildings providing affordable housing for the working class residents of the area, who carried the day. In response, the builders' union imposed a Green Ban; demonstrations and arrests ensued. Eventually, the ethic of  renovation over removal won out, and today the Rocks is a fascinating mix of low-income housing, cafes and galleries in historic buildings, overarching green canopies, and historic pubs (two of them the oldest in Sydney.)

Let me take you on a stroll.

Trees and old architecture. Was I in my happy place? A lineup of local craft IPA's only added to the joy.

 Difficult to imagine the lives of toil lived in some of these early commercial and warehouse buildings. Argyle Stores, a c1826 bond store is one of the oldest commercial buildings in The Rocks.The bond stores housed merchandise (sugar, cloth, spirits and tea for which the new settlement had a thirst) newly landed in Sydney's busy port, holding the shipments until import duties were paid.

former wool warehouse

firm foundation

If you're interested in accompanying me as I research the history of the neighbourhood, here's as good a place to start as any.

 The Argyle Cut, a rock cut through the sandstone bluff which once separated nearby Millers Point and The Rocks, manages to evoke the 1840s despite all the tourist and commuter traffic which travels its murky lengths. Backbreaking convict labour with primitive tools made unsatisfactory progress from 1843 to 1867, whereupon Municipal Council took over - you can see the drill marks indicating that dynamite was in their arsenal.

The plaque carved into the rock wall reads Cha. Moore, Mayor, 1867 & 1866.

A set of stone steps rises from Argyle Street. The Argyle Stairs were built in 1911 during widening of the Cut, and realignment of earlier streets. Great walk up to

Mayor Moore takes all the credit

The rocks of The Rocks.

47 George Street

The convict-hewn sandstone-built  Hero of Waterloo is one of thirteen pubs in the precinct, I am told. The Hero of Waterloo features dungeon-quality sandstone block walls (by-products of the Argyle cut construction) and rumours of tunnels through which unwary drinkers found their way to sea.

Harbour View Hotel 

If you would like to see what else the Harbour View Hotel looks out on, have a Streetview peek. Following these streets at my desk conjures the intense noise of the busy city, the bridge-bound traffic hurtling overhead.

Cadman's Cottage

 Cadman's Cottage sits in a welcome park that separates the noise and bustle of Circular Quay from the older part of town. It takes a minute to let the past filter in and allow the Georgian sandstone cottage built as accommodation for boat captains take you back to 1816 and the early days of the colony. A pause and you're reminded that this dense CBD was once an open bay; this cottage once sat at water's edge.

Like 'Kilroy' - the bridge looms over the Hickson Street neighbourhood

The flamboyantly Flemish gables of the 1884/5 Australasian Steam Navigation Company here's a view) now shelter a prestigious art gallery. Ken Done is one of the country's most famous (controversial?) artists. As a result, we didn't happen in, but you might pick up a coffee mug on your next visit.

George Street

The south portal to The Rocks borders George Street North. Quite a time-shift from the incredible bustle of Circular Quay. We recommend decompressing at The Fortune of War pub before venturing further back in time.

James Gibbs himself would be impressed by the the assertive facade of Police Station #4 nearby on George Street, which discouraged boozy acting out until 1974. A plaque honours the earlier occupant of  the site, the 1790s First General Hospital, whose nurses were commandeered from the convict population. Here's their story. The history of the area forces one to rethink the deportation story - not all were hardened criminals who entered the city's criminal class. Many were victims of fate who later contributed their skills to the growing colony - and were welcomed for it.

A plaque nearby traces one man's journey from pickpocket to Chief Constable.



Here's a look at the streetscape. Doubtless the whole character-soaked block was destined for replacement by the kind of giants you see to the left of the photo. I added the Streetview link as I failed to get the resolutely Gothic sandstone facade of the English Scottish & Australian Chartered Bank.

Argyle Street

Argyle Terrace (1875-77) is a residential terrace sensitively restored into galleries and accommodation. I found one of the 'luxury colonial terraces" on offer through Air BnB. How the original residents would marvel at the light and luxury. Towering in the distance, the chimney stack of the short-lived1900 George Street Electric Light Power Station.

Nearby, wall posters at a cheery outdoor cafe invite the occupant of the colourful seats into the story of the Rocks riots of the 1970s, and one of the heroes, union leader Jack Mundey.

I've become so homesick revisiting these photos, and vicariously this wonderful precinct of Sydney. If you're feeling the same (because surely you've been there, if only in imagination) you may want to venture further. Here's a walking tour I found online. Sorry about the ads, but then, the actual neighbourhood exists to recount our history - as well as to make a buck.