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Stanley Salter House
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OR VIEW ALL PROJECTSOR GO BACK TO SEARCH RESULTSOR VIEW ALLPROJECTS BY ARCHITECT WALTER BURLEY GRIFFINHOUSE PROJECTS1923 PROJECTSPROJECTS IN MELBOURNEPROJECTS PHOTOGRAPHED BY PETER BENNETTS |
Meandering up the drive the eaves soar like a boat prow through the boughs overhead and here exemplify Griffin's use of the native landscape as effectively as his design signature, the Knitlock construction system.
In his monograph on Walter Burley Griffin, James Birrell declares that:
"The Salter House... is more important to the development of Australian domestic architecture than any other house in the country. As an exemplar of a thoughtful architectural response to Australia's particular and often extreme climate, the Salter House is an influential project for later investigations into a truly Australian' house as proposed by local luminaries such as Robin Boyd or Roy Grounds.
For all its exterior motifs however, the heart of the project is arguably its internal courtyard - a gesture adapted from his Prairie House experiments 20 years prior, and repeated famously in Grounds' National Gallery of Victoria, and more recently in projects such as the Drum House in Fitzroy by Kerstin Thompson Architects. The courtyard's rhythmic dispersal of sunlight through panelled windows on all sides animates the open-plan interior and allows a continuous visual unfolding through the rooms to the garden beyond. There is a clear sense of Walter Burley Griffin's recognition that home needn't be a place to bunker down and hide in, rather, a place for reflection and engagement with the surrounding environment.
In fact, the current owner's initial attraction to the Salter House came from a childhood memory of the court. "I had an interest in this house from when I was little," Barbara Hocking recalls. "I have a recollection of crawling around what must have been that inner courtyard - because how could you have done that in any other house fat that time] in Melbourne - with a lot of other children in the dark while the adults were off in the main room enjoying themselves."
The darkened atmosphere of the court, which now channels light freely, was due to the blackout blinds that were, compulsory during the Second World War. The blinds smothering the courtyard were one of many alterations to : Griffin's original cottage before the property was last sold in the mid-'6os."It was terribly dilapidated when we bought it and in those days it was normal to just tear houses like that down," Hocking recollects. "It had no eaves left in the front - they had rotted away and bits of wood were hanging in parts, covered by the ficus creeper that had gone right over the house -through the gutters, through the eaves and right up into the gables."Coupled with a heavy-handed extension to the east and a necessarily I increased bathroom size the original soaring gables and the cruciform symmetry of plan remain compromised. Worst of all, covering the court allowed leaves to block the gutters up so that even less excessive downpours caused havoc. Not only did it allow rain in, the then-covered court floor kept air out. And so began the Hockings' considerable process of repairing the cottage. They removed all the glass first, then took up the floor, making the courtyard a natural air-conditioner in summer when the internal windows were opened - especially relieving for Knitlock houses which hold the heat. In winter the effective thermal mass of Griffin's patented two-part system comprising lapped square blocks with bitumen-coated interiors and skeletal, cruciform-shaped structural columns was welcome, while "in the court you could still be outside without the wind getting to you".
The considered flow of bodies and air through this space seems indicative of Griffin's emphasis on function and environment. Details in plan and appearance reinforce this perception: from the low, flat ceiling at the entry hall the roof rakes up generously, expanding and greeting visitors into the living, reception and dining spaces, while more private sleeping and ablutions areas are flanked by a low ceilinged passage that opens to the court. Repeated, fragmented, crystalline detailing on doors, cupboards and fenestration complete a suite that is particular to this house, though the unifying technique is used in many of Griffin's works. Similarly, the shard-like fixtures and grille fragments continue this motif, though the few plaster fittings that remained have been lost to eager researchers.
Exemplary devices for the time include the self-emptying fireplace grate in the living room that sluices embers under the house. Ingenious though it and other domestic devices appear, Griffin's inventiveness was not always infallible. "We nearly killed ourselves!" Hocking exclaims, recollecting a near-disaster one morning when overnight, falling embers had caught on the substantial pile below. "Smoke filled the entire house. It had come through the ventilators in the courtyard and the house ventilator grilles."
It is hard to imagine such catastrophes occurring in what is experienced as a well-paced and sequentially graceful home with its characteristic Knitlock building system echoing inside and out, yet perhaps the greatest misfortune of all is its possible future demise. "I think it's doomed," Hocking sadly predicts. "It's uneconomic to restore it. I'd like to see someone who had a fortune and the desire to restore it, but I don't think that will happen. Millionaire architects are into development! So it's highly improbable."
Though dimmed with age and slow decay from afar, internally the stately demeanour of the house continues, regulating light and shadow and providing a poignant reflection on a pivotal period of Australian domestic architecture. In its current, elegantly faded guise however, the vaunted Stanley Salter residence seems to resignedly accept its fate as a historical pioneer that is celebrated in print and recognised by heritage, but bereft of financial aid to repair its ageing form.
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