Small Embers of Change – Decolonising Architecture

Words by Millie Thwaites
Photography by Ben Hosking

Is it possible to truly decolonise architecture? When the design, construction and use of buildings involves occupying colonised land, what is meaningful progress towards this end and what is mere lip service? It’s tempting to suggest that these are unanswerable questions, but they are questions that the architecture and design community needs to ask.

As a first step, it’s important to note that, as a non-Indigenous Australian living and working on unceded lands, such questions are being asked from a position of privilege and responsibility. It’s also important to acknowledge the many strands that underlie such issues, from the, to date, highly limited First Nations representation in architecture, design and construction to re-centring the value of Indigenous knowledge systems in practice. What’s more, the way in which we discuss these matters is complex. Wiradjuri architectural designer and cultural design consultant Samantha Rich chooses to refer to the process of decolonising architecture as “Indigenising architecture”. As she explains, “the problem with ‘decolonise’ is that it still places the word colonise at the centre of the conversation.” Nuanced as it may be, change is stirring with an increasing awareness of the need for the input of Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander peoples in the planning and problem-solving of our built environment. Similarly, there is a growing expectation that non-Indigenous practitioners acknowledge, listen to and involve First Nations peoples in their practices.

As Co-Director of Edition Office Kim Bridgland says, “within fully enacted, Country-centred design, there’s an unpacking or inverting of not just a colonial mindset but a capitalist sense of ownership.”

kipli paywuta lumi, Trevallyn Recreation Reserve, Mona Foma 2020. Photo: Mona/Jesse Hunniford. Image courtesy of Mona, the Musuem of Old and New Art, Tasmania, Australia.

Perhaps one of the most important conceptual shifts that needs to occur is from the commodification of land to that of custodianship. Samantha explains that Country-centred design sees humans as being one part of an evolving environmental community in which land and nature are equal – not controlled commodities. “Indigenous knowledge systems think in a way that is focused on relationalism, so everything is connected,” Samantha says. “It’s this idea of eco versus ego. Instead of a pyramid where the human is at the top, it’s a circle and all living and non-living entities are equal.” She recalls the words of an Elder – “‘a site is as far as the eye can see’” – which powerfully articulates the idea that the responsibility towards the land on which one is designing and building is not defined by arbitrary boundaries. This philosophy places as much precedence on principles such as the site’s immediate conditions or a proposed building’s orientation as it does on how the surrounding vegetation and wildlife might be impacted.

Co-Directors of Edition Office Aaron Roberts and Kim Bridgland actively engage with Country-centred design from a non-Indigenous perspective. As Kim says, “within fully enacted, Country-centred design, there’s an unpacking or inverting of not just a colonial mindset but a capitalist sense of ownership.” Alongside the eschewing of this sense of ego and ownership, the pair cite acknowledgement and involvement of First Nations peoples as critical in attempting to decolonise architecture, as well as a need to break down the cultural identity of the urban environment. Aaron explains, “to truly decolonise architecture, we need to be thinking not only of individual architectural buildings but our urban realm more generally – and start to consider key markers within that urban environment that need to be reconfigured or dismantled.”

Designer Bernadette Hardy, who is heavily guided by her Gamilaraay and Dharug heritage says, “for me, Country is an active rather than a passive voice through the design process.” She adds, “it speaks to me and always has because my DNA has been here from the very first sunrise.”

With severe underrepresentation of First Nations peoples in the fields of architecture and design, important cultural knowledge that comes with over 60,000 years of connection to Country has not been given its due. As Aaron says, “to begin to approach the possibility of decolonisation, we need to have a clear framework from which Indigenous voices, experiences and cultural knowledge can be centred within – and begin to influence – the built outcome.” He adds, “acknowledgement is important in that notion of truth telling, as are the signifiers in the built outcome, but it needs to go well beyond that.” He believes this can happen by “involving Indigenous voices and spatial thinkers in the process to influence work in a way that they feel is culturally appropriate and recognises their histories.” Aaron and Kim reference the likes of Dr Danièle Hromek, Sarah Lynn Rees and Jefa Greenaway, among others, as being “key thinkers” in bringing Indigenous perspectives, knowledge systems and voices to the fore of architecture and design. “These people are cracking the doors open and allowing others to come through,” Kim says, adding, “we’re so grateful to collaborate with them – it’s a process of constant learning and of being aware of the enormous gaps that still exist.”

Designer Bernadette Hardy of interior and industrial design studio hardyhardy works to raise the voice of Country within a “highly colonised space” by sharing her spiritual and cultural knowledge as one part of the design process. She says, “it’s about using everyone’s skills equally to interpret a site, then bringing that together through an Indigenous lens.” Guided by her Gamilaraay and Dharug heritage, as well as her lived experience of raising a family with autistic culture, Bernadette refers to the methodology she has developed through her creative practice and PhD research journey as “Country-sensing design”. Also, much of her knowledge has been shaped by her father, a Gamilaraay and Dharug master craftsman. As such, Bernadette’s approach is layered, weaving together Country-centred and human-centred views, which she says is a “gift of multiple perspectives”. As she explains, it’s “not easy to talk about spirit or sensing,” but on a rudimentary level, we all recognise when we feel something in a space. Her approach leans heavily into her ability to channel her ancestral narratives through the energy or spirit of a place, which informs her design response. “For me,” she says, “Country is an active rather than a passive voice through the design process.” She adds, “it speaks to me and always has because my DNA has been here from the very first sunrise.”

“To begin to approach the possibility of decolonisation, we need to have a clear framework from which Indigenous voices, experiences and cultural knowledge can be centred within – and begin to influence – the built outcome,” says Co-Director of Edition Office Aaron Roberts, adding, “acknowledgement is important in that notion of truth telling, as are the signifiers in the built outcome, but it needs to go well beyond that.”

One initiative acknowledging this is the Connecting with Country Draft Framework developed by the Government Architect NSW (GANSW), which aims to foster connections with Country by engaging First Nations design consultants in the planning, design and delivery of built environment projects. Samantha says, “it calls on architects to start considering how their projects can be Country-centred.” Wiradjuri Spatial Design Consultant and architect Matte Ager-McConnell adds that, while the framework is still in draft form, it is “leading the conversation in national terms and […] starting to inform policy and design panels.” There is compelling and constructive merit in this framework, yet for it to succeed in driving change, practitioners must be willing to do their part. As Kim says, “it’s important for non-Indigenous designers, architects, developers and builders to do the inner work where those policies can be enacted in full, so that the burden isn’t solely on Indigenous peoples.”

Given this land called Australia was never ceded, the concept of whether architecture – a medium that, by its very nature, impacts Country – can be decolonised is difficult to dissect. There are also myriad layers to this conversation that are not covered here, such as the Pay The Rent program, the transfer of land back to Traditional Owners, and culturally appropriate housing for First Nations peoples. However, through a re-thinking of standard practices, unlearning and re-learning, practitioners can work towards decolonising the process by which architecture is created. As Bernadette says, she is buoyed by incremental changes of this type. “Every time I go through a project and see elements of change in the approach, it’s very powerful.” She adds, “it’s often only small embers of change, but it’s moving to be a part of it.”

kipli paywuta lumi, Trevallyn Recreation Reserve, Mona Foma 2020. Photo: Mona/Jesse Hunniford. Image courtesy of Mona, the Musuem of Old and New Art, Tasmania, Australia.
kipli paywuta lumi, Trevallyn Recreation Reserve, Mona Foma 2020. Photo: Mona/Jesse Hunniford. Image courtesy of Mona, the Musuem of Old and New Art, Tasmania, Australia.
kipli paywuta lumi, Trevallyn Recreation Reserve, Mona Foma 2020. Photo: Mona/Jesse Hunniford. Image courtesy of Mona, the Musuem of Old and New Art, Tasmania, Australia.
The dwelling, Samantha Rich and James Tylor, 2020. Photographed by James Tylor.
The dwelling, Samantha Rich and James Tylor, 2020. Photographed by James Tylor.
The dwelling, Samantha Rich and James Tylor, 2020. Photographed by James Tylor.