![Book Flatlay Cover Front Transparent Trio[1]](https://d31dpzy4bseog7.cloudfront.net/media/2024/06/07080212/Book_Flatlay_Cover_Front_Transparent_Trio1.png)
Argyle Well by Welsh + Major
In a row of immaculately preserved 19th-century terrace houses in Millers Point, one of Sydney’s most historic enclaves, Argyle Well does little to distinguish itself.
Even when you enter, there are few hints that it’s anything more than an impeccably restored heritage residence. Moving beyond the elegant front dining room, however, the home’s understated complexity begins to be revealed. Take the study and its ‘pod’ ensuite – with a mirrored skirting board, green Corian flooring and fluted-glass curved shower, all shrouded in a floor-to-ceiling grey curtain – looking for all the world like it’s been beamed down from a spaceship. And the kitchen features no discernible joinery, unless you count the monumental marble island in shades of green, white and grey, veined with meandering rivers of black. Ultimately, the glimpse of a modern concrete form through the rear balcony is final confirmation that Argyle Well is something out of the box.
It’s not a stretch to say that all the residence’s five storeys and its striking brutalist concrete pavilion hold small wonders, a reflection of the meticulously considered work of Sydney architect Welsh + Major. “It was in remarkably poor condition when the owners bought it,” says Chris Major of the end-of-row terrace built in 1842, renovated in the 1890s and almost a century later divided into seven flats (plus garden flat) as government housing. The design-savvy clients charged Welsh + Major with revamping the existing four-storey dwelling – while staying true to its heritage character – and gave the practice complete artistic freedom to create an entertaining space in the garden.
The first part of that equation has been beautifully realised, with original tallowwood floors restored and polished with a mix of tung and orange oils. Cornices were replaced and hand-run in the age-old manner by a talented and patient craftsman. Original doors were stripped back and repolished, “the awful hardware replaced with traditional pieces from England”, and railings restored, or in the case of the back verandah, an ill-judged aluminium replica replaced with a simple balustrade based on “what we saw in historic photos taken of the house from the harbour,” says Major.
The renovation brought its fair share of surprises: almost the entire lower-ground floor was hewn from sandstone, revealed when plaster walls were demolished. “We really weren’t sure what we were going to find,” says Major. “But when we pulled it apart, we found the sandstone and it was in really good condition. It formed great bones to set the stage to elevate the space, but without doing too much.” That subtle hand is revealed in the Zen-like bathroom, where the rough sandstone is juxtaposed against simple forms: a white quartzite bench that houses the sink and storage, a matching wall in front of the shower – “one horizontal plinth and one vertical”– and a metallic towel rail designed by Welsh + Major, its lines reminiscent of a Mondrian painting.
The architect’s affinity for the sculptural is apparent everywhere. In the main bedroom on the top floor, a Tasmanian blackwood headboard dips to not only keep open the sightline between two windows to let light and air circulate but to become an artful feature. The decision not to include joinery in the kitchen was “intentional so that each component – the island bench, the drinks station, the cooking station, the fridge hidden inside a mesh cabinet – is like a sculptural standalone element,” says Major. “Also, in the old part of the house, it’s a loose fit as to what rooms function as what. We really like how these spaces are quite flexible, which is another reason why we didn’t use a lot of joinery.”
Of course, nothing in the original dwelling matches the contemporary form of the extension, a deeply modernist concrete pavilion embedded deep in the ground and topped with a verdant roof garden, the work of landscape architect Emily Simpson. The pavilion houses a bathroom, kitchen and living space, all centred around an extraordinary feature (and the home’s namesake): a colonial-era well. “Part of the well was cut into the bedrock, and the other part was built up with sandstone blocks joined with lime mortar made from shell middens. It was quite fragile: if we’d exposed it, it would have crumbled,” says Major. “Archaeologists advised us that best practice was to cover it up, so we created a reflection pool with an arrangement of stones forming the surrounds.” Illuminated by a circular skylight, “it’s the pivot point of the entire room.”
While the pavilion can be reached via a sun-soaked deck, the space can be accessed through the house via a subterranean floor created in the sandstone bedrock. “We carved the steps out of the stone, as a way of connecting the new floor to the story of the house, and we purposefully left the bedrock exposed,” says Major. It makes for a dramatic entryway to the pavilion, which the owners use primarily as an entertaining space. Floor-to-ceiling glass doors open to the garden, redolent with frangipani and native species, a vine-covered wall and a stepping-stone water feature.
It’s the stunning culmination of what Major describes as a “complex house that doesn’t look it”. And one that’s still a work in progress. “We didn’t finish it fully furnished,” she says. “The client wanted to live in the house and make it their own. A house is never finished … it’s always evolving.”
Architecture and interior design by Welsh + Major. Build by A J Bristow and Sons. Landscape architecture by Emily Simpson Landscape Architecture. Heritage and planning by Urbis. Archaeology by AMAC Group. Structural engineering by SDA Structures.
