Dud Housing*

Recent media commentary suggests we have a housing crisis in Australia – ranging from affordability and supply, to quality and location, as reported here. Renters are being priced out of the market, ageing stock means houses that are too cold in winter or too hot in summer, and there aren’t enough homes to rent where people want to live. I suspect that all of these factors have been in place for several years, but the knock-on effects from the Covid pandemic have exacerbated these trends.

“House” (1993) © Rachel Whiteread. Photo © Rory Manchee

For background, I should explain that at the start of my career, I worked as a housing officer and paralegal in the UK. I worked for three different local councils in inner London, advising tenants, leaseholders and landlords on their respective rights and obligations – and where there were infringements, preparing prosecutions against landlords and their agents. I dealt with people facing harassment, unlawful eviction, homelessness and housing disrepair. Mostly, my work involved advising the parties of their legal position and available remedies, often I helped them reach an amicable solution, and occasionally I had to take enforcement action with the support of the council’s legal powers. The latter included injunctions against the threat of unlawful eviction, the issuance of proper rent records, repair notices, rehousing directives, and even compulsory purchase orders.

It was stressful, and at times confrontational, work – after 5 years, I was pretty burned out, and decided to make a career change. At the time, London (and the UK) was experiencing a huge amount of change that impacted both the public and private rental sectors. First, the Conservative government under Margaret Thatcher had introduced “right to buy” legislation, meaning public housing tenants could apply to buy the homes they lived in. Second, the government also introduced “mortgage interest relief at source” (MIRAS) which meant home buyers received tax relief on their interest payments. Third, central London in particular was going through a period of gentrification, with public money made available to property owners to improve and upgrade period homes. As a result, Georgian and Victorian houses that had been sub-divided into apartments (mainly occupied by long-term tenants) were restored to single family homes. Added to that, one of the council’s I worked for had been engaged in a “homes for votes” scandal, a “policy” to (re-)engineer the local demographics.

In the past, I’ve been both a tenant and a landlord, so I’ve also experienced some of these issues for myself. As a tenant, I’ve had landlords who denied that their properties were poorly wired or had defective plumbing (despite formal notifications from the council), and denied all requests to have the defects fixed. As a landlord, I’ve had tenants sub-letting to their “friends”, and who assured me that these “friends” could pay the rent.

So what is going on in parts of Australia, that there is such a misalignment between where tenants want to live, and vacant housing stock?

First, to touch on property ownership. Home owners don’t receive anything like the former MIRAS scheme in the UK, but there are various financial incentives for first-time buyers (such as zero stamp duty when buying a property off the plan), and during the Covid pandemic, some first-time buyers could access their superannuation (pension) fund to help with the deposit or down-payment. Property investors can take advantage of negative gearing to offset mortgage interest payments and costs of repairs against their income tax. These factors are generally considered to push up house prices – and despite recent interest rate rises, the cost of borrowing has remained at historic lows for more than a decade. Housing inflation means aspiring buyers are priced out of the market (especially as wages have not kept pace with inflation, let alone the rise in property prices). And landlords are now seeking to increase rents to offset rising interest rates.

Second, I’ve never really understood why some landlords don’t maintain their properties to an adequate standard – it surely detracts from the value of their assets, as well as deterring potential tenants. And when there may be improvement funds available (e.g., insulation grants, solar rebates) why wouldn’t they take advantage? On the reverse, should tenants have more powers to undertake essential repairs and improvements, and withhold rent to cover the costs? (Equally, I find it surprising that some tenants don’t feel it is their responsibility to undertake minor maintenance or running repairs, such as mowing the grass, clearing gutters or replacing cracked window panes.)

Third, it’s an economic imperative to have a supply of housing stock in the rental market. It helps people who prefer to rent rather then buy, it allows for workforce mobility, and it supports seasonal demand in industries like agriculture. I don’t believe that all rental stock should be held and managed in the public sector – it represents a huge obligation (not just an asset) on government balance sheets, tying up capital and incurring huge running costs. We need a component of public housing, but otherwise leave it to the private sector, with appropriate safeguards.

Fourth, why the apparent mismatch between supply and demand? On one level, developers are building the wrong types of properties and/or building in the wrong locations. Inner city areas have seen a massive growth in high-rise apartments over the past 20 years, supposedly in response to increased housing demand. In theory, these projects generate more yield for developers, although the apparent over-supply leads to depressed rents, and some banks won’t lend against these properties due to uncertain re-sale value and over-capitalised assets.

In the suburbs, archetypal quarter acre blocks have been sub-divided to cram in more town houses and units, or developers are building bigger houses (McMansions) on smaller plots, leaving minimal gardens and no breathing space between properties, as they build right up to the boundary lines. Many new suburban developments lack proper infrastructure and services (public transport, schools, shops, clinics), making them less attractive to renters – while the owners expect higher rents to cover the cost of their mortgages. Plus, many new properties have been built “on the cheap”, using inferior materials and design – hence the issues with heating/cooling. On the other hand, ageing stock, especially weatherboard and brick veneer structures, can also be hard to heat/cool. Many houses (new and old) lack double-glazing, for example, which would go a long way to resolving this energy conundrum.

Meanwhile, the recent lock downs in Melbourne (and to a lesser extent, Sydney) have meant many urbanites have moved to regional locations, putting upward pressure on property values and rents, pricing out locals who already live and work there. Of course, another reason for the mismatch in supply and demand is the growth in short-term lets, mainly for holiday-makers – such that local stock is taken out of the regular rental market. However, a lot of the Airbnb accommodation I have used over the years would never have been available on the rental market, because they were pre-existing holiday lets, or they are principal homes, where the owners are temporarily working abroad or interstate. And this type of flexible accommodation is also in demand by a mobile workforce that can, and prefers to, work from anywhere (so-called digital nomads).

None of which explains or resolves the current crisis. If governments want to address the bigger issues, they need to consider a range of solutions: updating building standards, upgrading land-use rezoning and planning regulations, encouraging a greater variety of housing development and management (soclal housing, shared ownership, property exchanges, rent holidays in return for repairs and improvements), and the use of modular/portable homes to meet fluctuating demand. All of which requires vision, and most party political objectives are driven by short term goals and the next election cycle.

* Apologies to Pere Ubu for (mis-)appropriating the title of their second album

Next week: Picasso and his circle

Renzo Piano & the Centro Botín

In March this year, the Victorian Government unveiled the winning concept design for the NGV Contemporary, a new centre for art and design, forming part of the planned revamp of the Arts Precinct on Melbourne’s Southbank. Due to open in 2028, The Fox: NGV Contemporary (to give it’s full name, thanks to the benevolence of trucking magnate and close acquaintance of Premier Daniel Andrews, Lindsay Fox) is being heralded as an iconic, nation-defining statement in support of Melbourne’s claim to be the cultural centre of Australia. So far, so good – but I can’t help feeling the design competition has been conducted with some undue haste: Expressions of Interest were sought in March 2021, with a one-week registration deadline. The competition for Stage One of the project closed in August 2021, and Stage Two in November 2021, with the winning team announced in March 2022, barely 12 months from the EOI. Why the hurry (especially as Melbourne was in lockdown for much of that time), and up to now, there does not appear to have been any public consultation in the design process.

The Centro Botín, Santander, designed by Renzo Piano (image sourced from Wikimedia)

Contrast this with the design of the Centro Botín in Santander, Spain, by Italian architect Renzo Piano, whose story is told in an absorbing documentary, “Renzo Piano: The Architect of Light”. First, neither the architect nor the sponsoring Botín Foundation had any aspirations of creating an “iconic building”; instead, the goal was to have as minimal physical impact as possible, while reclaiming an area of land and returning it to public use. Second, there was a public consultation process, to overcome concerns expressed by some nearby residents. Third, while the documentary has no doubt been artfully edited, it does provide extensive “behind the scenes” access to the design and construction process over its 7-year development, which included a 3-year delay in completion. The fact that this was a private commission rather than a competition may account for this approach, but there was still a great deal of negotiation with municipal and community stakeholders.

The documentary itself is notable not only for the degree of transparency (we observe meetings between architect, client and project managers throughout the process), but also for the simplicity of its narrative, and the wise decision to dispense with any voiceover commentary – the subjects are allowed to speak for themselves. There are also references to cultural icons such as novelist Italo Calvino and film-maker Roberto Rossellini. The use of Mahler’s ‘Symphony No. 5’ in the soundtrack underlines Renzo Piano’s fascination with light as a construction material, as important to him as glass, concrete and steel – the music is most famously associated with the film of ‘Death in Venice’, a city renowned for its light.

If the primary inspiration for the design of the Centro Botín is light (and lightness of construction), I’m struggling, based on the available evidence, to see what the inspiration is for the NGV Contemporary. Despite being a statement about “art and design”, I fear that this project is as much about political statements and lasting personal legacies. Much has been made about the potential job creation during its construction, but much less about the design principles and aesthetic objectives. I hope this project does not turn into a municipal white elephant.

The original NGV (now referred to as NGV International) is a landmark building and one of the most popular destinations in Melbourne. I have known it most of my life, having first visited it aged 10, when it left an indelible impression on me. Having lived in Melbourne the past 20 years, I have been a regular visitor since it was extensively refurbished in 2003. As part of the Arts Precinct, the NGV is a focal point for the city’s cultural activities, and is a major draw card for local and international visitors. Any enhancement of the NGV and the surrounding facilities is generally to be welcomed, and certainly there are parts of the precinct that could do with upgrading. However, I’m not sure the design for the NGV Contemporary is the right decision.

Aside from the hastiness shown by the NGV Contemporary’s design phase, I’m surprised that the winning design team, Angelo Candalepas and Associates, do not appear to have built any comparable projects, despite winning multiple awards for their past work. The Candalepas studio has designed many residential buildings (and I lived very happily in one of their first competition successes, ‘The Point’ in Sydney’s inner city suburb of Pyrmont), but as far as I can see, nothing on the scale, significance or importance as NGV Contemporary. The proposed design looks very “blocky”, notwithstanding the internal “spherical hall”, which is highly reminiscent of New York’s Guggenheim Museum. It’s also not clear what the spacial relationship will be with the existing NGV and other neighbouring buildings, nor whether any of them will need to be remodelled or demolished to make way for this latest addition. I’ve tried, without success, to find a map or ground plan of the proposed development, or any details on how the NGV Contemporary will be accessed from adjacent streets, other than via a new garden that appears to envelop the NGV International – so what existing land will this garden occupy, and what current facilities might be lost in the process?

In conclusion, since its opening in 2017, the Centro Botín appears to have been enthusiastically embraced by the residents of Santander, and manages to be both utterly modern and easily accessible, unlike so many other examples of “statement” architecture. I hope we will see a similar outcome for NGV Contemporary.

Next week: Mopping up after the LNP

RONE in Geelong

Public art galleries need to attract paying customers if their funding derived from government grants is being cut. To pull in the punters, galleries have to resort to “blockbuster” exhibitions. In these uncertain, post lock-down times, the lack of international tourists means that galleries are forced to focus on local audiences. It’s good to showcase local talent in the shape of conquering heroes returning to their roots.

These may have been some of the arguments behind the Geelong Art Gallery‘s decision to mount a retrospective exhibition featuring the work of street artist Tryone Power (aka RONE). Of course, the planning began long before COVID struck, but otherwise the above assumptions would seem to be valid.

Let’s acknowledge the positives of this show: First, it is certainly pulling in the punters, and helping to bring in visitors and their wallets to the town. Second, it is hopefully creating a platform for future exhibitions, and public engagement with the Gallery itself. Third, it’s nice that a locally-born artist is being recognised (even if he has had to travel afar to make a name for himself at home).

Unfortunately, that’s where it ends, for me. My recent visit was probably the shortest time I have spent in an exhibition which I had paid to see. Overall, I found the work vapid – there was nothing of substance (nor anything challenging) underneath the painted surface, or behind the concept of “beauty and decay”. As a street artist, RONE does not have the wit or depth of a Banksy; as a conceptual/installation artist, he’s no Christo. The main images he creates or imposes on his work are highly stylised and extremely idealised portraits of young women – it’s a very limited exploration of “beauty”. At best, the work reveal something interesting about abandoned and overlooked locations. At worst, the installation reeked of interior decor magazines and displayed a taste for romanticised and sentimental kitsch.

Which is all a great shame, because given RONE’s apparent interest in deserted and decaying structures, there is a deep and rich vein of Australian Gothic he could have tapped into. (In comparison, think of the work of Nick Cave, Peter Weir, Peter Carey, Julia deVille, Rosalie Ham, etc.)

Despite the use of physical objects, this exhibition felt very one-dimensional. Artists as disparate as Helen Chadwick, Paola Rego, Cindy Sherman and Rachel Whiteread have all deployed notions of female beauty, decay, abandonment and destruction to far greater effect and impact.

Next week: Intersekt FinTech Pitch Night

Social Distancing in Victorian Melbourne…

At the time of writing Victorians, like most of Australia, are living under a Covid19 “stay at home and practise social distancing” regime in attempt to “flatten the curve” and reduce the spread of this contagion. I have been working from home for 3 weeks, only going out for essential food shopping and a daily walk for exercise (since my gym is closed). This perambulation has revealed some lesser-seen aspects of Melbourne (apart from the empty streets), including the way the modern city’s 19th century founders went about their approach to urban design – including some examples of built-in social distancing.

The first example is the number of public parks and gardens close to the CBD that were established in the 1800s, and which have managed to survive the onslaught of developers. As we know, public parks, with their trees and green spaces act as the lungs of the city, and provide a place to exercise, relax and get some fresh air. So we need these facilities more than ever in times like these. (Strange why the Victorian Government still insists in allowing vehicles to use the culturally and historically significant Yarra Park as a public car park on so many days, with all the horticultural and environmental damage that this causes…)

Second, the decision to incorporate lane-ways into the grid design of the CBD, as well as throughout the 19th century expansion of the inner city suburbs. While their design was mainly pragmatic (ease of access for night carts, storm drainage), the result is that in densely-built areas such as Richmond, Carlton, East Melbourne, Fitzroy and Collingwood, lane-ways mean even terraced houses can have ample space between them and the next block, allowing for better ventilation, natural light and reduced risk of disease. (For an example of the lane-ways importance to Melbourne’s character and psyche, check out Daniel Crooks’ video, “An Embroidery of Voids”.)

Third, the decision not to build right up to the urban banks of the Yarra River (and the straightening and leveling of the river itself) has left them accessible to the public, both as a means of cycling and walking to/from work, and for recreational purposes. In many cities, riverfront access has largely been blocked off as adjacent land has been appropriated for private, commercial and industrial use.

At a time like this, I truly appreciate the foresight of Melbourne’s Victorian town planners – I just hope we can continue to enjoy their legacy in the coming weeks and months!

Next week: #Rona19 – beyond the memes