Essay: Terra Nullius

Terra Nullius

New perspectives on Indigenous architecture

By Jefa Greenaway
Australia’s relationship with its original inhabitants has been troubled, contested and complex – and architecture has played its part in the story. As an Indigenous practitioner, Jefa Greenaway has 20 years experience navigating through the multitude of competing issues in mediating meaningful cultural exchange through the design of the built environment.

Over the past three decades a discernible shift has emerged, not only in developing a dialogue between the dominant (settler) society in Australia and its First Peoples, but also in the placing of great importance on the symbolic capital of reconciliation as a means of addressing past injustices.

Australia encompasses a huge range of climates, ecologies and natural attributes. With over 250 language groups, its Indigenous people well reflect this diversity. But the cultures of Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander people are often erroneously construed as homogeneous, creating a flawed starting point in the search for an appropriate means of connection or acknowledgement. This, as well as historical prejudice, has frequently led to a misunderstanding of how to approach projects designed to relate to Indigenous Australia.

Recently, built environment professionals have attempted to develop a language that responds to the needs and aspirations of Indigenous people, representing and connecting to their culture.

Simultaneously there has been a renaissance of Aboriginal pride, identification and cultural expression, generating an appetite and commitment to developing new models that remedy the lack of a discernible presence or focus for Indigenous Australians. One architect who has secured a well-deserved reputation in this field is Gregory Burgess, who is adept at developing distinct, iconic and evocative projects specifically for Aboriginal clients. One of the most recognisable is the Brambuk Living Cultural Centre (1990) in the Gariwerd Ranges of the Grampians National Park, Victoria.
Previous page: Uluru Kata-Tjuta Cultural Centre. (Photo: Jimmy Yang‚ courtesy Gregory Burgess Architects)
Following page: this may include images of deceased Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander people which could cause sadness or distress.
With totemic references to the spread wings of a cockatoo, and rough-hewn tectonics that echo the contours of the adjacent mountains, it is an exercise in intuitive connection with a client and the spirit of place. In speaking to staff, key stakeholders and representatives of the Aboriginal community, it is clear that the project is seen as a powerful representation of a respectful, considered and collaborative experience of mutual listening. It is an example of a project that builds a bridge between its original patrons or clients, its users and the broader public.

However, it is worth noting that some within the local community feel the sheer power of its fixed form (and meaning) may have limited its adaptability in responding to changing demographics, use patterns and technology. While an easy critique, this does raise the key question of how a culture can be appropriately represented through built form. Indeed, how can the world’s oldest continuing civilisation be referenced while maintaining its position as a “lived culture”?
Top: Brambuk Cultural Centre under construction around 1989. (Photo: Ron Ryan/Coo-ee Picture Library‚ courtesy Gregory Burgess Architects); Below: View over wetland towards the Cultural Centre. (Photo: Trevor Mein‚ courtesy Gregory Burgess Architects)
»How can the world’s oldest continuing civilisation be referenced while maintaining its position as a ‘lived culture’?«
Interior of the Brambuk Living Cultural Centre. (Photo courtesy Gregory Burgess Architects)
The Uluru-Kata Tjuta Cultural Centre (1995), also designed by Burgess and located in the Uluru-Kata Tjuta National Park, Northern Territory, is embedded in the red earth at the scorched centre of Australia. It speaks the same distinct language as Brambuk. Celebrating Anangu culture, combining critical axes and views with a sense of groundedness, this project has become an emblem embraced by its client, traditional owners and the public alike. Its environmental credentials, natural materials and deference to its surroundings is both legible and refined. It is a product of its time and the philosophical leanings of its architect and has become shorthand for how to tackle challenging projects and contexts.

One might be compelled to ask how an Indigenous architect would approach the same brief. Would the outcome be markedly different or enhanced? While a moot point for this project, it raises the question of what unique value Indigenous practitioners bring to architecture. Would new modes of thinking arise when viewed through the lens of Indigenous sensibilities and connectedness? I certainly think so.

Design’s frame of reference is arguably still too narrow, with the fixed silos of architecture, landscape architecture, interior design and construction. The more inclusive term favoured among many Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islanders is “Indigenous placemaking”.

This suggests the essence of a cohesive approach which references country and layers of history and meaning, while formulating an outcome evolving from a process that respects cultural protocols, consultation, collaboration and participation.

There should be no imposing a solution upon a community. The role of the architect is particularly valuable as a conduit to realise the aspirations of community, presupposing that the architect, whatever their background, parks his or her ego at the door.
This conversation is still in its infancy. There have been less than ten registered Indigenous architects in Australia ever! Why are there so few Indigenous people involved in this vital and creative field? Is it due to more pressing needs and careers in areas such as health, law and justice, and political activism? Or is it simply a case that the act of building so often still assumes a precondition of terra nullius, or land belonging to no one? Or perhaps it is a perception that architecture is too esoteric and disconnected from the social and pragmatic needs of Indigenous communities?
TCL’s site plan illustration of the Uluru-Kata Tjuta Cultural Centre. (Image courtesy TCL Taylor Cullity Lethlean)
»Is it simply a case that the act of building so often still assumes a precondition of terra nullius, or land belonging to no one?«
Left: Cultural paintings on sand walls. (Photo: Trevor Mein); Right: Aerial view of the Uluru-Kata Tjuta Cultural Centre. (Photo: Craig Lamotte)
Uluru-Kata Tjuta Cultural Centre interiors (Photos courtesy Gregory Burgess Architects; approach to Cultural Centre with Uluru looming behind. (Photo: Gerry Musset, courtesy Gregory Burgess Architects)
- Jefa Greenaway is an architect, interior designer, academic and Director of Greenaway Architects, a practice specialising in residential, commercial and community projects. He is a descendant of the Wailwan and Kamilaroi peoples of North West NSW and also of German descent.
  
  He is co-Director of IADV / Indigenous Architecture and Design Victoria, a not-for-profit organisation providing support and advice regarding all aspects of architecture related to Aboriginal people in Victoria. Educated at Melbourne and Latrobe universities, he was recipient of the AIA National Emerging architect prize (2011), the Inaugural Stormtech Scholarship to the Glenn Murcutt International Master Class (2011) and participant in the British Council’s Accelerate Indigenous Leadership Intensive (2012). He was recently appointed as an Honorary Senior Fellow at the University of Melbourne, is currently a Lecturer at the Melbourne School of Design, and is a studio leader for the Robin Boyd Foundation Masterclass intensives.
  
  Jefa is the only registered Indigenous Architect in Victoria.
  
  iadv.org.au
Architecture is the last major creative field still in this position. Achievements in other fields from music, dance and movies to art, demonstrate that Indigenous practitioners have a capacity to make a greater mark than their 2.5 percent proportion of the population figure suggests. The opportunities are broad and the possibilities really exciting. The capacity to unpack new ways of thinking about design that resonate with deep conceptual foundations has the potential to herald a new era acknowledging history, place and culture.

As the Australian playwright Wesley Enoch eloquently puts it, “We express ourselves through our song and our dance, our storytelling, our visual arts, our music, our craft, our genealogy. Our history. Our economy… our sense of our community comes through ourselves through our arts″. I imagine a time when Indigenous knowledge is equally valued in design teaching. I imagine a place where key civic institutions are conceived through the prism of Indigenous sensibilities. I imagine an experience where Indigenous projects are sought out as compelling models that exceed the mainstream offerings.

The arguments needs to be put that Indigenous perspectives can indeed strengthen culture and design in the built environment. Indigenous aspirations to improve housing for example, aiding wellbeing and cementing the cultural bonds of communities, could all be realised through the creative problem-solving that architecture does so well.

The opportunities afforded to us by the pioneering work of our forebears clearly places the current generation at the vanguard of new design thinking, with the chance to offer unique insights and to articulately enunciate the emerging forms of a cultural leadership. p

About Jefa Greenaway