Latest news with #StateLibraryofNSW
Sydney Morning Herald
2 days ago
- Lifestyle
- Sydney Morning Herald
PM must begin to address his legacy - what will he leave us?
Recently, I went into the Sydney Opera House, where my partner was briefly working, for the first time in years. I had passed it, of course, travelled by on ferry, on my visits to the city in which I spent most of my youth. On such returns, there are always things you have not noticed – or perhaps forgotten. I had certainly never properly appreciated the shade of carpet in one of its bars, a gentle red that lies perfectly at the intersection of luridness, elegance and nostalgia. And I had not for years trod its inside concrete steps. The feel of those stairs, their exact width and hardness, somehow recalled me to my childhood, the bag of Minties my grandfather shared with me when he and his wife Jo took me to hear the orchestra. Staying in the CBD, I became dependent on the city's public spaces. I worked in the State Library of NSW, became accustomed to its rhythms; I spotted kookaburras with my son in the Domain. These places I know from my youth and so there was the shock, too, of just how different much of the city feels even compared to a decade ago. It feels more exciting, mostly – which also means busy. A friend told me about the squash to get onto the Metro in the morning, the aggressiveness that can come out, the simultaneously intimate and impersonal experience of being pressed against other human beings. And these things made me feel that the denser Australian cities everybody has talked about for years – a little nervously – are upon us. Of course, we don't know that this trend towards greater density will continue. It is possible, say, that the work-from-home shift is only getting started; that employers' recent push for more days in the office is merely a brief reversal, and that the fading of the importance of cities that seemed to begin during the pandemic will continue. One thing to remember is that nothing pans out quite as expected. A report in The Australian Financial Review last week suggested that work-from-home has not, as many predicted, drastically decreased the need for office space. As Challenger's chief economist told the paper, even if people only spend three days in the office, 'You still need pretty much the same amount of space.' Cafes, though, are doing awfully. What will governments do about these 'third places', neither work nor home but necessary? If commercial 'third places' are dying, will we get more parks? Some new type of hybrid space? This reminded me of one of those pandemic-era conversations – like so many now forgotten – about infrastructure created through Depression public works programs. Instead of our generation's version of ocean pools – something visionary and beautiful, both useful and communal – we got HomeBuilder. In all this I was reminded of that constant push-pull of Australian identity: the desire to mix with the 'big world' out there, to compare ourselves with the largest cities, the most powerful countries, and yet to retain whatever is unique about ourselves. Have we achieved either to our satisfaction? Is it possible to do both? This was the subtext of Anthony Albanese's trip to China last week, as it is of all prime ministerial engagements with other powers. The ever-growing rivalry between China and America reminds us of our great luck in being stuck at the bottom of the globe. Have Australians ever been more conscious than they are, right now, of the upside of isolation? And yet our public debate about foreign affairs seems driven by the linked ideas that we are more central than we are and have more control than we do. And so our news becomes dominated by questions such as when will Albanese meet Donald Trump and whether we should commit to wars that haven't happened.
The Age
2 days ago
- Lifestyle
- The Age
PM must begin to address his legacy - what will he leave us?
Recently, I went into the Sydney Opera House, where my partner was briefly working, for the first time in years. I had passed it, of course, travelled by on ferry, on my visits to the city in which I spent most of my youth. On such returns, there are always things you have not noticed – or perhaps forgotten. I had certainly never properly appreciated the shade of carpet in one of its bars, a gentle red that lies perfectly at the intersection of luridness, elegance and nostalgia. And I had not for years trod its inside concrete steps. The feel of those stairs, their exact width and hardness, somehow recalled me to my childhood, the bag of Minties my grandfather shared with me when he and his wife Jo took me to hear the orchestra. Staying in the CBD, I became dependent on the city's public spaces. I worked in the State Library of NSW, became accustomed to its rhythms; I spotted kookaburras with my son in the Domain. These places I know from my youth and so there was the shock, too, of just how different much of the city feels even compared to a decade ago. It feels more exciting, mostly – which also means busy. A friend told me about the squash to get onto the Metro in the morning, the aggressiveness that can come out, the simultaneously intimate and impersonal experience of being pressed against other human beings. And these things made me feel that the denser Australian cities everybody has talked about for years – a little nervously – are upon us. Of course, we don't know that this trend towards greater density will continue. It is possible, say, that the work-from-home shift is only getting started; that employers' recent push for more days in the office is merely a brief reversal, and that the fading of the importance of cities that seemed to begin during the pandemic will continue. One thing to remember is that nothing pans out quite as expected. A report in The Australian Financial Review last week suggested that work-from-home has not, as many predicted, drastically decreased the need for office space. As Challenger's chief economist told the paper, even if people only spend three days in the office, 'You still need pretty much the same amount of space.' Cafes, though, are doing awfully. What will governments do about these 'third places', neither work nor home but necessary? If commercial 'third places' are dying, will we get more parks? Some new type of hybrid space? This reminded me of one of those pandemic-era conversations – like so many now forgotten – about infrastructure created through Depression public works programs. Instead of our generation's version of ocean pools – something visionary and beautiful, both useful and communal – we got HomeBuilder. In all this I was reminded of that constant push-pull of Australian identity: the desire to mix with the 'big world' out there, to compare ourselves with the largest cities, the most powerful countries, and yet to retain whatever is unique about ourselves. Have we achieved either to our satisfaction? Is it possible to do both? This was the subtext of Anthony Albanese's trip to China last week, as it is of all prime ministerial engagements with other powers. The ever-growing rivalry between China and America reminds us of our great luck in being stuck at the bottom of the globe. Have Australians ever been more conscious than they are, right now, of the upside of isolation? And yet our public debate about foreign affairs seems driven by the linked ideas that we are more central than we are and have more control than we do. And so our news becomes dominated by questions such as when will Albanese meet Donald Trump and whether we should commit to wars that haven't happened.
The Age
12-06-2025
- Automotive
- The Age
Beyond the claptrap and cliche: Tim Ross' top architectural treasures
There's plenty of claptrap in the cliche about the Australian dream, says self-described architecture nerd and comedian Tim Ross. The idealised version is a three-bedroom home on a quarter-acre block in the suburbs with a Hills Hoist, a Holden in the driveway and a lawnmower defining a kingdom of neat grass. But that cliche has never been the whole story, Ross said. A new exhibition opening at the State Library of NSW on Saturday, curated by Ross and specialist librarian Anna Dearnley, debunks the myth with stories of people and buildings that have shaped our homes. For many Australians, the sound and smells of suburbia relates to freshly mown lawns. But the inventor of the Victa motorised petrol mower, Mervyn Victor Richardson, escaped suburbia for Palm Beach once he made his fortune. Ross said Richardson commissioned and built a mid-century modern home by architect Peter Muller on a rocky bushy block at Palm Beach that didn't look like any of the project homes going up across Sydney. 'He built this house that was virtually 'lawn-less',' Ross said. Richardson's story showed how rapidly Australians took to the suburbs, and how deeply entrenched the backyard was in the Australian dream. As project homes went up across Australia, Victa sales rocketed from 1070 petrol-powered mowers in 1950 to 230,721 a decade later. It is estimated that the now overseas-owned company sold nearly 7 million mowers by 2002. Ross said the photographs by famous photographer Max Dupain of Richardson give Muller and his home a 'part Bond villain, part Thunderbird look'. The pool had a swim-up bar which opened on to the living room and Richardson would commute via seaplane. 'It's a strange success story. If anything, the role [of the photo of the house] in the exhibition is to be that sort of knockout moment of architecture porn,' he said.
Sydney Morning Herald
12-06-2025
- Automotive
- Sydney Morning Herald
Beyond the claptrap and cliche: Tim Ross' top architectural treasures
There's plenty of claptrap in the cliche about the Australian dream, says self-described architecture nerd and comedian Tim Ross. The idealised version is a three-bedroom home on a quarter-acre block in the suburbs with a Hills Hoist, a Holden in the driveway and a lawnmower defining a kingdom of neat grass. But that cliche has never been the whole story, Ross said. A new exhibition opening at the State Library of NSW on Saturday, curated by Ross and specialist librarian Anna Dearnley, debunks the myth with stories of people and buildings that have shaped our homes. For many Australians, the sound and smells of suburbia relates to freshly mown lawns. But the inventor of the Victa motorised petrol mower, Mervyn Victor Richardson, escaped suburbia for Palm Beach once he made his fortune. Ross said Richardson commissioned and built a mid-century modern home by architect Peter Muller on a rocky bushy block at Palm Beach that didn't look like any of the project homes going up across Sydney. 'He built this house that was virtually 'lawn-less',' Ross said. Richardson's story showed how rapidly Australians took to the suburbs, and how deeply entrenched the backyard was in the Australian dream. As project homes went up across Australia, Victa sales rocketed from 1070 petrol-powered mowers in 1950 to 230,721 a decade later. It is estimated that the now overseas-owned company sold nearly 7 million mowers by 2002. Ross said the photographs by famous photographer Max Dupain of Richardson give Muller and his home a 'part Bond villain, part Thunderbird look'. The pool had a swim-up bar which opened on to the living room and Richardson would commute via seaplane. 'It's a strange success story. If anything, the role [of the photo of the house] in the exhibition is to be that sort of knockout moment of architecture porn,' he said.
Sydney Morning Herald
13-05-2025
- Business
- Sydney Morning Herald
The mystery man and the unexpected $2.8 million gift to a Sydney landmark
Most of us can dream up plenty of ways to spend a spare $2.8 million. Round-the-world trips at the pointy end of the plane, champagne and lobster, perhaps a new wardrobe. Then there are debts, school fees, etc – it's a sum that would clear most mortgages, even in Sydney. Neville Halse did none of the above. He gave his fortune to the State Library of NSW. The library was surprised when $2.8 million turned up out of the blue, left to the institution in Halse's will. The man himself was also something of a mystery. Described as a large man with a quiet character, Halse lived modestly in a Catholic boarding house nearby. He visited in late 2021, after the end of the second COVID lockdown, but was using a walker and in poor health. He changed his will on November 29 to leave his entire estate to the library, and died on June 9, 2022, aged 75. The state librarian, Dr Caroline Butler-Bowdon, loves walking laps of the institution both when it is silent before opening and when it is humming with researchers, students and gallery-goers. As she is 18 months into the job, she never encountered Halse but suspects his experience in the library was profound. 'He must have been thinking about where such a substantial amount of money would go,' Butler-Bowdon said. 'We always welcome the generosity of individuals. We know that the State Library is greatly loved … a donation like this underscores that value.
