I descend from a line of resilient, long-living Yuin women whose Country is the South Coast of New South Wales. I come from the Budawang clan; my lineage, like that of all First Peoples across the continent, delves into a past deeper than can be imagined, through inconceivable changes and evolutions, into a time when the landscape appeared very different than it does now. My grandmother, Gloria Nipperess, is one of those resilient women. She has been a significant teacher in my life, including in my doctoral thesis,1 through which I question how Aboriginal peoples relate to space – which, for us, is held by Country.
Recent changes to the New South Wales government’s Environmental Planning and Assessment Act 1979 (EP&A Act) require built environment professionals to protect and maintain heritage, including Aboriginal heritage, in the design of the built environment. Country is part of our heritage as First Peoples. We did not need to construct major monuments, as Country itself has always been our monument, both tangibly and intangibly. We know ourselves, our history and our stories through Country. Yet colonial processes, including architecture, have never respected our holistic ways of viewing the landscape. Many special places have been disrespected, causing deep trauma to both land and people. Biodiversity is being shattered, creating unhealthy systems for all who use those spaces. What’s more, the standardization of the built environment results from finances and ease being the priorities in the design, rather than place or characteristics of Country. Similar legislative changes to those in the EP&A Act are likely to impact all states and territories in some way in the future, meaning that everyone working in the built environment needs to develop the right vocabulary and relationships to connect with First Peoples and Country. In part, this is about developing new relationships between Indigenous communities and built-environment professionals to ensure that Indigenous perspectives and knowledge are part of the design process; and in part, it is a very personal journey of unlearning and relearning what a connection to Country really means.
As Aboriginal peoples, our connection to Country is inherent; we are born with this gift of our heritage. Even when we are not “on Country,”2 we carry Country within us; our essence originates via the Dreaming from our Country, as does our potentiality and our ability to innovate, adapt to change and maintain our cultures. Country is alive and sentient. It has the capacity to communicate and create. It holds all knowledge, Laws, lore 3 and languages.4,5,6,7 A connection to Country comes through the development of a relationship with Country and, like all relationships, it can be strengthened through quality time spent together. This is why being removed from Country, or being unable to access it, is extremely detrimental for both Indigenous peoples and Country.
Country has a relational methodology, by which I mean that we, people, are related to all things through Country, including flora, fauna, earth, rocks, winds, elements – from the most diminutive microbe to the amorphous ocean. This methodology of relationships keeps everything in balance, as no single entity is privileged above another. This includes humans. The methodology of Country can – and, I believe, must – be incorporated into the methodology of built environment design.
For Aboriginal spatial designers, this ancient knowledge and these ways of understanding our world enter contemporary design processes through our cultural practices and expressions, and via the deep inheritance of Country. Spending time on Country with Elders and Knowledge Holders means I have had a chance to interrogate this direct correlation between Country, people and space. One question I have asked those wise people is how they connect to Country, and their responses are extraordinary and beautiful. My grandmother describes her connection with Country through walking Country, as she has long been a bushwalker. When asked what bushwalking means to her in relation to connecting to Country, she replies that she sees deep into the bush. She further explains that when she bushwalks, she never gets lost in the bush; she instinctively knows her way. My grandmother also says that she sees the changes in the bush as she moves through it, and that she loves all of the bush, and appreciates every part of it. I keep these ideas of seeing deep into the bush with me, finding similar expressions from other First Peoples. For instance, Tupaia from Ra’iatea (in the now-called Society Islands in French Polynesia) acted as a navigational guide for Lieutenant James Cook on The Endeavour in 1769–70 and was able to map the islands of the Pacific using the stars, waves, wind, birds and other cues from nature. Tupaia navigated to islands he had never visited and drew an accurate map, using knowledge passed down orally by his father and grandfather.8 Victor Steffensen,9 a descendant of the Tagalaka people from the Gulf Country of north Queensland, describes using the indicators of Country as a means of learning about cultural fire. He talks about reading Country, doing assessments of Country and learning the knowledge from the Old People before a fire is even lit. Others I spoke with, such as Dharug/Gundungurra/Yuin Elder Uncle Greg Simms, describe making physical connections to Country – like taking our shoes off and walking barefoot – as a means of clearing the mind and finding healing.
Knowing that Country communicates what it needs to keep the land, water and air healthy means that we, as humans, need to ensure we are listening to those communications. By taking directions from my grandmother and other Elders and Knowledge Holders into my design processes, I ensure that Country is centred in my designs. For instance, as part of my process, I allow Country to act as guide or cue for the project; spend time on Country walking, sensing and listening; understand that a site, when related to Country, is far vaster than the boundaries marked on a map and far deeper than written or colonial records recall; remember that First Peoples originated from Country and are therefore essential interpreters to truly knowing a place; notice the changes in ecosystems and have awareness of biodiversity as vital indicators for a project; include all that inhabit a space as informants to the design, including more-than-humans, 10 non-humans and humans; and, importantly but quite simply, love, know and care for Country in the knowledge that we will receive that in return.
Like others, I call this process “reading Country,” though I am referring to it in relation to the design of the built environment. My reading of Country is delivered as a verbal visual essay. This is in order to protect any Indigenous Cultural and Intellectual Property (ICIP) rights in the document and to support non-Indigenous people to learn about Indigenous ways of sharing knowledge, such as listening as a means of gathering information. From the reading of Country comes a series of observations, recommendations and design references that lead to the designing with Country process. It is important to note that the process of “reading Country” needs to be undertaken by those with appropriate experience and cultural authority to do so, by which I mean First Peoples with the appropriate relationships and knowledge (or those to whom they have given explicit authority). Attempting this without the right experience and cultural authority can result in incorrect information being shared and ICIP rights being breached. Including Indigenous people in projects not only as those we consult with, but as part of the team, can only enrich the project, give it authenticity, and ensure that the correct narratives and themes are being incorporated.
Currently, when I look out the window at the urban sphere, I could be anywhere on the globe. To date, we are creating “stamps” of other places here in the continent now called Australia – stamps of London, stamps of Los Angeles, stamps of Santiago de Chile, stamps of Kuala Lumpur. It is clear that architecture has been used as a colonial tool to repress Indigenous peoples and appropriate their lands. Regrettably, until the processes we use to design our built environments are adapted to include community, culture and Country, colonization of our spaces will continue. If we are truly going to start designing for this place , we need to start including the longer narratives of this place – the narratives that go back to before time can be measured – in the design of the place. To me, this means ensuring Country is lead architect and First Peoples are narrators and interpreters for all projects – not just those with perceived Indigenous values or relevance. After all, we are always on Country.
1. Danièle Hromek, “The (Re)Indigenisation of Space: Weaving narratives of resistance to embed Nura [Country] in design” (doctoral thesis, University of Technology Sydney, 2019).
2. To be clear, we are all always on Country; whether in the countryside or the city, it is Country. When we refer to being “on Country,” it means being on our own Country.
3. “Laws” (capital “L”) refers to the laws, customs and protocols of the land set out in the Dreaming as a set of rules or guidelines for every entity to follow as a means of caring for Country. Laws are not changeable by humans. “Lore” refers to knowledge or tradition passed from generation to generation through story, song and other performative expressions.
4. Dennis Foley, “Indigenous epistemology and Indigenous standpoint theory,” Social Alternatives vol 22 no 1, Summer 2003.
5. Michael Dodson, “Indigenous protected areas in Australia,” in I nternational expert group meeting on Indigenous Peoples and protection of the environment (Khabarovsk Russian Federation: United Nations, 2007).
6. Julie Freeman, Spot Fire 1 — Reading Country — Aunty Julie Freeman (Australia: Kaldor Public Art Projects, 2016).
7. Anthony McKnight, “Mingadhuga Mingayung: Respecting Country through Mother Mountain’s stories to share her cultural voice in Western academic structures,” Educational Philosophy and Theory vol 47 no 3, 2015.
8. Vaughan Yarwood, “Tupaia,” New Zealand Geographic , September–October, no 159 (2020), nzgeo.com/stories/tupaia (accessed 26 November 2020).
9. Victor Steffensen, Fire Country: How Indigenous fire management could help save Australia (Melbourne: Hardie Grant Travel, 2020).
10. The term “more-than-human” references the interconnectivity between humankind, culture, animals, plants, geology, elements and other non-human/non-breathing entities. More-than-human recognizes the ecosystems within which all of these entities are intertwined, making them more than simply individuals; rather, they are completely reliant on one another. More-than-human includes human as part of nature rather than separate to or holding authority over nature. More-than-human is used in this context to recognize that entities that are not human hold equivalent agency in places and spaces as humans, and therefore must be considered in the design.
Case studies
The projects featured below have been designed on Country through collaborative processes. In each case, the architect worked with Traditional Owner groups and others to consider how the design might impact the place, enhance its amenity and reflect its very particular narrative.
Heirisson Island Pedestrian Bridge by IPV Delft
An external Aboriginal designer facilitated collaborative work on the design for the Heirisson Island Pedestrian Bridge.
Image: IPV Delft
WSP’s Indigenous Specialist Services facilitated a co-design session with the Noongar Reference Group and Dutch bridge designers IPV Delft to help the client to consider the potential impact of this development on Aboriginal Country, to establish a cultural context for the project and to understand how local themes, stories and Country can inform the design of a future pedestrian bridge.
The Noongar Traditional Owners are powerful people. They each hold knowledge of Country and culture, which can make operating in this area difficult for clients trying to juggle competing interests. With this project, we found that it was beneficial to have an external Aboriginal designer as part of the project to ensure that the relationship between the elders, the design team and the client landed in a respectful and culturally safe way, allowing for meaningful conversation and dodging the potential cultural complications or politics that come with any highly engaged community.
The co-design gatherings resulted in a design that considered the island from a Noongar perspective. We considered not only how the Country would be impacted but how the bridge might celebrate and honour important Noongar people, such as Fanny Balbuk, who lived during the early days of the Swan River Colony and is remembered for her resistance to colonial expansion, and Noongar man Yagan, famed for his resistance to British colonial settlement in the early nineteenth century. We also wanted to reference important tools, such as digging sticks and Woomeras (throwing sticks), in the design.
— Michael Hromek (Yuin), Indigenous design specialist at WSP.
Architect: IPV Delft in consultation with WSP’s Indigenous Specialist Services and the Noongar Reference Group
Project type: Pedestrian bridge
Client: Western Australia Department of Transport
Location: Matagarup – “place where the river is only knee-deep” – is the traditional name for what we now call Heirisson Island, which is in Derbarl Yerrigan, the traditional name for the Swan River in Whadjuk Noongar boodjar (Country). Whadjuk is the name of the dialectal group of Noongar people from the area now known as Perth.
Perth, WA
Status: From August 2020: Planning and development Mid –late 2021: Procurement 2022: Construction anticipated to commence
Project team: IPV Delft, WSP’s Indigenous Specialist Services, Noongar Reference Group
Western Sydney Aerotropolis by Hassell
The blue-green infrastructure framework retains and enhances the landscape at the proposed Western Sydney Aerotropolis.
Image: Arterra Interactive and Hassell
Wianamatta is the original name of the cultural landscape on which the Western Sydney Aerotropolis is located. As confirmed by Traditional Custodians and Dharug language Knowledge Holders, the name Wianamatta indicates that this is a female landscape that is important to women – in particular, mothers, as the name implies that it is “the place of the mother creek.”
The Aerotropolis – a new central business district and industry hub – will be the beating heart of the Western Parkland City. Plans for the Aerotropolis establish a 100-year-vision for a new city of 34,000 residents and 120,000 new jobs across 11,000 hectares. It is an urban design, landscape and public realm framework for a sustainable, liveable and prosperous city.
Based on this 100-year mindset, the Aerotropolis plan has a number of key elements:
– Country and landscape form a key structuring element. Ridgetops, creeks, ephemeral streams, remnant vegetation, culture and heritage are retained and enhanced through the blue-green infrastructure framework.
Country soars high into the atmosphere, deep into the planet crust and far into the oceans. Country incorporates both the tangible and the intangible – for instance, all the knowledge and cultural practices associated with land. Aboriginal people are part of Country, and our identity is derived in a large way in relation to Country. Our belonging, nurturing and reciprocal relationships come through our connection to Country. In this way, Country is key to our health and wellbeing. (Danièle Hromek, Indigenous design consultant)
– Wianamatta/South Creek and its tributaries define the Environment and Recreation Zone of the Aerotropolis. Its corridors carry critical environmental, cultural and recreational functions to boost liveability and establish the primary elements of a cool, parkland city.
– Jobs and mixed-use intensity are highest around the Sydney Metro–Western Sydney Airport line stations at the Aerotropolis Core and Luddenham. Here, the centres focus amenity on open space and the creek corridors, embedding place at the heart of the city.
— Scott Davies, senior associate at Hassell.
Architect: Hassell
Project type: City-shaping masterplan
Client: Western Sydney Planning Partnership
Location: The land of the inland Dharug people, whose territory extends from the Blue Mountains to the coast
Wianamatta – Western Sydney, NSW
Status: Plans completed for exhibition
Project team: Hassell (lead urban designers and landscape architects, with design responsibility for Aerotropolis Core, Badgerys Creek and Wianamatta/South Creek); Danièle Hromek, Djinjama Indigenous Corporation (Indigenous design consultant); Hill Thalis Architecture and Urban Projects (Northern Gateway Precinct); Studio Hollenstein (Agribusiness Precinct); Elton Consulting (town planner)
Redfern Community Facility by Aileen Sage Architects
The design moves thoughtfully into a colonial space by using materials that celebrate local origins.
Image: Aileen Sage Architects
Despite colonial impacts, the site of the Redfern Community Facility holds heritage values and narratives for Aboriginal communities, and maintaining those connections is vital to achieving a sense of place and cultural identity. Working collaboratively with Danièle Hromek of Djinjama Indigenous Corporation and building heritage specialists Jean Rice and Noni Boyd of Jean Rice Architect, our approach to this project seeks to celebrate and honour a cultural reading of place that is founded on Indigenous knowledge grounded in Country. This approach seeks to design specifically for this place, not only through the materials used, but equally through the design strategy, which provides a framework for the current upgrade works as well as any other work in the future.
While the existing building is a heritage colonial building, we recognize that it used materials of this Country (local sandstone and bricks). These have since been rendered and painted over, but the new additions seek to uncover this original materiality, and honour and respectfully build on them. The new entry point is clearly demarcated by a lift tower, which stands in opposition to the existing clock tower as a sort of resistance to colonial architecture.
In seeking to minimize interventions to the existing built fabric, and maximize future flexibility, we are purposely seeking to minimize demolition and the unnecessary creation of waste. Similarly, the additions seek to maximize the use of recycled building materials – bricks, stone and timber reclaimed from nearby demolished sites – as well as locally produced materials, trades and training programs.
Using the same materials as the existing building, but in a contemporary way that respectfully acknowledges and celebrates their origins from this Country, the entry finds a new way of moving into a colonial space through a new, dedicated pathway.
Blue-tongued skinks, eastern froglets, grey-headed flying foxes and powerful owls once inhabited this area. Our design approach seeks to recognize and honour that more-than-humans belong equally within our cities. The striking patterns of the powerful owl’s plumage inspire the patterns of the brickwork and paving, and selected materials and textures throughout draw on other references and features of the Sydney Turpentine-Ironbark Forest that previously characterized the area – a habitat and community that is now critically endangered.
— Aileen Sage Architects and Djinjama Indigenous Corporation
Architect: Aileen Sage Architects
Project: type Community facility
Client: City of Sydney
Location: Situated on Gadigal land. Gadi land extends from Burrawara (South Head) through to Warrane (Sydney Cove), Gomora (Cockle Bay–Darling Harbour) and possibly to Blackwattle Creek, taking in the wetland sand and dunes now known as Redfern, Erskineville, Surry Hills and Paddington, down to the Cook’s River. The neighbouring clans are Cameragal (to the north), Wangal (to the west) and Gameygal (to the south).
Sydney, NSW
Status: Documentation stage, due for completion 2022
Project team: Aileen Sage Architects with Djinjama Indigenous Corporation and Jean Rice Architect (heritage specialist)
Kimberwalli by BVN
The redesign of existing buildings for an Aboriginal Centre of Excellence sought to enable experiences of Country in a number of new ways.
Image: Barton Taylor
Kimberwalli, meaning “many stars,” is a new Aboriginal Centre of Excellence located on Dharug Country at the decommissioned Whalan High School in Western Sydney. In conceptual terms, the design of the Kimberwalli project was approached through the way I see Country as a living, omnipresent condition that sustains us. The project embodies the idea of “designing with Country” through three primary moves that essentially articulate cultural settings for fire, an outdoor room and external connectivity.
The first move: The campus sits upon a hill that enjoys views of Colomatta (Blue Mountains). This aspect to a culturally significant entity is celebrated through the careful landscape location of the fire pit as a social setting for both formal (smoking ceremonies) and informal (storytelling) events.
The second move: The existing 1970s brick and concrete school buildings provided no mediating space between inside and outside. The insertion of a two-storey verandah enables a covered, occupiable gathering space and defines a colonnade edge to the landscaped performance space.
The third move: The existing buildings were a series of introverted spaces linked by internal corridors. These spaces lacked light and a relationship to the outside. Within the two-storey former classrooms building, the removal of half of the first-floor slabs, the opening of the butterfly ridge and the enlarging of ground-floor openings all worked to provide direct connectivity to the outside in terms of both light and view.
The influence of these moves is in the spatial ambitions that seek to enable experiences of Country. These moves are not symbolic in that they do not rely on art as signifiers of the “other.” The ideas informing these moves are also part of a much larger set of possibilities that I continue to develop through the specificity of each architectural project encountered – the nature of the Country the project belongs to – with guidance from people of that Country.
— Kevin O’Brien (Kaurareg and Meriam), principal at BVN and co-editor of Our Voices: Indigeneity and architecture (Oro Editions, 2018).
Architect: BVN
Project type: Community education facility
Client: NSW Department of Education and Aboriginal Affairs NSW
Location: The land of the Dharug people
Whalan, NSW
Status: Construction completed December 2019
Project team: Kevin O’Brien (project manager and principal), Catherine Skinner (principal), Juan Salazar (project architect), Jared Bird, Schneider Eliassaint, Elle Trevorrow; Aurecon (engineer); Urbis (planner); Group DLA (certifier); WT Partnership (quantity surveyor); Cox Inall Ridgeway (community consultation), PSG Holdings (contractor)
New Student Precinct by Lyons-led consortium
A space for the student organization Murrup Barak (Melbourne Institute for Indigenous Development) is contained within the new precinct.
Image: Greenaway Architects
The New Student Precinct is a 2.5-hectare site on the University of Melbourne’s Parkville campus that will transform five existing buildings and add two new buildings, with an overarching urban and landscape design stitching the development together.
A signature project for the university’s Reconciliation Action Plan, it is underpinned by a deeply immersive engagement strategy that maps to the university’s reconciliation agenda. Through a carefully calibrated engagement piece with four Traditional Owner groups over the course of 18 months, the requisite permissions were given to tell their stories in particular ways.
In addition, engagement with Indigenous staff, leaders and students of the university provided valuable feedback and insights from a range of voices representing more than 45 Indigenous language groups. The methodology employed by Greenaway Architects and Greenshoot Consulting was captured to embed authentic expressions of Country, culture and connections.
The purpose of this culturally respectful process was to foreground Indigenous agency to weave through a cultural narrative connected to place. Led by one of Australia’s handful of Indigenous-owned and -led architectural practices, the process carved out the requisite time and space to engage in meaningful ways and to infuse a cultural sensitivity that was embraced and amplified by the whole design consortium, providing both depth of meaning and design inspiration.
As a result of this process, the “river of no sound” – a metaphor for the erasure of culture experienced in many places across our country, including the dramatic disturbance and manipulation of the landscape to conceal the stories and echoes of Country – is no more. Instead, a powerful water story has been brought to light, and will be fully revealed and experienced as this transformative project is further unveiled.
— Jefa Greenaway (Wailwan/Kamilaroi), founding director of Greenaway Architects.
Architect: Lyons-led consortium with Greenaway Architects, Aspect Studios, Koning Eisenberg, NMBW Architecture Studio, Architects EAT, Breathe Architecture and Glas Urban
Project type: University student precinct (including educational, cultural and landscape interventions)
Client: University of Melbourne
Location: Unceded sovereign lands of the eastern Kulin nations
Melbourne, Vic
Status: Under construction, due for completion 2022/2023
Project team: Including but not limited to Irwinconsult, Aurecon, Marshall Day (acoustics), McKenzie Group (building surveyor), Slattery (quantity surveyor), Donald Cant Watts Corke (project manager), Lovell Chen (heritage), Greenshoot Consulting
Source
Discussion
Published online: 27 May 2021
Words:
Danièle Hromek
Images:
Aileen Sage Architects,
Arterra Interactive and Hassell,
Barton Taylor,
Greenaway Architects,
IPV Delft
Issue
Architecture Australia, March 2021
