Why Brisbane's ugliest buildings are worth saving from demolition

Brisbane’s 1970s and 1980s architecture was mostly of a style best described as functional, when the brutalist architecture that led the world’s design principles for years made its mark.

But thirty-odd years on, the concrete blocks standing stolidly throughout the city are competing with a very different style - the glass tower, all light and shadow and height.

Functional, brutalist buildings that once housed much of Queensland’s government have been removed from George Street as part of the city’s rebirth, and other respected buildings are also eyed for demolition.

As Queens’ Wharf and other major redevelopments take their place, the question remains as to how many, if any, of these late 20th century concrete blocks should be preserved.

But while their aesthetic value comes down to personal choice, architect and University of Queensland lecturer Elizabeth Musgrave believes these buildings showcase some of the best design principles for Brisbane’s tropical climate.

“The thing about the brutalist buildings, it was a fashion going on,” she said.

“It was brought into Australia but the architects were given the freedom to manipulate that particular expression to suit the circumstances of Brisbane.

“And that’s not happening now.”

Brutalism, and its descendant architectural forms, has already left its mark on Brisbane with one of the finest examples of its use at the Queensland Cultural Centre.

Standing proudly in South Bank, and designed by architect Robin Gibson, the precinct includes the Queensland Art Gallery, Queensland Museum, QPAC, the Cultural Forecourt and The Edge at the State Library of Queensland.

Heritage listed in 2015, the cultural centre was initially developed in four stages from 1976 to 1988 at a cost of about $200 million.

While it remained a respected and beloved building, other towers around the city weren't given the same recognition.

“It is interesting that there are a lot of buildings that are being built at the moment that are not designed with the particular conditions of Queensland and south-east Queensland in mind,” Ms Musgrave said.

“The buildings with a lot of area of glass are actually highly reflective surfaces which increase the amount of heat in the surrounding environment of that particular building.

“In comparison, a lot of the brutalist buildings are actually designed with consideration for the particular characteristics or qualities of Brisbane.”

Deep-set windows in brutalist concrete designs form sun hoods protecting the windows from the sun in the hottest part of the day, and better shade the people inside.

The pre-concrete walls manage heat differently to the glass veneer of most modern towers, Ms Musgrave says, and shouldn’t be discounted just because they are ugly.

When Brisbane was in the grip of its brutalist era, buildings were designed deliberately to manage Brisbane’s tropical temperatures.

Ms Musgrave pointed to the TAB building in Albion as an excellent example of the modernist principles.

The landmark 1970s building, designed by renowned Queensland architect Geoffrey Pie, who died last year, is slated for demolition.

It will be replaced by multi-use buildings for housing, offices and food spaces.

Other examples of quality modernist and brutalist buildings are scattered throughout the University of Queensland, including the Chamberlain building at St Lucia.

As Australia looks toward increasingly headed for long, hot summers, Brisbane’s tropical climate will increase in temperature, leaving the city’s already hot streets even hotter.

By 2030, the CSIRO predicts Brisbane will see an annual average temperature increase across all seasons of 0.9 degrees.

While the aesthetics could sometimes be left behind during the brutalist and modernist design era, Ms Musgrave said the result was architecture that responded thoughtfully to the city’s climate.

Now, the pressures of development and interstate or even international money is changing how the city grows, sometimes at the cost of its built heritage and design principles.

While heritage laws first came into effect to help protect sandstone buildings such as City Hall, the Treasury and other parliament buildings, Queensland has been slow to protect the buildings that were springing up when those laws were written.

“All of that legislation about protecting heritage has its roots in the 1980s when we were losing the sandstone heritage and we were developing these buildings,” Ms Musgrave said.

“But these buildings were by and large being developed by people who understood what it was to build a tropical location, and were designing for the location.

“And that’s not happening now.”

As international developers move into the city, it leaves architects required to design what developers and builders want, with less attention paid to the climate and the city’s needs.

Architecture that could work effectively in Melbourne or elsewhere in Australia might not work in Brisbane, but was being reproduced on demand, Ms Musgrave said.

And while the Queensland government architect and Brisbane City Council both have strong and clear views on the best designs for Brisbane, often the developers are the ones with the power.

“The people who are controlling development, they are money from elsewhere and they have a picture in their mind about what a successful development is, and that’s what they want,” Ms Musgrave said.

Only a handful of specifically brutalist buildings are listed on the Queensland Heritage Register, while other concrete giants such as the Brisbane Transit Centre on Roma Street are being demolished to make way for new designs.

But removing the “big grey blobs” too quickly from Brisbane’s skyline risked wasting design principles already well-suited to Brisbane, Ms Musgrave said.

“We’re used to thinking about them as big grey blobs, and they can remain as big grey blobs, but there’s so much you can do with them,” she said.

“They have good bones.”