Host Anthony Burke meets Deb and Mike who are saving a rickety colonial cottage and digging for the true story of its origins.
The fourth series of Restoration Australia has arrived on the ABC on Sunday evenings or iview.
Anthony Burke is the new host. He comes with an impressive CV: graduate of Columbia University Graduate School of Architecture, Planning and Preservation; Professor of Architecture and Course Director for the Master of Architecture in the Faculty of Design Architecture and Building at the University of Technology Sydney; co-creative director of the Australian Pavilion at the Venice Architecture Biennale, presenting "Formations; New practices in Australian Architecture"; presented at TEDx Sydney; curated the Architecture and Design symposium "Architecture Makes the City" for the Sydney Opera House 40th Anniversary; exhibited at San Francisco Museum of Modern Art, the Venice Architecture Biennale, Beyond Media in Florence and the Beijing Architecture Biennale; architectural judge for the London Design Week 2014. He is "...recognised internationally for his work in architectural design, curation and commentary, specialising in contemporary design theory at the intersection of technology, urbanism and practice", and is researching Sydney's recent architectural history and its emerging new wave of "city changing projects" reshaping the Sydney CBD.
He is also described as a history buff.
In episode 1, we meet Deb and Mike Dunn, and Baddeley Cottage, an 1860s timber cottage with a variety of odds and ends as additions.
The program seems a bit of a come-down for the host, who is left effusing about patching up an old timber weekender that is covered in asbestos. Burke's main contribution, apart from some throw-away and factually suspect lines about originality of fabric, seems to be an encouraging the Dunns, to "take their time". He tries to inject the obligatory dramatic elements of: a) time pressure, b) money worries, and c) strained relationship. He doesn't succeed. Apart from a moment when the restorers sit around the brazier proclaiming they are stuffed, it doesn't really look so hard.
The cottage also doesn't really look so bad in the real estate pics. There is mention of asbestos, but this is just typical of mid twentieth century additions and these days just a matter of getting the right people in to deal with it. Perhaps like so much heritage, the abandonment and neglect that comes from redevelopment had taken its toll in the last few years. It was sold for $230,000 in 2017 after a subdivision that turned the large block into a housing estate to come, and left the cottage on a small parcel.
The front shingle-roofed, two room cottage may be from the 1871, built by Charles Baddeley, who ran the local tannery. The south wing is referred to as the 1881 Post Office. The rear extension may be from 1948 (based on Lysaght Queens Head flashing).
Some of the details revealed during the restoration are interesting. The intact shingle roof is not unexpected, but is well preserved, with one section encased within the roof space of the rear extension. Packing crate timbers (from Massachusetts and London) were used for internal walls, different types of galvanised iron, bead-edge lining boards and weatherboards, and various reused components such as multi-pane window sashes, help tell a history of changes. The discussions of these elements are rather muddled though, and make it hard to understand the decisions about how to manage change and impacts to heritage. There was only one mention of heritage that I caught: in reference to demolishing part of the section thought to have been used as "Pambula's first post office". Some cuts in the miss-matched weatherboards and internal panelling are taken as signs of a former cart loading door. Possible I guess, but the ground outside is too far from the floor level to just back up a cart. And Syms Covington is recorded as postmaster at the Forest Oak Inn as early as 1854.
Burke's history is a bit dull, more bluffing than buffing. He tries to be excited about 'original' bits and pieces, and we hear from Deb about her detective work documenting manufacturers' marks and evidence of alterations. But we never get a clear picture of what bits are from which era. 'Original' is rather overused in the show. The 'original' pressed metal is matched with 'original' bakelite electrical fittings. The Bakelite 'quick to make and break switch' didn't really come about until the 1920s. Electric power in the region may have been a fair bit later as well. In WWII there was only electric power from sunset to 10pm from a diesel generator.
The pressed metal ceilings and walls are described as material 'you couldn't have gotten in Australia at the time" and "you wouldn't have gotten an acorn if this was made in Australia'. I don't think this is true. The pressed metal is most likely an early 20th century addition from the Wunderlich catalogue.
More 'originals' are found in a post-1939 Coughtrie light fitting, and a dowel gate which we are told the 'National Trust has a whole technical document dedicated just to these types of gates'. Hmm! Could it be this he means?
Perhaps the saving grace is that on top of all the demolition going on, we do get to see a bit of paint stripping and timber repair, while the structure is exposed and the tradies are given credit both on the show and in the follow up media. They worked for ages with the electrician and plumber.
Tradies 'got the heritage' concept. Brickie Brendan O'Dwyer of Tathra learnt how to mix the lime-based mortar for the Glaswegian fire bricks. Only Jeff Friede from America gets a name credit in the show though.
Deb also did her homework and went back to school and became an owner/builder. In a separate interview for the local paper Deb acknowledges the council's heritage advisor Trevor King, and Cecily Hancock, indicating that "they were really practical."
But why the distressed, distempered, shabby-chic look? Is it the fashion or just a personal quirk? The middle room with the exposed shingle roof (and exposed silver insulation) appears to be in the 'packing crate theatre set style'.
Paint has been laboriously stripped off timbers everywhere, inside and out, but just enough to make it look like the job is half finished. Some rain brings out the sap to stain it again, but this is cleaned off with a special mix of something. It triggered a bit of deja vu from a previous series for me. Presumably there is a clear coat to protect the timber from the weather.
The last couple of years have been difficult for heritage. Illegal and legal demolitions make the news every week, while even the wins are just facades of empty shells. So it is good to see some people trying to keep the old material, even if they put it back together in odd ways.
