198 Berkeley Street (Economics and Commerce Building), University of Melbourne, Carlton, VIC, Australia

The view from Haymarket Junction.

Once upon a time (i.e. for about its first 100 years of existence), the University of Melbourne had an undeniably pretty campus in Parkville with a lake and a lot of gorgeous buildings.  Luckily, some still stand - Old Arts, Old Physics, University House, and the 1888 Building, to name a few.  However, the lake vanished in the late 1930s.  Wilson Hall burnt down and was replaced by a hideous box in the 1950s (soon to be featured here).  And since the 1960s, the university seems to be doing everything it can to erect eyesores that overshadow its rich architectural heritage; see, of course, my recent rant on the Eastern Resource Centre.  The latest chapter in Melbourne University's embarrassing architectural lowlights of the past 50 years opened last year: the new Economics and Commerce Building at 198 Berkeley Street.

Near the intersection of Berkeley and Pelham Streets.

The amount of wank produced by the university and the "architects" surrounding this building almost exceeds the amount of wank on a St Kilda FC team holiday.  And they're up against Nick Dal Santo there, so that's quite a feat!  Just check out the building's website, an unbelieveably hideous and unusable web failure.  Somehow 198 Berkeley St is actually the most attractive thing about that site.  But perhaps the most spectacular wank appears on the university's website, right here.  I quote:

Architect Paul Bennett of Metier3 says:"The University was looking for a landmark to signify their south-western gateway. The opaque enamelled glass has patterns suggesting deciduous trees in winter as well as an abstracted leaf canopy."

The opaque enamelled glass has patterns suggesting deciduous trees in winter as well as an abstracted leaf canopy.  Are they actually serious?  Can they actually say that with a straight face?  I mean, christ-

Just look at it!

PATTERNS SUGGESTING DECIDUOUS TREES IN WINTER?!

AN ABSTRACTED LEAF CANOPY?!

No, you blundering nincompoops, the only thing this building's patterns suggest is MOULD.  The opaque enamelled glass has PATTERNS SUGGESTING A GIANT FUCKING LOAF OF MOULDY BREAD AS WELL AS AN ABSTRACTED FUNGAL CANOPY.

Seriously, it looks like some bakers in Melbourne decided to bake the world's largest loaf of bread, succeeded ... but then couldn't actually eat it all and just left it to go mouldy.  The building may be commendable for its environmentally friendly design, but it's about as aesthetically pleasing as my pantry when it's 40C for a few days and I've forgotten that there are loaves of bread and Turkish rolls and pita bread in there.

At least I'm not the only person who has taken some objection; see this blog from July 2009, half a year before the building was officially opened.  Perhaps the only comfort we can take is that this hideous blunder of architecture has been inflicted on the Economics and Commerce faculty, rather than one with real people.  Then again, I'm not sure even economists deserve this, and it reflects pretty poorly on the whole damn university.  And bloody deciduous trees, really?!

DECIDUOUS TREES DO NOT WORK THAT WAY!  GOODNIGHT.

Rating: Condemnable.

Geographical note: Although this building is part of Melbourne University's Parkville campus, it is the latest step in the university's expansion beyond its traditional southern boundary of Grattan Street, i.e. into Carlton.

Moonee Ponds Creek, northern Melbourne suburbs, VIC, Australia

Dwarfed by Citylink in North Melbourne.

When I first looked at a map of Brunswick West/Moonee Ponds before moving to the area, I noticed Moonee Ponds Creek flowing between the two. “How nice,” I thought, “I could go for pleasant evening strolls along there.” Then I actually saw the creek. To call it a “creek” is to grossly overstate reality. At its southern reaches, it was widened into a small canal for the conveyance of coal to railway yards in the days of steam locomotives and isn't too grotesque:

Railway Canal in West Melbourne.

In the mid-20^th century, the then Melbourne Metropolitan Board of Works had the brilliant idea of concreting the whole bloody thing from Flemington Road north to Strathmore as some sort of flood mitigation strategy. The buffoons turned it into a hideous stormwater drain, a watercourse with almost no natural or redeeming qualities.

Here it is north of Flemington Road in Parkville, complete with bizarre erections that look like they come from U2's insipid Vertigo Tour imagery:

And here it is, marking the border between Moonee Ponds and Brunswick West. During times of heavy rain, it occasionally fills close to the top of the concrete and bears a faint resemblance to an actual river, but it is usually an awful, stagnant skidmark across a slab of concrete:

Nothing lives in here. Even the pigeons usually give it a miss. It is discoloured and it has an unpleasant whiff about it. Apparently some skateboarders have put the sloped concrete walls to use, but if this is your idea of a mad place to skateboard, I don't really know what to say to you except that you must be pretty desperate. Even more laughable, I once saw a father in Brunswick West taking his two children and their dog to frolic in the creek on a hot summer's day. Had the father promised the kids a cool dip in the water without telling them it would be the most pissweak dip ever? I don't know about you, but I prefer not to waste my leisure time beside a skidmark.

Rating: Our very first "cellar floor", for crimes against nature.

Eastern Resource Centre, University of Melbourne, Parkville, VIC, Australia

Today, I would like to highlight an example of truly horrendous architecture.  The Parkville campus of the University of Melbourne has a good number of beautiful and attractive buildings, amongst which are a few malignant tumours that blight the landscape.  One of the worst offenders, in fact probably the worst offender, is the Eastern Resource Centre (ERC), one of the main libraries:

Just look at it!  This is meant to be a library, a place of knowledge and ideas and books.  I can think of few more noble purposes for a building, yet this seems to have been built with none of that in mind.  There is no style, no grace, not a single nod to its purpose as a repository of intellectual achievement and historical record.  It looks like a prison, or a place to house a soulless, bloodsucking bureaucracy or accountancy firm.  Perhaps it should be home to the Faculty of Law.  This sort of incongruous, faceless Brutalist architecture should be deplored, or even better, torn right down.  The ERC is especially offensive because it neighbours and overshadows the most beautiful structure on campus, the 1888 Building:

My grudge against the ERC is not just on the basis of aesthetics.  It used to be.   It is now personal.  For all its aesthetic failings, inside it used to be everything you could want from a university library.  The upper three floors are given over to the Education Faculty's needs (hence its former name, the Education Resource Centre); the bottom two floors house books of interest to the social sciences and humanities - but because the main SS&H library is the Baillieu and most Arts students seem far too lazy to plumb the depths of the ERC, the wealth of relevant books here went largely unmolested.  If you were willing to use the place, it was a goldmine!  Few people ventured down to the bottom two floors; you could get lost amongst the wonderful smell of books, exploring all kinds of arcane but fascinating subjects, and curl up at a desk in a very, very quiet corner to get your work done or just to unwind.  You could even just sprawl out comfortably in an aisle - there was hardly anybody to notice you.

Then the forces of renovation struck.  Somebody evidently needed to kickstart a project to justify their existence.  Part of this involved a redevelopment of the third storey entry, which has been little more than polishing a turd, as the picture at right illustrates.  Sure, the glassy new addition is a bit more airy and open, but it's just as incongruous as the ERC and doesn't achieve a whole lot.  The other part of the redevelopment is what really gets me, though: half the bottom floor was given over to some new "hub" that hasn't really proved its worth to me after a few years of trying.  My favourite aisle was lost to this renovation.  The smell, the quiet, the atmosphere - it's never really been the same.  Sure, most of the second floor and half of the first still largely look like how they used to:

But then you look down a first floor aisle and you see the new hub.  I see where my cosy little home used to be, my place of relaxation, gone forever:

So if I seem especially bitter about the ERC, it's not just because it's an ugly building (though let's not play down the architectural failings here).  It's because the best damn spot on campus has gone the way of the dodo.

Rating: Condemnable.