Is there hope for the Docklands?

Is there any spirit left in this controversial corner of the city, or is the Docklands an irredeemable ghost town? We searched high and low for worthy reasons to visit Melbourne’s maze of concrete and water, and investigated what the region might look lik

With no public infrastructure the area became a “failed model of urban form”

IT’S A SUNNY day on the Harbour Esplanade. The calm waters of Victoria Harbour sparkle, a breeze rushes through the leaves of a small, single bush, an errant sprinkler waters the pavement, and a huge cow is stuck, upside down, between the forked branches of a bronze tree. Welcome to the Docklands: land of concrete esplanades, soaring high-rise buildings and a public art collection that threatens to outnumber the suburb’s living population. This particular sculpture, John Kelly’s ‘Cow Up a Tree’, was one of the first in the Docklands. That was back in the early 2000s when the area was being touted as a promising new urban area – a buzzing Cbd-adjacent community where tens of thousands of Melburnians would work, live and play. But right now, at midday on a Wednesday, I can count the number of living Melburnians on the esplanade on one hand. I can’t say I’m surprised: ask locals about their thoughts on the Docklands and you’re often received by blank stares by people who never go there, or eye-rolls by those forced to work in the area. Yes, there are some who live in the Docklands, and maybe some who even love the Docklands. I have never met one of those people.

So where did the Docklands go wrong? According to Michael Buxton, urban planning professor at RMIT, things could have been very different. “Back in 1989, the Cain [state] government put out a plan outlining its preferred development model… lowto-medium rise, lots of narrow laneways, town squares and open space along the river. Primarily residential. But when the Kennett government was elected, the planning minister Robert Maclellan threw those plans in the bin and said he wasn’t going to do master planning for Docklands – he believed the private sector was best placed to decide the type of development, and he threw it open for business.” High-rise

buildings shot up. But with no investment in public infrastructure or urban planning the area became what Buxton calls a “failed model of urban form… based on alienation, dominated by high-rise towers separating people from the street and each other.

“A few years ago, it became evident even to the city council and the state government that Docklands had been very poorly planned and so money has gone in to retrofit Docklands to make it more liveable. They’ve tried to improve the urban amenity with better public space design and facilities that weren’t there.”

But are these efforts too little too late? My quest takes me to the Newquay precinct; one of the eight precincts created by the state government. Here, the promenade is dominated by high-rises and construction sites to one side and boats on the other. Office workers eat solitary lunches on benches, and the near-silence is only punctuated by the cries of seagulls and the rush of trams. Fast food joints flank Waterfront Way, which is dominated by the mammoth Melbourne Star Observation Wheel, turning slowly overhead. Years ago, I took a ride on the Star and found that its only views were of construction sites, ships, and the rooftops of Costco and the ice skating arena. Never again.

At best, the Docklands is a work in progress; decent eateries, bars and facilities like the luxe Library at the Dock and community gardens are all welcome injections. One day, Melbourne’s creative energy might permeate the maze of wind tunnels and empty space; one day, government-installed public art might not be the only semblance of culture in the Docklands. But for now, I’m entranced by the most interesting thing I’ve seen all day: a plastic bag caught up between two buildings, rising, dancing and falling, American Beauty- style.