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word ‘loft’ into an internet image search and the screen will fill with white voids worked to the same planning program. Where’s the mystery, the humanity, and where’s the natural light in that back bedroom? Yes, retro-fitting old factories with new residential architecture can force the design hand — industry and the cosy living interior aren’t easy allies — but there are clever ways to avoid the clichés. And before you raise the issue of cost, this new home, built within a landmark Melbourne factory, proves that you can be respectful of the past, prudent with your resources and still be radical in the design approach. It is the work of Architects EAT, a smallish Melbourne practice with a name eminently suited to carving up a corner of a chocolate factory. “It’s the birthplace of Freddo Frog,” says the firm’s principal, Albert Mo, of the MacRobertson’s confectionery works that first made the amphibious-shaped chocolate treat back in 1930. “It was built in the 1880s, right to the edges of Kerr, Smith and Gore” — streets bordering a lock that is the historical heart and modern soul of Melbourne’s oldest suburb, Fitzroy. Accordingly, it came with strict heritage overlays. But before Mo responds to questions of council diktats and client desires, he itemises the property’s ‘givens’ as an 11-by-25-metre footprint (“bigger than your average suburban block”); a triple-brick skin (“great thermal insulation in summer but cold in winter”); a northerly aspect (“daylong penetration of winter sun”); and a saw-tooth roof. It was one massive rectilinear space, supported by four columns, set into a concrete floor that ricocheted sound. “We had no intention of disturbing the boundary,” says Mo, questioning why you would buy an industrial warehouse if you wanted to erase its fabric and feel. “But we had thermal and acoustic issues and were looking for the most direct way to conglomerate services and channel light without compromising on the mystery.” A partial solution was found in the laying of a limed timber floor, which provided acoustic baffling while burying wiring, plumbing and hydronic heating under its boards. But the provision of outdoor space and the improved ingress of light proved more problematic, with council objecting to the proposed courtyard on the property’s ››

THIS PAGE, CLOCKWISE FROM ABOVE LEFT: A compact circular stair reaches to the roof terrace. The ground level library hides behind the courtyard’s far end and features a custom-made bookshelf that fills a lofty void. A lower-level courtyard is furnished with Trent Jansen’s ‘Tidal’ loungers and coffee table from Tait. The main bedroom is edged with a wall of industrially detailed frosted windows; the photograph is Tama River (2015) by Derek Swalwell. OPPOSITE PAGE: The main ensuite is a sliver of a space fitted with Icon tapware from Astra Walker and Apaiser’s ‘Sentosa’ basins and ‘Haven’ bathtub. Details, last pages.

‹‹ northern street edge and its cover with metal-mesh screens (incurring the removal of a section of corrugated roof). Thankfully an episode of Grand Designs, in which the mesh was implemented, went to air as council assessed the final submission. Its proven suitability and cross-ventilating potential swayed the decision in the architect’s favour. “I’m really glad we put it in,” says Mo. “It gives an extra layer of shade without shutting out the elements.” Stressing his firm’s phenomenological approach to architecture — it’s all about the sensory experience — Mo introduces project architect Emma Gauder to tell how ‘ mystery’ was managed around the client’s simple briefing for four bedrooms and a chef’s kitchen. “They entertain a lot but had long suffered the small dining area, so this was their chance to indulge in the luxury space,” says Gauder of the two young professionals. “But no one wants to open a front door and find themselves in the kitchen.” So after installing a mezzanine level that provided more space for the desired sleeping quarters, the architects contrived a boundary-edge entry, under the mezzanine floorplate, by installing a wall of frosted glass. The resultant corridor ekes out the journey and heightens the drama of release into a double-height living void that is the semblance of a mountain crevice. This interstitial space is cut through by a footbridge that connects two cliff faces — one concealing a main-suite complex, the other a study with a roof-access stair. ‘Wow’ is the expression most voiced when guests enter this expanse and eye the ‘competition’ kitchen and the doubleheight wall of steel-framed glass that, in part, concertinas open to connect courtyard with living room. Mo likens this arrangement to a lung — the hardest-working organ that draws air down from above into branching passages and the out-ofsight cells (bedrooms, bathrooms and library). The biological analogy is a potent one for design, as good health is contingent upon good circulation. No matter how cosmetically enhanced the shell, if the living systems aren’t stabilised the whole structure will suffer. And this is architecture at its fittest. Visit eatas.com.au.