Angelo Candalepas

Creating beautiful work is the only relevant act in architecture, for architecture does not reach a level of art without the aesthetic dimension. 

I learned that beautiful work is possible because the human condition is such that there exists a universal understanding of beauty. I found that there was an enormous body of work in the pursuit of aesthetics and the concept of a universal appeal. 

At UTS I was aided by lecturers in aesthetics and philosophy – Steve Harfield and Peter Townsend – in my search for this. I was able to understand that the delivery of aesthetics and works of beauty were, for the most part, not simply a matter of seeking out ‘what I liked’, but were only ever able to be delivered through observation, dissemination and research. 

In those years, the primary sources were such proponents as Lang, Dovsky and Meyer. I also discovered that with aesthetics came an attitude towards ethics, and the ethical correlation was well documented in the history of philosophy from the pre-Socratics through to Hegel and Baudrillard. 

I also learned that great work in architecture must understand this. That work must also be grounded by precise technical accomplishment and a knowledge of technology and the requirements of practice.

These mandatory elements come together to make architecture and one cannot work without the other. At UTS, I learned that creating subtlety as well as a sense of repose in the work is also important. Architecture is an art. It cannot be created without the aesthetic dimension; it cannot be regarded as architecture without the technical dimension also.

I learned that when designing, one should do what one knows can be beautiful. This knowledge in the end comes from within as it does in music, painting or sculpture. In its making it is not to be overthought, overworked or part of an overly analysed process.

I also learned that design cannot be developed by others on our behalf; nor can it be developed to satisfy the desires of others over our own visceral needs. I learned that architecture cannot be accurately described in any other language but its own. I learned to devalue the narrative, the justification of what one is doing in text, and the superficial analysis of anything that is artistic. 

I learned that predetermining the outcome produces work that is ‘stillborn’, not poetical and of little cultural merit. I therefore learned a ‘process’ with which to create my own designs with confidence, based upon adjunct considerations that sometimes relate to what I am doing, and sometimes they do not.

In my experience, understanding one’s own attitude about subtlety is imperative in the cultural act of creating architecture. Without this understanding, there is a risk of being one-dimensional and this is not a useful base from which to contribute to the culture of place. 

The most important lesson was that I was not to seek guidance from too many of the practitioners of the time, as I soon recognised that their work was not relevant to what I was keen to do in my profession.

I am motivated by my sense of having a worthwhile existence on this earth. I have no goals other than to enable appropriate outcomes to be delivered in my work. I also aim to sometimes mend injustices in the world, as architecture has this dimension of a broader political intent. This may cut across many people’s personal intentions from time to time, as a broader intent sometimes affects individuals’ personal ambitions. I sometimes get into trouble with those who are self-serving – and there are many such people, so I am getting in trouble frequently. 

It is my aim to focus, however, on the contribution my work can offer society as a testament to our age, our aspirations and our optimism for the future. I suppose I am therefore also aware of the fact that I am unable to reach this goal.

My career and life-changing turning point was marrying my wife. She has helped me in my judgements of many things. One person alone does not have enough wisdom to know how to do everything. Having the sound words of a loving partner enables one to not get ahead of oneself. 

Having children too was a significant turning point. It is as though these two things made me turn into a corner of light and optimism from a place of darkness. It also brought into the picture the concept that the world was at times cruel, and that I was vulnerable through those whom I loved. Their contribution cannot be understated.

The ability to judge right from wrong, good work from bad, and knowing their limitations and potential in equal measure. Importantly, the ability to recognise opportunities as they arise and the ability to not let them pass without being noticed or acted upon. Lastly, the ability to not be bored by boring tasks, and the ability to find love in the making of everything in practice, from a piece of expert advice to a model.

I would dearly like to deliver some masterful works that change the way architecture is seen by the greater community. I would like to deliver work that has a broader social offering; one that changes people’s lives through an awakening of an awareness about our place and time. I would like to import into our city some works that are haunting upon the human psyche. And I would like to imagine that many people would recognise the work I do as being beautiful – not just architects, some of whom seem to have lost the fundamental concept that we are creating cultural works that need to be loved by all.

I enjoyed meeting and spending time with my friends Peter Kouvelas and Susanne Pini. Without them, I believe the course would have been unbearable because we needed to work 30 hours a week in a practice, and then attend something like 18 hours a week in classes. This meant that we were working every weekend for six years.

I valued the international teachers who came, especially Phillipe Robert from Paris. I had never travelled abroad until I was in my final year – and that was due to a scholarship – so I was in awe of people who were from places I knew only from books. Phillipe had mentioned in fifth year that Susanne’s, Peter’s and my design for East Circular Quay was extraordinary because it had reflectors of light to shine daylight into the Botanical Gardens, and he could not believe how risky and beautiful this was. If it were not for him, I am certain we would have failed. Instead we received a great mark. I enjoyed that element of risk that comes with putting your heart’s desires out to be judged in every work. 

I valued the discussions with some of the teachers and developed a sense of confidence in myself, gained from the people who believed in me. Professor Neville Quarry believed in me and I regarded him as a friend until his passing. He was a wonderful buoy to my ego and was often kind to me in his delivery of critique because, as he said, I was one who was better when encouraged. 

I was also able to be friends with Associate Professor Winston Barnett, with whom I still communicate despite these strange times. These senior people in the faculty were people with whom I could ‘talk’ and in many ways I still do.

Lastly and most importantly, by some happy accident I got a job with Colin Madigan, the architect of the National Gallery and High Court of Australia. This lasted for five of the six years of my course. I loved working with Colin – it was perhaps the most important and enjoyable part of my undergraduate experience. We worked on projects as well as several competitions, which we either won or were published in important journals, and we had an enduring friendship until his passing. We had a wonderful friendship and I still speak with his son and grandson. I helped him with the Moral Rights campaign for the National Gallery’s refurbishment. We were also co-directors in a company together. In his honour, I am completing my largest project in the city with that company, Madigan Architects, as the contracting party. The time spent working at Colin’s office settled my habits for my entire career. 

After my final critique, I was invited to work with Graham Jahn. Interestingly, he is also a recipient of this Alumni Award. With Graham I learned that everything, even the design of a table, could inspire an attentiveness to the attitude of aesthetics. Graham is an incredibly intelligent practitioner, and in learning his thinking and method I was able to develop a sense of confidence in my own work. 

In the months after leaving, I won my first open international competition – Housing at Pyrmont, run jointly by the RAIA and NSW State Government – which was something that Graham himself introduced me to. I went on to win numerous competitions with designs that were never built. I was able to set up my own practice with the experience I gained from the mentoring of Colin Madigan and Graham Jahn, and I am indebted to those two exceptional practitioners for this.

This question presupposes that we can control our destiny. I would argue that we have few choices about who we are and how we can be. 

On the Temple of Apollo at Delphi, Pausanias recorded that there were three maxims: ‘know thyself’, ‘nothing to excess’ and ‘surety brings ruin’. These three maxims are important in the aesthetic judgement, as they are understanding of one’s behaviour and that one should perpetually seek improvement. I suppose I have taken to my Greek heritage in recent times because so many of the ideas within the annals of history remain relevant.