Train of Thought : Has Air-Conditioning Made Us Mean?



From our April 2025 Newsletter



Walking through the streets of Junee, I pause for a moment in the shade of the local Chemist’s deep awning. The colourful drop-down blinds at the awning’s edge flap gently in the breeze as a handful of cars pass through the town’s main street. Intricate leadlight windows float gracefully above the window displays, framed by hand-written signage and glossy glazed tiles. A drop of white paint hasn’t been spilled as far as the eye can see.



I am suddenly struck by the question ‘Has Air-conditioning made us mean?’


I mean where did all this generosity and character go?




It is a well understood notion that air-conditioning has made us less deft or practiced at incorporating passive sustainable design principles. You see fewer and fewer examples of siting to capture prevailing breezes and views, lofty ceiling heights, sun-blocking forms turning their back to the west and ancillary spaces used to shade the main living spaces. However, what struck us on this recent trip is the relationship that exists between this loss and the character and generosity of the public spaces that we are creating.



At some point we struck a deal with the buildings around us that the air-conditioned glass-box was what a cosmopolitan city should look like, with little concern for what this would mean for all those iconic elements of post-colonial Australian architecture, and what they brought to the public realm.


In the past the provision of shade and shelter was fundamental to the design of the envelope of buildings, with no air-conditioning as a quick fix solution to thermal comfort.


There is an inherent logic of managing this threshold between the interior and exterior which runs through the DNA of these post-colonial designs, adapted from their origins to the harsh Australian climate.



These features have fallen by the wayside because of the propensity towards the insulated fishbowl being the dominant building typology. You lose the wrap-around verandah, you lose those deep eaves and inside-outside relationships because that’s not what the system wants, it prefers the hard line of enclosure. There is an uncomfortable marriage of ideals between this and our system of planning that pushes for a hard line between public and private.



There is a logic and generosity of public spaces with deep awnings that extend over the whole pavement, not limited by levering off a private building, extending right to the kerb of high gutters that have been designed for a downpour. Paired with roll down vertical blinds, the shade is welcome relief, allowing you to see the details of the shop windows framed by coloured glass, a mirror or two, alluring signage. You intrinsically feel welcomed, as if this was all prepared for you (whether you’re visiting the shop or not).




There is a logic here that is generous with its form and space making, and with it comes a beauty and sense of ease and cultivation of community, less hostility. Characteristics that appear completely lost in some of the contemporary buildings and spaces appearing in these towns, most likely without an architect’s hand.

These historic designs are by no means perfect, and in many ways reflect the era in which they were created. Water damage from leaky roof junctions, bare uninsulated roof sheeting visible from within and a disregard for accessibility in many key locations. But they serve as a welcome reminder of the things we often inadvertently forgo in the name of progress.





We should always be wary as designers of the shiny new technology, and what it might be asking us to give away.

​ We should keep our eyes open, whether in the shade or the harsh light of the Western sun.

-Michelle & Stephen


On Second Thought


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