Not a lot of ziggurats around Geelong but I can recall visiting the offices of Buchan, Laird and Bawden at Western Beach way back where I found plans being finalised for the build of one on Little Malop Street.

Only one drawback from the Tower of Babel-type ziggurat I would have preferred; it was upside down. But it was still a brutalist icon, one irreverently named the ‘Irish Pyramid’ since, and that was something.

All a few years ago now. I was fooling around with an architecture course at Deakin Waurn Ponds. Spent a gap year between jobs climbing trees with a chainsaw at Werribee Park and pushing out car batteries at an acid-soaked factory in Melbourne’s west.

Mob of us tyro Frank Gehrys piled into beat-up Holdens and Morrises to go pore over the plans, elevations and artist impressions of what seemed a bizarre geometric work not unlike the ink and T-square drafting exercises we’d been wrangling with tackling shadows, perspectives, reflections and vanishing points.

BL&B had partnered on the job with the Public Works Department. The monochrome, cantilevered concrete creation we scrutinised lacked colour, its darkened window recesses exuding an aura of mystery appropriately aligned with the FOI-resistant government activities that might go on there in years to come. Six storeys of space-age upside-down geometry. It was impressive, almost as impressive as the beautiful old Victorian house BL&B occupied.

Artist’s impression pre-construction.

Brutalism seems a pretty apt name for such concrete megalithic works. They’re harsh, austere, sharply angular and not necessarily soft on the eye. This job’s one of the better ones and long a favourite of local folks.

The Victorian Heritage Council acknowledges its ‘Upside-Down Building’ nickname and describes it as “highly dramatic” and a “highly distinctive form that resembles an upturned pyramid or ziggurat’’.

“This effect is produced by the progressively broader cantilevering of the upper floors and is emphasised by regularly repeating concrete spans. Vast areas of glazing contribute to its distinctive appearance and the provision of natural light and expansive views internally.

“Along with buildings such as the Moe Court House and the Footscray Psychiatric Centre, it is a defining work of the Public Works Department in the Brutalist style.”

Might be worth noting that ziggurats in their day were edifices striking a powerful connection between humans and their gods – and the fact ours is upside down.

State Government Offices and Geelong Library dome today.

Looking back at images of the buildings the SGO structure replaced, it’s clear the Irish pyramid was a major architectural addition to Geelong, one that boggled more than few brains. Not unlike the giant pink dome that emerged across the road some 45 years later.

And probably not unlike the impact those earlier buildings had on the indigenous population. Seeing the swamp that became Johnstone Park suddenly accommodating gabled structures, even a giant railway terminus, was surely something – probably as staggering as finding an inverted ziggurat in your front yard.

Little Malop Street, before the State Government Offices.

This article appeared in the Geelong Advertiser 2 December 2024