Redcourt was built in 1888, and was in a state of abject neglect when Garrison bought it from the government in 2009. Picture: Earl Carter/Vogue Living.
Old buildings "encase the character of a civilisation," says Garrison. Picture: Earl Carter/Vogue Living.
The White Room, featuring a cloud-like sculpture by Naomi Troski. Picture: Earl Carter/Vogue Living.
ADAM Garrisson is a publicity-shy Melbourne investor who rescues significant old buildings from the bulldozer. But don't imagine he is a tweed-wearing National Trust zealot intent on freeze-framing architecture and the "ye olde" times in which they were built.
Rather, he affects the unassuming air of a Silicon Valley software mogul (neat sneakers, hoodie and jeans) and makes big business of recycling existing buildings for modern use.
He bankrolled and creatively briefed the redevelopment of Melbourne's neo-Renaissance GPO into a thriving retail hub. He co-founded socially responsible restaurant Fifteen with celebrity chef Jamie Oliver, and is currently creating a six-star eco-resort (with Vue de Monde owner/chef Shannon Bennett) out of the Art Moderne mansion of Burnham Beeches, a 1930s estate on the edge of Victoria's Sherbrooke Forest.
His most recently completed project is Redcourt, the landmark Armadale, Melbourne, residence that Garrisson spent four years and untold millions rescuing from the ashes of ignominy.
It was built by glass and timber merchant Edward Yencken in 1888 to the design of architect Joseph Reed, whose firm also designed the State Library of Victoria and the Royal Exhibition Building. Reed's exuberant Queen Anne design consists of Tudor-style half timbering, turned porch posts, ornamental spindles and stained glass.
The building passed through the hands of a series of eminent pastoralists, politicians and mining entrepreneurs. In 1935, the property was repurposed into a guesthouse, after which it was bought by the Ministry of Education for the residency of music students, before slipping into abject neglect and ultimate government sale in 2009.
Garrisson appointed John Warwicker of London art and design collective Tomato as creative director. The pair walked through the building dozens of times before deciding on a theme. Garrisson says the idea was to achieve a "universal language" but with "different dialects" within each space.
Other creative people were enlisted for different rooms. Fashion designer Akira Isogawa conceptualised the music room as an exotic Bedouin tent; British-born, Australian-based artist David Bromley designed the children’s room in the style of a Boy's Own annual; and Warwicker himself steeped the Great Hall in the visual vocab of an eccentric English manor - all dark panelling and decorative cross-pollination.
Melbourne artist Naomi Troski Naomi created a cloud-shape ceiling installation of white netting for a room Garrisson has dubbed the White Room. It's a place for meditation - "nothing to over-stimulate, just room to reflect".
The adjacent study counterpoints the White Room's ethereal effect with space-swallowing black walls, one of which Warwicker swamped in gilt-framed, Dutch-style still life paintings sourced from op shops and the odd auction sale.
"I wanted to create an environment that fostered a cultural and artistic exchange," says Garrisson, who is legendary for hosting jazz afternoons, gourmet evenings and poetry readings by such Redcourt regulars as actor Jack Thompson. "Some people don't care about old buildings, but they are defining, contextualising and encase the character of a civilisation."
Or, translating from the truisms of Danish philosopher Kierkegaard: Life must be lived forward, but it can only be understood backward.
This is an edited extract from the September-October issue of Vogue Living , out now.
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