Claude Megson, Architect by Giles Reid

In this compelling account of the life and works of New Zealand architect Claude Megson, it’s clear that he was multifaceted. Author Giles Reid, who is an architect as well as a former student of Megson, describes the enigmatic Megson as a brilliant teacher, a classical music lover, a partner and father, and a domineering and competitive yet gifted draftsperson who pushed builders to execute his distinctive and complex plans. Reid sees Megson’s houses as both works of architecture and works of art.

The book’s cedar-coloured cover echoes the stained cedar weatherboards from which many of Megson’s homes were constructed. Writing the book took at least a decade and much of Reid’s time was spent on a ‘detective hunt’. Although he had access to archival material, many of Megson’s drawings have no date or project address, nor the full name of the client.

…his site plans do not show neighbouring buildings, just the plot’s outline, and they almost never have a north arrow. … This has created several challenges over the years in trying to track down his lesser known buildings or to confirm whether a project was built.

The introduction covers Megson’s lifelong interest in architectural theory and practice, as well the influences that shaped his identity as a ‘committed modernist’, and his formal and informal education. Megson was a keen observer of both national and international developments in architecture, eventually travelling as well as lecturing overseas. Reid discusses Megson’s legacy, as well as his reputation.

The book then focuses on around 30 of Megson’s projects, some of which were never built. Each section includes information about who commissioned the house (or other structure), key dates, its location, and a detailed description of its setting, construction details, and known history to date. The images in these sections include both colour and black-and-white photographs, initial sketches, site concept plans, and final plans. Most photographs were taken by New Zealand-based photographer Jackie Meiring, whose arresting photos complement older images. The photos include both interior and exterior shots, with the landscapes central to Megson’s designs often depicted too. Several photos show house-owners, some of whom lived happily in their Megson-designed homes for decades. Very few photos show Megson himself.

Immediately after his death from cancer in 1994, Megson’s office at the University of Auckland’s School of Architecture was raided by colleagues and students. They took sketches, slides and possibly photos and other records. Reid ponders whether these materials are ‘gathering dust … and awaiting rediscovery’ or whether they were instead ‘unceremoniously dumped’. Both Megson’s sister and a close friend of Megson (a fellow architect) are trustees of his architecture archive. They and others shared expertise, insights and historical records with Reid as he was drafting the book.

Frank Lloyd Wright is hailed as ‘Megson’s lodestar’. Reid suggests that Wright’s influence was primarily philosophical. It is seen in Megson’s vision of how a house would emerge from or respond to the site, for example, and how the interior would be connected to the exterior landscape. (He often developed planting plans to complement a house. Some houses had swimming pools, tennis courts, courtyards or pergolas.) Megson was also influenced by Dutch architect Aldo van Eyck and New Zealand contemporaries, including ‘the loveable rogues’ Ian Athfield and Roger Walker who he was often compared with despite the fact that they had different approaches.

Megson gained a reputation as an ambitious architect who could successfully design a home on a difficult site. Although many projects were successful, Reid acknowledges that Megson did not always get things right. Construction costs often exceeded initial estimates and caused clients stress, and his designs took a long time (sometimes years) to complete. The structures were also time-consuming to build. Although a typical box-shaped house may have only four corners, in one of Megson’s houses there were around sixty.

Reid offers detailed explanations of Megson’s design process, supplemented by drawings seen to have ‘great energy’. Megson was inspired by both science and nature.

He would begin with the site plan, describing the individual rooms … relating them to each other, to the view, the topography and sun path. … He obsessively worked on and memorised these geometric and spatial relationships, refining them over weeks, months and sometimes years, switching constantly between plan, section, elevation and axonometric.

Megson was also fascinated with colour. In one house, for example, the external walls were to be painted pastel blue, with its purple slate tiling to have red oxidised swirls.

Megson often designed rooms around specific pieces of furniture, as evidenced by many of the book’s drawings. He admired furniture designed by Breuer (whose Wassily chairs feature in some sketches) as well as Italian light fittings. His meticulous approach to how objects were to be arranged in each space placed considerable demands on his clients.

For the Norris house, Megson made a particularly strong set of perspective drawings. Every piece of furniture is given a place, and every light fitting and sculpture is described. The rooms are scaled precisely to the furniture. Everything, from the fittings to the arrangement and height of the artworks, is specified down to the last detail.  … these drawings were not mere speculations. The client was expected to furnish the interior exactly as [shown in] the drawings.

…

[Megson had an] exacting vision of where to put every chair, sculpture and painting, rug, and also the type of lighting, the size of the rugs, the look of the fire grating and even the location of the pot plants.

Indeed, Reid reports that Megson sometimes imagined a lifestyle for his clients that differed from reality. Although his designs were striking they were also complex. The houses were not always easy to live in, nor were they easy to build or maintain.

Designs included nooks and spiral staircases, columns and beams, sunken and mosaic baths, galleries, terraces and towers. Multiple levels in some houses could disorient visitors, leaving them unsure about which direction they should head. Yet Reid emphasises that Megson’s trademark preferences for angles and ‘byzantine design’ could result in a ‘memorably labyrinthine house of tremendous invention’.

After reading this book, if someone I knew was to buy a Megson house I’m not yet sure whether I would congratulate them or commiserate. Design elements in the striking yet compact Cocker Townhouses, for example, have led to long-term headaches for their owners.

Megson’s numerous tiny gutter details were overwhelmed by heavy rains and the upkeep proved sizeable. Subsequent owners have attempted ad-hoc measures to resolve these [issues] … the [original developers] felt a heroic Sisyphean responsibility to maintain the architect’s vision, long after Megson had gone.

In the Barr house as well as several others, the stairs were designed in such a way that they require ‘extreme care’ to navigate.

One walks down the stairs gingerly, forced to move across the treads at angle to increase their effective width. [Original owner] Pat Barr said the exertion improved her balance; she was proud that she had never once fallen down them. 

She was also lucky.

One house needed steel outriggers fitted many years later to prevent part of the house leaning over when the bathtub was filled. Reid questions the extent to which Megson sought advice from structural engineers, given the dearth of engineering information in his archives.

Although many of Megson’s houses still exist and are held in high regard, others have been altered beyond recognition, or damaged by fire and then rebuilt, sometimes to a ‘less ambitious design’. Some – much to people’s shock – have been demolished soon after purchase. Reid laments that there are few legal protections in place for heritage structures in New Zealand. He concludes that there are many ‘joys and rich rewards’ for people who are custodians of a Megson home.

Reid’s comprehensive and engaging book complements other works on Megson – including books, blogs and websites – and fills in many gaps. Yet Reid admits that some pieces of the puzzle are still missing – such as the location of the elusive Collins House in Takapuna – and that research on Megson will continue. Perhaps an amnesty is needed for the office-raiders to encourage return of significant records that have lain dormant in attics or garages for over thirty years.

Reviewer: Anne Kerslake Hendricks

Massey University Press