Artist Lynne Eastaway sits comfortably in her Glenorie house, chatting with its renowned architect, Glenn Murcutt AO, during a pivotal moment in both her life and career. The Ball-Eastaway House, nestled away on a bushland site on Sydney's northwestern outskirts where sprawling suburbs meet former pastoral land, represents more than just architectural achievement—it has been instrumental in shaping the lives of those who called it home.
Completed in 1983, the house won the prestigious Wilkinson Award for residential architecture the following year. Originally designed for Lynne and her then-partner Sydney Ball, a pioneering Australian abstract painter, the project emerged from their shared vision of an alternative lifestyle. When their relationship began, Ball had been Eastaway's art teacher, she his shy protégée. As a charismatic figure in the art world who had grown disillusioned with city teaching, Ball wanted to spend more time painting in solitude.
Their search for a suitable studio space led them to a 10-hectare bush block in Glenorie, where they dreamed of creating a space large enough for living together, collaborating, and hosting other artists. The couple would visit and camp on the site for many seasons before commissioning a young Glenn Murcutt, whose star was rapidly rising following several groundbreaking projects that established him as a distinctly Australian voice in architecture.
Murcutt's notable early works included the Laurie Short House (1972-73) in Terrey Hills, winner of the 1979 Wilkinson Award, followed by houses in Kempsey (Marie Short House, 1974-75), Jamberoo (Fredericks House, 1981-82), and Bingie Bingie (Magney House, 1982-84). These projects would eventually define his philosophy of "touching the earth lightly," featuring an ecological approach that centers humanity within nature rather than above it.
This philosophy stems from Murcutt's practice of deep listening and observation. When he first visited the Glenorie site, Glenn walked through its dry sclerophyll forest for hours, according to Lynne, carefully observing the pink angophoras and yellow bloodwoods, the banksia and geebung, the broom-heath and wattle, noting details from the size of the largest leaf down to the smallest. He also studied the land's topographic contours and the lichen-covered sandstone ledges that channeled rainwater into rivulets and a nearby creek.
"Syd understood architecture," Lynne explains, noting that Sydney had worked as an architectural draftsman early in his career and knew he wanted something special for this site. A mutual friend, architect and landscape architect Bill Ashton, introduced the couple to Glenn, and the Glenorie House project was born. The artists purchased two agricultural nursery sheds made of corrugated steel, which they positioned near each other as painting studios, located a short walk from the house site that Glenn had quickly identified as ideal—a broad, gently sloping sandstone ledge.
"The rock shelf was the most suitable building site because it was already clear of trees, so we didn't have to remove any, and the rock itself provides a safety zone against fire," explains Glenn, who approaches each project as an opportunity to explore sometimes singular ideas. For this project, he says, "The house is very much about fire and water."
The design features a simple orthogonal structure clad in corrugated steel, cantilevered into the bush with a curved roof and glazed at both ends. Inside, the house contains two bedrooms, living and dining areas open to the bush, a kitchen and bathroom lit by skylights from above, and hardwood floors throughout. The entire structure is elevated on slender steel columns drilled into the bedrock, allowing rainwater to continue flowing across the site unimpeded by the house's modest presence.
At the time of construction, bushfire building regulations were virtually non-existent, according to Glenn, but over the decades, this house has survived several major bushfires. Higher up on the property, the art studios form a crucial defense system, collecting rainwater to feed the sprinkler system on the house and storing surplus water for fire brigades to access, keeping the house wet in case of fire.
Apart from working within a tight budget, the main client requirement was that the house serve as both a home and gallery, a stipulation that significantly shaped its floor plan. From the gravel driveway, a raised timber boardwalk leads to double glass doors, where entry brings visitors face to face with a signature Sydney Ball painting several meters wide. It hangs on a long corridor wall that separates bedrooms to the southwest from living areas to the northeast, while other paintings and artifacts adorn the walls beneath the long white curved ceiling that funnels light around them.
Each room offers framed views of the landscape, which Glenn calls "prospect." However, he explains, "you also need refuge." To provide this, he designed one of the home's two verandahs as a contemplative space enclosed on three sides under the curved roof and open only to the bush. Unseen from inside, it serves as a purposefully introspective, solitary space. "It's designed as a meditation space," says Glenn. "When the awards jury visited, the chair told me it was the most serene space he'd ever been in."
The second verandah, connected to the dining and living rooms, functions as a more social space, projecting into the bush under the curved roof overhang. This design created distinct zones for both private reflection and social interaction, perfectly suited to the artists' lifestyle and creative needs.
Lynne and Sydney separated two years after moving into the house but remained close friends, continuing to spend time painting there, sometimes together and often separately. Following Sydney's death in 2017, Lynne began preparing the house for sale, spending time painting, packing up the art studios, and overseeing a renewal of the house. For this restoration work, she commissioned Downie North, a practice founded by Catherine Downie and Daniel North in 2015, who work largely on residential projects with great sensitivity to both people and place.
For continuity, the architects reached out to Glenn, who was happy to be included in the restoration process. "Glenn's work, his method of practice, and his way of seeing this country has enormously influenced our own practice," says Catherine. "He has been so generous with his time and granted us access to the Murcutt Archive at the State Library of New South Wales. Our conversations with him, plus archival documents, allowed us to investigate the process by which the house was originally designed, which opened up the method by which to approach the restorations and alterations."
As most architects understand, having a client who provides a clear brief and creative license makes a significant difference. "I wanted to get rid of the bath and toilet and repair a few things around the place—but I didn't want to interfere with the sense of the house, and they haven't," says Lynne. The bathroom renewal matches the original tiling format and adds a new circular wash basin and finely detailed cabinets that match the kitchen joinery profiles.
Much of Downie North's other work—replacing worn timbers, repairing aluminum shutters, and renewing plumbing systems—is virtually undetectable, demonstrating their careful approach to preservation. "To have been entrusted with the restoration and contributing to the story of this house has been a privilege for us professionally and personally," Daniel explains. "It's a small project, but the process of discussion, drawing, and design has been incredibly rewarding for us."
For Lynne, this period represents a bittersweet time of packing up the house with all its memories while finding new affinity in the familiar landscape. She has grown to love this place so deeply that she recently formalized arrangements for most of the acreage to be preserved in perpetuity as a habitat sanctuary, ensuring the legacy of both the house and its special environment for future generations.
For Glenn, revisiting the house after 40 years brings pure delight. "It holds up very well! It's a tough little house, but it's also gentle," he observes. "And the sensitive interventions by Catherine and Daniel have improved it without taking anything away. That's very easy to get wrong, you know, and they haven't. I think it's a better building now." The Ball-Eastaway House stands as a testament to the enduring power of thoughtful architecture that respects both human needs and natural environment.
