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Sirius
An extraordinary story of survival against the odds.
The story of Sirius begins with the 1970s Battle for The Rocks and a Green Ban, which saved an historic precinct and a community. The Green Ban held for four years during which there was no building activity until everyone agreed to build Sirius. Tao Gofers, the architect of Sirius, explains how this agreement was reached and how he designed a vertical village perhaps the last, and arguably the most successful, tower built for public housing in this era.
Here is what Clover Moore says about Sirius:
“If you believe Sydney should be more than just an enclave for the rich, then this is a fight you should be part of. Whether you love the look of Sirius or not, the issues in play here are far deeper than aesthetics.
“At the heart of it, the Berejiklian State Government don’t believe low income people should be living in the city (and certainly not with harbour views) and they’re pushing these them out to the city fringe, far from their communities, transport networks, employment and other support services.
“But Sirius housed the tightknit community that fought to protect The Rocks in the ‘70s, local residents whose roots go back to the early colony. And this building was purpose-built to house them after those very important fights.
“So a lot of people ask, what can I do about it?
“Well this beautiful book is a good start. I joined Councillors Jess Scully and Philip Thalis last night to launch it with the authors John Dunn, Ben Peake and Amiera Piscopo, who have worked tirelessly to save the building. It’s not an expensive purchase, at $25, and it will help support this urgent campaign.”
The story of Sirius begins with the 1970s Battle for The Rocks and a Green Ban, which saved an historic precinct and a community. The Green Ban held for four years during which there was no building activity until everyone agreed to build Sirius. Tao Gofers, the architect of Sirius, explains how this agreement was reached and how he designed a vertical village perhaps the last, and arguably the most successful, tower built for public housing in this era.
Here is what Clover Moore says about Sirius:
“If you believe Sydney should be more than just an enclave for the rich, then this is a fight you should be part of. Whether you love the look of Sirius or not, the issues in play here are far deeper than aesthetics.
“At the heart of it, the Berejiklian State Government don’t believe low income people should be living in the city (and certainly not with harbour views) and they’re pushing these them out to the city fringe, far from their communities, transport networks, employment and other support services.
“But Sirius housed the tightknit community that fought to protect The Rocks in the ‘70s, local residents whose roots go back to the early colony. And this building was purpose-built to house them after those very important fights.
“So a lot of people ask, what can I do about it?
“Well this beautiful book is a good start. I joined Councillors Jess Scully and Philip Thalis last night to launch it with the authors John Dunn, Ben Peake and Amiera Piscopo, who have worked tirelessly to save the building. It’s not an expensive purchase, at $25, and it will help support this urgent campaign.”
- GenresNonfiction
96 pages, Hardcover
Published November 8, 2017
1 person is currently reading
16 people want to read
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John Dunn
300 books18 followersLibrarian Note: There is more than one author by this name in the Goodreads data base.
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Displaying 1 - 6 of 6 reviews
July 5, 2018
This is a brief book, but it's an important one if you're familiar with Sydney's most notable piece of Brutalism, the Sirius building, hunkered in The Rocks just beside the Harbour Bridge.
It's a building that's had a contentious history, but is much loved by those who've lived there. It's also a building the government wants torn down, so that 250 luxury apartments can be made because presumably, people who can afford a box in the sky deserve to see the harbour and the city much more than people who might live there because of a social housing program.
The book's a production of a group hoping to save the building, and you're able to buy it at their site. It's well produced - the stock is lovely, and it feels nicely put together - though the text is sometimes a little clunky. Graphically, though, it's wonderful: there's plenty of pictures and illustrations, including a selection of art created in response to the building. It's a good one to pore over.
What's great about the text is that it displays such affection for the building and its residents, and the idea of social housing in general - something Sydney doesn't really give much of a shit about. Sirius is a building from a time where the words of residents mattered - the site wasn't able to be built upon until an acceptable plan (ie: not a high-rise monolith) was tabled, thanks to agitation and union green bans - and where governments believed that all members of society had a right to live in the middle of things, the right to million-buck views even if they weren't a stockbroker from the other side of the bridge.
The book conveys that Sirius was a place where the elderly could open their blinds to see the sails of the Opera House, where a bloke dedicated to Jesus could stick his message in the window to help traffic-jammed commuters consider their options, and where bonds were formed. It was a place with pride, and with a real sense of community, and those stories come across well throughout the text. It's a window into the strange concrete building I've seen on commutes for decades that's both informative and wistful.
It's sad to know that this work will likely be the most lasting tribute to the building. The NSW Government, despite being ordered to rethink its decision to not heritage-list the Sirius, has doubled down. The last resident has moved out of the building. There's cyclone fencing around to stop passers-by getting a good gander at the facade, and black plastic blocking the windows. All the wonders inside - the public spaces of the interior are much more in line with something you'd expect to find in an arts centre rather than a houso block - are in good repair almost 40 years after they were installed, a sure sign that the place was loved by its tenants.
And yet, here we are.
What I'm left with at the end of Sirius is sadness: sadness for the people that've been displaced, and sadness that the government of the state (and city) I live in has so wilfully ignored public benefit and architectural history for the sake of dollars. This book is a time capsule, really - a small record of what we'll lose as soon as the relevant bodies can find a buyer to build another eyesore for the right price.
That's a tragedy worthy of the canon, really.
It's a building that's had a contentious history, but is much loved by those who've lived there. It's also a building the government wants torn down, so that 250 luxury apartments can be made because presumably, people who can afford a box in the sky deserve to see the harbour and the city much more than people who might live there because of a social housing program.
The book's a production of a group hoping to save the building, and you're able to buy it at their site. It's well produced - the stock is lovely, and it feels nicely put together - though the text is sometimes a little clunky. Graphically, though, it's wonderful: there's plenty of pictures and illustrations, including a selection of art created in response to the building. It's a good one to pore over.
What's great about the text is that it displays such affection for the building and its residents, and the idea of social housing in general - something Sydney doesn't really give much of a shit about. Sirius is a building from a time where the words of residents mattered - the site wasn't able to be built upon until an acceptable plan (ie: not a high-rise monolith) was tabled, thanks to agitation and union green bans - and where governments believed that all members of society had a right to live in the middle of things, the right to million-buck views even if they weren't a stockbroker from the other side of the bridge.
The book conveys that Sirius was a place where the elderly could open their blinds to see the sails of the Opera House, where a bloke dedicated to Jesus could stick his message in the window to help traffic-jammed commuters consider their options, and where bonds were formed. It was a place with pride, and with a real sense of community, and those stories come across well throughout the text. It's a window into the strange concrete building I've seen on commutes for decades that's both informative and wistful.
It's sad to know that this work will likely be the most lasting tribute to the building. The NSW Government, despite being ordered to rethink its decision to not heritage-list the Sirius, has doubled down. The last resident has moved out of the building. There's cyclone fencing around to stop passers-by getting a good gander at the facade, and black plastic blocking the windows. All the wonders inside - the public spaces of the interior are much more in line with something you'd expect to find in an arts centre rather than a houso block - are in good repair almost 40 years after they were installed, a sure sign that the place was loved by its tenants.
And yet, here we are.
What I'm left with at the end of Sirius is sadness: sadness for the people that've been displaced, and sadness that the government of the state (and city) I live in has so wilfully ignored public benefit and architectural history for the sake of dollars. This book is a time capsule, really - a small record of what we'll lose as soon as the relevant bodies can find a buyer to build another eyesore for the right price.
That's a tragedy worthy of the canon, really.
March 1, 2018
A gorgeously produced tribute to one of Sydney’s most iconic buildings. I love going past the Sirius and admiring the brutalist architecture, it’s such a shame that pretty soon we no longer will be able to. The NSW government should be ashamed of themselves for what they’ve done to the residents of Sirius, all in the name of a buck, bastards.
Get the book, the Sirius is a lovely piece of history that will soon be gone but its legacy will live on for a long time to come, thanks in part to this beautiful book.
Get the book, the Sirius is a lovely piece of history that will soon be gone but its legacy will live on for a long time to come, thanks in part to this beautiful book.
June 22, 2022
Sirius is an artifact of a time when governments believed that all citizens deserved quality housing - Charles Pickett
Designed for the Housing Commission of New South Wales in 1978–1979 by architect Tao Gofers, Sirius was to be the answer to rehouse public tenants displaced by redevelopment in Millers Point, The Rocks in Sydney. In 2015 plans emerged to sell the building, evict residents from its 79 apartments, and redevelop the site. A large number of opponents, including Save Our Sirius, sought to secure its protection as a heritage building. The NSW government declined to add the building to the State Heritage Register, and Sirius was put up for sale in 2017, through a competitive tender process which attracted national and international interest.
The story of Sirius was encased in bureaucracy from the day it was unveiled, things got more complicated after the Liberal State government at the time decided to rehouse those residents and kick them out of their 'millionaire views' in Sydney's Millers Point in The Rocks. Originally, this socially aware project had the heart to lead the way of integration but when the government of the time decided to close all public housing in the city and move it out west, it did more than displace. Families were torn apart, mental illness, anxiety and depression fell upon residents who had never shown any symptoms before. The Rocks was where they had grown up, had lived for decades, built friendships and for an 80 year old woman to up digs and start again puts an emotional pressure that could shorten a life.
I have been obsessed with Sirius since I was a kid. We'd drive back from holidays up north and as we came over the Sydney Harbour Bridge, we would look into the windows and cement at eye level and I would hear my Dad say "fancy living with all that noise". It wasn't until I dug deeper into the structures planning and components, that I discovered that architect Tao had designed Sirius with that in mind. To go up and deflect the highway, this would quash the sound of much of the traffic. He consulted the residents from the green ban protests of the 70s, painstakingly designing their new apartments interiors to help bigger families, to make the elderly feel protected, common rooms for social interaction, balconies for gardens that became protective roofs for others. Sirius had a big heart inside its brutal facade.
Known and acknowledged for its Brutalist demeanor, It wasn't ever built with a brutalist's eye. Tao said that the project fell short of funding and some sacrifices needed to be made, including the plan to incorporate white cement to reflect the Sydney Opera House across the Quay. Some things are meant to be, I much prefer the skinned majesty of those little boxes. This view however was to be the catalyst for utilising the land for something that the government of the time could use to their advantage and the public purse for a quick sell. Who made up the rule that socio economics should determine your view or where you live, they were winning and another battle ensued, this time inside the original compromise. Sirius was to be knocked down and replaced with luxury apartments. Gone the brutal squares of memories and stacked lives.
With news that Sirius was to be demolished came another protest and the momentum proving to be too hard to keep up. These residents have fought hardships of generations, wharfies, kids of WW1 and WW2 veterans. Though all around the rocks and further a field, the empathy had bubbled and once again they tried. Doorways of photos of those people being moved on to make way for beautification, the faces and stories prominent to make the public aware, yet it all felt like an art installation, a poignant vigil that worked well to get more groups of people together to help their cause. It is bloody hard to stop the megalith of government, the protestors were tired, and the housing commission had stopped maintaining the buildings years all through The Rocks a long time before, as if the plan was decades in the making, the patience of mammon and dirty deals.
About five years back, the last residents were being shifted and I wanted to capture what I thought would be the last photos of the building I grew up with, it was mysterious and so removed from my suburban streets though through the book I have discovered that its two story prototype was built a couple of suburbs away from where I grew up in, in the 70s in Sans Souci. I was always searching for answers of Sirius's little mysteries, who was responsible for the 'One Way! Jesus' sign that was perched in the window, how did these little boxes work?
There were tours of Sirius organised as crowd funding rewards during the height of the 'Save Our Sirius' campaign, the architect himself front and centre, guiding people through it. This beautifully compiled book reveals all its secrets including architect drawings, individual stories of its residents, history and its significance as journalist Shirley Fitzgerald acknowledged it as 'a 'living cultural landscape' with palpable high and rare degree of social significance' and 'its unity, authenticity of fabric and community and complexity of significant activities and events make it probably the rarest and most significant historic urban place in Australia'. It really did feel like the government did not want to be reminded of a time when governments undertook great public initiatives for our communities as if public housing was a utopic past time.
This book is one to be slowly savoured in one well paced sitting. It is easy to revisit again and again which I have done many times this past month, its structurally heavy cover and timeless off white matte paper stock, has you rubbing its seams gently. It contains a gallery of passionate photos as Sirius was the inspiration for artists and photographers from around the world, endlessly capturing the beauty and heart of this community and dwelling. Myself drawn to this, taking what I thought would be some final photos before it would be torn down. I was lucky enough to go inside one of the downstairs one bedroom apartments. I got to see the entrance way, the carpet, its fresh and unworn status, the ornate wood wall hangings, it was quite the time capsule.
Remembered as the face of Sirius and her neon SOS gleaming, Myra Demetriou passed away on 23 October 2021 at the age of 94. Trying to get answers of where the latest project is at is proving difficult, though I prefer to think back at what Sirius Building's purpose was and what it stood for, to thank those strangers and residents for trying, how they where pulled into the protest and focusing on the lives that tried to save it.
Designed for the Housing Commission of New South Wales in 1978–1979 by architect Tao Gofers, Sirius was to be the answer to rehouse public tenants displaced by redevelopment in Millers Point, The Rocks in Sydney. In 2015 plans emerged to sell the building, evict residents from its 79 apartments, and redevelop the site. A large number of opponents, including Save Our Sirius, sought to secure its protection as a heritage building. The NSW government declined to add the building to the State Heritage Register, and Sirius was put up for sale in 2017, through a competitive tender process which attracted national and international interest.
The story of Sirius was encased in bureaucracy from the day it was unveiled, things got more complicated after the Liberal State government at the time decided to rehouse those residents and kick them out of their 'millionaire views' in Sydney's Millers Point in The Rocks. Originally, this socially aware project had the heart to lead the way of integration but when the government of the time decided to close all public housing in the city and move it out west, it did more than displace. Families were torn apart, mental illness, anxiety and depression fell upon residents who had never shown any symptoms before. The Rocks was where they had grown up, had lived for decades, built friendships and for an 80 year old woman to up digs and start again puts an emotional pressure that could shorten a life.
I have been obsessed with Sirius since I was a kid. We'd drive back from holidays up north and as we came over the Sydney Harbour Bridge, we would look into the windows and cement at eye level and I would hear my Dad say "fancy living with all that noise". It wasn't until I dug deeper into the structures planning and components, that I discovered that architect Tao had designed Sirius with that in mind. To go up and deflect the highway, this would quash the sound of much of the traffic. He consulted the residents from the green ban protests of the 70s, painstakingly designing their new apartments interiors to help bigger families, to make the elderly feel protected, common rooms for social interaction, balconies for gardens that became protective roofs for others. Sirius had a big heart inside its brutal facade.
Known and acknowledged for its Brutalist demeanor, It wasn't ever built with a brutalist's eye. Tao said that the project fell short of funding and some sacrifices needed to be made, including the plan to incorporate white cement to reflect the Sydney Opera House across the Quay. Some things are meant to be, I much prefer the skinned majesty of those little boxes. This view however was to be the catalyst for utilising the land for something that the government of the time could use to their advantage and the public purse for a quick sell. Who made up the rule that socio economics should determine your view or where you live, they were winning and another battle ensued, this time inside the original compromise. Sirius was to be knocked down and replaced with luxury apartments. Gone the brutal squares of memories and stacked lives.
With news that Sirius was to be demolished came another protest and the momentum proving to be too hard to keep up. These residents have fought hardships of generations, wharfies, kids of WW1 and WW2 veterans. Though all around the rocks and further a field, the empathy had bubbled and once again they tried. Doorways of photos of those people being moved on to make way for beautification, the faces and stories prominent to make the public aware, yet it all felt like an art installation, a poignant vigil that worked well to get more groups of people together to help their cause. It is bloody hard to stop the megalith of government, the protestors were tired, and the housing commission had stopped maintaining the buildings years all through The Rocks a long time before, as if the plan was decades in the making, the patience of mammon and dirty deals.
About five years back, the last residents were being shifted and I wanted to capture what I thought would be the last photos of the building I grew up with, it was mysterious and so removed from my suburban streets though through the book I have discovered that its two story prototype was built a couple of suburbs away from where I grew up in, in the 70s in Sans Souci. I was always searching for answers of Sirius's little mysteries, who was responsible for the 'One Way! Jesus' sign that was perched in the window, how did these little boxes work?
There were tours of Sirius organised as crowd funding rewards during the height of the 'Save Our Sirius' campaign, the architect himself front and centre, guiding people through it. This beautifully compiled book reveals all its secrets including architect drawings, individual stories of its residents, history and its significance as journalist Shirley Fitzgerald acknowledged it as 'a 'living cultural landscape' with palpable high and rare degree of social significance' and 'its unity, authenticity of fabric and community and complexity of significant activities and events make it probably the rarest and most significant historic urban place in Australia'. It really did feel like the government did not want to be reminded of a time when governments undertook great public initiatives for our communities as if public housing was a utopic past time.
This book is one to be slowly savoured in one well paced sitting. It is easy to revisit again and again which I have done many times this past month, its structurally heavy cover and timeless off white matte paper stock, has you rubbing its seams gently. It contains a gallery of passionate photos as Sirius was the inspiration for artists and photographers from around the world, endlessly capturing the beauty and heart of this community and dwelling. Myself drawn to this, taking what I thought would be some final photos before it would be torn down. I was lucky enough to go inside one of the downstairs one bedroom apartments. I got to see the entrance way, the carpet, its fresh and unworn status, the ornate wood wall hangings, it was quite the time capsule.
Remembered as the face of Sirius and her neon SOS gleaming, Myra Demetriou passed away on 23 October 2021 at the age of 94. Trying to get answers of where the latest project is at is proving difficult, though I prefer to think back at what Sirius Building's purpose was and what it stood for, to thank those strangers and residents for trying, how they where pulled into the protest and focusing on the lives that tried to save it.
December 29, 2025
Fantastic little book celebrating the cultural, social, and architectural impact that Sirius had to Sydney and a sad reminder of the Liberal Party's greed and indifference.
I was still in high school at the time that the mass relocation of residents was announced, so I was not too aware of what was going on. I remember going across the Harbour Bridge a few years later and asking my parents about the "tetris-looking building". I distinctly remember the anger and sadness I felt when I was told the plans for the building and it's tenants. As I've grown older and find myself in the architecture/planning world of Greater Sydney, it's apparent that governments no longer care to house their own population. Better the developer money lining their pockets than the trust of the people.
While it is a sad ending to the social housing era of Sirius (though the book only features the timeline up until 2017), the building's lasting impact on Sydney's heritage speaks for itself. I'm not even a fan of brutalism and I wish I was able to see it before it's redevelopment! Such a stunning building and the resident's stories of community and belonging are something to strive towards in all future residential development.
I was still in high school at the time that the mass relocation of residents was announced, so I was not too aware of what was going on. I remember going across the Harbour Bridge a few years later and asking my parents about the "tetris-looking building". I distinctly remember the anger and sadness I felt when I was told the plans for the building and it's tenants. As I've grown older and find myself in the architecture/planning world of Greater Sydney, it's apparent that governments no longer care to house their own population. Better the developer money lining their pockets than the trust of the people.
While it is a sad ending to the social housing era of Sirius (though the book only features the timeline up until 2017), the building's lasting impact on Sydney's heritage speaks for itself. I'm not even a fan of brutalism and I wish I was able to see it before it's redevelopment! Such a stunning building and the resident's stories of community and belonging are something to strive towards in all future residential development.
January 13, 2026
Glad this was reprinted, it is a fantastic book. Informative and important historical account about a major Australian building but also has a lot of heart given its stories of the community.
Displaying 1 - 6 of 6 reviews