The story of Reginald Grouse and his very cool house

Stroll through blue-chip Toorak’s leafy streets and you’ll find architect Reginald Grouse, 102, still living in the Japanese-inspired home he designed for his family more than 60 years ago.

The postwar modernist dwelling, completed in 1963, doesn’t scream for attention like many modern homes. It’s hidden behind a high brick fence surrounded by a Japanese-style garden – centred on a singular Japanese maple.

Like the simple two-storey brick house, the garden – also designed by Reginald, known as Reg – with its bluestone beds planted with white azaleas, remains a thing of beauty decades later.

“The problem with many new houses is that they virtually cover the entire site. There should be open spaces and a garden that feels connected to the house,” says Reg, who selects each word with great measure.

Reginald Grouse’s modernist dwelling doesn’t scream for attention like many modern homes.Credit: Cormac Lally

Having just celebrated his 102nd birthday, Reg was once the director of Melbourne-based practice Grouse Fleming Bate, known for designing the Members’ Stand at the Caulfield Race Course, as well as many bespoke houses in Melbourne’s eastern suburbs.

The centenarian has also practised other crafts. Reg’s eloquent speech is reflected in a postgraduate certificate on his study wall from the University of Melbourne in 2011 acknowledging: “The Teaching of Shakespeare,” a testimony to his sharp mind as much as his architectural talent.

Reg’s north-facing garden, accessed via a large glass sliding door from the living area, is indeed “absorbed” into the garden, complete with the two 1950s butterfly chairs on the crazy paved slate terrace.

The group of five singular armchairs in the living area draws family and friends towards the light, with the open fireplace being the focus in winter.

Reg says he worked from his own head rather than looking at what other people were doing.Credit: Cormac Lally

Pivotal to his design is the blackwood Japanese-style timber-battened staircase and treads that separate the living area from the dining area, and the galley-style kitchen beyond.

“I recall walking along certain streets in London and admiring the direct vistas into people’s back gardens from the street. There was a certain transparency that I noticed,” says Reg, who also saw a similar connection to the outdoors in the images of Japanese architecture in the many books he read in the postwar period.

Architect Robin Boyd, also a protagonist of Japanese-style architecture, showed this approach in his own home in nearby South Yarra. Boyd’s bedroom, for example, located on the top level, was open to the living room below.

While Reg was keen to also have an open-style main bedroom, his late wife, Ardilaun, wouldn’t agree to this more radical idea.

Protected by a timber trellis screen, it provides a soft rather than harsh light.Credit: Cormac Lally

“She certainly didn’t like the idea of having that type of exposure, although she was open to other ideas – such as the ‘veil’ created by the timber battens lining the staircase. There were others, even architects, who were dubious about the way the staircase would stand up, let alone be even possible,” says Reg, pointing out the timber-battened treads that finely cantilever from the wall.

As well as benefiting from generous northern light, Reg’s house has a large skylight above the stairs. Protected by a timber trellis screen, it provides a soft rather than harsh light that permeates the centre of the home.

And to allow for ventilation, Reg included an ingenious system of external louvres set behind double doors on the first-floor landing.

This same system was applied to the main bedroom and also to the two children’s bedrooms, both of these leading to a north-facing balcony. Andrew, Reg’s son, was only seven years old when the family moved into the house.

“I can’t honestly say that this house felt different or unique. But I still remember the pleasure I had from sliding down the banisters,” says Andrew, who also recalls being photographed on his bicycle in the front garden for an architecture magazine that published a story about the house.

The Toorak house might not have a garage for six cars. It also has pint-sized children’s bedrooms at a time when children were expected to play outdoors rather than choose to remain in their rooms on their computers, as is often the case today.

There’s also only one main living area, even though there’s another room beyond the kitchen that’s set up as a library/guest bedroom. But these are only details or, more correctly, a reflection of what was important for a house in 1963.

Although there have been a couple of modifications, such as enclosing what was formerly a courtyard and updating the kitchen, there’s a sense of discovery and joy at every turn. “I always used to work from my own head rather than looking at what other people were doing,” Reg says.

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