Vew from the chair: Speeches of Richard WL Austin

In 19S2 he started his own practice and, as we know, it never looked back. On the island of Patmos in the Aegean Sea, there is a saying current among the builders of the simple whitewashed houses there: 'With one stone you make a window sill; with two a bridge; with three a staircase; and with four, and a big cross above, you make a monumental entrance'. In other words, take what you need and no more, take it locally and use it without artifice. That was Guilford's way as an architect-simple, elegant, understated, and practical, with a sense of order and proportion that few others have been able to equal, and with a fervent deference to the 'genius of the place', in which his buildings were situated. In truth, he was an artist in the proper sense of the word. Of himself, he once said very simply: 'I try to design for today as beautifully as I can. That's all. You see, I believe that few architects practise the art of architecture. Most practice the business of architecture'. That could never be said of Guilford. Perhaps his most widely acclaimed creation is what has come to be known as the Fairfax Pavilion, constructed of steel, glass, sandstone and marble, which was described in the Age last Saturday as 'floating over the land, stranded as an abstract vision for our culture ... a vision of timelessness'. But, after all, buildings are for the people who live in and use them, not for the architects who design them. So it is, perhaps, not inappropriate to quote part of a letter from what one might call a satisfied client-Sir Russell Drysdale, the artist I would like you to know that the house you built for Maisie and me has provided for me the source of the happiest years I have known. The whole character of this place has grown with the years, expanding and enriching our lives in away I would never have believed possible. In all sincerity, I can say the same thing about the house that he designed for us. His architectural achievements were duly honoured. In 1981 he was appointed Officer in the Order of the British Empire. A few years later his name was put forward as the Australian nomination for the Pritzker Prize-the most prestigious award for architecture in the world. But it is not only as an architect that we, his friends gathered in this church today, will remember Guilford Bell. For he was not only a man with a distinguished career, but he was also a distinguished man, and that is not always the same thing. Today we will remember him for the warmth and depth of his friendship, for the sense of style that surrounded everything he touched, for his impeccable taste, for his generosity of spirit, and for a total integrity that tolerated no easy options. On a lighter note, I, personally, will remember him for his method of dealing with ideas that did not appeal to him. At meetings of the Official Establishments Trust and the Australiana Fund, which were both concerned with the embellishment of the official residences of the Governor-General and the Prime Minister, Guilford would sit silent and passive, while the idea of the moment was being tossed around the table, usually remaining longest with the member who knew least about the subject, until the Chairman would turn to Guilford and say, 'Well, Mr Bell, what do you think about id'; and Guilford would answer in his deep, slow voice, 'I think it's perfectly ghastly', whereupon the idea would sink wit!1out trace. 149