The 1860s-era Brisbane School of Arts building is being restored by Brisbane City Council, overseen by councillor Peter Matic. Credit:Michelle Smith

Normal text size Larger text size Very large text size The doors are locked, the windows darkened, the old sandstone walls overshadowed by towering modern office blocks. But this building in the heart of Brisbane is finally set to be fully restored, reclaiming its rightful place in the city’s heritage. Brisbane’s School of Arts, set back from Ann Street and rubbing shoulders with buildings more than twice its size, has a long and varied history – not least of which its origin in the 19th century as a servants’ home for single young women. For the past few years, though, it has been left alone, with fire risks forcing community organisations to move out and Brisbane City Council left mulling its future. The 2018 council budget included $9 million over four years to start its restoration and Brisbane Times has been given access to the abandoned building for the first time in years. While the battered white fence outside is a popular stop for office workers on a smoko, the building behind it is easily overlooked by commuters rushing past each day. The second-level verandahs of the old building were reinstated in the 1980s during the first refurbishment by the council. Credit:Michelle Smith


Inside, the stone walls sit cool and quiet, the noise of traffic barely breaking the silence. While the four stone walls and roof are original, it’s been years since the original facade stood proud facing the road. In the 1980s, the stone walls weren’t even visible – covered in ugly shopfronts that blocked all sign of the building behind it. The verandahs that now run along the front and side of the School of Arts were added in the 1980s by the council during a major refurbishment, which kept the building open until the 2000s. Now it’s time for the building to find a new life – but first, it must go back to the past. The challenge isn’t small: the building has no disability access and the hodgepodge of internal and external additions added throughout the years created a raft of fire hazards. Dry rot means some floors can’t be walked across, while the magnificent original timber stairs rising through the centre of the building have a definite slant.


But the bones are good. The magnificent sandstone walls; the cellars underneath; the original timber ceiling; the tall arched windows rising elegantly above the second floor to look down upon Ann Street. The west side of the building is overshadowed by the office tower next door, which was constructed years ago. Credit:Michelle Smith. Overseeing the project is community, arts and lifestyle committee chairman Peter Matic, who said the building’s dilapidated state was a chance for the council to think widely about its future. Surveyors have been employed to assess the work needed to bring the building up to modern building and safety standards, after which the council will go out to market for a heritage architect. Councillor Peter Matic in the "once great and graceful" building. Credit:Michelle Smith The first year's budget was for $800,000 - most of which will go on expert reports, and on hiring an architect. That architect will look closely at every aspect of the school, from the original colour schemes to assessing whether a ceiling in one upper-level room remains stuffed with original horse-hair insulation.


“For us it’s what’s the broader vision?” Cr Matic said. “This has always been an inclusive space.” A mish-mash of original gas light fittings jostles for space alongside modern installations, while lino floors jar against original timber doors and windows. Credit:Michelle Smith From its philanthropic origins as the Brisbane Servants' Home, the building has had a varied history – sold to become the School of Arts before transforming into a council library. It last served as home to community organisations, their offices peppered through the rabbit warren of additional hallways and doors, from the big ballroom-style ground floor to the eggshell-blue timber office rooms upstairs. The building’s existence is owed in part to Lady Diamantina Bowen, a Greek aristocrat who became Queensland’s first lady in 1859 when her husband Sir George Bowen was appointed the nascent state’s first governor. High in the back rooms are multiple smaller rooms added in, dusty and silent. Credit:Michelle Smith


Lady Bowen rapidly became a beloved female leader, her charitable concerns not limited to worries about the young women emigrating from England to seek new lives in Australia. In the early years of the Brisbane colony, such women were often billeted at the colony barracks, sparking concerns for their “good reputation” and safety. A collection of well-meaning society women began to collect subscriptions, or donations, to set up a servants' home to house and train such women to become capable servants who could earn good money in Brisbane’s homes. Contessa Diamantina Roma, wife of Lord Bowen, first governor of Queensland. She was descended from Italian aristocracy but was Greek born. She was 26 at the time of her marriage to Bowen at Corfu, 1856, and they arrived in Brisbane four years later, declaring Queensland a separate state. She was considered to be gracious and benevolent, and she gave birth to three children while at Government House. Credit:State Library of Queensland “She was really passionate about looking after young women,” Cr Matic said. “There were some very forward-thinking, talented women that built this city.” The first iteration of the servants' home was in a private house on Margaret Street, according to newspapers of the time, but it quickly became too small and too expensive to rent.

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