In Princes Hill, a Victorian red-brick home long defined by its street presence was quietly transformed from within — its dark 1970s interior dismantled to make way for light, openness, and a renewed relationship with the garden beyond. Architect Paul Porjazoski of BENT Architecture worked within strict heritage constraints that forbade any visible change to the facade, discovering in that limitation not a ceiling but a kind of creative permission. The project asks an enduring question about the built environment: how much of what we inherit must we preserve, and how much must we reimagine, in
Heritage-Conscious Extension Floods Classic Princes Hill Home With Light
Something that feels genuinely new and transformative, yet belongs to that place
Mark
Why demolish the entire 1970s extension rather than renovate it?
Mimi
Because it was fundamentally misaligned with the site. Low ceilings, small windows—it was designed in a way that ignored the northern light and the garden. Starting fresh meant the new space could actually take advantage of what the property offered.
Mark
The heritage overlay seems like it would be restrictive. How did that shape the design?
Mimi
It was actually clarifying. Because the street facade had to stay untouched, all the creative energy went to the rear. That constraint forced a cleaner separation between old and new, which ended up being more honest than trying to blend them.
Mark
What does it mean that the extension 'feels like a natural continuation' when it's formally quite different?
Mimi
It's about material language and spatial generosity. The red brick connects them visually, but more importantly, the new space has the same sense of calm and rootedness as the original house. It doesn't apologize for being new—it just belongs.
Mark
Did preserving the original rooms limit what could be done?
Mimi
In some ways, yes. But that's where the real discipline came in. The front rooms stay as they are. The transformation happens where it matters most—where the family actually lives day to day. That's a different kind of ambition than gutting everything.
Mark
What's the risk of a project like this?
Mimi
That you end up with two houses that don't speak to each other. That the new feels tacked on, or the old feels frozen in time. Here, they're in genuine conversation.
Der Puls
- A beloved Victorian home had become a trap of its own history — a 1970s extension had sealed the rear in low ceilings and small windows, cutting the family off from light and garden.
- Heritage overlays created a strict boundary: the street-facing facade and original front rooms were untouchable, forcing all transformation to happen invisibly, behind the public face of the house.
- Porjazoski demolished nearly the entire 1970s addition, replacing it with an open-plan kitchen, living, and dining space where timber walls and ceilings dissolve the line between interior and garden.
- A repurposed outbuilding became a studio with en suite, the original living room became the main bedroom, and period details like pine floors and the central corridor were carefully retained.
- The finished home neither mimics nor apologizes — the new extension answers the Victorian in a contemporary register, demonstrating that constraint, handled boldly, can produce spaces that feel inevitable.
In Princes Hill, a Victorian red-brick home long defined by its street presence was quietly transformed from within — its dark 1970s interior dismantled to make way for light, openness, and a renewed relationship with the garden beyond. Architect Paul Porjazoski of BENT Architecture worked within strict heritage constraints that forbade any visible change to the facade, discovering in that limitation not a ceiling but a kind of creative permission. The project asks an enduring question about the built environment: how much of what we inherit must we preserve, and how much must we reimagine, in order to truly inhabit a place?
The red-brick Victorian on its Princes Hill street had always looked like it belonged — a facade so settled into the neighbourhood it had become part of the visual grammar of the block. But inside, a 1970s extension had darkened the rear of the home into a cramped sequence of low ceilings and small windows, turning its back on the northern light and the garden beyond. The family loved the house's bones. What they needed was air.
They engaged Paul Porjazoski of BENT Architecture with a focused brief: preserve the character, but transform how the house actually lived. A heritage overlay complicated the task — any new work had to remain invisible from the street, leaving the original front rooms structurally intact. The real intervention would happen where no passerby could see it.
Porjazoski demolished almost the entire 1970s addition and replaced it with a generous open-plan kitchen, living, and dining area that opens directly onto the garden. Timber walls and ceilings soften the threshold between inside and outside, creating a space that feels both sheltered and connected to natural light. An existing outbuilding at the rear was repurposed as a studio with en suite. The original living room became the main bedroom, and the period pine floors and central corridor — the details that give the house its soul — were left untouched.
Materially, Porjazoski let the red brick serve as a through-line between old and new. The extension doesn't imitate the Victorian; it responds to it. The formal language is contemporary, yet the result feels like a natural continuation rather than an interruption. What the project ultimately demonstrates is that heritage constraint, rather than producing timid outcomes, can sharpen a designer's vision — freeing bold thinking precisely because the boundaries are clear. The garden is no longer something glimpsed from a distance. It has become part of how the family lives each day.
The red-brick Victorian on this Princes Hill street has always belonged there—the kind of house that anchors a neighbourhood, its period facade so assured that people stop noticing it. But step inside, and the story changed. A 1970s extension had sealed off the rear of the home, creating a dim warren of low ceilings and small windows that turned its back on the northern light flooding the garden. The family who lived there loved the house's bones. What they needed was to breathe.
They brought in Paul Porjazoski, director of BENT Architecture, with a clear brief: keep the red brick, keep the character, but transform how the house actually lived. The challenge was not simple. A heritage overlay governed the property, which meant any new work had to be invisible from the street. The original front rooms—the ones that define the house's public face—would have to remain structurally untouched. The real work would happen where no one passing by could see it.
Porjazoski demolished almost the entire 1970s extension. In its place, he built something that feels like it was always meant to be there. The new rear section opens into a generous kitchen, living, and dining area that spills directly onto the garden. Timber walls and ceilings blur the boundary between inside and outside, creating what Porjazoski describes as a space that is both protective and deeply connected to natural light and the landscape beyond. An existing outbuilding at the property's rear was repurposed as a studio with its own en suite, adding another layer of functionality without sprawl.
The original living room became the main bedroom, and the central corridor and pine floors—those period details that give the house its soul—were preserved. But the real gesture was material. Porjazoski used red brick as his reference point, letting it speak across the boundary between old and new. The extension doesn't mimic the Victorian; it answers it. The formal language is contemporary, the spatial expression entirely different, yet something about it feels like a natural continuation of what came before.
This is the paradox Porjazoski was after: creating something genuinely transformative while making it feel as though it belongs specifically to this house and this place. Heritage restrictions could have produced a timid outcome—a careful, apologetic addition that whispers. Instead, the renovation demonstrates that constraint can sharpen vision. By concentrating new work at the rear and keeping the street view inviolate, Porjazoski freed himself to be bold about what the house could become internally. The family now lives in a home that is both rooted in its neighbourhood's architectural language and thoroughly alive to contemporary ways of living. The darkness is gone. The garden is no longer something you glimpse from a distance. It is part of the daily rhythm of the house.
Bemerkenswerte Zitate
The challenge is to create something that feels genuinely new and transformative, while also feeling as though it belongs specifically to that house and that place.— Paul Porjazoski, BENT Architecture
There is a sense of calm that comes from having nature so closely connected to everyday life.— Paul Porjazoski
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