333 Collins St

My latest photo adventure started with a question I put to AI: what’s worth photographing in Melbourne? One of the suggestions was an unremarkable address, 333 Collins Street. The clever AI hinted that it might be interesting inside.

One fine day I took my camera to work, picked my moment and paid the building a visit. And what did I find?

Well, here’s what. It’s a lavishly decorated office building from the nineteenth century. The lavishness is on the inside, not the outside. From the street it’s a fairly ordinary high-rise, looking something like this:

AI image

This picture was made with AI, because getting a proper look at the building from the street is bloody difficult.

As you can see, nothing special. But step inside and it immediately becomes clear why this is one of Melbourne’s landmarks. A huge domed hall in the Renaissance and Baroque styles, with soft, dim lighting that accentuates the splendour of the architecture.

The building was erected in 1866 as the head office of the Commercial Bank of Australia. Incidentally, despite the shared abbreviation, CBA, the Commercial Bank has nothing to do with the Commonwealth Bank of Australia, which uses the same initials. It later became what is now Westpac.

At first there was nothing particularly impressive about the interior, but the bank’s management decided it was time to put on a show for the public, and in 1893 the foyer and main banking chamber took on the look they have today. Funnily enough, the renovation was finished just before the financial crisis of 1893, and the bank soon suspended payments.

The closure wasn’t permanent, and the bank resumed operations after the crisis. In the late twentieth century the Commercial Bank became Westpac and moved out of its sumptuous headquarters. The foyer and main chamber were added to the heritage register.

The façade, tower and additional premises were rebuilt and extended several times, but the main attraction was left untouched. Today it’s an office complex housing some fairly serious firms, and a rather pretentious Italian restaurant, Strozzi.

I walked in and started photographing the architecture, trying not to draw too much attention. This festival of joy lasted about fifteen minutes, until a breathless security guard came trotting up to me and informed your humble servant that photography inside was strictly forbidden.

Without getting into an argument, I repented sincerely, apologised and retreated at the greatest possible speed, before the guard could demand that I delete my shots. I’d already flown off with plenty in my beak. Have a look at the loot.