Talbot Park, a housing project in Auckland, New Zealand, was once described as a ghetto, troubled by high rates of crime and vandalism. However, it has just been rebuilt at a cost of $48m and the project reflects some new thinking about urban design.

A The new Talbot Park is immediately eye-catching because the buildings look quite different to other state housing projects in Auckland. ‘There is no reason why state housing should look cheap in my view,’ says architect Neil Cotton, one of the design team. ‘In fact, I was anticipating a backlash by those who objected to the quality of what is provided with government money.’ The tidy brick and wood apartments and townhouses would not look out of place in some of the city’s most affluent suburbs and this is a central theme of the Talbot Park philosophy.

B Talbot Park is a triangle of government-owned land, which in the early 1960s was developed for state housing built around a linear garden that ran through the middle. Initially, there was a strong sense of neighbourliness. Former residents recall how the garden played a big part in their childhoods – a place where kids came together to play softball, cricket and bullrush. ‘We had respect for our neighbours and addressed them by title – Mr and Mrs so-and-so,’ recalls Georgie Thompson, who grew up there in the 1960s.

C Exactly what went wrong with Talbot Park is unclear. The community began to change in the late 1970s as more immigrants moved in. The new arrivals didn’t always integrate with the community and a ‘them and us’ mentality developed. In the process, standards dropped and the neighbourhood began to look shabbier. The buildings themselves were also deteriorating and becoming run down, petty crime was on the rise and the garden was considered unsafe. In 2002, Housing New Zealand decided the properties needed upgrading. The question was, how to avoid repeating the mistakes of the past?

D One controversial aspect of the upgrade is that the new development has actually made the density of housing in Talbot Park greater, putting 52 more homes on the same site. Doing this required a fresh approach that can be summed up as ‘mix and match’. The first priority was to mix up the housing by employing a variety of plans by different architects: some of the accommodation is free-standing houses, some semi-detached, some low level, multi-apartment blocks. By doing this, the development avoids the uniform appearance of so many state housing projects, which residents complain denies them any sense of individual identity. The next goal was to prevent overspending by using efficient designs to maximise the sense of space from minimum room sizes. There was also a no-frills, industrial approach to kitchens, bathrooms and flooring, to optimise durability and ensure the project did not go over budget. Architecturally, the buildings are relatively conservative: fairly plain houses standing in a small garden. There’s a slight reflection of the traditional Pacific beach house (a fale) but it’s not overplayed. ‘It seems to us that low-cost housing is about getting as much amenity as you can for the money,’ says architect Michael Thompson. Another key aspect of the ‘mix and match’ approach is openness: one that not only lets residents see what is going on but also lets them know they are seen. The plan ensures there are no cul-de-sacs or properties hidden from view, that the gardens are not enclosed by trees and that most boundary fences are see-through – a community contained but without walls.

E The population today is cosmopolitan: 50% Pacific Islanders, 20% Maori, 15% Asian, 10% New Zealand European and the rest composed of immigrants from Russia, Ukraine and Iran. ‘It was important that the buildings were sufficiently flexible to cater for the needs of people from a wide variety of cultural backgrounds,’ explains designer James Lundy.

F Despite the quality of the buildings, however, there should be no doubt that Talbot Park and its surrounding suburb of Tamaki are low socio-economic areas. Of the 5,000 houses there, 55% are state houses, 28% privately owned (compared to about 65% nationally) and 17% private rental. The area has a high density of households with incomes in the $5,000 to $15,000 range and very few with an income over $70,000. That’s in sharp contrast to the more affluent suburbs in Auckland.

G Another important part of the new development is what Housing New Zealand calls ‘intensive tenancy management’. Opponents of the project call it social control. ‘The focus is on frequent inspections and setting clear guidelines and boundaries regarding the sort of behaviour we expect from tenants,’ says Graham Bodman, Housing New Zealand’s regional manager. The result is a code of sometimes strict rules: no loud parties after 10pm; no washing hung over balcony rails and a requirement to mow lawns and keep the property tidy. The Tenancy Manager walks the site every day, knows everyone by name and deals with problems quickly. ‘It’s all based on the intensification,’ says project manager Stuart Bracey. ‘We acknowledge that if you are going to ask people to live in these quite tightly-packed communities, you have to actually help them to get to know each other by organising morning teas and street barbecues.’ So far it seems to be working and many involved in the project believe Talbot Park represents the way forward for state housing.

*state housing: government subsidised accommodation for people who cannot pay market rents

This exhibition promises to chart the evolution of a nation through its art, but not everyone agrees with the reasons behind the choice of artwork.

For the casual viewer, the exhibition of landscapes, Australia, selected by the Royal Academy of Art, will be a spectacular guide through Australian art history. Included in the exhibition are a range of artists and styles, dating from the earliest days of colonial art and progressing through expressionism and modernism to the greats of the 20th century, culminating with the current generation of Australian artists. It is hardly surprising, then, that this results in a flexible, wide-ranging notion of landscape.

But this landmark exhibition gives rise to some questions, and perhaps problems, regarding Britain's relationship with its former colony. By choosing a style of painting at which British artists excel, the Academy could be seen as inviting criticism of the Australian interpretation by comparison. But it is the very theme of landscape that hints at a telling attitude towards Australian art from Britain. To consider it condescending is perhaps too strong, but for Joanna Mendelssohn, an Australian critic and Associate Professor at the University of NSW's College of Fine Arts (COFA), there is a suggestion that British artistic values have directed this exhibition, rather than allowing Australia the freedom to demonstrate its maturity.

What Mendelssohn found surprising about this exhibition was that the underlying rules for the selection of works seemed to have been so conservative. Since the landscape is a very strong British artistic theme, it appeared to her that when the British looked to the art of a former colony, there was a tendency for them to think that those colonies would continue to be like the British themselves. In reviewing Australian art, the British insisted on looking at the genre of landscape painting.

Because of colonial ties, it was inevitable during Australian art's formative years that it would reflect Britain's devotion to the beloved landscape before its own character and idiosyncrasies took shape. And while Mendelssohn's concern over the exhibition's conventional selection is valid, the Academy is nevertheless embracing the peculiarities of Australian art from the mid-19th century onward, albeit within the boundaries of landscape.

Australia is curated by Kathleen Soriano, director of exhibitions at the Royal Academy. ‘Certainly the influence of English, French, or German art is much more evident in the early periods, in the early 1800s to mid-1800s,’ she says. ‘What I wanted to show was how Australian art develops a real distinctiveness, associated with the landscape and the light.’

The fusion of tradition of the European kind with something more specifically Australian, and often personal, is crucial to the exhibition, and extends particularly to some of the more contemporary artists involved. Sydney-born video artist Shaun Gladwell is a good example of this. Gladwell's most famous piece, which is featured in the exhibition, is Storm Sequence (2000), a video of Gladwell skateboarding on the Bondi seafront as one of Sydney's signature brutal storms lingers offshore. It is his acknowledgment of landscape (or seascape) tradition, coloured by Gladwell's own individualism. ‘To exhibit my work in this show might make some sense because I was interested in Turner and the idea of atmosphere affecting vision, something I was really interested in around the time of Storm Sequence. I was thinking about this tradition of Romantic landscape, but I wanted to make it personal,’ says Gladwell. But he didn't want to just embark on borrowing imagery from elsewhere. He wanted to bring it to his experience and his world through skateboarding and beach culture.

So while it may seem narrow for Britain to reduce Australian art to the genre of landscape, there can be little denying that British landscape painting is still relevant to a current generation of Australian practitioners, however indirectly.

Visitors to the exhibition encounter Australian Aboriginal art first, the idea being that these works warrant a prominent position because they were ‘first’. Over the last couple of decades, London has hosted many successful exhibitions of Aboriginal art in smaller spaces, but for Soriano, Australia represents an opportunity to place such art in a broader context, with new relationships to the art of the settlers and white Australia. ‘One of the reasons landscape makes sense as being the right theme was because Aboriginal art started in and on the landscape,’ she says. ‘[The exhibition] is a beautiful meshing of the two different kinds of art, that allowed me to bring them together comfortably and honestly within this theme. It was important for me to present Indigenous art to audiences, and I felt it was most authentic that it was seen as part of Australian art history, rather than a separate area with a world of its own.’

Meanwhile, Australian critic Mendelssohn also points out that London is increasingly less important to today's generation of artists, and this somewhat weakens the ceremony surrounding the exhibition in London. ‘China is the most important art market in the world,’ she says. ‘If you've made it in Shanghai, you've made it. The world has changed. My students in Australia, who come from all over the world, really want to see Venice Biennale and Art Basel, but they're less interested in going to London. When I was growing up, London was the destination, and then when I was at university all the smart young things wanted to go to New York,’ she added. ‘Now they want to go everywhere. There's no such thing as the centre and the periphery like there used to be. It's much more complicated.’