Working in the field of architecture for the past 18 months has turned a genuine curiosity I've long held for the way buildings are designed into a fully-fledged fixation on the way the spaces we inhabit shape our moods, the way we perceive ourselves and our capacity to feel connected to each other and the environment.
By environment I don't mean trees, fields and picturesque bodies of water – only a fortunate few can spend every day appreciating those. But rather fundamental elements of natural light, fresh air and sky, and the way thoughtfully designed spaces connect us to them even when we're inside, stuck behind a screen or bailed up in meetings.
The endless home renovation shows we see on television each night trade on half this story; transform your home with a fresh lick of paint, a new bathroom and some swanky light fittings and you'll be a happier punter. But the time we spend in our homes – for many of us, anyway – is far less than the time spent on public transport, in offices, medical surgeries, hospitals, shopping centres and retirement homes. And these spaces have just as much, or even a greater, ability to make, or break, our days.
The interesting aspect of being mindful of these ideas is that you start to pay attention to the small and not so small details of the spaces that make up your world. From the neon-lit department store with its dungeon-like ambience to the train with its windows plastered out by advertising banners; a cruel gesture that robs commuters of the simple joy of watching the world go by.
This love of beautiful spaces is something many of us harbour; the popularity of Grand Designs and other such TV series suggests the first dream of many a would-be lotto winner is a bespoke home. It also suggests, along with the success of local events such as Open House Melbourne, that too few of us inhabit beautiful spaces in our daily lives. Instead, we catch brief glimpses when the doors open momentarily and then head home to our cookie-cut suburbs.
Me, I've started little pilgrimages around the city to make publicly accessible architecture part of my day: lunch at the Peter MacCallum Cancer Centre, a stroll through the grounds of Melbourne University, detours to Melbourne's new nooks. Brief they may be, but after that, a viewless train ride home doesn't pack such a punch.