Babylon Home

By Anthony St John Parsons

Babylon is a home with a spirited past – part folklore, part local legend. While the Northern Beaches suburb of Avalon where Babylon House is located is often defined by its beaches and the easy uniform of striped linen shirts, there’s another narrative quietly unfolding in its hinterland: one of eccentric architecture, creative independence, and houses that seem to rise organically from the bushland. Babylon sits squarely within that wilder story – shaped by terrain, salt air, and the unconventional ambitions of its early creators.

Referred to by locals as “The Castle,” Babylon House is a striking mid-century sandstone residence perched high on the ridge dividing the calmer waters of Pittwater and the rolling waves at Avalon Beach. Designed in the 1950s by architect Edwin Kingsberry, its curving rooflines, and fortress-like presence built of local sandstone quickly cemented its enduring nickname.

Across the decades, The Castle became both a local landmark and a cultural emblem – celebrated for its dramatic architecture and its colourful life as a bohemian gathering place throughout the 60s and 70s. For nearly a decade, the new custodians of the house, together with Rob Brown from Casey Brown Architecture and owner Fiona Lyda, have restored and sensitively re-imagined it to the beautiful house it is today.

The house is profoundly of its place, something immediately apparent the moment you step onto the site. Whether you choose the cable inclinator or the winding sandstone steps – edged with an impossibly thin, delicate steel handrail – every surface you touch and view you encounter reveals a deep consideration of materiality and design intent.

Walking through the rooms, it’s difficult to distinguish what is original from what is newly introduced; everything feels treasured and loved. Aside from a modest addition housing a new master bedroom and a kitchen tucked beneath the existing singular sloping roof, the house seamlessly blends old and new – modernising the spaces with sensitivity while enhancing the aura the home already radiates.

Homes of such detail often prompt the familiar rhetoric of “the skilled craftsman,” celebrating the precision of the builder. But here, the achievement lies in the symbiosis of all involved: the client, the architect, the maker, and the craftspeople. There is an oscillation between precision and intentional imperfection that preserves the charm of the original while allowing the contemporary work to disappear almost entirely. Examples of this, shaped by client and designer Fiona Lyda – founder and director of the furniture and lighting showroom Spence & Lyda – include the precisely composed stone offcuts embedded into the new concrete floors. To some, this might appear haphazard, but to the trained eye it is a piece of art – a masterful gesture also echoed in the custom lighting Lyda designed throughout. Her curation of furniture, objects and soft textures acts as an oeuvre in itself, a continuation of the legacy she has built within Australia’s interiors landscape.

Brown’s hand is also subtly evident throughout. Large tilting black timber doors – a contemporary interpretation of castle gates – a dangerously divine guillotine servery window, and delicate jarrah and copper handles dotted across the home all speak to the trust placed in Brown’s ability to honour and refine the building’s character.

Perhaps the most poetic example of collaboration and craftsmanship lies where the old and new portions of the house meet. With the home already sitting beautifully against the sandstone shelf characteristic of the Northern Beaches, a decisive cut into the rock allows a single pane of glass to slot in, letting the stone spill directly into the moody interior. Natural fissures in the rock, which would have allowed water to seep through to the inside, have been romantically stitched together with ceramic mosaic tiles – a gesture reminiscent of the Japanese practice of Kintsugi, where broken pottery is repaired with gold to honour its history.

For all this delight, there is also a trace of sadness. These wild, ambitious homes – which are scattered across Australia on both extraordinary and regular sites – are slowly disappearing as time, bureaucracy and economic pressure take their toll. The legacy of this era is fragile. And so, perhaps the greatest triumph of Babylon is simply that it remains: restored, respected, and allowed to continue its story. Through every careful act of design, craft and stewardship, the house is assured its place – and its legacy endures.