The 2026 ASAC, titled Weaving, will once again take place on Tāmaki Makaurau’s shores, and its organisation machinations are well underway. Events thus far have taken on a reflective theme, looking backwards to look forwards, ka mua, ka muri.

At the Australian Institute of Architects conference in May of this year, Weaving co-director Oliver Brockie and Ground Matters (Nipaluna Hobart, ASAC 2024) co-director Alastair Scott teamed up with Liz Brogden (Senior Lecturer and Director of Teaching and Learning, UQ School of Architecture, Design and Planning) and Liam LeBlond (National SONA Vice-President for Advocacy) to present If Memory Serves, a panel discussion on the history of the ASAC, its mission to revisit how architectural education is approached, and its long-standing tradition of forming connections and inspiring rebellion.

Following on from this, the week before last I was in attendance at If Memory Serves No. 02, at the Ellen Melville Centre. Invited speaker Kerry Francis (gifted storyteller and lecturer at Unitec) provided insight into his own involvement in the 1971 Auckland-Warkworth Congress. It was the architectural eye-opener into how times have changed: Francis recalled the wanton abandon with which students embarked on unconsented construction (and the ritually fitting nature of its fiery end), the revolutionarily progressive optimism that underpinned the discussion (which, I hope, will be rekindled at Weaving) and the startling demographic homogeneity that defined the architectural student body of the time.

The discourse of the day was debated by visiting speakers like Sim van der Ryn and Serge Chermayeff (who, at 72 years of age, struggled in [at-the-time] rural, camp-like setting of the Warkworth Cement Works). Even Robert Venturi and Denise Scott-Brown were set to make an appearance, having to cancel last minute and instead throw van der Ryn to the hordes striving to herald change. This Congress formed the impetus for the “July Revolution:” a 1972 stop-work by the Auckland School’s student body in response to a syllabus marred by a “narrow range of subjects” and “institutional assumptions about architectural practice that did not correspond with major changes taking place in society and alternative modes of architectural practice.” Thus the elective course was born at the Auckland School of Architecture, notably David Mitchell’s Vernacular and Popular Architecture and Mike Austin’s Polynesian Architecture papers, both of which sit in prominent positions of the local zeitgeist. ASAC is not without its place in our history!

The latter part of If Memory Serves No. 02 invited attendees (a mix of architecture students, enthused friends and flatmates, and optimistic educators) to imagine their own Congresses. The catch? Teams were assigned elements of ‘Kiwiana’ to incorporate and a material around which to develop a central thematic practice. Sometimes, the most ingenious thought or design is borne from constraint; at the very least, creating within limitations shakes the cobwebs from the mind. This historicist evening established Weaving’s physical presence in Tāmaki Makaurau and its mental presence in the minds of its future attendees, with the hope of looking forward in shaping the approaching Congress.

Weaving is set to take place in late 2026, and as that date nears, more events are in the pipeline to ensure the programme is collaboratively designed and responds to students’ intents and aspirations. Keep an eye out across socials for information surrounding the next iteration of If Memory Serves and other Congress events.
ASAC has historically been a non-profit undertaking, a passion project fuelled by volunteer hours and a benevolent discipline, and as such the organising committee are always open to offers of fiscal or physical philanthropy. They can be reached at hello@weaving.nz

The article’s writer Sahil Tiku is a recent graduate of the Auckland School, who attended Ground Matters in Nipaluna Hobart in 2024 with a selection of peers who now make up the organising committee for the 2026 Congress.