From 30 Years Past to the Future Ahead: Pete Miglis on Architecture’s Next Chapter. 

This year, Director Peter Miglis marks 30 years with Woods Bagot.

For Pete, architecture is grounded in trust, generosity and the culture you build around you. It’s both civic and personal, precise and joyful. His landmark projects range from Qatar Science and Technology Park — a seminal project that redefined the idea of innovation — to SAHMRI, which allowed Pete to give back to the city he was born in, and to the long arc of 80 Collins, stitched into Melbourne’s fabric over 16 years: the span of time it took his son to go from learning to walk to learning to drive. 

Equally significant are his finely crafted residences for respected developers like Piccolo — projects that show how urban living can feel both intimate and architectural. From there, to the adaptive-reuse Younghusband — one of the largest carbon-neutral adaptive reuse buildings of its kind — and The StandardX, a rebellious hotel defined by its raw materiality and Fitzroy edge, Pete’s work creates ripples far beyond the site boundary.

What ties it all together is Pete’s ability to join the dots – between people, disciplines, and ideas. He understands where he sits in the broader spectrum of the industry and has a rare talent for curating and choreographing the best minds around a shared vision.

In this article, Pete reflects on what 30 years in practice have taught him: that studio culture is a design tool, that no breakthrough happens alone, and that replacing yourself is the most radical act of all.

Architecture called to me from beyond my father’s joinery workshop in Adelaide’s Western Suburbs, where I spent much of my time helping out by sanding timber and assembling joinery in our family business. With my dad a technical cabinet/joiner maker and my uncle a lecturer in ceramics and pottery, making was intuitive and physical. It taught me that creativity is an action — a craft — practiced with your hands before it’s ever put into words.

A family thread of craft runs deep, from my father’s joinery to my uncle’s pottery, and through my two brothers, who each bring their own hands-on creativity. That hands-on instinct carries through to my design process. I believe in allowing the drawing to release the design. The sketch is a way of thinking where ideas unfold through the hand before they become plans or words.

That sense of making — of design as a physical, emotional act — is something I’ve shared with my wife, Marietta, a fashion designer. Our creative lives are intertwined. Hers is a world of texture, silhouette and movement. Mine, of space, light and material. We speak a common language of detail, proportion and intuition. That ongoing exchange, between our disciplines and in our everyday lives, has shaped how I see design: not as a solitary act, but a shared craft. My journey with Woods Bagot began in 1992 through a student scholarship while I was studying at the University of South Australia.

In 1993, a 4 month period of study and reflection in India opened my mind to the idea of relativity and resourcefulness in design – that creativity comes from using what you have, shaped by culture and place. I was struck by the humility and humanity of architecture built from everyday materials, an approach that has stayed with me and continues to ground and guide how I think about being a responsible architect. 

I was offered a position in the Adelaide studio in 1995. From the beginning, I was surrounded by people who were both generous with their time and thoughtful and precise in their approach.

I’ve learned that you never forget those who help shape your path. Their influence doesn’t fade — it compounds. Every mentor, lecturer, colleague, and collaborator leaves an imprint that becomes part of your own way of working. 

That foundation, shaped by others and the culture they built, set the tone for everything that followed. What continues to provide nutrition for my work is the global nature of the studio. Each office has its own character but shares a common ambition. Working across cultures and time zones brings a creative energy that feeds everything we do. Travelling widely within the global studio has shown me how culture and diversity are the true fuel behind what we create.

Looking back, the past 30 years don’t form a straight line. They read more like a series of chapters, each with its own rhythm, lessons, and momentum. The first decade was all about craft and curiosity — the formative years. I was learning by doing, first in Adelaide, then briefly in Sydney, figuring out how ideas move from sketch to site, and how teams shape each other.

The second decade was about leadership. I became a shareholder and moved to Melbourne in 1998. That move marked a shift from leading projects to shaping culture, and from executing ideas to backing others to realise theirs. It was also a time when I came to understand that passion and belief are essential fuels — the drive that keeps you going, and the responsibility to leave a legacy for the next generation.

During that period I also designed my own home in North Fitzroy. Often seen as the ultimate test for any architect, it was a chance to explore ideas at a personal scale, where light, space and air became a daily, sensory experience. The result was a quiet, inward-looking house centred on a courtyard typology. It reaffirmed a simple belief that has stayed with me: that clarity, craft, joy and a physical richness create a sensory experience that should be present in every project, regardless of scale.

“A practical solution is one thing, but to make it sing is another,” is a pursuit that has stayed with me and continues to guide me to strive harder in all aspects of architecture and life — shaping the way I approach design, collaboration, and the possibilities each project can create. 

The most recent decade has been about reputation. Not in the personal sense, but in the work. Building complex projects across continents, holding the vision on long-arc developments, and investing in people with the potential to surpass you.
Now the focus shifts again. To what’s next, and who’s next. The practice and the profession give me purpose. It’s a vehicle for my beliefs, thinking of the detail up to the final design.