The Northcote dining room was just the beginning.

Mr Wadelton has photographed almost 200 suburban interiors - mostly the former homes of European migrants in Melbourne’s northern suburbs - for his new book Suburban Baroque.

He took the photos at open inspections after scanning websites such as domain.com.au, searching for telltale clues on the exterior shots of homes.

“The decor speaks of post-war immigration in a fascinating time capsule, where one experiences a mix of local – the proverbial Franco Cozzo furniture – and imported, defying current minimalist design conventions,” Mr Wadelton says.

“I am not sure how many examples there would be of busy rooms like this overseas. It is not art deco or art nouveau, it is like a local cultural manifestation.”

Wadelton's photographs evoke memories from a bygone era. The 3D Jesus clock hanging on a wall in Pascoe Vale. The stuffed fox lurking under a boxy TV in a musk-pink living room in Coburg. The electric chandelier and table with marble crazy paving in Reservoir. The crucifix above the Franco Cozzo bed head with built-in speakers and lights in Coburg.

(The aesthetic is also celebrated by the highly popular Facebook page Ethnic Homes & Gardens.)

“It strikes a chord with people, because they had a Nonna with a house like that, or friends who did,” Mr Wadelton says.

The photographs are celebratory but there is also a poignancy. The oeuvre of suburban baroque is disappearing as migrants die or move into nursing homes.

“There is a tremendous amount of pathos in rooms that represent the passing of the generation that came out and did so much for our country.”

In his search for the right homes on property sites, hopeful signs included olive or cyprus trees and austere lion or eagle statues on the front fence.

“They were generally not Californian bungalows, they were usually brick,” Mr Wadelton says.

“It was like panning for gold; I got a lot of dirt.

“But every now and then I would hit paydirt with houses untouched since the 60s, carpet, preferably clashing, a nativity scene above the marital bed, Jesus in every room.”

But he says these homes are almost impossible to find following the downturn in the property market, with vendors stripping houses of everything buyers might find unpalatable.

“My experience looking at real estate is there is definitely a sameness – a big clock in the kitchen, a generic painting, a beige throw or leopard skin rug. This right off the wall eccentricity is very uncommon.”

Mr Wadleton, who is best known for his pop-inflected hyperrealist paintings of suburbia, has been documenting the changing face of Melbourne’s inner-north since 1975.

“I was a poor student and I had no funds to travel anywhere grandiose so I developed an interest in the local area,” he says.

In 2008 he established the Northcote Hysterical Society page on Facebook, where he shares his photos and observations. The group now has more than 3000 members.

“He’s our resident virtual historian,” fellow artist and photography historian Patrick Pound writes in an essay accompanying Suburban Baroque.

Mr Pound writes that the photographs are tributes to their absent occupants.

“(Mr Wadleton) is one step ahead of the real estate agents and the undertakers; the developers, the renovators and regenerators, and all the inevitable agents of change.

“This is a salvage operation brought to book. This is a book of reminders.”

Suburban Baroque is published by M.33. It will be available from http://m33.net.au/category/books from August 11.