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by jjmarr 135 days ago
I don't care what people say. I love brutalist architecture. I love the exposed concrete forms. I love the giant concrete turkey in Toronto and plan to one day visit the UK to see the Barbican.

Concrete is strong and imposing and emotional. It feels authoritative and cold. A warm building feels like it has deliberately undermined its own status to feel welcoming and feels fake. A brutalist building doesn't lie. It is a massive concrete edifice containing a large space within.

It also weathers in distinctive ways. The water stains are like seniority, telling me the building has and will last forever. A big glass skyscraper feels replaceable and new, like it's disposable and will be replaced in a few years.

I get a lot of hate for this but one of the benefits of a concrete house is the ability to throw stones.

6 comments

No I'm with you. There's an honest and an intent to it which I've always loved - plus an intent to do more with less in terms of form. No finicky detail to hide tricky areas, no taking of advantage of material to distract the eye - it stands or falls on form and function alone. I get why some may not like it, but for me it's a pure form of architecture. It's the building equivalent of a Dieter Rams, or a mid-period Olivetti. Beautiful.
There's not really any brutalist buildings around my location, but I absolutely love them. They are some of the most interesting building, both in terms of visual appearance and the thoughts that has gone into their design. To me they don't instill horror, but a sense of calm and safety.

What sometimes happens when people say they dislike brutalism, and what is does to people living in the buildings, is they focus on the architecture and not the horrible property mismanagement. The UK has a number of hated brutalist towers and the misery of those living in the building are ascribed to the architecture, not the fact that the buildings are not properly maintained, or that the cities stuffed the flats with the people who are incredibly poor, addicts, in need of mental care, education, support or a mix of all of those things. Now it is also true that many of these buildings are old, typically from the 60s and 70s, and their design no longer suites modern living, but that's true almost all types of architecture. A 1950s brick house barely fits a modern family.

The problem might be exactly that: A brutalist building doesn't lie. If you don't take care of it, and its surroundings, the building will let you know. Nothing is hidden, all of your societal problems are on full public display with a brutalist building.

Brutalist architecture certainly has an emotional impact for me - mostly horror.

On a happy note, the incredibly ugly Argyle House in Edinburgh is going to be demolished soon - how anyone thought it was a good idea to build such a thing in that location is a mystery (its evil twin in the form of New St Andrews House having been demolished years ago).

It's a great shame to me that the museum of London left the barbican. It made visiting the site and the building work well contextually. Roman London wall. History on tap, and a brutalist vision.

The concert hall is good too.

I was sorely tempted to downvote this for egregious wrongheadedness, but that last line is pure gold. Kudos.
I lived in London for 15 years. Southbank and the Barbican were some of my favourite places there.

Barbican is particularly interesting since its part of the city of London, and whereas the city mostly contains bad neoclassical designs that feel dystopian and inhuman Barbican feels like a fresh breath of air.

It has a human centric design and it uses water and greenery to temper the concrete.

Its interesting that crowds in connection to or within the southbank center also always feel lively. I'm uncertain of why, perhaps the concrete makes a counterpoint to humanness and makes us focus on the people in the vicinity.

Perhaps its the cultural programming. But the end result for me was that whenever I was around these blocks of concrete I was almost always in a good mood.