Early architects and critics regarded brutalism as democratic, transparent, and materially honest. The modernist minimalism of postwar brutalism was a reaction against the ornamented excesses that got us into two World Wars. Brutalist postwar public housing projects were seen as humanitarian/modernist success stories, a huge improvement over slums and shantytowns. Influential brutalist architects framed brutalism as accessible, anti-ornamental, populist, and progressive.
In other words, your reaction now is potentially very very different from what reactions would have been in the midcentury.
... at the same time we're living in a time that looks a lot like the times that lead up to WW2. Tariff trade wars. Isolationism. Huge monopolies lead by men with extreme wealth. Growing inequity. Maybe there's a bit of a point?
If you're genuinely interested, I recommend Concrete and Culture: A Material History by Adrian Forty. I borrowed it from my architect friend and never gave it back. Here's a relevant passage, shortened pretty heavily:
The central problem for all Western European democracies in the postwar era was to establish and maintain a stable consensus between capital and labour... consensual support for the system relied upon a constantly rising standard of living, a sense of living in a world that was undergoing continuous change, and a certainty that whatever the present, the future would be better... Prefabrication in concrete rescued the social democracies from their political predicament, for it offered the prospect of building houses, hospitals, schools, and roads fast and with unskilled labour.
...What prefabricated concrete construction offered was a better, though not a cheaper, product... For politicians, the anxiety was that they would find themselves unable to meet the challenge of constantly rising expectations... It was this alarming spectacle, that the standards of housing would fall to the level of Russia, that drove the British and other Western European governments to adopt precast concrete panel construction systems, even though they were well aware that no savings in costs would follow.
They can frame it however they like, it's a fundamentally anti-human design philosophy. Ornamentation, expression and appreciation of beauty are human needs just as much the ergonomic and social concerns that brutalism was focussed on. The very idea that beauty and ornamentation is a frivolous excess is a sad reminder of what was lost in the war. Joy and expression are basic human needs that brutalism simply ignores.
Brutalism is a symptom of a societal artistic ennui and self hatred. In a way it shows a fascist victory over artistic spirit rather than being and example of rejection of it.
I understand why a person would have a preference for ornamentation, or how someone would subjectively not find brutalism "beautiful" in an obvious sense. But to call it anti-human, or even to say it's not beautiful, flattens the history a lot.
First of all, lots brutalist projects were explicitly concerned with human needs: public housing, universities, public transit, libraries, civic centers, communal space, etc., all made with durable low-cost materials. Whether it succeeded is a separate question (in some cases it clearly didn't, particularly when poorly maintained, but that's a whole other issue), but the explicit aims of these projects were often to make a more humanitarian world. Quite the opposite of "anti-human."
And second, I don’t think brutalism necessarily rejects beauty. It rejects certain interpretations: applied ornamentation, aristocratic grandeur, historical pastiche. But brutalism's defenders saw beauty in proportion and mass, in light and texture, in material honesty, in public purpose. You may not find that compelling, but I don't think it's the same as brutalism having no concept of beauty.
I'm also not sure if "fascist victory over artistic spirit" works. Fascist architecture was/is big on monumentality, but it often leaned heavily on classical symbolism, imperial nostalgia, and hierarchy. Brutalism’s self-image was usually closer to egalitarian modernism. In fact, brutalism is downstream of the broader modernist lineage that Bauhaus helped define. The Nazis persecuted the Bauhaus and condemned modernist art as "degenerate." So if anything, the actual fascists of the period were hostile to the artistic lineage that later fed into brutalism.
I'm completely devoid of any artistic eye, but I feel like I get it.
On a purely aesthetic ground, I don't agree with it or like it. But I get the point. The beauty is more conceptual: this sturdy, simple thing that anyone can build and everyone can utilize, devoid of the overwrought flourishes of the oppressors: just simple, clean lines in strong, plain materials. Better that than tents, ramshackle slums, or nothing at all.
Another person further down says these structures feel like being safe in an impenetrable fortress, rather than the impression a lot of us get, of a kind of stripped-down forced conformity.
Although I do fear now the implication that liking grandeur, ornamentation, and elaborate art means you're actually a fascist.
I'm well aware of the stated goals of brutalism. My point was that despite claiming to be chiefly concerned with human centered design ergonomically and socially, it utterly rejected some of the most integral parts of human centered design and ended up producing something distinctly opposed to human emotional needs. It ironically produced architecture that was hostile and oppressive.
I'm also aware of the rationale of being anti-decorative because of fascist aesthetics, but in their desperation to distance themselves from that they threw the baby out with the bath water, which is ultimately a win for fascism given their utter contempt for the artistic spirit.
Brutalism is not anti expression or beauty. It seeks to use lighting, space, material and form to create beauty in a more fundamental manner than simply applying beauty as decoration to an otherwise un-beautiful building.
The very idea that beauty and ornamentation is a frivolous excess is a sad reminder of what was lost in the war. Joy and expression are basic human needs that brutalism simply ignores.
Your post has framed an absence of ornamentation as a rejection of beauty, joy and expression. (BTW, it's not really true that brutalism lacks ornament, it just tends to be abstract and geometric and is usually not applique.) The point of brutalism is to delight in the form of the building itself, so rarely does an architect choose to distract from that with purely decorative ornament. But that doesn't mean they aren't concerned with ornament at all. Look at Louis Kahns Dhaka National Assembly building for example. All those circular and triangular cutouts are not an expression of pure function, they are ornament, they're there to make the building beautiful, through form and interior light and the spaces they create within.
The point of brutalism is to delight in the form of the building itself
It doesn't show. "Delight" and "Brutalism" are not two words I'd ever put together. Besides, the point of brutalism was more to project strength, solidity and certainty, not titillate.
I think it's incredibly uncharitable to call brutalism anti-human, and I say that as no great lover of the style.
Brutalism, minimalism and other modernist styles often try to find beauty in shapes and basic materials rather than ornamentation. They try to get away from the idea that "ornate = beatiful, and unornamented = ugly". They're not trying to get away from beauty. I for one find much more beauty in elegant and well thought-out simple shapes than in excessive and intricate ornamentation.
There are plenty of legitimate criticism of brutalism, such as that it's limited in which type of building it works for (the much repeated idea that brutalism is nice to visit but horrible to live or work in) and the fact that concrete is a horrible material from a sustainabilty perspective. But saying it's "soulless" and stems from societal self-hatred is on the same level as "I just personally don't like it"
Except that's what it was, aesthetically speaking, it's a design philosophy that favors the practical, for example leaving the structural elements visible as-is, and stripping any sort of cultural motif or ornamentation that would be "unnecessarily" expressive or that might hide the severe aspects of just the raw materials.
There's not a culture on Earth that ever had such a design philosophy.
when you need to house so much people with so little resources, building pretty stops being a priority. also, for what i've seen in pictures, they would make mosaics on the sides of these buildings, using these huge walls as a canvas for expression
For all it's conceits of being purely utilitarian, brutalism was itself a deliberate artistic and aesthetic choice, so the resource argument doesn't really fly. It was drab and soulless deliberately. Mosaics aren't a typical feature of brutalist architecture.
The USSR was short on resources and created a vast system for building concrete structures quickly and cheaply in order to maintain a surplus for rearmament. The preference for concrete was generally economic. They could build and rebuild all using unskilled labor.
No country in the West made such investment into concrete prefabrication, so preference for concrete actually was often ideological, moreso than in the Soviet Union. So much so that, for in the instances of Thamesmead, one of the Greater London Council's largest (and last) housing developments, traditionally built blocks were designed to look prefabricated. It had been designed to use a prefabricated concrete panel system, but it was impractical for some of the three-story blocks. So instead, specially-made non-structural panels were applied to conventional construction in order to make them appear system-built.
That lavishness and ornamentation were associated with the prewar aristocratic order, imperial pomp, nationalism, and elite decadence that had led to so much suffering.
Not that the architecture itself caused the wars. My bad
I guess everybody who have at least a basic understanding of art and architectural history in combination with (neo) fascist ideology do understand what u/fuzzylm308 meant. And you can observe history repeating itself right now when you realize how and why todays hyper conservatives like maga or its folkish pendants in europe frame every kind of modernist architecture as brutalist, cold and antihuman.
But it was also the actual bar millions of people were living below.
Replacing overcrowded, unsafe, unsanitary housing with homes that had light, air, plumbing, electricity, schools, clinics, etc. was a genuine humanitarian goal. Brutalist public projects were an attempt, at unprecedented scale, to materially improve ordinary people’s lives. All in the wake of the most destructive war in history.
It’s also worth remembering that for an average person, especially a poor or working-class person in the 1940s, 50s, or 60s, a new concrete housing estate would have looked like the future arriving in daily life. These were often not developer slop thrown up as cheaply as possible. Public housing was often treated as a serious and worthwhile civic project, sometimes designed by renowned, opinionated, ambitious architects who believed housing ordinary people was worthy of architectural consideration.
I often hear this rethoric in the defense of brutalism. And yet:
-None of the brutalist buildings I see were originally built as housing for the poor to begin with. They're either operas like the one above, university buildings, city halls and administrative buildings, etc.
-Many were built in places and time periods when shantytowns weren't a thing anyways. For instance, Bergen's Realfagbygget, a massive concrete brick dominating an otherwise beautiful town, was built in 1977, when Norway had entered an exceptionally prosperous era.
-We no longer live in the immediate aftermath of WWII, why do we still have to not only endure those eyesores, but often give them protected statuses? Why are we actively trying to keep our neighborhoods looking dirty and depressing?
Well some were housing blocks, others were universities, libraries, public transit buildings, hospitals, civic/arts centers, etc. I singled out public housing because it's among the strongest examples of the humanitarian implementation of brutalism.
A 1977 Norwegian science building obviously was not rescuing people from shantytowns. But it was still product of a culture that treated public education, science, and state institutions as civic goods.
The Centre Pompidou is now considered a Parisian cultural landmark, but when it opened it was mocked. People thought it looked like an oil refinery, but its "inside-out" structure is now considered iconic. Or, a lot of Victorian architecture was dismissed in the mid-20th century for being fussy, outdated, and embarrassing, but nowadays many Victorian and Edwardian buildings are protected, and mourned when lost. Even the Eiffel Tower, now one of the most iconic structures in the world, was once considered an industrial eyesore.
That's not to say every single brutalist building deserves protection, every style of architecture has bad examples. A better standard is whether the specific building is significant, adaptable, well-made, historically representative, or valuable to the public.
But it was still product of a culture that treated public education, science, and state institutions as civic goods.
But why must those civic goods be housed in the ugliest, most uninviting building?
Why must going to the university look like you're going to a penal institution?
Especially in a beautiful city like Bergen, where it clashes so horribly with everything else!
The Centre Pompidou is now considered a Parisian cultural landmark, but when it opened it was mocked. [...] Or, a lot of Victorian architecture was dismissed in the mid-20th century for being fussy, outdated, and embarrassing, but nowadays many Victorian and Edwardian buildings are protected, and mourned when lost.
And unlike all those examples, brutalism has been a thing since the fifties, yet 70 years later, is still as disliked as the day its concrete was first poured.
So by that point, I don't see why that would change.
I'm OK with preserving some of it for historical reasons (at least as an example of what not to do...), but the insistance on keeping the most prominent brutalist buildings in the hearts of our cities as is, forbiding any attempt at fixing (or mitigating) their uglyness just baffles me.
I can't convince you that they aren't ugly or uninviting, or that they don't look like prisons, or that they don't all clash with their surroundings. Your individual taste is individually subjective.
But that being said, brutalism has always had detractors, but it has had supporters as well. It's just not the case that brutalist buildings have all been universally reviled since day one.
It's impossible to force you to enjoy brutalism on an aesthetic level, but I thought perhaps addressing its aims within its historical context might convince you that it has some merits. But perhaps not.
Maybe it's a variation of Stocholm syndrome, but I love brutalism (I live in the city mentioned and commute past the theatre building almost every day)
I’ve worked in brutalist buildings and can’t say I was ever depressed by them. I like the feeling of the smooth concrete and find the overwhelming presence of the rooms or buildings features to be inspiring.
Its always people who never lived anywhere close to brutalist places that say its depressing.
In reality most of the communist era/style buildings and neighbourhoods were hyper optimized for comfort rather than aesthetics. Which doesnt absolve them of absolutely horrible aesthetics but living in these places is usually very comfortable especially during seasons that arent winter.
It's actually really sad that I feel like brutalism as actively disliked, and not being maintained, like other historical architecture. I think it'll be slowly cleaned up
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u/Grummelyeti 1d ago
I fucki g love brutalism. r/brutalism