I. Love. Architecture. It's amazing! There's so
much care and artistry that goes into the spaces we encounter in our lives: from spots we visit
daily to the most celebrated monuments in our cultures to the places that mean something special
only to you. Architecture is the living history of the world, our most immediate yet inconspicuous
link to something older and bigger than us. All that philosophical gibberish AND it can be really
pretty? Now that's one heck of a deal! I say all this because I've talked a fair amount about
architecture on this channel, and I hope I've made it clear that I love all kinds of different
styles: from the Classical Greco-Roman world to Islamic design and whatever the Italians are up to
on any given day, from Great Zimbabwe to Lalibela in Ethiopia to Timbuktu in Mali, and from medieval
Gothic Cathedrals to Art Deco skyscrapers of the 20th century – I'm even one of those sickos who
actually likes The London Shard! With that said, my point is this: I do not care for Brutalism.
Now Brutalist architecture is famously maligned in popular culture for looking like a rendering
error from Hell… and it does… but after doing my diligence and researching the history
of the movement, I'm happy to report I can be even more mean about it. So, to learn
why on earth Brutalism is Like That and see if we can find any redeeming qualities hidden amid
all that concrete... let's f*ckin' dish, gang.
First off, how on earth did we get here? Well, you know me, we’re going
to Rome, because those warmongering wackos saw concrete as an incredibly versatile material – it
could be any shape, unlike brick or stone, so it was perfectly suited to irregular structures like
domes or underwater applications like docks or baths. But despite being extremely practical and
widely used, it was never a finishing material, so any concrete was either bricked over or given a
decorative coat of paint and gilding. For our next application, let’s skip ahead a brisk millennium
and a half to the late 1800s and early 1900s, with the development of Reinforced Concrete, where
putting steel bars inside it makes it way the hell stronger. This was a key innovation in the Great
Skyscraper Race, as reinforced concrete allowed buildings to stand taller and lighter much more
safely than before. Here again, it’s a vital tool, but not the star of the show.
Yet, times soon changed and Worlds soon Warred, so
the new urgent challenge was rebuilding Europe’s war-torn cities as quickly as possible, and
concrete was both quick and cheap. This need, paired with libraries’-worth of academic
discourse about Modernism going on at the time, presented an opportunity for something new –
and that takes us to Brutalism. In the 1950s, the style arose from two different sources –
one was in Britain, where husband-wife team Alison & Peter Smithson pioneered a stark new
style for the post-war era. Elsewhere in the UK, Reyner Banham’s essay “The New Brutalism”
described a radically-modern style of architecture without exterior artifice nor conscious attachment
to previous styles. I might add, Poorly, as I’ve read the essay, and it’s noxiously pretentious
to the point of being nearly-unintelligible, and that bodes exactly as terribly as it sounds. The
second source is from Swiss-French architect Le Corbusier who coined the phrase Béton Brut in the
1950s to describe building with “Raw Concrete”, such as his Unité d'habitation in Marseilles – And
that’s all the French you’re getting outta me for this video. And that affinity of concrete with
housing was extremely alluring around the world, as seen with Japanese Danchi and, most
iconic of all: Soviet housing. The low-cost, concrete-paneled Khrushchevka became a USSR
staple with 64,000 of them built in 1960s Moscow, and later evolved into the much larger Brezhnevka
complexes. They certainly don't look good, and too many of them in one place becomes
soul-sucking, but they worked. They were quick, cheap, and served a vital need. That alone is a
success, but possibly Brutalism’s only success.
Unfortunately, Brutalism was determined to be more than a solution for housing, and
developed a whole ideology around itself, becoming a movement based on ethical traits beyond just a
technique or aesthetic style. So as Brutalism grew in popularity, it crystalized around the promise
of a Socialist Utopia. Over in the Eastern Bloc especially, traditional architecture was seen as
bourgeois filth, but Brutalism offered maximum utility and social uniformity. Raw Concrete was a
celebration of labor over ornamentation, and since concrete can take on any shape, concrete buildings
can suit any need – Brutalism represented the ultimate fusion of material, purpose,
aesthetics, and ideology for a Socialist Utopia.
And even outside of Commie-land, lots of architects around the world found these
ideas alluring, resulting in civic works such as Boston’s City Hall which, for our purposes,
is a very illustrative example of what happens when Brutalism scales up. Supposedly intended
to blur the boundary between citizens and their government with an open plaza and big interior
atrium, City Hall in practice is a confounding mess of shapes so off-putting it looks more like
a fortress designed to confuse an invading army than to celebrate civic ideals. Why does it
have wall-to-wall arrow-slit windows? Look, far be it from me to take pot-shots at the work
of a professional or imply I could do better, but from the perspective of a concerned citizen:
maybe don’t make the government look like they’re hiding something. Maybe???
Buildings like Boston City Hall went a long way
to securing Brutalism’s reputation in popular culture as the visual language of Literal Evil.
Now, Totalitarian regimes in history have wildly varied taste in design, from Italian Razionalismo
to grandiose Stalinism to North Korea’s Atomic-Age in Pastel, yet the vibes of Brutalism alone
are so overbearing it’s perfectly suited for Every Fictional Dystopia – Hunger Games, Blade
Runner, 1984, Clockwork Orange, Andor all pull from Brutalism to ground their worlds in a
feeling of oppressive bleakness: where massive and inscrutable structures perfectly represent
their omnipotent institutions, and individuals are helplessly tiny in the face of them.
Now I’m being harsh – granted, this is my video
and I can do what I want – but I’m being harsh. So I’m going to pivot from ragging on this
concrete clusterf*ck to explore how the ideas and even the aesthetics of Brutalism can work
with a little restraint and a wider perspective. First, let’s look at an architect who operated
right on the edges of Brutalism: Lou Kahn. His 1965 Salk Institute in California has two concrete
wings separated by an open plaza, with a fountain running down the middle and disappearing into
the horizon. It’s a space with stark materials, simple shapes, and no fuss – so on paper this is
Brutalist, but the operative difference here is how the plaza doesn’t draw attention to itself,
but instead acts as a frame for nature and light. The whole structure points out to the Pacific
and the open sky above, and good lord does it make for a gorgeous sunset. Kahn created a stark
and monumental structure without getting bogged down in Brutalism’s harsh jumble of geometry, and
the result is genuinely beautiful. I love this for the same reason I adore Hallgrimskirkja
in Iceland – the focus isn’t concrete, it’s all about the light.
That’s my aesthetic counterpoint to Brutalism:
stop being so edgy and you Can actually look nice – but I also want to tackle Brutalist
philosophy and the claim to Utopia. Getting past the part where “Utopia” is always a false premise
begging to be corrupted by political grifters and any architecture that claims to be the only
one you need is automatically suss as hell, I posit that Brutalism should have widened
its perspective and looked to American Train Stations. Let me explain. In the last century,
America has made a wealth of beautiful, truly stunning stations: Grand Central in New York, 30th
Street in Philadelphia, Union Station in Chicago, Union Station in DC, and frankly most of the
“Union Stations” across the country – gorgeous, extravagant stations far more ornate than their
purpose requires. But Why? What’s the political idea inherent in that? Was every transit
department just cackling over blueprints and tax money? No – These aren’t buildings reserved
for Government, like city halls or courthouses, nor are they the gated domains of the
Rich, like banks, stock exchanges, or luxury high-rises – these are just train
stations: completely open, completely practical. It’s a public splendor that everybody gets to
enjoy, making the act of arriving in a city feel welcoming and grand for everyone, not just the
rich, not just the powerful. The primary statement is that citizens deserve beauty.
In the language of American architecture
between the Civil War and WWI, sometimes called the “American Renaissance”, the allure of
classical styles is the connection with Ancient Athenian democracy and Roman Law. So the secondary
statement here is that America is the inheritor of the ancient democratic ideal, and building that
into usable public services like train stations is the logical extension of fashioning government
buildings on classical styles. It’s an aspiration.
But also, the ideological power of beauty isn’t exclusive
to one style – Grand Central is rightly the most beloved train station in the country and it’s
fully not a classical building (it’s Beaux-Arts), Moynihan Train Hall is gorgeously modern, Union
Station in LA is a characteristically-Californian mashup of Spanish Colonial and Art Deco –
columns, arches, and marble do not make things beautiful; it’s the meeting of style, form,
intent, proportion, and balance that make these simple train stations into civic treasures. This
whole point also applies to America’s wonderful Public Libraries but this tangent is running long
already so I’ll keep it moving – Keep it chugging along. Ahaahh Train Puns.
And that key idea even continued into the 20th
century with the Art Deco movement and the advent of skyscrapers. New styles, new applications, same
key thesis. Buildings like Chicago’s #1 boy the Tribune Tower make the point that even palaces to
capitalism (yuck) should be designed for the whole city to enjoy them. A society’s wealth belongs
to its citizens, and one form that takes is the built environment. If Brutalism asserts that
architecture is for everyone and everybody should be on the same level, the logical move should be
to elevate that level as much as humanly possible.
So where does that all leave us? Well, Brutalism means like four different things depending on
whether we’re talking aesthetics, ideology, both, or neither, so we can evaluate it on several
criteria. But on basically all of them, I’ll allow myself to be a fussy little architecture snob,
because I’m sorry this shit is hideous. Brutalism is trying so hard to be edgy & cool & modern but
it’s just So. Goddamn. Pretentious. Its housing addressed an important need and is worth our
appreciation, but Brutalism’s big show-pieces and public works just keep missing. From the bland to
the outright incomprehensible, it’s so constrained by an insistence to make concrete the star of the
show and so shackled to ideological purity that it feels determined to make unpleasant, oppressive
buildings. It’s no wonder Brutalism speed-ran its lifecycle into visual shorthand for totalitarian
oppression – not a great look for utopian architecture. For being a style so feverishly
anti-traditional and unflinchingly utilitarian, Brutalism was consistently hamstrung by the
ruthless pursuit of its own ideologies, to the severe and consistent detriment to how it looks.
In the end, I don’t dislike Brutalism because it’s modern – I love tons of modern stuff – No, I’m
unimpressed by it because it’s obnoxious. Everyone has their own taste, but man, concrete is a rough
flavor. Was all that too harsh? …. No. Okay, bye!
Thank you for watching! I want to give some special thanks
to the friends of mine who listened to the first draft of this video in the form of a very
off-the cuff diatribe on a video call a few weeks back. I know you’ve wondered, and yes, Red and
I truly are Like This All The Time. Extra thanks as always to our wonderful Patrons on screen
now, and I’ll see you all in the next video.
