Modernist architecture, like any other art movement, is (in)famous for its ability to draw highly polarised reactions from both spectrums of the art community. You get the usual comments of how the bare concrete and glass, and harsh, uncompromising geometry is the brutal degradation of architecture and design.
Then again it is unsurprising that one of the most popular sub-categories of modernist architecture is Brutalism, which is well, eponymously brutal in its geometry and material. It is also unsurprising that these buildings are typically featured as epitomising the decay and decadence of modernity and the urban environment. It is thus similarly unsurprising that galleries of Brutalist architecture exhibit the typical greyscale photographs of moss-riddled, crumbling buildings pockmarking parts of degenerate Socialist Britain and the moribund Communist Bloc.
I for one, belong to this shrinking, outdated group of fanatics who worship Brutalism. If anything, I worship the like of Le Corbusier and Kenzo Tange for filling our skylines with these sky-scraping testaments to societal decadence.
There’s something inherently beautiful in the hulking masses of cold lifelessness. There’s something so alluring about the decadent touch of concrete. There’s something almost ethereal about the ancient geometrical perfection and the long-dead-and-gone ideals of utopia these buildings had been designed to enshrine.
I mean seriously, who gives a shit about post-modernist architecture and all it’s annoying attention-grabbing curves and colour. I’ve had enough of green architecture and human-centredness.
Nothing can compare to the ability of Brutalism to capture the milieu of the mid-century modern age. It’s a nolstagic portal back to the days when people had better fashion sense, when smoking was cool and sexism was harmless.
The attached picture there doesn’t say much so here’s a link to more Brutalist architecture.