Disclosure: I am a big fan of brutalism. I had no idea that there was stuff like this in Paris. I'm almost tempted to go out and tour it - it's beautiful.
In Britain, where I live, there is a general tendency to view older buildings as nicer buildings. Generally this is because only the stuff that's nice enough to keep/protect ends up surviving. This leads me to wonder what will we choose to keep from the 20th century. Which buildings will still be standing in 2500?
Buildings like those in the article make me sad. They are currently in horrifically poor condition after decades of neglect. On top of that, they are very unfashionable, brutalism seemingly suffering a similar fate in France to the UK: association with low-quality housing projects, a mid-century utopia that quickly became a dystopia. In London I am surrounded by treasured buildings nearly all of which had to fight against demolition at some point - for example the gothic hotel at St Pancras: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/St._Pancras_Renaissance_London.... I wonder, if we hung on to them for long enough for the associations to dissipate, would we come to treasure them?
St Pancras was saved by the advocacy of (among others) the poet John Betjeman. Who will stand up for the Brutalists?
It's unfashionable to argue that there are timeless principles of aesthetics, but I believe that Brutalism is inherently in violation of them. Concrete brut is not a visually appealing medium like brick, stone or wood, especially once it's been weathered for a bit. And people prefer adorned surfaces to huge flat stark unadorned ones.
> people prefer adorned surfaces to huge flat stark unadorned ones
Look through the images in the article and show me one huge, flat, unadorned surface. Building materials all go in and out of fashion - this is not about concrete.
What I love about brutalism is that the forms of the buildings are totally different to anything that came before them. Concrete freed architects - allowing them to build 'floating' buildings on thin stilts, huge overhangs and flying walkways and bridges. Now of course, more freedom is not always a good thing. I am not an advocate for every brutalist building - many are terrible, but there are some (like the ones in the article) that are gems, and should be preserved for the wonderful things they are.
In general, if we look out of the eyes of a pedestrian entering or leaving one of the depicted estates (pick an estate at random, and pick the moment at which we look out at random) chances are fairly high that there will be hardly anything in our visual field to draw our "involuntary attention".
If I'm sitting in a library or something and 5 feet away is a wall of unfinished concrete, that can be a pleasant experience because there tends to be a lot of irregularities in the surface (and I don't share grandparent's dislike of unfinished concrete) but there was a temptation in the brutalist movement to require pedestrians to walk along or near blank walls 100s of feet long, and that certainly can be an alienating feeling, just like for example being in the middle of a vast frozen lake can be an alienating experience.
These look like entrances into the Soylent Green factory, where the old people in the pictures are about to get turned into food. Wretched, unfriendly, unlivable public spaces.
I can find you a similarly sized blank area of wall on any building, including St Pancras. Sure, it'll have denser tiling (bricks instead of concrete tiles), but as far as I'm concerned there's a similar amount of overall visual stimulus in a blank brick wall.
These buildings are beautiful in a sci-fi utiopia/dystopia sort of way.
The problem I have with them is they are profoundly not human scaled. They are enormous monuments, not livable community. They are the antithesis of the medieval urban center of Paris and other European cities, where everything is walkable.
This is not a matter of scale. Is a large city "human scaled"? It's hard to separate Brutalism from its socialistic underpinning. The brutalist monument is centrally planned, whereas the medieval urban center grows anarchically and organically around the community.
The built environment of a large city is made up of neighborhoods, individual blocks, individual buildings... all of which can absolutely be human scale, even at fairly high density.
I reckon people have always had this criticism. The scale of 'human scale' has always needed to go up as there are more humans on the planet. Just as bricks gave a leap in the sizes of buildings that could be constructed cheaply over wood, concrete/steel is the latest step-change in how big we can build. There are plenty of tall buildings that work, and plenty that don't, and the architectural style isn't a direct factor. I think you'll probably find socio-economic factors play a far greater role in whether a community 'works' or not.
The first image is from Les Espaces d’Abraxas. It's a small area (600m by 600m) which combines apartment buildings, shops, restaurants, green spaces, and even a lake. It's definitely meant to be walkable.
The bad thing about brutalism is that while (unfinished)concrete gave architects flexibility in design and allowed themselves to explore new forms, what it actually allowed was cheapness.
The problem with brutalist buildings is not so much the unfinished raw concrete aesthetic or the imposing stature, etc., it's that this new concrete building technique allowed them to build cheaply without much thought to anything else like livability, use of public spaces, connection with surroundings, upgradability, etc.
Even the cookie cutter tile-clad midrises of china are better suited to human habitation than most brutalist estates because these tileclad midrises are weaved perfectly into the fabric of the cities they rise in.
Grey floor, grey pillars, grey ceiling. Slight intrusion of toothpaste/fake verdigris green. There isn't so much as a poster.
I'll grant that the first two are pretty good: concrete castles. The first one in particular has a slight Art Deco sensibility to the windows. The third is horrendous; it's hard to tell whether the decor was meant to be like that or whether bits of it have fallen off. All the round windows are weeping black drip lines below them.
#6 Les Espaces d’Abraxas again has a bunch of features cribbed from other styles: classical columns. #18 at the same site has a triumphal arch!
Finally at "Cité du Parc et cité Maurice-Thorez" we're back to inhospitable pointy angles, but with foliage growing among them in a post-apocalyptic manner.
Yeah those are quite good looking buildings. But I wonder how much of what makes them look beautiful is the fusion of previous architecture movements with the construction techniques of brutalism and how much of it is pure brutalism?
I like brutalism too. But preservation is kind of a sign (IMO) that things have gone wrong. You only have to preserve buildings if people don't want them or if they are not economical.
I have no objection to preserving a few buildings, a few particularly interesting streets or city centers. But, I generally object to the common European policies of forces stasis. In any case, I think it also goes against the brutalist, modernist ethic or aesthetic. These buildings intended to be rational & practical. If we have to "preserve them," they've failed, to an extent.
*I'll also admit that I'm a fan of brutalism. These are beautiful (the photography too).
>Look through the images in the article and show me one huge, flat, unadorned surface. Building materials all go in and out of fashion - this is not about concrete.
It's about gargoyles. Once upon a time we knew that every great building had gargoyles, nowadays we don't seem to bother with anything that impressive...
Of the old buildings that survive, a higher proportion have gargoyles. See my above comment about only the nicer buildings surviving. Wandering around London in 1600 you'd probably see a similar proportion of buildings with gargoyles as you do now.
Newer buildings are still built with beautiful guttering and drainage systems, but since we have drains now, there is no need to build gargoyles to spew water onto the street.
I think the downfall of brutalism is that the architects were working on the wrong scale. Looking at these photos, some of these buildings look fantastic from afar, but the close up photos reveal the poor livability of the designs and materials. I know it's subjective, but I've just never felt welcomed by brutalism's buildings.
One of the more telling examples of that is a building near me, where the street-front vegetation is done in these huge concrete planters suspended by huge concrete pillars. Sure you can see if from a block over, but at street level, you can't. It's almost like they are holding it over your head to tease you.
If you like Brutalism, go to Washington DC and it's suburbs. I hate it with a passion, because having lived surrounded by it, I find it to be cold and uninviting, and utterly devoid of charm. Perhaps that's because it's always manifested in poorly scaled urban areas where the density isn't utilized properly for human scale activities.
Edit: OK, I think my definition of Brutalism vs. yours is far more conservative. The Parisian manifestation seems to be far more artistic.
Lived in a 1969 built high-rise, surrounded on all sides by other high-rises of the same design. Check out Crystal City in Arlington, VA. That's where I was living. The older buildings are all like that.
DC's metro stations are all the same way, and most of the federal buildings also.
As long as they don't preserve New St Andrew's House in Edinburgh - ghastly empty hideous thing that has been squatting in the middle of one of the most beautiful cities in the world like some rectilinear concrete tumour.
[NB Not to be confused with St Andrews House - which is really rather nice.]
Every time I'm coming into London, I point out the ugliness of Trellick tower. I've never met anyone who ever thought it was anything but ugly. To boot, there's another one quite similar to it in the East End.
IIR, that hotel is right next to a very forgettable brutalist national library who's only merit is having several treasures from older time periods in it.
When I first walked up to it, I wasn't sure if it was a public rec center, library, school or prison.
On the other side of that same hotel are several quite beautiful modern, non-brutalist buildings (like the station). My gut tells me that the Library won't last 30 more years before tear down, but the station and the hotel will make it long after.
For the content certainly. The architecture is lowest-bidder-public-building, like they make schools and public swimming pools out of. My wife rather aghast that the treasures inside would be housed in such an ugly box and talked about it for several days after we visited it.
I was also outraged by the listing until i went inside. It's rather good inside. It's a shame about the outside, but i suppose people spend more time inside buildings than outside them.
The Library, which has amazing, mind-blowing, content housed in a lousy building designed with the language of minimal-cost semi-temporary public buildings the Western World over.
It reminded me of my high school, which, the rumor was, was influenced architecturally by mid-20th century minimum security prison architecture.
It's not neglect. It is the fact that it is a piece of concrete. You are never going to make a massive piece of raw concrete look good even if you wash it every day.
I find it funny we like and encourage the ageing of certain building materials, but not others. How long will it be before we're finding ways to age concrete faster?
All that this affects is the texture and patina of the surface. What is it that makes particular patinas desirable and others not? I'd say it's entirely cultural, and cultural perceptions change.
Apart from it's not. Doesn't matter how many times you type it in this thread, it's still not going to be true. They were controversial when they were built, they look fugly and age so badly.
Brutalism scarred much of Britain's skylines. Here in Nottingham we have some truly disgusting looking buildings marring an otherwise nice skyline. The quicker they all get knocked down, the better.
It's Sheffield I feel most sorry for. They got their eye sore listed by idiots.
> How long will it be before we're finding ways to age concrete faster ?
Actually, the current trend is rather to prevent the aging... It seems that early designers and implementers of concrete construction believed that concrete is waterproof - it is not. Water percolates, rebar inflates from rust... It is necessary to inject anti-rust to stop the process and then coat the concrete with waterproofing - an expensive process to ensure the concrete's stability over time. Uncoated reinforced concrete exposed to rain is doomed.
In my opinion this is one of the most beautiful and influential architectural designs of the 20th century. I'm not saying it was constructed very well, but it is a thing of beauty!
I find it really ugly. It looks like a cheap and soulless copy of engraved cyclopean masonry buildings from antique south-east asia or precolumbian mesoamerica.
I have a profound distaste for brutalism. To me, it is the antithesis of what architecture should be about: the design, and invention of timeless places where humans can blossom, and prosper.
I insist on the notion of timelessness. The Louvre for example, is almost 400 years old and yet; there are few monuments in the world that can rival with its beauty.
Here is the power of the classicism, and even the baroque movements: creating masterpieces that are not only useful for the people living in them but also inspire and please their eyes. They survive time.
I can't agree with this. There's nothing about brutalism that means it prevents humans 'blossoming' or 'prospering', whatever that means. The focus of a lot of brutalist architecture was on functionality – that is, discarding the pomp and frivolity of some older architecture – and making them more focused around the actual functional needs of humans.
The problem is that the brutalist movement, at least in the UK, overlapped with the poor construction methods of the 50s and 60s and economic realignment that resulted in brutalist social housing projects. In the long term, extreme under-investment in maintenance of these projects means that they deteriorate into uninhabitable hellholes.
But there are exceptions - the Barbican estate in London, which is as brutalist as it gets, is a great example of how this sort of architecture can work when properly funded and maintained.
> There's nothing about brutalism that means it prevents humans 'blossoming' or 'prospering', whatever that means. The focus of a lot of brutalist architecture was on functionality – that is, discarding the pomp and frivolity of some older architecture – and making them more focused around the actual functional needs of humans.
That focus on functional needs is precisely why Brutalism prevents human prospering: man doesn't just have rational, functional needs, but also emotional ones. That 'pomp' and 'frivolity' is actually far from pompous or frivolous: it satisfies the emotions and exalts the spirit.
A Brutalist approach to food would be to redirect all agricultural output to producing Soylent; a Brutalist approach to clothing would be for everyone, male and female, to wear a Mao suit in identical colours and fabrics, in varying weights to account for temperature; a Brutalist approach to poetry would be a rhyming dictionary.
> But there are exceptions - the Barbican estate in London, which is as brutalist as it gets, is a great example of how this sort of architecture can work when properly funded and maintained.
What's remarkable to me is that anyone ever thought that these eyesores were attractive. The only possible explanation is a kind of mental illness brought on by the catastrophic destruction and dehumanisation of the World Wars. Witness the post-WWI art scene, in which the beauty and form of Art Nouveau were replaced by the horror and ugliness of surrealism and expressionism (Art Deco, with its clean lines, purity and colour, can be seen as a striving to preserve or restore some small piece of beauty in a world gone mad).
making them more focused around the actual functional needs of humans
This often failed really badly, much worse than other schools of architecture. The unpopular Brutalist buildings are not just aesthetically hostile but have poor "UX".
I'd say 'sometimes' rather than 'often'. But the underlying reason for this is still the same – cheap construction, poor maintenance. And of course those are the unpopular buildings. But there's nothing inherent to brutalism that means buildings have to be constructed like that.
My favourite examples of this kind of thing are the 'New Towns' in the UK. These were build in the late 40s through to the mid 60s to deal with overspill from cities. Towns like Cumbernauld and Livingston in Scotland were designed to be very human-focused – easy to walk through, segregated road systems, distinct districts with local services, central civic centres and so on. A genuinely utopian vision of the future, in some respects.
The problem is that shoddy construction and poor maintenance made living conditions unacceptable. Demographic changes and the mass overspill from cities made for less cohesive communities – segregated underpasses for example became sites of violent crime.
I think that in most cases the reasons for certain brutalist developments being unpopular is down to causes distinct from the architecture – and I think it's a mistake to conflate the issues. Though it does explain the unpopularity.
I think blaming this on cheap construction and poor maintenance (true as it may be) is missing the mark.
Blaming it on brutalism is also, IMO, missing the mark.
The core blame here lies in the fact that these complexes are built in the style of the Radiant City, which encouraged monolithic buildings surrounded by "parkland" and public spaces. It was imagined as a utopian balance between urban and rural - everyone living in a tower would have ready access to ample public space.
In reality of course these projects are largely defined by their emptiness, and these public spaces unused (and consequently, unsafe). The shoddy construction and maintenance surely didn't help, but IMO was not the root of the problem - we have seen more traditionally built communities fall into disrepair but never reach the level of isolation and segregation we see in these buildings.
It's just coincidence that brutalism reached its popular height along with Radiant City urban planning.
More importantly, even though brutalism has fallen out of vogue, Radiant Cities have not - most new American urban cores (particularly in the Midwest/West) are built around this philosophy still, and the net result has been the gutting of once tight-knit neighborhoods and replacing them with soaring towers and empty sidewalks (see: Belltown in Seattle). Brutalism may be gone, but 50 years from now someone will write another article about this exact phenomenon, with glass-clad apartment buildings in their place.
>The focus of a lot of brutalist architecture was on functionality – that is, discarding the pomp and frivolity of some older architecture – and making them more focused around the actual functional needs of humans.
I disagree with this, based somewhat on personal experience. While modern architecture did away with ornament in the name of "functionality", but that is a misnomer. Whether a building is functional ought to be judged by it's layout, not by ornament; by ergonomics, not aesthetics.
I live in Brasilia, which I once saw described as "something out of a bad science fiction movie". And I can say there's nothing more annoying than trying to navigate through any public building, as they try to compensate their lack of ornament by being over-sized and obtuse. And though this particular experience is my own, I don't it would be hard to find similar examples of how hard navigating in any modernist design (building, neighborhood, town) can be - another poster mentioned Moscow. It's no wonder that the the period between the 1960s and 1970s is also the nadir of urban planning, with widespread use of single-use zoning and awkward car-centric planning.
Consider why the term applied to the style is brutalism, and how people behave when in "brutal" surroundings. Contrast with, say, the arts and crafts architectural style (see Frank Lloyd Wright) which is comparable (stark, concrete) yet differs in a way which garners a broad enthusiastic following and is considered inspirational.
The reason the term is 'brutalism' is because it's derived from the French béton brut – i.e. raw concrete. I'm not a French speaker, but I understand that the implications in that language aren't quite the same as in English.
Wikipedia disagrees with that:
"The term "brutalism" was originally coined by the Swedish architect Hans Asplund to describe Villa Göth in Uppsala, designed in 1949 by his contemporaries Bengt Edman and Lennart Holm.[citation needed] He originally used the Swedish-language term nybrutalism (new brutalism), which was picked up by a group of visiting English architects, including Michael Ventris. In England, the term was further adopted by architects Alison and Peter Smithson.[3][4] The term gained wide currency when the British architectural historian Reyner Banham used it in the title of his 1966 book, The New Brutalism: Ethic or Aesthetic?, to characterise a somewhat recently established cluster of architectural approaches, particularly in Europe.[4]"
I think a lot of brutalist architecture gets a bad rap because it became so commonplace in the mid 20th century. Just like anything that's done "too-much", it became overdone as lesser and lesser architects created less inspirational designs.
Have you ever seen the documentary "My Architect?" It was made by the son of Louis Kahn, architect of the Bangladesh National Assembly Building, a building which plays a central role in the film. The film is excellent.
And I find a profound beauty in it. Having been born in the US where brutalism is not common, I see these things and immediately am gripped by them. The design speaks directly to me and inspires me to be part of it. I want to be close to it, to work in or near it. I want to blossom and prosper, but I am within a context and find these spaces to feel like natural spaces. In these spaces, I feel that I have nature as a platform. These things show an unbridled creativity and confirm human ability to mold our environment while not separating ourselves from it. And they don't just survive in time, they become better. The patina these structures take on adds a meaningful layer to their design.
These classic places you speak of survive time because they are attended to furiously. They are things which degrade exponentially without attention and they are ongoing sinks for human capacity in support of their own ostentatiousness. They may please some eyes because they are so out of character. They are rebels against nature and humanity. The inspire us to be other than what we are - godlike and beyond our natural limitations. They are feats of design, but they are more limited in what they express. The idea of working in them makes me feel like I am being conquered by other people's limitations and conformist ideas of beauty.
In disrepair, both will eventually crumble. In brutalism, I see my condition, but also my opportunity. In classicism, I feel distracted from my condition and oppressed by those who would put forth pomp while taking away individuality and opportunity.
What a wonderfully strong opinion. To each their own, I suppose -- I happen to find Brutalism one of the most beautiful architectural movements.
In some ways your example is timeless for the fact that it's an amalgamation of 400 years of architectural movements, from the remnants of Medieval fortress to modern offices and galleries. Who's to say how modern architecture will evolve over the coming years?
It's like saying "I only value the Dutch Masters" because the collection that's left has been honed down to concentrated beauty. Of course Rembrandt's corpus is wonderful. What of the other 99/100 that threw together derivative mediocrity?
What do you think about the "Palais Chaillot", on the Trocadéro, in front of the Eiffel Tower ?
Maybe it's timeless, but it's also charmless ... It has no soul, it's a classic/greek/renaissance pastiche like a lot of fascist buildings from the same period. I prefer the brutalist buildings, because they are the witnesses of their times.
But I agree that sometimes, neo classicism is more suited to our way of life.
A small city near Paris, Le Plessis Robinson, has switched in less than 15 years from the typical "banlieue", with hideous towers, to a fake typical old french city (fake old church, fake old market, fake old city hall, etc).
http://www.plessis-robinson.com/uploads/media/DSC_8867.jpg
I think it's a beautiful pastiche. Quality of life is now very appreciated here.
I disagree. Many of these look great despite the 'post-apocalyptic crumbling architecture' framing, with large terraces, big windows, views on the water, good location, etc.
You can't live in the Louvre, and even if you could, you'd have to be rich.
I think you can love it. Brutalism is the clear representation of how a few people (mayors, architects, ...) brutally decide how people can blossom and prosper.
It's tragic and beautiful (in my opinion).
Those visual representations ask a lot of questions too!
For example, if we choose that stuff to live in at a certain time, what did we clearly decide on others politicals levels way more abstracts?
I'm actually shocked by the number of people that like brutalism. from my observations they seem to have negative externalities to their neighbours. This could be because most of them were government projects.
I like it though. The Louvre may be a beautiful monument, but that doesn't mean we should still build in that style.
Many ugly, pointless buildings were constructed in the 17th century as well, but our ancestors have simply not felt a need to preserve those.
Most of these buildings you have a distaste for will reach the end of their useful life, be demolished and replaced with something new. I like to think that the nicest ones will be preserved, and will become the monuments to late 20th century architecture for our descendants to enjoy.
I do also hate the brutalist movement, a movement which seems to have been created for the pure purpose of throwing out thousands of years of learning on how spaces should work for humans and how buildings should look to be pleasing.
Yet, there are a few beautiful examples of the style, many of them are in the article here, there's others as well (see Saarinen's works for examples).
I know there's an unusual contingent of brutalist fans here on HN...I know they're unusual because by and large people don't travel to take pictures of brutalist buildings, but they'll take pictures of just about anything else.
Very few people pay brutalist architecture much attention other than how they're going to deal with these expensive, often poorly designed, crumbling buildings, very few of which last more than a few decades.
The nearest major city to me is full of brutalist buildings, and after just a handful of decades of use, it's being found cheaper to tear them down and start over than to try to fix them. People who work in them avoid them as much as they can, nobody likes walking near them or in their courtyards, they've proven to be terrible public spaces in general.
I wonder if what makes the examples in the OP look worth saving is that they're brutalist or that they're brutalist forms of other, previous, architecture movements?
Some such as Méribel were quite strict in enforcing classic alpine style - somewhat pastiche considering the size of the buildings but still relatively well integrated.
Stereotypical brutalism and stereotypical suburbia have one thing in common: they both look "dead" to us because they separate housing from commerce. That idea has been tried in many forms throughout the 20th century, and it seems like it just doesn't work. Even in cyberpunk dystopias with all these horrible skyscrapers, the artist will always depict residential areas with tons of businesses and blinking storefronts to look more "vibrant".
I spent my childhood in the "sleeping districts" of Moscow, which are as brutalist as it gets. Not a store in sight, just high-rise apartment blocks, huge spaces between them, and howling wind. Never met a person who could honestly claim to love it. Now I live in a European city where housing and commerce are thoroughly mixed, and it's wonderful.
Beautiful, scenic, futuristic. But it does not look like a place I would ever want to live in. It really does look brutal, it almost has a fascist vibe.
I personally think it's gorgeous, but it stands and falls with the people who live there.
It's just like I sometimes see pictures of what in the US are ghetto suburbs and I think: this could actually be a lovely neighbourhood. (As a European who has lived all his live in densely populated urban environments it baffles me how people can't turn a neighbourhood where everyone has a free standing house with a yard into a pleasant place to live.)
As a European, I must assume you're familiar with the ghettos of Eastern Europe, and those in Paris as well. The question applies equally to those locations, as it might to Rio, Manila, Mexico City, Delhi, Jakarta or Detroit.
> It really does look brutal, it almost has a fascist vibe.
Reminds me of a documentary I saw once on the plans for Germania, Hitler's proposed capital: everything out of human scope, sending the message that men are the mites of the state.
Yet, I look at some recent buildings, I don't see why they are succeeding while these did not. Maybe its a question of location and not just the looks, or the quality of the individual units or just the nature of the inhabitants.
Of course you wouldn't, judging by your nickname you pay >$2K for a small bedroom in a shared apartment. Pictured in the article are public housing, rent is couple hundred euros per whole flat.
Stunning, especially the pictures 'José, 89, Les Damiers, Courbevoie, 2012. (Laurent Kronental)' Livable and beautiful brutalism.
Opposed to 'Les Tours Aillaud, Cité Pablo Picasso, Nanterre, 2014. (Laurent Kronental)' which appears like a regular tower high rise, but with round windows.
While 'brualism' is a term that refers to concrete structures built in the 50s/60s/70s, take a look at a castle on top of a hill. It is brutalist. Take a walk down a street in London next to multi-story pre-Victorian office/official building, it is brutalist. Early US inner-city multi-story apartments (when the elevator started to become more commonplace) equally. The tripod stlye Hong Kong housing estates (central life block, with a corridor leading off at 120, 240 and 360/0 degrees, with 6-8 apartments per corridor).
It is brutal. It is beautiful. And a lot of think is evident. It isn't to be confused with high-rise in general, which be it office or housing, is dreadful: "We have some land, put a building here, make it tall." That fails.
> Stunning, especially the pictures 'José, 89, Les Damiers, Courbevoie, 2012. (Laurent Kronental)' Livable and beautiful brutalism.
I lived in one of those apartments for a few years, with stunning view of whole of Paris - on the 14th July I could see a dozen different fireworks shows ! Big spaces, large terraces, huge windows... I love this place. The duplex apartments near the top of the buildings are my dream homes !
Alas it is not well maintained and a vicious circle having taken root it is now extremely expensive to maintain. Two thirds of the complex have been emptied and will soon be demolished to make room for a hugely tall Dubaï-like Russian office/apartment/hotel complex.
> Opposed to 'Les Tours Aillaud, Cité Pablo Picasso, Nanterre, 2014. (Laurent Kronental)' which appears like a regular tower high rise, but with round windows.
The apartments there are most definitely not as nice as Les Damiers - unlike Les Damiers, Tours Aillaud is cheap social housing. Used to be a difficult neighborhood, but being so close to La Défense it has improved a lot. The roundness and the colors are dear to my heart - I also have fond memories in those livingrooms with one round wall.
There are far worse places around Paris - those chosen by the author are absolutely not "crumbling neighborhoods". Vision 80 (one of his pictures), right on Le Parvis de La Défense as the ideal embodiment of the Athens Charter even qualifies as luxury brutalist housing - the top floor apartment with three half levels might not be wheelchair accessible but they are otherwise gorgeous spaces... I would probably have bought one of them if I had not so many children. Their Achille's heel is the maintenance and running costs.
Disclaimer: I grew up in La Défense, bathed in construction sites and Charte d'Athènes - I may not be the most objective person about lovely brutalism.
It is sad to see the impact of modernist "Le Corbusier"-style urban planning. While the buildings are magnificent, they are located in dead neighborhoods, isolated from mixed-use commercial areas.
It is urbanism for architecture's sake. Where we tried to make humans fit themselves into immutable ideals.
Such areas stand in stark contrast with favelas, bottom-up vibrant communities (with a hell of a lot of problems for sure) where nothing is permanent, and there are no strict rules and zoning regulations.
Most of those look really nice. He should pay a visit to Novokuznetsk or Chelyabinsk or whatever blank post-soviet blank industrial city for really degenerate high-rises.
That's Moscow, near Tulskaya metro station. The lower levels have been colonized by tons of shops, so it's not the worst place. The ten lane road still sucks though.
lol, they didn't take photos of the worst neighborhoods. Actually most the photos here were taken in good or ok places. Even Nanterre is fine. I wonder why the photographer didn't step into Val d'Argenteuil ... plenty of brutalism there... pun intended.
A friend of mine used to live in the high rises visible in the background of the "Les Orgues de Flandre" picture and it was bad.
Between dealing in the lobby to urinating into the elevators you had pretty much the entire spectrum of shit going on.
Apparently they cleaned it up some by now.
Amazing is the fact that he still lives in the 19th (which is a very cool part of Paris in lots of respects) some 250 metres away and it feels like a completely different world.
Jonathan Meades makes some outstanding BBC documentaries about brutalism. The intellectual density and quality of his writing (narration) makes him totally unique and he has changed my view of architecture. Well worth a look if you can find them.
I wouldn't be surprised if he inspired this article given his last one was called "Concrete Poetry":
Am I correct in thinking that the people who have a positive view of brutalism are people with a background in architecture?
Because I've never met any non-architect who thought it was nice. It's part of a wider observation on my part about certain aesthetic tastes that only people who are part of specific in-groups declare themselves to enjoy works that 99% of people find unappealing.
A person with a background in architecture probably has a different understanding about the meaning and origin of the very word "brutalism" than the average bystander does, so it's hard to say.
"Brutalism" as an architectural critical term was not always consistently used by critics ... "brutalism" has become used in popular discourse to refer to buildings of the late twentieth century that are large or unpopular – as a synonym for "brutal" – making its effective use in architectural historical discourse problematic.
"Brutalist" in English is a terrible, misleading name. It was about futurism and misplaced faith in concrete as a miracle material, not brutality. Given the way so many bad Brutalist buildings look, it's easy to see how people could make the mistake.
It seems to me that at least a few well-known architectural trends consist of 1) a few amazing masterpieces that become instant classics and 2) 20x as many cheap knock-offs, which everyone comes to hate, which are consequently not maintained well, which eventually give the trend a bad name.
The "International Style" is the other example (alongside Brutalism) that stands out in my mind; for every Seagram building or Lever House, there are dozens (hundreds?) of copycat school buildings or anonymous low-budget office cubes that end up looking like prisons.
It's been shunned by my school for years; is due to be demolished; and there are few photos of the interior. It's a tragedy to me, since I spent as much time as I could lounging in it.
> Am I correct in thinking that the people who have a positive view of brutalism are people with a background in architecture?
I may be heavily biased as having grown up in La Défense, but I thoroughly enjoy brutalism for how it embraces functionality as the yardstick for aesthetics. The outward appearance of brutalist buildings may clash with many people's tastes, but their inside is livable - way more livable than classic architecture and at a much more affordable cost.
Don't forget that brutalism came of age during Europe's housing crisis and that mass manufacture was the key to solving it. As a result, many brutalist products have been cheaply built, giving it a bad name - but as buildings such as La Défense's Vision 80, they can be very nice too and stand the test of time: https://fr.wikipedia.org/wiki/R%C3%A9sidence_Vision_80
The journalist is making this bit up, these places are generally well maintained.
There are buildings in bad condition in the Paris suburbs but they are not those pictured in this article.
The light in the images gives a hint of how the illusion of emptiness was created. They're all shot early in the morning, waiting for the right moment when nobody is in the frame.
I have a book called "Tokyo Nobody" which does the same thing with Tokyo city scenes. It's unsettling because we're so used to seeing the same streets bustling with people.
This is true for the historical center, not for the suburbs. Most people are leaving outside the Paris city limits anyway (Paris: 2M, whole Paris area: 12 M).
And siblings hare already answered, they are still used.
I find it surprising how little thought architects seem to give to how their buildings age. One feature you can find in many of these sort of dystopian cityscapes is rainwater marks below windows that make the buildings seem to cry.
I can't believe that in this day and age we are unable to prevent that sort of thing by using the right materials or by directing rainwater to some sort of drain.
Anyone know if the 3rd photo down from the top[0] is part of the setting for the 1995 movie 'La Haine'[1]? It reminds me of the housing projects in the movie where the main characters live, especially that great scene where a dj points his speakers out his window to play for the neighborhood.
The linked wikipedia article about the movie mentions only the Parisian suburb of Chanteloup-les-Vignes as a filming location, but a cursory web search isn't turning up more evidence.
> Anyone know if the 3rd photo down from the top is part of the setting for the 1995 movie 'La Haine'?
It is not, but your rightly recognized its style - both Les Tours Nuages and La Cité De La Noé in Chanteloup Les Vignes were designed by architect Emile Aillaud.
In 'La Haine' the Cité De La Noé appears as 'Cité Des Muguets'.
I lived in Noisy-le-Grand for almost 5 years. Those buildings are really depressing. Some parts of the city are really dark and phantomatic at night, there is a lot of offices around and not much small local shops. They shot a few scenes from the movie Hunger Games there.
Most of it is the pinnacle of bad taste, but surely impressive in its own way, and it can serve as valuable historic evidence of what was once considered to be "modern".
I went through the pictures first, before reading the article text and the point that the photographs were taken on an analog camera. I have to admit, the "feeling" of the quality of the shots was a bit different. I know, in the end, you need to scan the negatives and there is probably some post-production color adjustment. Regardless, the quality of the colors and details is excellent...
They have set out to aestheticize a series of projects where humans do not live well. We consume these photos as art, but the feeling of profound alienation and danger inherent in such ill-formed spaces doesn't lead to healthy communities.
I understand most of these ensembles did fail, but I still struggle to deeply understand why? What made these fails and made other neighbourhoods or projects succeed. Even if some of the successful ones were emergent and not subject to a grand plan, I still do not see where the critical difference is other than maybe people do not like to be told how to live.
What is a good book for a layman to understand the architectural movements? I can't differentiate brutalism, modernism, post-modernism - all "ugly boxes" in my mind.
In Britain, where I live, there is a general tendency to view older buildings as nicer buildings. Generally this is because only the stuff that's nice enough to keep/protect ends up surviving. This leads me to wonder what will we choose to keep from the 20th century. Which buildings will still be standing in 2500?
Buildings like those in the article make me sad. They are currently in horrifically poor condition after decades of neglect. On top of that, they are very unfashionable, brutalism seemingly suffering a similar fate in France to the UK: association with low-quality housing projects, a mid-century utopia that quickly became a dystopia. In London I am surrounded by treasured buildings nearly all of which had to fight against demolition at some point - for example the gothic hotel at St Pancras: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/St._Pancras_Renaissance_London.... I wonder, if we hung on to them for long enough for the associations to dissipate, would we come to treasure them?