Brutalism: Not so concrete philosophy

Otto Bajwa Greenwood

In the 1940s and 50s, Swiss architect, Le Corbusier, had a sleek and disciplined vision of engineering, hoping to inject virility and life into concrete in a way that had never really been seen before. The post-war landscape, to which he was responding, was a time of unprecedented chaos, with a disastrous combination of limited resources and unlimited housing demand. Le Corbusier wished to stripe the world of its inefficient past, hoping to build a new architectural landscape, which encompassed ever taller towers, communal habitation, sweeping motorways, and public footpaths. Ultimately motivated by his quest for modern efficiency. Uprooting the arcane flamboyancy of classical Rome or Neo-gothic Paris, modern structures should represent the smooth, easy, functionalist message of the contemporary world.

The appearance of a brutalist structure represents this exposed vision. Its structural clarity, spatial simplicity, material presence and imposing form, all create this sense of scale for the viewer or inhabitants. Buildings often present a rough, harsh exterior, created from a varied mix of textured, reinforced concrete, stone and marble. You might even recognise the unusual shapes and style of a brutalist structure, seen in the gigantic Serbian Genex tower or the fragmented Boston City Hall. Part of Brutalism's appeal lies in its ability to fashion a memorable image of vastness and power; with the structure itself being able to absorb existential weight in its drab colour and heavy composition. It is in this existential questioning, positioning man in opposition to the smooth grey abyss of the future, that bore the Brutalist apophthegm “An ethic, not an aesthetic”.[1]

Brutalism reflected an ethical and philosophical apprehension of the coming age. As similarly reflected in the absurdist writings of Albert Camus and existentialist Nausea of Jean-Paul Sartre, Brutalism acted as a manifestation of “post-war despair, rejection, and existential rage”. [2] That is also perhaps why Brutalist structures commonly have dystopic attention directed towards them. Goddard’s neo-noir sci-fi classic, Alphaville, consistently captures brutalist scapes of Parisian life, utilising the impersonal form to feed into the alienation of the scene. Kubrick in A Clockwork Orange additionally presented a menacing future of violence and sexual abuse, centering Alex’s (the central protagonist) adventures and escapades in a rundown urban space of dilapidated concrete amidst the chaos of unprincipled debauchery. Like many other literary and cinematic mediums, both films managed to achieve a sinister urban atmosphere via a subversion of Brutalism’s original intention, depicting the broken relics of communitarian, architectural philosophy against the severe backdrop of depravity. 

In the 1950s and 60s, Alison and Peter Smithson, who cemented the emergence of Brutalism in British design, made architecture more “‘honest’ and organic” in “response to the slick glass towers of modernism”.[3] But they also had this vision of accessible communal living, hoping to establish a rich and vibrant body of inhabitants within the vulnerable grey walls of a Brutalist structure. The Barbican Centre in London was an optimistic vision for a better society at a time of booming economic growth, hoping to open up green spaces for neighbourly happenings and social activities. Goldfinger’s Trellick Tower was created with various communal areas, built with efficiency in mind, and was made with purposefully placed variations in the structure so that each apartment would look different.[4]

However, as Johnathan Meades put it, this was when “Social housing projects were not yet bins for sociopaths”.[5] It was the dreams of Le Corbusier, the Smithsons and other Brutalist architects that ironically erected the dystopian estates which now eerily surround the likes of London and Paris. Trellick Tower became a magnet for crime, vandalism, drug abuse and prostitution in the 1980s due to its intimate, yet secluded community and grimy image.[6] The collapse of the Sheffield steel industry in the 1980s, saw mass unemployment, forcing many to flood to Sheffield’s Brutalist Park Hill estate – branding it a “sink estate”.[7] Although both projects saw a revival in the 1990s and early noughties, you can’t help but feel like the Brutalist experiment had fallen short. While the Barbican has retained its cultural image, likely because it is home to the established ‘Guildhall School of Music and Drama’ and has become a hotspot for upper-middle-class writers and city elites, it has shifted from its intention as a democratic, utopian space of inner city living. At an average house price of £930,000 in the last 12 months, the estate is exclusively exclusionary to the upper echelons of society, negating any hopes for social reform.[8] A similar phenomenon can be noted in Trellick Tower and the other brutalist estates, feeding into the boho-pretensions of the affluent class, persuaded by the ideal of socialism, rather than living within its confines.

The Brutalist experiment in Britain still remains a crucial and fundamental part of its urban landscape, being a cheap and efficient way to quickly establish large structures for social purposes. But it is undeniable that Brutalism has lost its raison d’etre. Buildings are seldom erected with this same dreamlike vision, they have little structural thought, and encompass none of the philosophical considerations of the brutalist age. Although Brutalism was rather short-lived, and critics had “little confidence in Brutalism’s future recognition as more than a minor episode in the history of 20th-century architecture”, the rapid pace at which Brutalism garnered widespread attention, attests to its social, along with architectural, worth. It was able to capture the minds of a generation of artists, but, like most leaps of faith into the oblivion of more communitarian, even socialist, messages, it struggled to successfully get off the ground for people other than the middle-class elite.

[1] http://architecture-history.org/schools/BRUTALISM.html (accessed 27 November 2023)

[2] http://architecture-history.org/schools/BRUTALISM.html (accessed 27 November 2023)

[3] https://www.architecturaldigest.com/story/brutalist-architecture-in-film (accessed 27 November 2023)

[4] https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Trellick_Tower (accessed 27 November 2023)

[5] https://www.theguardian.com/artanddesign/2014/feb/13/jonathan-meades-brutalism-a-z (accessed 27 November 2023)

[6] https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Trellick_Tower (accessed 27 November 2023)

[7] https://www.theguardian.com/artanddesign/2022/apr/07/park-hill-from-brutalist-glory-to-sink-estate-to-contentious-regeneration (accessed 27 November 2023)

[8] https://www.zoopla.co.uk/house-prices/barbican/#:~:text=The%20average%20sold%20price%20for,12%20months%20is%20£929%2C978. (accessed 27 November 2023)