As for brutalism in particular, it took these buildings to actually be built, and people to be exposed to them for a while, for their sheer horror to be truly felt. Once this became evident, the style was soon abandoned
I think I must be the last person left on earth who actually likes brutalist architecture. The term seems to have become something of a whipping boy, but I think most people who use it derisively have never actually seen any good examples, and are just thinking of the big rectangular government buildings.
Maybe I’m just prejudiced because I happen to work right next to two of the most famous examples of the style, the Louis Kahn designed Salk Institute, and Geisel Library… how can you not think that looks cool? I mean come on, it’s freakin Starfleet Headquarters!
I think I must be the last person left on earth who actually likes brutalist architecture.
Do you just “like” these things in the abstract so as to signal your artistic tastes, or would you actually enjoy living your life surrounded by such an ambient?
I must note that both your examples look strangely empty of people. You know, actual humans who might perceive this space as a tolerable place to spend their time in.
The term seems to have become something of a whipping boy, but I think most people who use it derisively have never actually seen any good examples, and are just thinking of the big rectangular government buildings.
Not as far as I’m concerned. I’ve seen some of the most successful brutalist buildings, and with at least one of those, I even have a slight sentimental connection.
The only examples where you’ll see actual flesh-and-blood humans willing to spend their time around such places are the brutalist buildings dumped right in the middle of dense traditional nice spaces, like university campuses, where it’s simply impossible not to have crowds swirling around.
Do you just “like” these things in the abstract so as to signal your artistic tastes
I’m totally not an architecture aficionado—I’d be hard pressed to name 3 different styles of architecture, even harder pressed to identify them. I’m only familiar with brutalism because I happen to be surrounded by it. So there’s no signaling going on whatsoever—I’m not a part of that scene at all.
would you actually enjoy living your life surrounded by such an ambient?
I actually am living my life surrounded by such, and although I wouldn’t go so far as to say I’m “enjoying living my life”, I think that has more to do with my brain chemistry than with the architecture, which is one of the few things I see every day that brings a smile to my face.
I must note that both your examples look strangely empty of people. You know, actual humans who might perceive this space as a tolerable place to spend their time in.
They were just photographed that way. In real life they’re both extremely vibrant places. Geisel is always full, despite the fact that on a campus with broadband in every dorm room and downloadable e-reserves, there’s not much of a real reason to go to the library… yet people do… tons of them.
And the Salk Institute.… Kahn designed it to be much more impressive from the inside than the outside. The buildings are kind of boring from the outside, but then you go in and realize that he’s painstakingly laid out every single exterior and interior wall for the specific purpose of ensuring that every single office, every single lab, every single lab bench, has its own private, unobstructed ocean view. How’s that for a “tolerable place to spend your time”?
brutalist buildings dumped right in the middle of dense traditional nice spaces, like university campuses
But that’s how it’s supposed to be done. Brutalist buildings have always reminded me of modernism meets feudalism… they look like sci-fi versions of castles. But you don’t put a bunch of castles right next to each other—you build a castle and then you have a bunch of smaller woodframed buildings surrounding it (you know, for the peasants ;)
They were just photographed that way. In real life they’re both extremely vibrant places. Geisel is always full, despite the fact that on a campus with broadband in every dorm room and downloadable e-reserves, there’s not much of a real reason to go to the library… yet people do… tons of them.
Well, even though they’ll rarely admit it explicitly for fear of sounding desperate, humans are social animals and they yearn to have at least some contact with fellow humans. So if you let them choose between being alone (unless they’re extraordinarily popular hubs of social life) and hanging out in desolate modernist spaces, they will choose the latter. But all real-life experience shows that they much prefer gathering at traditional public spaces and interiors.
And the Salk Institute.… Kahn designed it to be much more impressive from the inside than the outside. The buildings are kind of boring from the outside, but then you go in and realize that he’s painstakingly laid out every since exterior and interior wall for the specific purpose of ensuring that every single office, every single lab, every single lab bench, has its own private, unobstructed ocean view. How’s that for a “tolerable place to spend your time”?
That might indeed be true—but, at best, it means that the architect has taken advantage of an extraordinary location to achieve that. In contrast, classical architecture and interior design manage to achieve at least a tolerable (and often very pleasant) surrounding in far less promising places.
(By the way, can you open a window in these ocean-view rooms? In the overwhelming majority of modernist buildings, you can’t do it anywhere at all. Speaking for myself, I’d much prefer to be able to open a window looking towards an entirely mediocre classical landscape than to have unopenable glass separating me from the most spectacular ocean view. The latter, honestly, seems to me no better than a poster on the wall.)
So if you let them choose between being alone (unless they’re extraordinarily popular hubs of social life) and hanging out in desolate modernist spaces, they will choose the latter.
The campus has no shortage of social spaces to hang out in, most with more conventional architecture, yet many choose Geisel. I don’t think anyone thinks of it as “desolate”—I’m pretty sure that’s not the adjective the Trek producers had in mind when they cast it as Starfleet Headquarters in one of the movies. At the top floors of the inverted pyramid, 360 degrees of glass result in a spectacular view… at sunset it’s downright romantic. The stacks up there are a popular place for the undergrads to lose their virginity (or so I’ve heard).
at best, it means that the architect has taken advantage of an extraordinary location to achieve that.
The location alone just gets you a few rooms on one side with a view. Here though, an amazing amount of thought was put into how to lay things out so that everybody gets a view.
By the way, can you open a window in these ocean-view rooms?
I can’t say for sure, as I never worked in that building. But I suspect that they do open—the building across the street from it where I used to work was also brutalist (though much less impressive), and its windows opened.
OK, since I’m writing this on LW after all, I guess it’s time to recognize that I’ve long passed the boundary from rational argument to an impassioned propagandistic defense of my own view in a value- and taste-laden controversy.
I’ve never seen these buildings that you describe, so I can’t make any final judgement about them. It could be that these are indeed some genuine cases of modernist architecture working well, though I still suspect that it’s a matter of having such a spectacularly good space that it’s extremely hard to ruin it even with the ugliest architecture imaginable. (To quote William Whyte, “Given a fine location, it is difficult to design a space that will not attract people. What is remarkable is how often this has been accomplished.”) But, yes, it might be that these buildings are really much better than I though modernism could ever be. (On the other hand, judging by what can be seen on the web, these Salk Institute spaces look pretty damn desolate.)
What I still don’t doubt, though, is that the average practical results of traditional architecture are far better than the average practical results of modernism. This seems to me overwhelmingly obvious from virtually all the examples I can think of, which includes everyday sights from several cities I’ve lived in that feature a mix of both.
These things tend to only be overwhelmingly obvious once one has picked a disputable success measure. Do these different styles cost the same to build, does one allow higher population density than the other, is demographics confounding things in some other way, what about the effects on people who don’t spend time at the places themselves but see the buildings from far away or in pictures?
OK, since I’m writing this on LW after all, I guess it’s time to recognize that I’ve long passed the boundary from rational argument to an impassioned propagandistic defense of my own view in a value- and taste-laden controversy.
Well yeah, obviously this entire conversation has been about totally subjective questions of taste. Nothing wrong with that though, as long as no one is fooling themselves into thinking it’s something other than that.
Well yeah, obviously this entire conversation has been about totally subjective questions of taste. Nothing wrong with that though, as long as no one is fooling themselves into thinking it’s something other than that.
Still, I think that it makes sense to ask whether traditional or modernist architecture on average does a better job creating spaces that will satisfy the subjective tastes of the majority of people, for which the best evidence are people’s revealed preferences and attitudes. In this sense, there is an objective question here after all.
I think I must be the last person left on earth who actually likes brutalist architecture. The term seems to have become something of a whipping boy, but I think most people who use it derisively have never actually seen any good examples, and are just thinking of the big rectangular government buildings.
Maybe I’m just prejudiced because I happen to work right next to two of the most famous examples of the style, the Louis Kahn designed Salk Institute, and Geisel Library… how can you not think that looks cool? I mean come on, it’s freakin Starfleet Headquarters!
kodos96:
Do you just “like” these things in the abstract so as to signal your artistic tastes, or would you actually enjoy living your life surrounded by such an ambient?
I must note that both your examples look strangely empty of people. You know, actual humans who might perceive this space as a tolerable place to spend their time in.
Not as far as I’m concerned. I’ve seen some of the most successful brutalist buildings, and with at least one of those, I even have a slight sentimental connection.
The only examples where you’ll see actual flesh-and-blood humans willing to spend their time around such places are the brutalist buildings dumped right in the middle of dense traditional nice spaces, like university campuses, where it’s simply impossible not to have crowds swirling around.
I’m totally not an architecture aficionado—I’d be hard pressed to name 3 different styles of architecture, even harder pressed to identify them. I’m only familiar with brutalism because I happen to be surrounded by it. So there’s no signaling going on whatsoever—I’m not a part of that scene at all.
I actually am living my life surrounded by such, and although I wouldn’t go so far as to say I’m “enjoying living my life”, I think that has more to do with my brain chemistry than with the architecture, which is one of the few things I see every day that brings a smile to my face.
They were just photographed that way. In real life they’re both extremely vibrant places. Geisel is always full, despite the fact that on a campus with broadband in every dorm room and downloadable e-reserves, there’s not much of a real reason to go to the library… yet people do… tons of them.
And the Salk Institute.… Kahn designed it to be much more impressive from the inside than the outside. The buildings are kind of boring from the outside, but then you go in and realize that he’s painstakingly laid out every single exterior and interior wall for the specific purpose of ensuring that every single office, every single lab, every single lab bench, has its own private, unobstructed ocean view. How’s that for a “tolerable place to spend your time”?
But that’s how it’s supposed to be done. Brutalist buildings have always reminded me of modernism meets feudalism… they look like sci-fi versions of castles. But you don’t put a bunch of castles right next to each other—you build a castle and then you have a bunch of smaller woodframed buildings surrounding it (you know, for the peasants ;)
kodos96:
Well, even though they’ll rarely admit it explicitly for fear of sounding desperate, humans are social animals and they yearn to have at least some contact with fellow humans. So if you let them choose between being alone (unless they’re extraordinarily popular hubs of social life) and hanging out in desolate modernist spaces, they will choose the latter. But all real-life experience shows that they much prefer gathering at traditional public spaces and interiors.
That might indeed be true—but, at best, it means that the architect has taken advantage of an extraordinary location to achieve that. In contrast, classical architecture and interior design manage to achieve at least a tolerable (and often very pleasant) surrounding in far less promising places.
(By the way, can you open a window in these ocean-view rooms? In the overwhelming majority of modernist buildings, you can’t do it anywhere at all. Speaking for myself, I’d much prefer to be able to open a window looking towards an entirely mediocre classical landscape than to have unopenable glass separating me from the most spectacular ocean view. The latter, honestly, seems to me no better than a poster on the wall.)
The campus has no shortage of social spaces to hang out in, most with more conventional architecture, yet many choose Geisel. I don’t think anyone thinks of it as “desolate”—I’m pretty sure that’s not the adjective the Trek producers had in mind when they cast it as Starfleet Headquarters in one of the movies. At the top floors of the inverted pyramid, 360 degrees of glass result in a spectacular view… at sunset it’s downright romantic. The stacks up there are a popular place for the undergrads to lose their virginity (or so I’ve heard).
The location alone just gets you a few rooms on one side with a view. Here though, an amazing amount of thought was put into how to lay things out so that everybody gets a view.
I can’t say for sure, as I never worked in that building. But I suspect that they do open—the building across the street from it where I used to work was also brutalist (though much less impressive), and its windows opened.
OK, since I’m writing this on LW after all, I guess it’s time to recognize that I’ve long passed the boundary from rational argument to an impassioned propagandistic defense of my own view in a value- and taste-laden controversy.
I’ve never seen these buildings that you describe, so I can’t make any final judgement about them. It could be that these are indeed some genuine cases of modernist architecture working well, though I still suspect that it’s a matter of having such a spectacularly good space that it’s extremely hard to ruin it even with the ugliest architecture imaginable. (To quote William Whyte, “Given a fine location, it is difficult to design a space that will not attract people. What is remarkable is how often this has been accomplished.”) But, yes, it might be that these buildings are really much better than I though modernism could ever be. (On the other hand, judging by what can be seen on the web, these Salk Institute spaces look pretty damn desolate.)
What I still don’t doubt, though, is that the average practical results of traditional architecture are far better than the average practical results of modernism. This seems to me overwhelmingly obvious from virtually all the examples I can think of, which includes everyday sights from several cities I’ve lived in that feature a mix of both.
These things tend to only be overwhelmingly obvious once one has picked a disputable success measure. Do these different styles cost the same to build, does one allow higher population density than the other, is demographics confounding things in some other way, what about the effects on people who don’t spend time at the places themselves but see the buildings from far away or in pictures?
Well yeah, obviously this entire conversation has been about totally subjective questions of taste. Nothing wrong with that though, as long as no one is fooling themselves into thinking it’s something other than that.
kodos96:
Still, I think that it makes sense to ask whether traditional or modernist architecture on average does a better job creating spaces that will satisfy the subjective tastes of the majority of people, for which the best evidence are people’s revealed preferences and attitudes. In this sense, there is an objective question here after all.