Talented local architect and co-founder of the Atelier de Linde practice, Tara de Linde, argues why we shouldn’t find Brutalism so brutal. In fact, it has a lot of creative charm…
Written by Tara de Linde
For those who have not seen it, multi-nominated film “The Brutalist” is a fictional piece about attempts by a young Hungarian-Jewish architect, Lazlo Toth, to forge a future in the United States whilst coming to terms with the personal trauma of surviving World War II.
The title of the film alludes to a style of architecture that many find alienating. I too have mixed feelings about Brutalism but would not write off all Brutalist buildings. The term ‘Brutalist’ was coined by the British critic Reyner Banham in 1955. He used it to describe an emerging architectural style characterised by the use of raw reinforced concrete (béton brut in French), exposed structures and a focus on functionality.
Brutalism intrigues precisely because its unwieldy nature requires the architect to work harder and, in so doing, reveals a more subtle form of creativity.
Britain in the mid-twentieth century was in recovery mode. Over three million homes had been damaged or destroyed by bombs (i.e. three times today’s housing deficit) and roughly 2.7% of the British male workforce had been killed. The pressure was on to rebuild quickly and cheaply. At the same time, a growing discontent with the Establishment was taking hold, ironically, alongside a deep-rooted patriotism that demanded expression.
Reinforced concrete is a versatile material, strong in both compression and tension. It was cheaper and more readily available than brick and stone and of course non-combustible. But it was also grey and bland. So, what to do? How could such a dull material be used to capture the spirit of the age and express function – let alone beauty?
Unclad, it could be argued that the exposed look of raw concrete symbolised the building’s true structure, unadorned by any additional overlay or features, rather like a metaphor for a society that was demanding greater transparency from the government.
However, for domestic use, a softer touch was required. Architects experimented with texture either imprinting other material surfaces (e.g. timber shuttering) onto the concrete or simply modifying (e.g. bevelling) the otherwise smooth surface. Interestingly, this technique harks back to those glorious C15th Florentine palazzi where surface treatment of the stone dictated a certain hierarchy in the elevation: rustication at the base to denote a fortress like protection from the Tybalt’s of the world and a smoother ashlar finish to the upper floors frequented by Medici nobility.
The other Brutalist trait was to experiment with formwork and reinforced concrete casting. Concrete, a bit like Play-Doh, can be moulded into shaped containers and then rolled out on a mass scale. Think of the beautifully crafted and cleverly-lit coffered ceiling within the Barbican Centre or the lattice façade of the Welbeck Car Park just north of Oxford Street earmarked for demolition as the ground it sits on has long outvalued the structure itself.
Detailing is tricky, which makes it all the more delightful when one stumbles upon a ‘moment’ such as a scalloped recess to frame a circular fire extinguisher, curved timber trims to inverted arched windows or elegant, utilitarian bronze door handles.
In short, Brutalism intrigues precisely because its unwieldy nature requires the architect to work harder and in so doing reveals a more subtle form of creativity. When we look back now at such landmarks as the Hayward Gallery or the Economist Plaza they speak of self-reflection, triumph over adversity and a willingness to experiment and innovate. I’m not convinced the same could be said of Stockbroker Tudor!
Today there is no dearth of land or labour. The urgency is affordable housing and the need to reduce Greenhouse Gas Emissions (GHG). The phrase ‘Form follows Energy’ must now replace the Modernist slogan ‘Form follows Function’. In terms of GHG, concrete was once the pariah of materials, but an exciting new range of low-carbon products – such as Purlite, Geopolymer Concrete and BioConcrete – is now available. Preservation is also key. Kent and East Sussex are fortunate in having so many industrial reinforced concrete barns ripe for conversion.
So yes, despite the controversy surrounding Brutalism, I doff my cap to the Laszlo’s of this world.
Atelier de Linde Ltd, 78 St John’s Road,
Tunbridge Wells, TN4 9PH
