Tuesday, 6 April 2021

THE NEW, NEW BRUTALISM


It seems to take well over fifty years before the cycle of interest returns to other times. The closer one is to a past era, the more one remains critical of it once its difference has become too familiar, and fails to impress: to intrigue, distract, or entertain.






Rayner Banham

It was Rayner Banham who coined the term ‘Brutalism’ in his essay The New Brutalism in The Architectural Review of December 1955. (see Phaidon - A Movement in a Moment: Brutalism: https://www.phaidon.com/agenda/architecture/articles/2016/march/23/a-movement-in-a-moment-brutalism/). Now one sees a renewed interest in these Brutalist buildings as they are reviewed in order to assess their relevance.# Frequently the question is: do these buildings get demolished as they come to the end of their lives, or do they get refurbished, listed, and protected as a part of our heritage? Entropy and necessity seem to be the catalyst for a renewed interest rather than any theoretical or philosophical regeneration.







One senses that these buildings are seen as blatantly ugly, ungainly, while, at the same time, holding a bold stamina and brash certainty, a cheek that can be admired. There is something of a love-hate relationship involved, with the lovers placing themselves into the quirky world of liking dislikes, as if this position was more culturally meaningful than agreeing with the general consensus.







Architectural publications create articles on what is now categorised as the best Brutalist buildings in a place, promoting them in all of their raw boldness, seemingly encouraging a new appreciation for these monsters; generating a new admiration for these works in an era that appears again to welcome such arrogant approaches to infrastructure that is displayed with a similar brutal dominance.*







Is it just this publicity that prompts our interest, or do we have the same instincts for unique singularity that things 'Brutalist' exhibit? It was after perusing some of these Brutalist assemblages that yet another collation was seen; it was a collection of Hadid's buildings.^ The parallel seemed obvious: daring, dauntless form was the central issue. One wondered: are we in an era of a new, New Brutalism?








Looking at Hadid's much-praised work, one saw the same over-scaled, self-proclaiming forms declaring their unique identity both as concept, contrast, and mass. The experience was of a screaming "ME" rather than of any unselfconscious recognition of the other, recognising and welcoming both body and feelings into place: no, one felt dominated, insignificant, overcome by the other's gesture.









Inside these structures, one was left feeling as a token user, forced into form rather than accommodated, left alone to admire and praise as if in a gallery of uneasy, extreme 'art,' (c.f. MONA's proposal for a blood soaked flag performance), to be amazed, startled, in the same way that the Brutalist structures belittled one when faced with their bold brashness, all the time sensing how the places, spaces, and forms distanced people.





But these new structures were not made with rugged or rough, 'brutal' finishes, or shaped with a strong geometric rectangularity or circularity. The new works were suave, slick, fabricated from exotic shiny materials, perfect, immaculate, with forms that flowed with a glacial ooze, or shattered into a surprising ad hoc irrelevance. So how could these buildings be seen as 'Brutalism'?






One could argue that they are brutal on the spirit, but these words have become meaningless today, ready to be mocked as fodder for the weak, the meek: yet these buildings are aggressive, assertive in their own demanding way. It is this arrogant cheek that draws the stinging parallel with the fearless determination of the Brutalist works of the 1950 - 60s. One might reference the similarity between the Baroque and the Rococo periods that were not that much further apart in time, in order to understand the connection.






Baroque


What we now see as the rigour of the beautiful, bland boldness of early Baroque became a flamboyantly decorative, exuberantly flowing Rococo. Are we seeing this change in forms today in things originally boldly 'Brutalist'? The astonishing starkness of today's works places them into the same category as things 'Brutalist,' without the ruggedness or rigidity of finish, or chunkiness of details: it is the attitude and stance that align, the gesture, rather than the appearance.


Rococo






Do all movements change in this way? Things appear to have occurred differently, in reverse, with Art Nouveau and Modernism; but Modernism did relax into the playful theories of the Postmodern world. Do we become too engrossed with categories? Maybe; but understanding where we stand in relation to other times becomes a part of who we are and how we perceive ourselves. It is a sensing that, should we inadvertently repeat the foibles and failures of other eras, allows us to better understand ourselves and our actions if we choose to do so.









If we are indeed in a time of new, New Brutalism, then the critiques of the past that demeaned this movement and exposed its weaknesses, can be applied to our current works, rather than ignoring past revelations by blindly promoting things fluidly formed or ad hoc as the 'new new' that can re-amaze us with its different brilliance, its stunning panache. Rather, we need to understand how such structures can squash our spirit, domineer place carelessly, and, with time, stimulate our different interest in forms and places that can enwrap the feeling, emotional being and enrich it, rather than making it the outsider, the irrelevant, 'nobody' observer of singularity; the onlooker of domineering bespoke genius that screams just too loudly at everybody and nobody in particular.





We seem to have a need to reach extremes before we can again understand matters subtle, meaningful, and caring, like place, detail, and context, where the self and others can be engaged in cultivating community and contentment. Things Brutalist recall the dictator who noisily demands and divides, rather than the experience of a more gentle sensing of materials, forms, spaces, and places that reverberate quietly with understanding and responsibility; an endearing welcoming wholeness with the ability to respond rather than to declare.


Katsura Imperial Villa




Louis Sullivan wrote of this difference as that between the Greek world and the Gothic world. Are we fated to always endure the cycles that rotate between the extremes of the intellect and of feeling; between the objective and subjective opposites of the Hindu world; between quantity and quality?



SEE:

#

https://www.dezeen.com/2021/01/27/demolition-of-paul-rudolphs-burroughs-wellcome-building-underway-in-north-carolina/

*

https://interestingengineering.com/19-examples-of-the-divisive-style-of-brutalist-architecture

https://www.theartstory.org/movement/brutalism/artworks/ 

and

^

https://theconversation.com/zaha-hadid-even-more-than-her-buildings-its-her-mind-that-left-its-mark-158004




4 MAR 22

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