I'm not going to criticise these alien-looking vanity projects today.
Rather, before we get to the real problem, I'm going to (sort of) briefly defend them.
However irredeemable their divergence from the architectural principles of Vitruvius (and every design principle of Antiquity & the Middle Ages...), and however far from the charm, usability, & longevity of vernacular architecture...
they aren't the real problem.
Because, at least, they're saying something.
Even if you don't like what they stand for, there is an aspirational quality about these buildings.
There is a concerted effort - even an abstract, anti-human one - to *create* something which is in some (convoluted) way, meaningful.
The same could be said of Brutalism.
Whatever you think of its style or what it represents politically/artistically/culturally, you can't deny that it does have both of those things:
A style, and a message.
The real problem isn't the prize-winning, headline-grabbing, discussion-provoking, abstract, theoretical-architecture edifices.
Rather, it's the plain details of ordinary buildings, the ones that don't win prizes or generate discussion.
There is a negligence toward beauty.
Here are some examples:
1. Ceiling Tiles
They're EVERYWHERE. And they are ugly, easily broken, unnatural, peculiar, claustrophobic.
But they ARE functional: cheap & allow access to electrics.
This will become a theme...
2. Whitewashed Walls & Grey Carpets
Why does every office look like this?
Grey carpets & whitewashed walls. No colour. No design. No attempt to make it a pleasant environment.
Minimalism? Cost-efficiency?
3. Purely Functional Design
This bus shelter gets the job done, sure. You can wait inside to get away from the rain or wind.
But that's all. No flair. Nothing inviting.
No attempt to create even the slightest bit of beauty in the ordinary.
4. Apathetic Choices
Compare these two university lecture halls. Which one would you rather study in?
There is on obvious reason why they look so different.
Only that the second, newer one, required no effort to design & build. A (cheap) tick-box exercise.
5. Painfully Bright Lighting
In the words of Junichiro Tanizaki:
"The progressive Westerner is determined always to better his lot... his quest for a brighter light never ceases, he spares no pains to eradicate even the minutest shadow."
And this is a problem because it is incredibly hard to fight against.
There is no identifiable cultural movement behind it, no specific architect or school of thought.
It's a deep-set, general, social problem.
Who decided that street-lights should no longer look like this?
But should instead look like this?
Nobody *decided*.
It happened because of a drift towards utility & cost being prioritised over beauty, longevity, or character.
Even bins have been affected!
See, this isn't about those large-scale, multi-million dollar projects.
(Though there ARE issues with them, that's not the crux of it.)
The every day things are what is most concerning.
There is no "vision" or "statement" to take issue with.
It is a silent, creeping creed of apathy.
Worse, it is a silent creed of ugliness.
For example, compare these light-switches.
There is only one Kunsthaus Graz, and a few thousand similar buildings.
But there are hundreds of millions of polystyrene ceiling tiles, grey carpets, whitewashed walls, functional streetlamps, painfully bright LED lights, poorly proportioned windows, and tarmacked streets.
How do we change this?
Anyway, I'm going to listen to Edvard Grieg's Piano Concert in A Minor and sulk...
I'm really enjoying the discussion this thread has provoked - will endeavour to respond to you all!
Meanwhile, if you liked this thread then you may like my free weekly newsletter, Areopagus.
Seven short lessons every Friday (including architecture!)
If one thing sums up the 21st century it's got to be all these default profile pictures.
You've seen them literally thousands of times, but they're completely generic and interchangeable.
Future historians will use them to symbolise our current era, and here's why...
To understand what any society truly believed, and how they felt about humankind, you need to look at what they created rather than what they said.
Just as actions instead of words reveal who a person really is, art always tells you what a society was actually like.
And this is particularly true of how they depicted human beings — how we portray ourselves.
That the Pharaohs were of supreme power, and were worshipped as gods far above ordinary people, is made obvious by the sheer size and abundance of the statues made in their name:
It's over 500 years old and the perfect example of a strange architectural style known as "Brick Gothic".
But, more importantly, it's a lesson in how imagination can transform the way our world looks...
Vilnius has one of the world's best-preserved Medieval old towns.
It's a UNESCO World Heritage Site, filled with winding streets and architectural gems from across the ages.
A testament to the wealth, grandeur, and sophistication of the Polish-Lithuanian Commonwealth.
Among its many treasures is the Church of St Anne, built from 1495 to 1500 under the Duke of Lithuania and (later) King of Poland, Alexander I Jagiellon.
It's not particularly big — a single nave without aisles — but St Anne's makes up for size with its fantastical brickwork.
The Spanish edition of my new book, El Tutor Cultural, is now available for pre-order.
It'll be released on 22 October — and you can get it at the link in my bio.
To celebrate, here are the 10 best things I've written about Spain: from why Barcelona looks the way it does to one of the world's most underrated modern architects, from the truth about Pablo Picasso to the origins of the Spanish football badge...
What makes Barcelona such a beautiful city? It wasn't an accident — this is the story of how the modern, beloved Barcelona was consciously created:
When Vincent van Gogh started painting he didn't use any bright colours — so what happened?
It isn't just about art.
This is a story about how we're all changed by the things we consume, the places we go, and the people we choose to spend time with...
The year is 1881.
A 27 year old former teacher and missionary from the Netherlands called Vincent van Gogh decides to try and become a full-time artist, after being encouraged by his brother Theo.
What does he paint? The peasants of the countryside where his parents lived.
Vincent van Gogh's early work is unrecognisably different from the vibrant painter now beloved around the world.
Why?
Many reasons, though one of the most important is that he had been influenced by his cousin, the Realist painter Anton Mauve, who painted like this: