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!)
The Eiffel Tower was completed 136 years ago today.
It's now a global symbol of France and over 7 million tourists visit it every year.
But people hated the Eiffel Tower at first — they called it humiliating, modern, and "too American"...
The Eiffel Tower was started in 1887 and finished two years later, on 31 March 1889.
This was an unprecedented structure and a challenge to engineering unlike anything attempted before.
Upon completion it was 300 metres tall and immediately became the world's tallest building.
No structure in history had ever been more than 200 metres tall, let alone 300, and the Eiffel Tower's record wasn't overtaken until the Chrysler Building was finished in 1930.
It still dominates the skyline of Paris nearly a century and a half later.
But it was basically an accident — and he didn't even know about it...
As with the other continents, it isn't completely clear how the Americas got their name.
But the most widely accepted theory is that America was named after the Italian explorer Amerigo Vespucci, who travelled there twice in the late 1490s and early 1500s.
This Amerigo Vespucci was born on 9th March 1454 in Florence, northern Italy, the home of the Renaissance.
He knew members of the famous de' Medici Family, and through them ended up working in Seville, southern Spain, where he may have worked with Christopher Columbus.
Mont-Saint-Michel in France is one of the most famous places in the world.
You've seen thousands of photos of it... but what is Mont-Saint-Michel? Who built it? And when?
This is a brief history of the world's strangest village...
First — where is it?
Mont-Saint-Michel (which is the name of the island, the village, and the abbey) is a tidal island off the coast of Normandy, in northern France.
"Tidal" means that it is surrounded by sea or by land depending on the tides.
Legend says that during the 8th century a bishop called Autbert of Avranches had a dream in which the Archangel Saint Michael told him to build a shrine on the island.
The Archangel Michael, who defeated Satan in battle, was a popular saint at the time.
This unusual house in Turin was built 123 years ago.
It's the perfect example of a kind of architecture unique to Italy, known as the "Liberty Style".
How to make ordinary buildings more interesting? The Liberty Style has an answer...
During the 1890s there was an artistic and architectural revolution in Europe: Art Nouveau.
It means "New Art" in French, and that's exactly what it was — a whole new approach to design, whether of buildings, furniture, clothes, sculpture, or crockery.
There were many genres of Art Nouveau, but what they had in common was a commitment to traditional craftsmanship, the embrace of new materials like iron, and a turn toward flowing designs inspired by nature.
Like the Hôtel Tassel in Brussels, designed by Victor Horta, from 1893: