Exploring Brutalism Beyond the Brick
22/05/25
BRUTALISM IN MARGATE, IMAGE: GARY ROGERS
Brutalism is a fascinating architectural style. Even those not interested in architecture or architectural design find themselves drawn to it and what it stands to represent. Rooted in Marxism, the approach reflects class conflict and utilitarian efficiency across the UK, having become widespread amongst Britain’s post-war Attleean settlements. Whether for yourself, brutalism invokes a sense of cold, unease, or familiarity and belonging; it is, regardless, an undeniably captivating force, and therefore, the potent criticism with which it is routinely subjected ought to be questioned. Brutalism is far more than mere brick, and this article intends to merit a quasi-defence of this detested style through such a lens.
Involvement with ideological lenses aside, this piece is not intended to evaluate such belief systems. Whether you invest the utmost, little, or no, belief in Marxism is crucial in determining one’s place along the political spectrum. Yet, regardless of personal interpretation, neo-Marxists and similar positions are still widely popular and influential today. Aesthetic conclusions surrounding brutalism are often indistinguishable nonetheless.
Brutalism is defined by its utilisation of inexpensive materials in a sparing, minimalist fashion - exposed foundations are a frequent feature, purposed to minimise material usage. These features yield grey, robust, compact, non-flowing, typically deeply rigid designs. While unique, brutalist architecture is routinely depicted as an eyesore, an outdated blemish upon the builtscape in need of demolition. Yet, particularly from a leftist perspective, such a position is somewhat untenable. Whether ascribing to varying degrees of socialism, environmentalism, or conservationism, it is a priority to maximise provisions for the neediest in society to enable the long-term aspirations of these viewpoints, complicating a dismal perspective on brutalism. Broadening the discourse around brutalism to involve its compatibility with leftist agendas could shift societal perceptions of the architectural style.
Consider this: would a revolutionary socialist reject brutalism if it provided an affordable solution to homelessness and capital dependency? From such an ideological position, private property is viewed as a coercive element of capitalism in which individuals are required to work for access, binding the proletariat to the means of production. Brutalism’s cost-effective nature theoretically facilitates mass housing provision, and thus, the link between shelter and capitalist structures could be shattered or at least heavily disrupted. Widespread understanding of this draw may, from some ideological positions, transcend perceived aesthetic shortcomings.
In the wake of looming ecological crises, traction has gathered behind the varying strands of the environmental movement, with these positions comfortably aligning with leftist economics. The movement prioritises balancing society’s needs with the preservation of the natural and the enabling of sustainability. If brutalism could provide cost- and space-effective housing, freeing up resources (both within financial and spatial dimensions) for reforestation and conservation, it is surely doubtful environmentalists would oppose it. The growing viability of eco-brutalism highlights potential synergy with this political shift, especially since it can often veto the detrimental appearance many accredit brutalism to possess. Brutalism, in this context, serves a subtle political question: how deeply do you commit to your ideas if you won’t sacrifice appearances to achieve them?
ALEXANDRA ROAD ESTATE, CAMDEN, LONDON, IMAGE: BOB HARVEY
Perhaps it is the questions brutalism raises that make it so compelling. Unlike other architectural styles, brutalism is striking in its simplicity - it has little to say. Describing a brutalist building produces similar responses, distancing it from the innate creativity and beauty we typically attribute to human design, and yet brutalism challenges our value of the visible world, which, in terms of ideology, serves almost as a will test. It has nothing to say, despite provoking personal responses. In an art gallery, subverting the need for overt meaning without explicitly communicating it would be seen as profoundly awe-inducing. Yet, I can’t recall brutalism being labelled as such.
Artistic appreciation of brutalism certainly exists, albeit in concentrated circles. A notable group championing its merit is #SOSBrutalism, which initially consisted of a few German museums, non-profits, and activists, before broadening to become a global initiative. The movement produced a meticulous world map of brutalist architecture, identifying buildings in danger of demolition and advancing the mission of “saving our beloved concrete monsters”. The movement attributes its admiration of brutalism’s artistic value to its clear exhibition of structure, emphasis on material form, and commitment to an ‘as found’ approach to materials - echoing the words of architecture critic Reyner Banham. In essence, brutalism's aesthetic power lies in the provision of complexity within simplicity, allowing the materials to dictate form, creating a distinct and memorable presence.
Without attempting to simply regurgitate stances, it is not difficult to counter-criticise opponents of brutalism with fundamental constructivist notions: hatred of brutalism is widely apparent because of social conditioning, not inherent aesthetic faults; it is considered unappealing solely because it is adverse to typical societal expectations; brutalism’s apathetical stance against the expected is not limited to built design, but also ideology and mainstream political thought.
Brutalism does not utilise shape, ornamentation, or colour in a distinctive or striking pattern, for brutalism’s distinctiveness arises from its very lack of these elements. If protest art is lauded for going against the grain of society to portray a retrospectively admirable message, then shouldn’t brutalism be similarly lauded? The ascription of brutalism as ugly and void of aesthetic value is the result of initial impressions informing a mass consensus, creating a precedent effect surrounding its value, as collective judgment erodes individual evaluation.
To conclude, the captivating nature of brutalism stems from its capacity to incite interesting questions about the nature of artistic merit and the strength of internal beliefs. Brutalism challenges our preconceived notions of beauty and progress, stimulating uncomfortable introspections on our values and what we would sacrifice to achieve abstract ideals. Consider the potential value that can be found in the insightful nature of brutalism as a form with bountiful meaning that refuses to impose it. Rather than rejecting brutalism due to its divergence from traditional perception, we should integrate its aesthetic and functional value when reconsidering its historical applications and potential utility in advancing contemporary causes.