Concrete Marmite
Love it. Hate it. This is my brutopia…
My love of concrete and soviet style architecture comes from my unerring enthusiasm for dystopian literature. From my first read of Aldous Huxley’s Brave New World, I imagined a world I thought I could only visualise through text. Sterile, uncompromising and otherworldly, yet familiar. The prophecy-making political satire of Orwell’s 1984 and the unwavering wit and vernacular stamina of Anthony Burgess’s A Clockwork Orange, or the webbed and pulsating landscapes of J.D Ballard; these wordsmiths are implicitly responsible for my visual adoration of brutalism.
Some buildings are gone now; a few are simply foundations before the facade was added (my byhandle “Caretaker Brutalism”), with an intermediary Brut in place of their outer skin.
Brutalist cityscapes are fictional phantasmagoria made real. Like a stamp collector with an album, I’m bagging these stark geometric structures with a hope to one day form a noteworthy collection.