Brutalist London Map

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The success or failure of these buildings in achieving their socialist goals is heavily debated. For a period of time Brutalism was favoured for institutional buildings, but by the 1980s they were spurned as too abstract and inhuman, and many were torn down. Here are 10 of the most recognisable amongst the concrete behemoths that survived demolition in London. Southbank Centre and the National Theatre, 1976, Denys Lasdun

Brutalism challenged traditional notions of what a building should look like by showing its construction and not disguising materials," said the organisation. "Most were built from concrete which was functional and affordable – important factors as Britain was rebuilt after 1945." Barbican Centre– photograph by Simon Phipps Moshe Safdie was born and raised in Israel, moving to Canada with his family as a teenager. He was influenced as an architect by his experience living in a kibbutz (a communal settlement in Israel), as well as by the architecture of Le Corbusier and Metabolism, a Japanese post-World War Two movement that advocated for the use of organic forms in buildings, manifested in complex webs of prefabricated modules, as in Kisho Kurokawa's Nakagin Capsule Tower (1972). If you want to find out more about some of the buildings featured above, some good starting points include the following; Culture Trip launched in 2011 with a simple yet passionate mission: to inspire people to go beyond their boundaries and experience what makes a place, its people and its culture special and meaningful — and this is still in our DNA today. We are proud that, for more than a decade, millions like you have trusted our award-winning recommendations by people who deeply understand what makes certain places and communities so special. In the end Calder’s main interest in the buildings is as fascinating objects of art history, updates of those churches and palaces with which he started. It makes the book an engaging and accessible guide for those drawn towards these ex-monstrosities, and for those who wonder what it’s all about.The following are a mix of familiar and somewhat less well-known Brutalist buildings in London. Please add your own personal favourites in the comments section below as there are happily (or not, depending on your standpoint) many examples of this uncompromising architectural style in our beloved capital. The term ‘ Brutalism’ was first coined by the British architects Alison and Peter Smithson, and was then popularised by the architectural historian Reyner Banham in 1954. It is deriveed from ‘Béton brut’ (meaning raw concrete) and was first associated in architecture with Le Corbusier, who designed the Cite Radieuse in Marseilles in the late-1940s. Brutalism emerged at a time of urgent need for large-scale, affordable residential architecture. Europe's major cities were heavily bomb-damaged, while the need to clear urban slums, and a widespread desire to improve the lot of the common citizen, inspired largescale rehousing projects across much of the continent. With the scale of its designs and emphasis on cheap building materials, Brutalism became the style of choice for many of these projects: with mixed results for its own critical and popular fortunes.

Brutalism was part of a broader wave of mid-century-modernist functional design. Whereas modernism in visual art and literature is generally associated with the early twentieth century, and often with notions of complexity and difficulty, this mid-century modernism was notable for the iconic simplicity of its designs, and for its egalitarian emphasis on mass production and utility, an aesthetic rooted in the advances of the Bauhaus and Constructivism. The rest of the Southbank Centre, of course, is one big concrete playground; from the hodgepodge of sprouting mushroom columns and jumbled geometries of the Hayward Gallery, to the graffiti-slathered ramps and columns of the undercroft skatepark, this place is brutalism 101 for any Londoner. The best thing is, you can explore from top to bottom, inside and out. Splurge in a brutalist shopping centre A shopping centre that you also want to live in. Image: Londonist It’s no surprise that the building itself is unashamedly grand, ornamented with a complex layering of concrete that reveals itself in stages. Alexandra Road Estate

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The Brutalist London Map is designed to affirm the value of these buildings and to inspire further consideration of the Brutalist architecture today," it added. Balfron Tower – photograph by Simon Phipps It was the former Camden Town Hall Annexe (and the home of the architecture department behind developments like the Alexandra Road Estate), now it’s a swish hotel. Richard Seifart wielded unmatched influence over the London skyline – but not everyone loves the results. Take Centre Point as an example – unveiled in 1966, it was one of the tallest buildings in London… and one of its most hated. Brutalist architecture first came about in the 1950s post war, emerging from the earlier modernist movement at the turn of the century. The Smithsons saw Brutalism as "an ethic, not an aesthetic." They wanted to focus on an idea of functionality connected to the realities of ordinary life in the post-war era. As Alison Smithson wrote, "[m]y act of form-giving has to invite the occupiers to add their intangible quality of use." Nonetheless, the Smithson's underlying, "form-giving" design has been praised for what architecture critic Nikolaus Pevsner called its "symmetrical, clean, precise" quality, and the building has been widely influential in British architecture.

Despite softening attitudes to the post-war architectural style, the sight of London’s brutalist buildings elicits ecstatic raptures from some, but a near visceral hatred from others.

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Hampstead isn’t all rolling heaths and quaint, cottage feels. It’s also home to a brutalist building with quite an origin story… Although partly a symptom of the map’s aesthetics, it is also characteristic of an approach to cities and their histories that centres on landmark ‘poster’ buildings. As parts of the city that have been singled out or separated, they become carriers of symbolic value, entries into a particular architectural canon that becomes somehow superior to the surrounding urban fabric. To better understand cities we must question this relationship, approaching the built environment as something continuous. Perhaps the answer is suggested by the map itself: a walking tour. After all, the act of walking connects these monuments, creating a new social space that would otherwise disappear with a piecemeal approach. Whether it be Brutalist housing estates or well-known public buildings, walking is not only useful for exploration, it also gives us a new sense of these spaces, challenges preconceptions, allows us to contextualise or even transgress. In a city fortunate enough to include successes such as the National Theatre and the Barbican, and progressive projects such as the Alexandra Road Estate, Brutalist London reminds us to view the escalating trend towards privately owned public spaces with a new criticality.

This bold cultural behemoth has been compared to a nuclear reactor and an overgrown car park, and is often as confusing to navigate as an Escher painting. However, its complex and imposing concrete volumes have many fans and there is an enormous amount to see and do in and around it. Have a good look at the texture of the concrete and you will see a variety of finishes, including the imprints left by the wood ‘shuttering’ (moulds) when the concrete was cast in situ. The Skylon restaurant, housed on the first floor of the Royal Festival Hall has wonderful views over the Thames and is recommended. The Royal Festival Hall is the largest venue in the Southbank Centre. Designed by Robert Matthew with Leslie Martin and Peter Munro, it was designed to represent the optimism and forward-thinking attitude of postwar Britain. Constructed as the Trades Union Congress (TUC) headquarters, the building was, and still is, considered to be one of the most notable modernist structures erected in the aftermath of the Second World War. The interior, particularly the open-to-the-sky courtyard “Pieta”, where a memorial to trade union members who fell during both world wars (sculptor Jacob Epstein/1958) is the centrepiece, is especially worth seeing but, due to COVID restrictions, we weren’t allowed inside the building on this occasion. The main attraction for Calder, as for other contemporary fans, is its boldness and passion. Like the architecture of Hawksmoor and Vanbrugh, or Victorians such as William Butterfield and the proud-to-be-ugly Samuel Sanders Teulon, it ran the gamut of emotions – fear and darkness as well as hope and light. It wanted to stir, move and provoke. Calder is also careful to point out that architects didn’t choose concrete because it was cheap or easy to use: it took craftsmanship, and money, to achieve the special textures and effects they wanted. Nor were they blind adherents to the new, but passionately interested in architectural history and the relationship of their work to it. Softer and curvier than the other buildings in this guide, The Standard is Brutalist London done differently.Although presented as ideal for walking tours, Brutalist London is dispersed enough to make the treks between buildings daunting for even the avid urban explorer’ For fans all all things concrete comes this map of London’s most famous Brutalist buildings. Created by Blue Crow Media (see also their craft beer and cycling maps, it is the first in a new series of map-based guides to London architecture, focusing on the modern 1950s/60s “raw” concrete-heavy designs by Le Corbusier and others of the post-war architectural phase. Warning that ‘many [Brutalist buildings] remain undervalued and under threat’, the map forces us to confront the fact that a disproportionate number of Brutalist structures were publicly funded, and are now threatened by spending cuts and a political consensus that doubts the value of 20th-century architecture. Soon the true value of this map may be found in its simple act of documentation. With several structures on the map having been rejected for listing or undergoing regeneration, this might truly be a ‘last chance to see’ tour. This ‘exhibition’ notion is perhaps problematic, for it exoticises these buildings and is in danger of subjecting people in precarious political and social situations to cultural tourism.