Brutalism Is Trending. And For All The Wrong Reasons.
- tipsy modernist
- 2 days ago
- 10 min read
Updated: 1 day ago
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Thanks to “The Brutalist”, Brutalism is trending. Just like the movie, people either love or hate Brutalism. Full disclosure- I still haven’t seen the movie. (When did movies become so goddamn long?) One thing everyone does agree on, is that the movie seems to have been loosely inspired by the work of Marcel Breuer- a Jewish Hungarian architect, who was one of the most prolific Brutalist architects. Unlike the protagonist of the film, Breuer was not a holocaust survivor. After the collapse of the Bauhaus, Marcel Breuer followed Walter Gropius, his mentor, to London in 1935 and then to Cambridge, where he taught along side him at Harvard’s architecture school in 1937. As many have already pointed out- none of the most famous Brutalist (or even modern) architects such as Marcel Breuer, Walter Gropius, Le Corbusier, Paul Rudolph, Ernő Goldfinger or Betrand Goldberg were Holocaust survivors. There were however, several Bauhaus women who were murdered in the notorious concentration camps.
What is there left to say about Marcel Breuer?
While I’m a huge fan of Marcel Breuer’s work, (and of Brutalism) is there anything that hasn't already been said or written? (On my bookshelf alone, there are three books about Breuer.) The picture above does provide a compelling reason to discuss Breuer in terms of how Brutalism, masculinity and the 'visionary architect' are all intertwined. The trope of the lone, male architect struggling against all odds to create a “magnificent’ something or other building that is a unique expression of his particular genius, has become so enmeshed with the identity of an architect that it is near impossible to negate. And apparently the movie "The Brutalist" is yet another rendition of this outdated trope, (typically promulgated by those who have never practiced architecture). Choosing a protagonist loosely based on one of the most well-known Brutalist architects who spent the war in relative safety, rather than telling the true story of the female architects and designers who were murdered in the Nazi death camps shows a staggering lack of imagination or even research. These true stories would have been much more interesting but not quite as mythical. Or masculine.
Why Brutalism?
What is it about this particular style of mid-century modern architecture that people associate with masculinity and virility? Is it the word Brutalism? Is it the solidity, the massiveness of concrete architecture? Or is this simply a construct that his been perpetuated through media? By the late seventies, this form of “heroic” architecture had very much fallen out of fashion for a variety of reasons. The modernist urban planning fiascos that displaced hundreds of thousands of people, replacing entire neighborhoods with massive highways was one contributing factor. Venturi, Scott Brown’s influential book “Learning from Las Vegas” which critiques the hubris of this type of idiosyncratic monumental architecture was another nail in the coffin. When Robert McCarter began writing about Breuer in 2012, he wrote that Breuer was remembered mostly for his furniture designs and that his architecture had “largely disappeared from disciplinary discourse”.1 Even his 1981 obituary written by architectural critic Paul Goldberger dwelt more on how his architecture was no longer fashionable rather than his incredible achievements. 2 But by 2016 when the monograph on Breuer (by McCarter) was published, his work was being re-visited and seen in a favorable light by a new crop of architects and historians.
It's A Brutal World
The book This Brutal World , a gorgeous monograph published in 2016 celebrating Brutalist buildings would seem to confirm the return of Brutalism. In it Peter Chadwick, the author describes skiing at the Brutalist ski resort Flaine (designed by Marcel Breuer and Robert Gatje) as one of the many experiences that nurtured his love of Brutalism. Chadwick uses adjectives like “strong,” “powerful”, “confident”, “uncompromising”, “bold”and “individualist” to describe the buildings pictured in this monograph. In the book, stunning black and white photographs of both mid-century modern and contemporary buildings in the Brutalist style are juxtaposed next to quotes by architects, musicians, and writers. The quotes reinforce the masculine associations of Brutalism such as this one by Ayn Rand, “A building is alive, like a man, its integrity is to follow its own truth, its own theme and to serve its own single purpose. A man doesn't borrow pieces of his body. A building doesn't borrow hunks of its soul."3 I guess only men are "alive"in Ayn Rand's world? All the usual suspects are there, Reyner Banham, Corb, Mies, Philip Johnson and of course lots of Ayn Rand whose book the Fountainhead brought us the myth of the architect as lone, male genius. There are few women quoted, four out of the fifty-four quotes to be precise. Out of the 243 buildings photographed, five were designed by women .
Modernity, Masculinity and Brutalism
Marcel Breuer, photo Syracuse University Archives Marcel Breuer, Getty Images
Of course there are alternative visions of masculinity and of the architect, in contrast to these typical constructs. The photograph of Breuer dressed as a woman dates from Gropius’ birthday in 1924. Breuer sent it as a birthday card to Gropius. On the back it is inscribed with the words, “ My dear Walter, keep our sweet secret. Yours, eternally true.”4 According to the book “Haunted Bauhaus”, the identity of the person in the photograph was a mystery for many years, possibly until 2004, which is surprising to me because the photo clearly looks like Marcel Breuer in drag. Perhaps people were unable to recognize this drag version of him because the images we associate with Breuer are such classic masculine architect stereotypes.
Obviously the birthday card of Breuer in drag was meant as a joke, but this image, as well as other images of men in drag from the Bauhaus, show us that there is an alternative to the hyper- masculine artist/engineer that continues to be promoted as the Bauhaus male and of architects in general. The photograph above was taken around 1927 when Breuer was twenty five. The photo is entitled” Marcel Breuer and his Harem”. Author Elizabeth Otto sees this photo as reinforcing or perhaps constructing a more traditional masculinity by showing him “ cooly assessing” this “harem” of wild-haired women,* who while they may not look like typical sexually available women are nonetheless still available to him. I don’t agree with this assessment. To me, Breuer looks somewhat skeptical perhaps even frightened by his wild companions, none of whom are even looking at him. It is a far cry from the typical images that one sees of Breuer showing him seated, confidently staring into the camera and smoking, looking like a still from a Mad Men episode. A quick google search of images of Breuer either brings up this image of the middle-aged Breuer or a very young Breuer sitting on his famous Wassily chair, but similarly staring straight at the camera. The very fact that he is shown in profile in the photo above is more passive, less confident, less bold than typical photos of him. * The women standing left to right were: Breuer's first wife Marta Erps, a weaver who later went on to become a scientist, Katt Both, an architecture student of Breuer’s who later worked for him until she left the Bauhaus and Ruth Hollos, also a Bauhaus weaver married to the photographer Erich Consemuller.
As Elizabeth Otto makes clear in her book, the Bauhaus prided itself on its modernity, not just in design but also in lifestyle. The modern woman was very much a part of their brand and images of this modern woman were heavily used in their advertising. While the Bauhaus may not have advertised the alternative versions of masculinity that existed within the school, experimentation and play were considered critical components of the school’s methodology and as such were encouraged. There was also clearly a queer community at the Bauhaus as the photographs of Max Pfeiffer attest to. This aspect of the Bauhaus has often been overlooked and forgotten thanks in no small part to books like the Fountainhead, but also due to the profound influence of Walter and Ise Gropius who became the de facto story tellers and PR machine for the history of the Bauhaus. After the school was shuttered by the Nazi regime and the faculty and students dispersed throughout the globe, Ise and Walter Gropius, but primarily Ise, as Walter spoke little English, took on the mantle of telling the story of the Bauhaus. For the most part it is Walter and Ise’s version of the Bauhaus that has been disseminated, and historians are only beginning to discover alternate versions to this history.
The Hero
Brutalist architecture is often described as heroic. According to the New Oxford American dictionary, a hero “is a person, typically a man, who is admired or idealized for courage, outstanding achievements or noble qualities."5 Why is this style is so strongly associated with courage or noble qualities? Is it because of the utopian ideologies that often accompanied the design? Or the resistance in the face of public scrutiny and criticism of the design? But can a building really be heroic? For me buildings and other inanimate objects can be beautiful, poetic, monumental, even inspiring, but not heroic. For me a hero is any person who makes other people’s lives better. For many people, a hero is someone who risks their life in the service of others. By either definition Friederike Dicker was a truly heroic architect, who would have been a better choice as the inspiration for any movie hero. Friedl, as she was known to her friends, was an incredibly talented sculptor and architect who was murdered in 1944 in Auschwitz. She was born to a Jewish family in Vienna in 1898 and raised by her single father who was a store clerk. Despite their lack of resources, Friedl’s talent gained her entry to several art schools and finally the Bauhaus in 1919. In her first year she was the first student to be selected by the faculty to teach other students. The renowned color theorist Johannes Itten regarded her as one of his best students and continued to show her work throughout his life. In 1922 Friedl and her partner Franz Singer designed a small apartment building in Berlin, as well as its interiors and furniture in the classic Bauhaus style to critical acclaim. In 1923 Friedl and Franz left the Bauhaus and founded their own studio in Berlin for primarily graphic and two- dimensional design. In 1925 they returned to Vienna where they opened an architecture and interior design studio. In Vienna, they became involved in the communist party and Friedl became interested in the Montessori early childhood movement. It is likely that through the Montessori community she became friendly with fellow Bauhaus photographer Edith Tudor-Hart, who may have been in Vienna at the same time and whose photos appear in one of Friedl’s collages. In 1934 Friedl was arrested for the possession of forged documents, when her studio was searched in a police raid. Franz Singer helped to free her and the two escaped to Prague. In 1936 Friedl married Pavel Brandeis which gave her Czech citizenship. She was offered a visa for Palestine but declined because her husband did not have one. By 1939 Germany had annexed Czechoslovakia and both Friedl and Pavel lost the right to work. In 1942 they were deported to the notorious Theresienstadt ghetto. There, Friedl secretly gave art classes to the children using found paper and art supplies that she had packed. She used her artistic talents and experience as an educator to improve the lives of hundreds of children in this notorious camp. In 1943 she gave a lecture at Theresienstadt about the power of art to help children explore emotions such as grief and uncertainty, express their individuality and most importantly, experience mental freedom even while imprisoned. In October of 1944, she was deported, at her own request, to follow Pavel who had already been deported. She was gassed in Auschwitz on October 9, 1944. Pavel survived. Of the children who survived, many spoke of how transformative these classes were for them. Her student Edith Kramer later immigrated to the US and became one of the founders of the art therapy movement. 6
What in the hell am I trying to say here?
For many (including me), Brutalism is an inspiring style of architecture that elicits powerful emotions. But it is important to recognize how it has become gendered and subsumed by tropes of traditional masculinity and virility, exemplified by books like the Fountainhead and movies like “The Brutalist”. It is important to separate this style from these tropes so that other histories and truths can be seen and that other practitioners of Brutalism (and of architecture in general) who don’t conform to these masculine stereotypes can be recognized. One of the most widely recognized and influential Brutalist architects, Paul Rudolph was a gay man whose glam interior design differed greatly from the austere chiseled concrete exteriors he is known for. His decision to publish photos of these interiors was seen as a virtual “coming -out”7 (and not in a good way) and was the final nail in the coffin of his career in the states. Svetlana Kana Radević, while not as prolific as her male counterparts, was one of several female architects whose pioneering work in Eastern Europe falls firmly within the Brutalist style. There is Alison Smithson, who along with her partner Peter Smithson brought Brutalism to England, or Balkrishna Doshi who brought Brutalism to India. A simple google search will bring up any number of female or BIPOC Brutalists. Any one of these stories would have made for a true, and much more interesting depiction of who exactly is a Brutalist. One of the main reasons I can’t be bothered to watch “The Brutalist” is that I’ve already seen that movie. Like a hundred friggin’ times.
Notes 1. McCarter, Robert. Breuer. Phaidon Press Limited, London 2016 pp.17 2.Bergdoll, Barry and Massey, Jonathan edit. Marcel Breuer: Building Global Institutions. Lars Muller Publishers Zurich, 2018. pp.8 3.Chadwick, Peter. This Brutal World. Phaidon Press Limited, London 2016 pp.148 4.Otto, Elizabeth. Haunted Bauhaus. The MIT Press, Cambridge 2019 pp. 61 5.Stevenson, Angus and Lindberg, Christine edit. New Oxford American Dictionary. Third Edition. Oxford 2010 pp.814 6.Otto, Elizabeth and Rossler Patrick. Bauhaus Women: A Global Perspective. Herbert Press London 2019 pp.12-16
7.Filler, Martin. "The Hard Case of Paul Rudolph" The New York Review of Books, February 5, 2015
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