If brutalism feels omnipresent in the creative realm today, this hasn’t been historically the case. First appearing in the second half of the 20th century, brutalism can best be understood as part of a broader late-modernist shift, rather than a genre in isolation.
Brutalism and it's meaning, past and present
It extended modernism and modernist architecture’s belief in progress and social purpose, but replaced lightness and refinement with weight, density and directness. In doing so, it reflected the pressures of post-war reconstruction and the need to build quickly, honestly and at scale. It also challenged the status quo through its boldness, often defined by monolithic forms and exposed concrete, and has been subsequently criticised for its raw, ‘cold’ appearance.
Park Hill, Sheffield. Its Phase 2 regeneration project by Mikhail Riches was on the 2024 RIBA Reinvention Award shortlist
The origins of brutalism
Brutalist architecture owes its current appeal to the late noughties and early 2010s, when a series of academic books – such as Owen Hatherley’s book Militant Modernism (2009) – exhibitions (the ‘Le Corbusier: The Art of Architecture’ show at the Barbican Gallery, the same year) and TV programmes marked a renewed interest in post-war modernist architecture, prompting its reassessment. As a result, buildings once dismissed as outdated or oppressive were steadily re-evaluated as culturally significant.
From the Barbican in London and Park Hill in Sheffield, to Berlin’s Hansaviertel and Karl-Marx-Allee, many post-war projects have gained recognition not only for their architectural ambition, but for what they reveal about the social ideals of their time. This was formalised through heritage listings: in 2008, several modernist housing estates in Berlin were designated Unesco World Heritage Sites, followed in 2016 by the inclusion of a group of Le Corbusier’s works. It all signalled a broader shift in how brutalist and late-modernist architecture was perceived and reconsidered in relation to the circumstances in which it was built – a period shaped by reconstruction, housing shortages and a belief in collective provision.
The Barbican Centre, which is set to close in June 2028 for a year as part of a huge restoration plan to future-proof the brutalist Grade II-listed site
Alongside this critical reappraisal, a parallel strand of publishing and online culture began to emerge. A growing number of books and image-led platforms presented brutalist architecture through highly stylised photography, often detached from its social or historical context. Concrete became a visual shorthand: graphic, monumental and abstracted from everyday use. As these images circulated more widely – aided by the advent of Tumblr, Flickr and later Instagram – brutalism increasingly came to be understood through appearance rather than purpose.
A new audience
This shift coincided with the emergence of a new audience. Many encountering brutalist buildings today have no direct experience of their construction or early reception. They discover them instead as fashionable images, free from the political tensions, maintenance issues and social debates that had shaped their early lives. In this context, the architecture could be read afresh – not as a social experiment, but as a coherent and compelling architectural language.
Le Corbusier's church at Firminy in France was designed in 1953, but completed posthumously. Here, captured in 2026 for Wallpaper* magazine
A contradiction was also revealed. Admiration for brutalism grew, but often in abstract terms and without a clear understanding of its meaning. Part of this confusion lies in the word itself. Brutalism is often assumed to refer to severity or aggression, when in fact it derives from the French béton brut – meaning raw concrete. In the years following the Second World War, exposed concrete was a practical and economical solution, and also an ethical one: a refusal to disguise structure or material. Architecture was expected to be clear, direct and legible.
Le Corbusier’s Unité d’Habitation (1952) in Marseille remains the most cited example of this approach. Yet even here, representation played a significant role in shaping perception. The photographer Lucien Hervé, who worked closely with Le Corbusier, produced images that emphasised geometry, contrast and abstraction. These photographs helped define how brutalism was seen, often separating the buildings from their social context and everyday use, and frequently excluding people.
Brutalism in Britain, and beyond
In Britain, brutalism developed its own character. Architects such as Alison and Peter Smithson rejected the softer humanism of Scandinavian modernism prevalent in the 1950s, in favour of what they described as the ‘new brutalism’ – an approach grounded in honesty, legibility and social intent. Their Hunstanton School (1954), often cited as Britain’s first example of new brutalism building, contains no concrete at all. Instead, its exposed steel frame and visible services reflect a commitment to clarity. Another early example is Grade II*-listed Langham House Close in Ham, near Richmond, by James Stirling and James Gowan, built in load-bearing brickwork, exposed concrete and timber. This small development, designed for middle-income families between 1958 and 1960, features three low-rise blocks arranged around a courtyard.
Exterior view of the façade of Robin Hood Gardens by the Smithsons
Elsewhere, brutalism took on different forms depending on local conditions. The Barbican in London (1965-1982) by Chamberlin, Powell and Bon combined housing, culture and infrastructure within a vast, concrete ensemble with elevated walkways asserting a powerful and self-contained urban form. In Switzerland, Atelier 5’s Siedlung Halen explored dense, low-rise living within a shared landscape surrounded by a forest. In the United States, architects such as Marcel Breuer and Paul Rudolph developed a more monumental expression of brutalism, using concrete to convey institutional authority, as seen in the former Whitney Museum and Yale’s Art and Architecture Building.
Brutalism misunderstood
This emerging understanding of brutalism was shaped in part by the critic and historian Reyner Banham, who played a key role in defining it as a coherent tendency rather than a loose collection of buildings. In his writings of the 1950s and 1960s, Banham described it not as a style but as an ethic. Yet in attempting to clarify the term, he also helped fix it within architectural discourse, contributing to the ambiguity that persists today between brutalism as a moral position and brutalism as an aesthetic category.
New York's iconic Breuer Building – formerly the Whitney Museum of American Art – is now Sotheby's global headquarters
Brutalism, at its core, was concerned with how people live together, and with the responsibilities of building at scale. That ambition is often lost in contemporary uses of the term, where ‘brutalist’ is applied loosely to anything heavy, minimal or severe, its meaning reduced to a set of visual cues and the reverence for concrete or form. The renewed popularity of brutalism has intensified in recent years through cultural moments such as the release of the film The Brutalist in late 2024. It has returned the term to common use, extending it beyond architectural circles to a broader audience, but not always with greater clarity.
The future of brutalism
The fate of Robin Hood Gardens in east London illustrates this clearly. Designed by the Smithsons as a model of post-war social housing, the estate was widely praised by architects and historians, yet ultimately demolished in 2017. Its destruction exposed the limits of aesthetic appreciation when it is not matched by sustained public or political commitment. The challenge now is not whether brutalism should be admired, but whether its underlying values can be taken seriously again, so it does not risk being valued only superficially. Until architecture is once more allowed to prioritise collective purpose over surface appeal, brutalism will remain misunderstood – celebrated in images, yet stripped of the social conviction that once gave it meaning.