Duro Club, Milan's latest nightlife opening

Housed inside a former cement factory, the club was designed by Gianluca Bocchetta and Rosella Castagnotto of Turin-based Velvet Studio. Their aim was to 'preserve the building's original Brutalist character,' says Castagnotto, 'while completely rethinking the existing layout and circulation.' Fortunately, the brief from the owners was largely logistical. 'They told us how many people the club needed to accommodate, that it required a chill-out area and an outdoor smoking terrace,' she says. 'Beyond that, they gave us complete freedom.'

The pair drew heavily on the building's industrial past, retaining much of the exposed concrete while introducing stainless steel, coloured tile and mirrored surfaces. The mirrors are concentrated along the central corridor that runs the length of the building, punctuated by porthole-like openings that offer glimpses into the main dance floor and the adjoining aubergine-coloured lounge. 'We wanted to play with viewpoints,' says Castagnotto. 'The mirrors and openings create this interesting "see-but-can't-see" effect.'

At the end of the corridor lies the dance floor, an expansive room with warm parquet flooring inset with white squares that echo the colour-block lighting installation overhead. 'The white squares make it feel as though the light is projected onto the floor,' explains Castagnotto, who collaborated with ILTI Luce on the lighting design. 'But we didn't want the lighting to dominate. It had to be more about shadow than illumination.'

Near the far end of the room, a rectangular concrete-and-stainless-steel island serves as the bar — a monolithic centrepiece surrounded by built-in benches that provide a moment of respite without disconnecting from the energy of the dance floor. Opposite, the DJ booth appears to have been carved into the wall like a bunker. A projecting steel frame forms a rectangular aperture from which the DJ surveys the scene below. On either side, a pair of semi-private booths offer more intimate vantage points while remaining partially concealed from the crowd.

Duro Discoteca is the latest venture from brothers Marco and Riccardo Augeri, the entrepreneurs behind Da Orient, the vintage store-turned-cocktail bar in Milan's Chinatown. While Da Orient has become synonymous with the city's aperitivo culture, drawing crowds of stylish young Milanese onto Viale Montello each evening, Duro is conceived as a destination for late-night dancing and experimental electronic music.

'It has a Studio 54 spirit,' says Castagnotto of the club, which opened in April. 'People arrive dressed up and aren't afraid to be extravagant. It's not the typical Berlin club where everyone wears black from head to toe. Here there's colour — it’s very refined.’

Tour Glenblaith, a residence where brutalism and modernism collide

The single-storey residence was designed as a ‘forever home’ for a professional couple. Its façade is smooth, geometric and mysterious, with a timber entry that acts as a moveable screen to slowly unveil its introverted core.

‘The client approached us after following the work of the practice for over ten years,’ explains the firm’s director, George Yiontis. ‘Armed with magazine clippings of our previous projects, there was a clear focus on the courtyard house typology and use of robust, natural materials.

'Concrete and timber were the protagonists in the vision of their new home, integrated with a prominent and lush landscape to satisfy her green thumb and provide a focus in retirement years.'

The home's anchor is the 4.8m oculus, a subtle nod to midcentury design hinting to the fluid curvature of The TWA Flight Center and architect John Lautner’s 1979 Hope Residence. This architectural ode foreshadows the intricate design codes within the rest of the home.

Yiontis notes, ‘The building’s appearance from the street is unassuming but different; the low-lying concrete form is recessed from its fenceless boundary and the lush front yard contrasts the endless stretch of newly volume-built and post-war neighbours with their pitched roofs and fenced, manicured lawns. While conforming to planning guidelines, the house is an anomaly in the streetscape.’

In this context, Glenblaith was conceived to challenge the traditional conventions of suburbia and its landscape. The architecture firm made sure to utilise unorthodox materials and small nooks to keep an element of surprise.

The monolithic concrete columns frame the large atrium-cum-courtyard space, complete with a lily pond, offering a central green utopia with the residence. Beyond this, the house is divided into separate wings; one intimate, one for living and entertaining.

Other unexpected design details include a small alcove in the bedroom, which has been utilised as a desk space, while a window has been artfully barricaded with an intriguing brick pattern, allowing the shadows to dance on the floor below.

Coy Yiontis Architects has redefined suburbia, stepping away from the white-picket-fenced, cookie-cutter mould, and presenting a new benchmark for living: a vibrant garden house that doesn’t shout or demand attention, but is slowly discovered and enjoyed.

coyyiontis.com.au

Explore this brutalist duplex for sale

In fact, it’s as a piece of green urbanism that the scheme is usually remembered, rather than as an intimidating example of brutalism at its least human. The complex was under construction from 1971 to 1981, during which time Renaudie died and the late Gailhoustet (who died in 2023) completed the scheme.

Gailhoustet was a rare woman architect in post-war France, but her work has more than stood the test of time. Living in Ivry-sur-Seine until her death, she had worked in the town since 1969, when she was appointed Chief Architect for the renovation of the city centre.

As well as winning the 2022 Architecture Prize from the Royal Academy of Arts in London, specifically for her contribution to social housing in Franc, she was also awarded the French Ministry of Culture’s Lifetime Achievement Award later that year.

This modest 55.6 sq m sits on the top floor of the Marat building, one of 40 interlocking housing units that make up the complex along with office spaces, stores, a school and more. As well as two small sleeping spaces on the upper level (originally designed as a single bedroom), the duplex includes a study area and office on a half-landing, with the main living spaces on the entrance floor, reached via a sculptural staircase.

Here you’ll find a living room, lounge and dining area, as well as a compact kitchen and access to the 20 sq m terrace, complete with mature trees and views across the rest of the apartments. The apartment also comes with its own garage area. Ivry-sur-Seine has direct access to central Paris in 20 minutes thanks to the Line 7 metro and the RER C Line.

Gailhoustet and Renaudie’s vision was for mass housing integrated into the heart of the city centre, not isolated towers with no ground floor facilities. The buildings that make up the Étoiles d’Ivry complex all take a stepped, ziggurat-style approach, with a modular triangular grid system create a sense of consistency across the whole project.

From the balconies and terraces, down to ground floor planters, passageways and public areas, the whole complex remains an intriguing and inviting urban landscape.

This free approach to planning also plays out in the apartments themselves, which revel in unconventional plans and unexpected nooks and crannies.

The duplex is available from Architecture de Collection, priced at €315,000, for more information visit ArchitecturedeCollection.fr, @ArchitecturedeCollection

To ensure you don’t miss a thing – and to showcase the scope of residential architecture today – we present our monthly series: The Architecture Edit. Each instalment will feature our favourite houses of the month: buildings that demonstrate creative planning, innovative methods and, of course, design excellence.

This month, we head to Mexico, North London and Norway, to name but a few, to visit several homes that are doing things differently.

Join us on our world tour as we highlight the best houses of May 2026.

An urban retreat in Mexico

Architect Taller Segovia Molina designed this family home in Santiago de Querétaro, Mexico, as a pocket of calm in an urban environment. Its street-facing facade is almost hermetic, giving nothing away, while the interior opens onto a rear courtyard garden. Inside spaces flow across levels connected visually and acoustically, with a barrel-vaulted staircase leading to private upper floors. Natural light, seasonal change and views of greenery anchor residents to nature despite the dense surrounding neighbourhood.

A reimagined care home

Formwork Architects transformed a dilapidated Edwardian care home in north London back into a generous family residence. Substantial basement excavations created a new kitchen-diner opening onto a sunken courtyard, topped by a bespoke open-tread metal staircase leading to a sitting room above. Original features – namely the stained glass and impressive main staircase – were carefully restored, while a double-height rear extension and new rooflights flood the interior with light.

A Viking-inspired cabin

This coastal cabin in Norway draws on Viking boat-building traditions, using whole tree trunks and roots as structural columns that simultaneously serve as shelves, benches, stairs and room dividers. Helen & Hard designed the undulating roof to mirror the surrounding topography, while panoramic glazing frames the ocean and locally-sourced stone forms the base. The result is a sensory space where timber scent, sea sounds and shifting daylight become central to the experience.

Brutalism in Milan

This brutalist family home in Cusano Milanino, designed in the 1970s by Francesco Castiglioni, stands apart from its Art Nouveau suburban neighbours through its raw concrete construction and sculptural massing. A monumental double-height living room dominates, with a sloping ceiling, dramatic internal ramp and double-sided fireplace. Glazed walls connect to expansive gardens, covered loggias wrap the exterior, and a 20-metre basement pool sits below. Owned by the original family, it is now listed for sale.

An Albuquerque desert home

Antoine Predock's final residential project – nicknamed the ‘dinodactyl’ – is a low-slung concrete home perched on a New Mexico desert ridge with extraordinary eastward views across the badlands. Five bedroom suites radiate from a central ‘amphitheatre’ living space, each functioning as a self-contained casita with its own terrace and fire pit. The building's orientation and form were carefully calibrated against extreme temperature swings, high winds and intense sunlight, while steel roof shingles will patinate naturally into the landscape over time.

A renovated painter’s house

Atelier Vens Vanbelle renovated this former home and studio of Belgian painter Antoon De Clerck, situated between Bruges and Ghent, into a vibrant residence befitting its artistic provenance. Drawing on De Clerck's De Stijl-rooted palette of primary colours and clean geometry, the architects layered Bauhaus and midcentury aesthetics with contemporary touches, including metallic roof detailing and a white brick fireplace. Each room carries its own distinct character within a cohesive whole.

Tetris-like Oaxaca apartments

S-AR's three-storey apartment building in Puerto Escondido treats its concrete, wood and steel grid structure as an inhabitable spatial system. Each of the three 180-square-metre apartments occupies one floor, with translucent wooden boxes providing bedroom privacy within an otherwise open framework. Each unit includes two bedrooms, social areas and a private plunge pool, with geometric detailing punctuating stairs, kitchens and storage, and few external walls interrupting the connection to the surrounding jungle canopy.

An off-grid, on-the-market home 

This off-grid prefab home in California's Eastern Sierra, designed by Linda Taalman and built over eight years by its owners, embodies the architect's desert modernism ethos, comprising open glass-and-steel forms, modular construction and minimal site disturbance. Set between Death Valley and the Sierra Nevada, the house frames sweeping vistas of surrounding peaks, including Lone Pine Peak and the Alabama Hills. Its sustainable design, wildfire preparedness and connection to the landscape reflect both the Taalman's principles and the clients' family ties to the region.

A forgotten Portuguese ruin

Pablo Pita Arquitectos rebuilt a derelict olive press in the Douro wine region into a pared-back country retreat, preserving the original footprint while dividing the plan into four quadrants – living, terrace, pool and courtyard. The house steps down the hillside, with raw concrete interiors paired with stone schist walls and timber cladding – it is deliberately minimal, material-led and rooted in the ruin's memory. Four bedrooms occupy the lowest level, while the uppermost floor offers views across the Douro River.

A robust coastal home

Hollaway Studio reimagined an existing cottage on Kent's otherworldly shingle headland, retaining its original silhouette while completely rethinking its interior orientation. Charred timber with white coating echoes the previous building, complemented by corrugated metal and Corten steel, while a salt-and-pepper concrete floor extends the shingle landscape indoors. The robust facade is built to withstand the coastal exposure of one of England's most distinctive – and challenging – landscapes.

A guide to spomenik design

Yet, beyond their staggering size and otherworldly beauty, spomeniks tell a complex story about trauma, memory, and collective identity in a newly formed nation reckoning with the effects of war. Here is our guide to what these amazing structures are, what they mean, the key proponents, and some representative examples.

What are spomeniks?

When the Axis forces invaded Yugoslavia in 1941, a multi-ethnic antifascist partisan movement emerged to successfully fight back against the occupation. After the Second World War, Josip Tito’s new Socialist Federal Republic wanted to commemorate these fighters, along with the million civilian casualties of the war. A monument series – the spomeniks (a word derived from the Serb-Croat word for ‘memory’) – was chosen as the way forward. Planned to be dotted around Yugoslavia’s six states, their presence was intended to build a shared, universal language of ‘unity and brotherhood’ (bratstvo i jedinstvo) across the country's religious and ethnic differences.

Unlike socialist-realist sculptures of generals and fighters, spomeniks drew on the orientation towards Western modernism following Tito’s split from the USSR in 1948. Spomeniks were to be highly symbolic and abstract, doubling up as outdoor classrooms where schoolchildren could be inoculated with the current government's single national liberation narrative. They were intended to invoke feelings of national and cultural togetherness, capable of endless reinterpretation in a permanent revolution toward progressive socialism.

By 1961, there were over 14,000 such monuments in Yugoslavia. By 1990, some estimate there were almost 40,000. Today, most spomeniks have been destroyed, abandoned, or forgotten – victims of the sectarian divisions that have re-emerged in the region since the 1990s. Unlike Stalin’s Treptower Park and its top-down grandeur, these abstract concrete blocks are particularly interesting because they were largely commissioned, funded and built by local communities. In the end, Tito barely visited them at all.

A key representative: Bogdan Bogdanović

Serbian architect and intellectual Bogdan Bogdanović (1922-2010) designed many spomeniks. His first project, The Stone Flower (1960-66), was a 24m ‘melancholy lotus’ on the banks of the Sava River in Jasenovac, Croatia. Built on the site of the Jasenovac concentration camp, the flower is a memorial to the 100,000 people who died at the hands of fascist Croatian Ustaše forces. Rather than dwell on inter-ethnic conflict and bring 'evil back to life', however, Bogdanović’s lotus symbolises rebirth and renewal. Reflecting on building the monument in an interview in 2008, Bogdanović said that he won the commission because, quite simply, his 'surrealist biography' was not 'Russian'.

Another example is Bogdanović’s 19m Monument to the Partisans and Miners (1959-73) on Partisan Hill in Kosovo, built to commemorate local Serbian and Albanian partisan fighters. Bogdanović was selected by the regional government and veteran group to build this ‘shrine to the revolution’, a trilithon topped with an ore-shaped block, a reference to the site’s mining history.

The two fluted Doric columns represented the once-unified Serbs and Albanians, with the gap between them symbolising a ‘gateway’ to a peaceful future. Tito’s Young Pioneers regularly visited the site in a kind of secular pilgrimage. Vandalised and disused, today the spomenik, better known locally as ‘the barbecue’, overlooks this segregated city, although, according to Kosovo's tourism website, it has ‘lost its symbolic meaning’.

The case of the Partisan Memorial Cemetery

Perhaps most significant of all of his projects is Bogdanović’s Partisan Memorial Cemetery in Mostar, Bosnia (1960-65). Built to commemorate local antifascist Partisan fighters, the necropolis was the architect's most complex project. The staggering tiered spomenik sits in the hills above Mostar and originally featured 87,000 pebbles and 700 flower-stone plaques, engraved with the names of Serb, Jewish, Croat, Bosniak, and Roma fighters.

Void of religious, nationalist, socialist or military symbolism, and resembling a 'cosmological sundial', Bogdanović’s secular memorial was intended to be close to everyone. A fountain, mimicking Mostar’s Neretva River, originally descended into a large pool at the hill’s base, where children used to learn to swim. Carvings were done by Croatian masons while civic volunteer groups were responsible for its construction. Mostar’s citizens referred to the site as a ‘park’, ‘playground’, and ‘place for a picnic’, embedded in everyday life. Like other spomeniks, funding came from local government, trade groups and families.

Bogdanović became an honorary citizen of the town upon completing the project. Yet, when he returned to the site in 1997, he noted in a piece he wrote in the local Mostar news magazine, MM, that the 'former city of the dead and the former city of the living' now looked at each other with 'empty, black and burned eyes'. An iconic symbol of brotherhood and unity, the site was the first to be targeted, set alight and graffitied when war broke out in 1992. The site was recently seen deserted, save for empty beer bottles and smashed fragments of the 700 memorial stones.

New imaginings – spomeniks now

Concrete is often considered the bane of midcentury modernist architecture, but here its indestructible nature is a saving grace. Despite decades of sustained neglect and vandalism, many spomeniks still stand. Recently, a new generation of residents, architects and activists campaigned for their reconstruction. In 2023, Mostar’s memorial cemetery was added to the EU-funded Europa Nostra’s endangered monuments list. On its 60th anniversary in September 2025, the spomenik was brought to life for a night of theatre and performance, organised by a collective of young Mostar artists as part of the city's Street Art Festival.

Over the past decade, more spomeniks across former Yugoslavia have been carefully restored, reclaimed or repurposed (at least one has been turned into a radio tower, while in others the names of Second World War veterans were replaced by those of the victims of the Yugoslav wars). Renewed interest in the sites has been prompted by savvy internet sleuths, ‘Yugonostalgia’, international attention (spomeniks featured in a 2018 MoMA exhibition), and a healthy dose of concrete clickbait.

While a return to the spirit of brotherhood and unity that the spomeniks represented might not have a direct interpretation today, these enduring structures have the potential to take on new meanings in new contexts. Rather than represent ideological abandonment, spomeniks' abstraction is their greatest legacy. Writing about the Mostar cemetery, Bogdanović was asked: 'How will generations after us interpret this building?' His response was clear: 'Many associations are possible [and] various imaginings.'

Tour this example of Italian brutalism

The surrounding residential area is given over to large villas around a public park, with Art Nouveau being the favoured architectural style. Castiglioni’s brutalist architecture stood out, then as now, not just for the raw concrete but for the way the four-bedroom house devotes the majority of its floor area to the living areas, including a monumental double-height sitting room.

The exterior follows the more castellated, romantic vision of brutalism, with chimneys and cantilevers replacing ramparts and towers. The integral garage is reached via a driveway that goes through the house, terminating at a curved parking area away from the street.

The living area is the focal point, with a sloping ceiling and dramatic ramp that leads to the upper floors with a galleried landing overlooking the space. A double-sided fireplace divides the space in two, while shifts in level to accommodate the topography of the site creates dynamics views across the living room.

Glazed walls bring the verdant gardens into the living area, while the roof oversails the edges of the house to create a covered walkway and terraces leading down into the 3,800 square metre garden. In the basement, there’s a substantial 20m heated swimming pool as well as utility spaces and storage. In addition to the four modest bedrooms, the villa comes with its own 70 square metre caretaker’s cottage.

Castiglioni was based in Como. His work on the house also extended to some of the furniture and fittings, as well as landscaping the garden. Owned by the same family that commissioned it, the house has recently been refurbished and updated ready for a new generation of architecture-loving ownership.

Villa by Francesco Castiglioni, Cusano Milanino, €3,000,000, Italy-SothebysRealty.com

Discover the Smithson's brutalist school in Hunstanton

The building was inaugurated in 1954, as Hunstanton School – it is now known as Smithdon High School (but many in the architectural community still refer to it by its original name). It has been a continuously used space for education throughout its life and was listed in 1993. Yet, despite the community's loving use, its constant operation over some 70 years resulted in some serious wear and tear, and an update has been on the cards for a while, its existing fabric fast reaching its end of life. Enter London-based architecture firm Jestico + Whiles, who, in 2025, won the competition to refresh the beloved landmark and bring it into the 21st century, while respecting its precious architectural heritage.

The architecture team is working together with Arup, who were the original structural engineers from the 1950s, conservation specialists Purcell, planning consultants DPP, and contractor Bowmer + Kirkland – while engaging closely with heritage bodies such as Historic England and the Twentieth Century Society to ensure a respectful and meaningful refurbishment.

The brutalist school's two-storey, long, low form is discreet and discretely linear, using many of the Smithsons' hallmarks: honest use of materials 'as found', utilitarian approach and a clear expression of the building's structure. There are plenty of valuable details and architectural elements to study and cherish, Jestico + Whiles principal Ben Marston explains. 'They used steel, rationed and unusual in school construction at the time, which was pretty much handcrafted, welded together on site.'

'Of course, there have been many alterations since it opened, unsightly extensions affecting the composition, infilling of skylights and most particularly with the façade. Glass panes – originally directly glazed into primary structure with no movement tolerance – began breaking soon after completion, resulting in most of the façade being altered or replaced over time. Yet beneath it all, much original fabric and clarity of the expressive design thinking remain. For example, whilst fixed glazing is all framed in black with the primary structure, the parts that open are all articulated in white.'

Marston adds that there is a theory that, in fact, has the white parts being originally light brown with a yellow oxide primer, and the white colour was a later implementation. The architecture team is currently exploring this via paint scrapes.

The main school's body is a long rectangular shape with two courtyards at its heart. Open-air spaces like these – described by the Smithsons as 'the charged void', for their hard work in creating possibilities by allowing for free space – were staples of the brutalists' thinking. There is also a handful of low, smaller structures surrounding the main building – pavilions for craft workshops, community resource activities, a kitchen and a standalone gym.

The ground floor contained facilities and circulation, while the teaching space was in the piano nobile upstairs. Interestingly, circulation is mostly vertical with wide staircases connecting the top floor classrooms and labs with some open, flexible spaces, bathroom facilities and the main hall downstairs. The original sight lines throughout were long and carefully planned to go straight through the building, emphasising transparency and permeability – of sunlight, air and movement.

The Jestico + Whiles plan is to restore as much of the original fabric as possible whilst updating what is beyond repair. Sadly, much falls into the latter category after years of occupation and the location's harsh, saline environment. The replacements will follow the original design closely, Marston ensures: 'Everyone has accepted the façade needs to be replaced due to its deterioration and poor thermal performance. The Smithsons used lots of innovation.

'They were aware that a glazed building would be challenging thermally, using an early form of double glazing on the north side. It was also a very early use of precast planks, many now concealed behind subsequently installed ceilings. Selected planks have been tested at Nottingham University to ensure they are structurally sound, and the plank structure will be exposed as it was originally. Whilst deteriorated fabric inevitably needs to be renewed, our approach overall is to restore the Smithsons’ original composition of the building and its use as a viable school.’

The Smithsons have been pioneering in the architecture realm, heralding what we now know as New Brutalism. Later, more well-known projects by the duo include Robin Hood Gardens from 1972 (a part of it is now on show at the V&A East Storehouse) and The Economist tower from 1964, both in London. This school project has so far enjoyed less exposure to the public eye than some of the architects' other work; however, it's an invaluable asset for Hunstanton and the generations of pupils who have passed through its doors. It is also a remarkable showcase of the Smithsons' early experimentations with layouts and materials.

With planning consent recently granted for the refurbishment's designs, and completion planned for 2028, Smithdon High School will move to a temporary home while repair works begin on site with the close of this school year. The brutalist school's next chapter, with the help of Jestico + Whiles, is now underway.

jesticowhiles.com

Explore the Sanctuary of Monte Grisa in Trieste

In the darkest days at the end of the Second World War, when Trieste was occupied by Nazi troops and threatened on one side by the Allies and on the other by Marshall Tito's Yugoslavian partisans, Santin had feared the worst for his city. If, however, he prayed to the Blessed Virgin Mary to intercede on Trieste's behalf and the city was spared further death and destruction, he would build a church in her honour.

And here it is: the Sanctuary of Monte Grisa, an astonishing 40m-high, sliced-and-truncated pyramid assembled from a host of concrete triangles, forming a highly stylised ship of sorts, its lofty ‘sails' raised 330m above the shoreline of the Gulf of Trieste on the north-west hem of the city. The view from the balcony deck of this pilgrimage church, built between 1959-1966, is soul-stirring: an azure sea in front, Trieste below to your left, and as you turn, the mountainous ridge and rolling vineyards – Prosecco country – separating this narrow strip of coastal Italy from Slovenia.

The sanctuary's architect, Antonio Guacci, professor at the Faculty of Engineering and Architecture at Trieste University, thought of it this way, too; arranging the high altar as ‘the bridge of command', and the lower church and its chapels as a capacious ‘hold'. Far from whimsical, this ship of souls is realised in the severest and most insistent manner, the tiers of triangles forming the structure both inside and out, above and below. They also provide virtually the only decoration to be found here. But what decoration! Aided and abetted by the imaginative young Roman engineer Sergio Musmeci, Guacci composed a structure that, alert to ever-changing plays of daylight and shadows, is a special work of art of its own.

Inside, the church is resolutely open, and although your eyes are drawn principally to the main altar, its complex play of space and structure encourages them to wander. Shipshape, the sanctuary is thoroughly well built, with fine shuttered concrete walls, convincing detail and gleaming marble floors. Settled here, you soon see that the hundreds of internal-external concrete triangles form star-like hexagons, as well as tracing the letter M, signifying both Mary and ‘Maris', as in the ancient hymn sung in Italian churches, Ave Stella Maris (Hail, Star of the Sea).

The symbolism seems interminable. The honeycomb structure of the upper church can look like a beehive: the Virgin Mary, Santin told Guacci, is like a queen bee. Perhaps. Below, in the streets of Trieste, the church is still referred to, in local dialect, as ‘el formaggin' after the wrapped triangular cheese portions found in schoolchildren's lunch boxes. Ships, beehives, cheese portions, these references somehow help to warm the glacial face and cool geometry of this uncompromising design. It is hard not to liken it to other objects and buildings; from afar, it's reminiscent of the RAF's early warning missile detection and tracking station, an austere truncated pyramid much the same height as the sanctuary and brooding, since 1992, at Fylingdales high on the North Yorkshire Moors.

The bishop, his architect and engineer shaped this enigmatic building at a time when the church, society and architecture were changing in sudden, unexpected and experimental ways. For the Catholic church, this was an opportunity to engage with the modern world and to open up to its congregations who were, following the deliberations of the Second Vatican Council of 1962-1965, to be far more involved than they had been before in church ritual; church architecture would respond with an openness of plans, ‘noble simplicity' and minimal visual distraction. The Sanctuary of Monte Grisa was ahead of the curve.

Although stern, the church is welcoming. Services aside, of which there are many, its terrace becomes a popular spot, on the second Sunday of each October, to watch the Barcolana regatta, featuring as many as 3,000 boats of all classes sailing in the Gulf below. Those perched here in October 2024 would have seen the Amerigo Vespucci returning to Trieste for the 50th anniversary celebrations of the city's reunification with Italy. The following June, the church designated the ship a site of ‘sacred pilgrimages'; another is, of course, this monumental, mathematical, sentinel-like modern Marian church set high in full architectonic sail above the Gulf of Trieste.

montegrisa.org

Tour this residential piece of Australian brutalism

Architect and firm founder Jeremy Schmölzer took inspiration from the expansive views and abundance of wildlife surrounding the site. ‘The starting point was to minimise the impact of the house on the hillside, allowing it to sit quietly within the escarpment rather than assert itself upon it,’ explains Schmölzer.

‘This led to a refined material approach, where a restrained palette of pre-cast concrete panels and muted tones dissolves into the landscape. The project naturally evolved into a courtyard typology, creating a protected internal landscaped courtyard that maintains a strong connection outward.’

The home's concrete façade provides the groundwork for the design's brutalist expression, contrasting with the surrounding scenery, which becomes a giant landscape painting of a backdrop, while openings create snapshots of the distant Mount Buffalo plateau. In turn, the natural setting serves to soften the property’s bold concrete forms.

The courtyard-style plan allows for a zoned approach to the design. The primary bedroom is located within a more secluded wing, and the guest rooms are along another wing, both offering valley views. The communal living area is open plan and accessible via both of these sections.

The most intriguing element of the project is the outdoor pool, which seemingly extends away from its hillside plot like an immersive portal into the valley. Schmölzer agrees, telling Wallpaper*, ‘The horizon pool is the most lasting impression of the project, where architecture is reduced to its most precise edge condition – a calibrated threshold between built form and distant landscape.

'It is conceived as an extension of the house, where the geometry resolves into a continuous plane that engages directly with the escarpment and distant Victorian Alps. Rather than framing or receding, the architecture operates as a deliberate instrument for intensifying the perception of the horizon. It is here that the relationship between structure and landscape is most fully articulated.’

The material palette softens the house's cast concrete silhouette. Natural honed stone in the kitchen, matched with grey linen sheers, an external metal curtain, and internal concrete flooring, creates harmony between interior and exterior.

Says Schmölzer, ‘From the entry sequence, there is a deliberate sense of transition and reveal, with framed views towards Mount Buffalo setting the tone for the experience. Inside, the landscape remains dominant, with interiors designed to feel as though they are hovering above the terrain. The eagle-watching and stargazing platform extends this condition outward, creating a heightened sense of suspension within the landscape.’

Eyrie Residence is a soothing retreat connected to nature. A place to unwind, relax and focus on the raw beauty of its expansive context.

schmolzer.com

Turning his lens to South Korea, Tulett documents the country's most compelling concrete landmarks across more than 220 images and over 90 architectural sites – from government complexes and university campuses to cultural institutions and public housing.

From the dense streets of Seoul to the literary enclave of Paju Book City, from the coastal urbanity of Busan to the cities of Daegu and Daejeon, Tulett maps a country's architectural identity. Among the sites featured are the Busan Port International Passenger Terminal, a functional maritime gateway for travellers; Steven Holl's Daeyang Gallery and House, a minimalist art space and residence in Seoul; Tadao Ando's Jeju Glass House, a concrete-and-glass retreat on Jeju Island; and Zaha Hadid's Dongdaemun Design Plaza, a futuristic cultural complex in the nation's capital.

Through this visual chronicle, Tulett tells the story of how Korean brutalism emerged. Arising in the 1960s and '70s in the wake of the Korean War, it was less a stylistic choice than a manifestation of national rebuilding – permanence forged in the face of destruction. The buildings Tulett photographs were shaped by a period of rapid industrialisation, and they carry that weight visibly in their modular repetition and monumental scale.

Crucially, these buildings were not simply transplanted from a Western canon, but adapted to their Korean context. Pioneers such as Kim Swoo-geun, Kim Chung-up, Lee Jong-sup, Choi Maeng-gi and Seung H-Sang produced work that fused global modernist ideals with a distinctly regional sensitivity.

The images are accompanied by Tulett's commentary, which makes a case for a body of architecture that deserves to be taken seriously – celebrated not despite its austerity, but because of it.

In 'Brutalist Korea', the buildings are not presented as monuments frozen in time but as living entities, inhabited and integrated into the evolving visual culture of the country. At a time when brutalist structures worldwide face neglect or demolition, chronicles like this matter – acting as both a visual record and a love letter to the movement.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

stefiorazi.co.uk

modernistestates.com

We’ve noted that the legacy of modernism, and its later evolution, brutalism, remains as strong as ever, so we’ve chosen to explore how 20th-century properties, such as Casa Arosio on Italy’s Ligurian coast and the futuristic Pyramid House in Milton Keynes, are being reimagined for the 21st century.

In the same spirit, we head to Germany to mark the recent centenary of a seminal Frankfurt housing programme – an auspicious moment for the city as it celebrates its role as World Design Capital this year (for those thinking of visiting, we offer our own guide to Frankfurt too).

We also unveil a collection of modernist archival pieces by Milan silverware brand San Lorenzo, which are now available exclusively through luxury e-tailer Abask.

Meanwhile, with brutalism now feeling more prominent in the creative world than ever (and with the news that London’s Southbank Centre has finally achieved Grade II-listed status), we ask Modernist Estates author Stefi Orazi to write about the movement’s origins and meaning today.

Elsewhere, we drop in to YY, the London-based studio led by Tawanda Chiweshe and Francisco Gaspar, whose notions of research and exchange continue to inform their work; and we shine a spotlight on Dutch designer Hella Jongerius, who is throwing off the shackles of commercial projects to focus on more personal work.

We also visit a verdant Gujarati plot that puts its abundant foliage at the centre of a contemporary country retreat, cast an envious eye over the new Chinatown offices of New York-based architecture firm Bonetti/Kozerski, and meet Tadashi Kawamata, the latest artist to be invited to collaborate with champagne house Ruinart for its ‘Conversations with Nature’ series.

And pulling all these peregrinations together is our Global Interiors story, for which our head of interiors, Olly Mason, traverses six continents (digitally speaking) to capture bold new idioms in furniture, lighting and product design.

Bill Prince
Editor-in-Chief

The April 2026 Global Interiors Issue of Wallpaper* is available in print on newsstands, on the Wallpaper* app on Apple iOS, and to subscribers of Apple News + from 5 March 2025. Subscribe to Wallpaper* today

For a start, there’s Ron Arad’s pioneering Concrete Stereo from 1983, a mighty statement of Eighties excess that dovetailed the young iconoclast’s anti-minimal aesthetic with an almost mocking disdain for the matte black and chrome image of the decade. You’ll find an example in the V&A’s collection, with a set selling for £47,500 at Christie’s in 2019.

Established Swiss manufacturer Thorens ventured into the concrete realm with their own turntable a few years later, but only a few hundred units were rumoured to be made, while the designer and maker Lewis Kemmenoe parlayed some of Arad’s spirit into his own set of unique speakers, created for Stanhope’s WestWorks building at White City Place.

In recent years, other companies have incorporated concrete into speakers – the aptly named Concrete Audio from Germany, for example – hi-fi units, guitars and even keyboards. However, the only time the ‘Brutalist’ appellation has ever been applied to a piece of tech (as far as we know) is Transparent’s decidedly non-concrete but still heavyweight Brutalist speaker.

Read on to discover other ways of getting the miracle material into your home technology eco-system.

Loewe Stellar TV

Germany manufacturer Loewe reached for a new audience when they introduced a concrete finish on their Stellar series of television sets. The company developed a wafer-thin concrete finish for the rear panel of the aluminium framed Stellar family, adding another layer of textured, architectural minimalism to the set, available in either 48” or 65” screen sizes.

Keychron K2 HE Concrete Edition

The forthcoming K2 HE from Keychron taps into concrete’s weight and durability to create a satisfyingly tactile desktop device that is going to stay in place, no matter how ferocious your typing style.

Keychron specialises in Bluetooth devices with swappable keys and magnetic switch technology that results in a pleasing clicky keystroke with way more travel and feel than a slimline laptop or Apple Magic Keyboard.

Scaled to 75%, the compact K2 HE won't take up much desk space but can support up to three devices. A backlit black resin edition is also available for a more ostentatious effect.

Due to launch in February 2026. More information at Keychron.com

Celia & Perah M8 speakers and amplifier

Taiwan tech company Celia and Perah offer a full range of audio equipment but it’s their M8 series of concrete-bodied speakers with a matching amplifier that we’re interested in.

Consisting of the M8-AMP stereo receiver, with its support for streaming audio, Bluetooth and traditional wired inputs, and the M8-SPK concrete speakers (each 4.5kg), the system uses the material’s strength and solidity for balance and reduced resonance despite their compact size.

M8 Concrete Hi-Fi System, $1,599.99, Celia-Perah.com

Rok One by Wilmslow Audio

Wilmslow Audio’s Rok One speakers are rare but worth seeking out. Each pair was hand-cast using low-carbon ECO concrete, with imperfections and variations in the surface and colour deliberately encouraged.

Each speaker weighs 9kg, and the solidity of the cabinet improves the sound and reduces the resonance, as per the C&P M8s, despite the concrete bookshelf form factor.

Rok One speakers, £1,980/pair, WilmslowAudio.co.uk

EAT C-Dur Concrete turntable

Stability is the name of the game when it comes to a high-end record player. And what better way of ensuring a rock-solid base than using concrete as a material?

That’s the ethos behind European Audio Team’s C-Dur Concrete Turntable, which weighs in at a mighty 32kg and shouldn’t be troubled by any pesky vibrations. The elegant slab of smooth concrete is paired with an aluminium platter and EAT's own C-Note 10" Carbon-Aluminium Tonearm and a choice of cartridges.

Vertico 3D-Printed speakers

Launched in 2024 and made using Vertico’s own 3D-printed concrete technology, these ‘woven’ speakers were developed in collaboration with Dutch hi-fi specialists Kubuni and are available to order.

The Eindhoven-based company uses the speakers as a showcase for their computer-controlled 3D-printing process, with intricate forms that simply couldn’t be created in another way. Kubuni’s input ensures the electronics are as cutting edge as the forms.

Vertico 3-Printed Concrete Speakers, from €4,500, Vertico.com

S-Clock by Sand Product

It’s not quite concrete, nor is it audio, but the S-Clock by the Nishio City-based SR Services is part of a series of interiors products made from cast black sand. The company debuted its products at Designart Tokyo in 2024 and has since expanded to vases, mirrors, tables and trays.

Shaped by Tokyo studio Pulse Design Unit, the products are formed from sand that’s usually wasted in the iron-casting process, getting its colour from a mix of graphite and carbon. Resin and waste black sand are formed into the new products.

S-Clock 300, ¥30,800, SandProduct.com

What is perhaps less well-known is their passion for Christmas cards, of which Alison created new versions every year, often offering sneak peeks into the pair's ongoing designs.

The rich collection of season's greetings remains with the family to this day and, just in time for the holidays, is the subject of a new show, now on view at the Roca London Gallery. Titled 'Come Deck the Halls!', the display invites visitors to be immersed in the Smithsons' Christmas spirit — and architectural ideas.

The exhibition was organised by the couple's daughter, Soraya Smithson, and Ana Abalos Ramos, an academic whose PhD centred around the Smithsons’ work, including the Christmas cards project.

The organisers explain the thinking behind the architects' approach: 'In each of their projects, [the Smithsons] advocated for an architecture that finds fulfilment in the presence of users and their activities. In their vision, occupation not only gives meaning to architectural spaces but can also be regarded as an art form in itself: the art of inhabitation.'

Alison crafted cards every year, a tradition now maintained by Soraya, who has also made her own cards since childhood. The architect had planned an exhibition of the cards in relation to her ideas on inhabitation in 1981, but it was never carried out.

'Showing these cards offers a really interesting aspect of understanding my mother and also in a way both [parents'] practices because everything was very intertwined,' says Soraya. 'And even though there was a door separation, there wasn't really a blank line between what happened in the office and what happened at home. My mother would be sitting on the sofa in the evening after dinner, watching television and doing the cutting out. We [the children] always made our own cards as well. I've got cards going back to when I was eight.'

The Smithsons' varied output had a broad spectrum, as they viewed architecture as beyond the physical form of a building, and the cards, while a functional object which was sent to friends and relatives during the festive season, tapped into their wider research.

Which is why the cards often reflected current fascinations of the time they were created. Soraya explains: 'There are early ones she really liked doing of lino prints and cuts. Then, in later ones, there is a whole sort of series to do with lattices, which had echoes of the buildings they did build, and furniture designs. And there is a period where there are lots that are more of the stand-up, almost diarama kind.'

'Alison Smithson chose Christmas as the vehicle for exploring what she saw as an urgent need to renew the sense of collective responsibility for the look and use of places,' Abalos Ramos says. 'The exhibitions were a way of disseminating the couple’s ideas to a broader audience.'

'I therefore decided to bring their exhibition back to life, both in their honour and as a way of continuing their work,' Abalos Ramos adds.

'COME DECK THE HALLS! Alison Smithson: Intertwining Life and Art' is on show at Roca London Gallery from 5 December 2025 - 31 January 2026

The Swiss British architect, who delivered an astonishing 600-plus structures across the UK capital throughout the 1960s and 70s, including Centre Point, The NatWest Tower and Space House just off Holborn’s Kingsway, is credited both as being the man who brought the high-rise office block to the UK and the designer who has shaped the London skyline more than any other.

Welcome to Richard Seifert's London

But ubiquity and popularity don’t always go hand in hand. No stranger to criticism, Seifert was reviled by many throughout his career thanks to his uncompromising style – urban, modern and bombastically brutalist. He even managed to get on the wrong side of Princess Margaret, who expressed her dislike for his Royal Garden Hotel overlooking her garden at Kensington Palace.

Now, over 60 years on and in the wake of a growing commitment to preserving mid-century modernist architecture, the tide is turning, and a resurgence is afoot. In the words of developer Martyn Evans, London is whispering Richard Seifert’s name. 'His buildings are having their moment,' says the creative director of Landsec. 'It feels like a rediscovery, a quiet celebration. This isn’t nostalgia. This is affirmation. Richard Seifert’s buildings weren’t fleeting gestures or fashionable curiosities. They were designed to last and to matter.'

Indeed, they have, as demonstrated by a recent spate of sensitive and environmentally conscious restorations. These are projects that have proven Seifert’s original, pared-back designs, no matter how disparaged they were at the time or since for their aesthetics, lend themselves remarkably well to modern, sustainable architecture conversions.

The most recent of these was the redevelopment of Space House, the former Civil Aviation Authority HQ building in Covent Garden, where it has stood since 1968. In a bold departure from the lure of the new, 90% of the original structure – a distinctive 17-storey cylindrical tower linked to a rectangular block by an enclosed bridge – has been retained for a fresh generation of office occupiers.

Reopened at the end of last year, the Grade 11-listed building has been praised by Historic England as ‘one of the most important redevelopment projects of our time’ given the unwavering commitment from developer Seaforth Land, architects Squire & Partners and environmental engineers Atelier 10 to not only breathe new life back into the structure, but to ensure it has the sustainability credentials to guarantee ongoing longevity.

Given that adding external insulation was 'impossible without altering the building’s historic character,' says Tim Gledstone, partner at Squire & Partners, efforts were focused on replacing windows with high-performance glazing using 3D scanning and installing micro-chilled beams for heating and cooling. The result? A revitalised structure dating back to the late 1960s, underpinned by a coveted BREEAM Outstanding Certification.

This is not a one-off occurrence. The Typewriter on Borough High Street, originally designed by Seifert and Wilem Fischman in the 1950s and since reimagined by developers W.RE and Cowie Montgomery Architects, was completed in 2023 as part of a low-carbon refurbishment.

The Acre, built on Covent Garden’s Long Acre in the 1970s and reopened last year, has been transformed by global design practice Gensler into a modern, sustainable workplace, saving around 4,200 tonnes of carbon and retaining 80% of the original structure.

Metropolis, the former Woolworths headquarters on Marylebone Road, first commissioned in 1955, is being reimagined as 'the most sustainable building that has already been built' by architects AHMM, set to operate on 100% renewable energy when it opens later this year.

There can be little question that this widespread pursuit of ambitious sustainability credentials is future-proofing Seifert’s legacy. Yet, when it comes to the growing popularity of his works, there is also much to be said for the power of provenance. History, original features, a story – that all holds value, and it does so now more than ever, in a city where modern, glass commercial buildings prevail.

In the words of Tyler Goodwin, founder and CEO of Seaforth Land and the developer behind Space House, people are prepared to pay a premium for something different when 'one office is the same as the next, as the next as the next.'

As for Richard Seifert, his architecture had long been dismissed as being ‘of its time’, says LandSec U+I’s Evans. The reality, in his opinion at least, is rather different. 'Time hasn’t washed those buildings away,' he says. 'It has just revealed their strength. They aren’t relics. They’ve proved to be adaptable, enduring and capable of new life with new purpose.'

To ensure you don’t miss a thing – and to showcase the scope of residential architecture today – we’ve launched a monthly series: The Architecture Edit. Each instalment will highlight our favourite houses of the month: buildings that demonstrate creative planning, innovative methods and, of course, aesthetic excellence.

A terraced home transformation

Architects Edward Williams and Laura Carrara-Cagni of Cagni Williams Associates reimagined this Edwardian terraced house in south London as a sustainable, light-filled home. A striking new ‘gallery’ extension – clad in Corten steel and glass – replaces the old conservatory and brings a sculptural modernity to the rear façade. The rest of design balances bold forms with natural warmth, linking home and garden through large pivoting doors and oak-lined interiors. From the outset, sustainability guided the project, which features an air-source heat pump and underfloor heating.

A Malibu beach pad

Interior designer Pamela Shamshiri has transformed a 1990s Malibu beachfront compound for producer Jana Bezdek, fusing Hollywood glamour with Brazilian modernism. Inspired by Lina Bo Bardi and James Bond, the main house features a sculptural De Sede sofa, white terrazzo floors and a curved timber bar, all cast in an elegant taupe-to-caramel palette. Elsewhere, a crimson screening room exudes California luxury, and mirrored walls ensure ocean views from the bedroom and office. Outside, lush landscaping and tiered terraces further blur the boundary between indoor and out.

An Arizona compound

Prompted by a zoning law change that sanctioned attached secondary units, architect Benjamin Hall converted this suburban Phoenix house into a multigenerational desert compound. Using cost-efficient concrete masonry units (CMU), he designed a 1,700 sq ft addition that harmonises with the desert landscape both aesthetically and environmentally – thick, insulated walls, concrete floors and maple cabinetry create a minimalist yet welcoming interior, while sliding doors open onto a courtyard planted with native flora and framed by mountain views.

A Canadian modernist gem

Perched on Bowen Island near Vancouver, Morse House (1983) by Dick Mann of Thompson Berwick Pratt epitomises West Coast modernism. Crafted from cedar, fir, stone and glass, the 21,526 sq ft residence immerses its occupants in forest and ocean panoramas. A cedar staircase descends to a glazed façade surrounded by gardens and waterfalls, leading to an atrium centred around a 50ft pool and a soaring great hall. With its guesthouse, gym and private dock, this handcrafted home achieves a rare equilibrium between architecture and nature.

An eco-brutalist sanctuary

On the outskirts of Hyderabad, Antriya by 23 Degrees Design Shift redefines brutalism as lush, livable and sustainable. Constructed from local Khammam sandstone and Markapuram slate, and softened with reclaimed teak and abundant greenery, the 14,500 sq ft residence accommodates three generations of one family. Cascading plants and lily pad-filled ponds blur boundaries between architecture and nature while passively regulating the tropical climate. Concealed behind boundary walls, the home seems to emerge from the undergrowth as you approach – a tactile, nature-infused reimagining of brutalism.

A Canadian cabin 

In Ontario’s wooded hills, AKB Architects’ Timbertop is a minimalist four-bedroom retreat designed for family gatherings and outdoor adventure. The single-storey, barn-inspired home marries rural simplicity with modern refinement. Clad in crisp white to contrast with the surrounding evergreens, the home withstands heavy snow and wind while maintaining warmth and intimacy under its pitched gabled roof. Open-plan living, kitchen and library spaces create a cosy refuge amid the winter landscape.

A rainforest retreat

Set deep in the Costa Rican jungle, Studio House by Dagmar Štěpánová of Formafatal appears to float above a slope on concrete and Corten steel supports, minimising impact on the terrain. Designed as Štěpánová’s personal residence, the 125 sq m structure consists of open terraces, raw concrete interiors and a glazing-free ocean-facing window which immerses the home in the sounds and textures of the forest. Two simple bedrooms and an infinity pool continue the elemental aesthetic, while the rooftop and east terraces offer uninterrupted views of the Pacific.

A brick and concrete home

In Ahmedabad, architect Vaissnavi Shukl’s Teen Vaults reinterprets brick-and-concrete construction. Originally conceived as a weekend retreat, it evolved into a full-time family residence organised around three vaulted volumes – one for for dining, one for living, and one for reading. Exposed brick walls, terrazzo floors and teak furniture evoke a grounded simplicity, while a folded concrete staircase with a wooden-bead railing adds sculptural elegance. A central courtyard surrounded by mango and frangipani trees serves as the home’s spiritual heart.

The Zone 5 regulations stipulated elements of the design like the distance between boundary and structure, as well as capping built square metres to a percentage of the plot area. Other strictures determined the environmental credentials of the house, governing the amount of plot given over to permeable surfaces, for example, as well as the number of solar panels required and insulation rating.

‘In terms of the proposed architecture, we had quite a lot of freedom,’ says the practice’s Hiéronyme Lacroix, ‘I would say that it was not complicated to propose this type of architecture for the permission.’ The neo-brutalism of the exterior, with the visible vertical shuttering marks, is paired with polished concrete floors and exposed concrete interior walls. Stone edging adds another material dimension.

‘The combination of raw concrete construction and interior insulation was unbeatable,’ Lacroix continues, adding that the key constraint was economic. The house is designed in such a way that the walls were all poured as solid elements with no holes for windows. Instead, floor-to-ceiling gaps for doors and windows were created in between the concrete structure.

In addition, the house features many step backs and angled elements on the ground floor level, what the architects describe as the ‘fragmentation of the cascading volumes.’ This has the effect of making the living spaces feel much larger than they are, with views long axial views contrasted with the diagonal views between angled walls, niches and full-length windows. Care was taken to avoid large spans – and therefore costly structure – without compromising the sense of openness.

On the ground floor, the entrance hall, kitchen, dining room, and living room form a flowing sequence, with more private areas like a study and bathroom tucked away in the idiosyncratic floorplan. The ground floor also houses a self-contained one-bedroom flat for an older relative, and the house sits above the traditional Swiss basement, here used for storage and as a media and games room.

Upstairs, there’s a large principal bedroom with dressing area and top-lit ensuite, as well as two smaller bedrooms with a separate bathroom, also lit from above. The floor-to-ceiling fenestration also continues here, albeit with deliberately different alignments to the windows on the ground floor. The brutalism of the exterior also serves to distinguish the new villa within its eclectic, leafy suburb.

‘Our aim is to create quality architecture that is both contemporary and timeless,’ the architects write. Established in 2005 by Hiéronyme Lacroix and Simon Chessex, along with partners Grégoire Martin and Ludovic Durand, the award-winning office is based in Geneva.

‘Each commission is approached as a new avenue of exploration, without preconceived ideas, formal a priori, or advance knowledge of the final result,’ they continue, ‘Each project begins again at zero, forcing us to constantly challenge ourselves… In today’s globalized and generic world, we strive to create buildings specific to each site and its uses. Our structures must be able to elevate and enhance every one of these always unique situations.’

LacroixChessex.ch, @LacroixChessex

Designed by 23 Degrees Design Shift, Antriya is the dream home of two brothers who envisioned a retreat to be shared across three generations of their family. Spanning 14,500 sq ft, the building is constructed from locally sourced Khammam brown sandstone and Markapuram slate, and, indoors, reclaimed teak and grey lime plaster. These choices subtly soften the harshness associated with brutalism, leaning into a more tactile, natural aesthetic.

Inside, the home is visually and physically open. Expansive living areas boast soaring 15ft ceilings, while coconut trees and curtain creepers break down the building’s scale. Greenery planted on the overhang slab is visible through clerestory windows, reinforcing the sense of living within the landscape. The flexible configurations and profusion of greenery continually blur the boundary between indoors and out – Antriya is all light, air, earth and sky.

The integration of greenery is not merely aesthetic – it’s also functional. In Hyderabad’s humid climate, passive cooling is essential. The home uses natural airflow, cantilevered overhangs and and expansive lawns to mitigate heat.

Among the many standout features is a sculptural staircase that serves as the backdrop to a semi-open lounge. Nearby, a verandah – the social heart of the home – can be opened or enclosed with sliding glass panels. The pool, meanwhile, is a sequestered sanctuary with vines hanging from the ceiling.

A lily pad-covered water body encircles the home, making it feel as though it is floating (the feature also serves the practical purpose of keeping wildlife out). This effect lends another layer of contrast between the manmade and the natural, and is repeated throughout Antriya’s design: from the elevated walkway that leads to the main entrance to the thickly planted landscape by Kiasma Studio that shrouds the house, making it seem to emerge from the undergrowth like a brutalist treehouse. On approach, vision-blocking boundary walls preserve the drama of the reveal, keeping the house hidden until the last possible moment.

In many ways, Antriya redefines what the brutalist style can be: not cold and detached, but alive, responsive and connected. This is a multi-layered family home primed for connection, but it is also a carefully choreographed architectural experience.

Tour this brutalist supermarket in Spain

Voramar is a fully functioning supermarket, with an extensive wine cellar, a takeaway section and an array of produce. Yet, Minimal Studio’s project – named Plastic Box – goes beyond conventional retail design, transforming the supermarket into a site of architectural exploration. Let’s step inside.

The supermarket is encased in a monolithic concrete shell, exuding material austerity. Sculptural counters, steel shelving and polished floors all echo brutalist architecture’s language, while overhead, a modular ceiling composed of more than a thousand plastic crates gives an industrial edge, while also filtering light to cast shifting geometric shadows throughout the day. The contrast between the unadorned façade, which is marked by dark portal entrances, and the brightly illuminated interior captures the quintessential sensory experience of entering a supermarket.

Plastic Box is more than an exercise in aesthetics; it serves as a critique of consumer culture, symbolised by the oppressive presence of the stacked crates. The use of brutalist aesthetics – which emerged in the midcentury and reflected the modern construction techniques that enabled mass housing, later resented for its perceived soullessness – also resonates with the commentary.

Brutalism is often criticised for its not-exactly-sustainable properties (due largely to its historic use of concrete, hence the emergence of movements like eco-brutalism). Plastic Box challenges that legacy and embraces a circular approach: the plastic crates are recycled and integrate ventilation and rainwater collection systems, and all elements are repurposed from industrial contexts.

Minimal Studio’s supermarket not only reinvents the urban commercial space – offering a true immersion for brutalism enthusiasts – but also asks us to interrogate it.

Flick through the pages of 'Brutalist Berlin'

As the original city of rain-streaked romance and all forms of subversion, Berlin is struck through with sentimental, overpowering architectural gloom. Its plethora of post-war Brutalism either helps or hinders this image, depending on your stance on this most divisive of all building materials. Naturally, author, photographer and architectural historian Felix Torkar is on the side of the aggregate angels.

Brutalist Berlin is both guidebook and history lesson, an expanded version of Torkar’s Brutalist Berlin map (2021). It’s part of a series that has allowed Blue Crow to effectively corner the market in charting and mapping the world’s dwindling stock of Brutalist masterpieces, from Paris, Boston, Montreal and London. The new book on Berlin follows on from Brutalist Interiors and is part of the publisher’s pivot to monographs as well as maps.

Some key buildings from Brutalist Berlin

Flick through the pages of 'Brutal Scotland'

Throughout all these tomes, Phipps has turned his often unsparing lens on the architectural heavyweights of the 1950s, 60s and 70s, finding raw beauty in their monumentality, as well as social optimism, progressive politics and the vanishing art of the abstract and obtuse in public life.

In his latest book, published by Duckworth Press, Phipps has turned his attention to Scotland’s rich and often maligned trove of Brutalist structures, or should we say, the ones that have survived demolition. In all, there are over 160 buildings in the new book, from well-known structures in Glasgow, Edinburgh and Aberdeen to the more obscure and overlooked, from megastructures to modest community centres.

Some of these buildings are visibly neglected, others have been repurposed and a happy few are protected and cherished. Not all will survive, although buildings like Gillespie, Kidd & Coia’s St Peter’s Seminary near Cardross (1959–66) look set to remain as slowly decaying ruins. Overall, Phipps’s work performs a vital service, giving an overlooked architectural style a much-needed boost – some of them have never looked so good.

Brutal Scotland, Simon Phipps, £30, DuckworthBooks.co.uk

Tour this mysterious Tokyo home

‘True to the title, the initial inspiration was to create an urban hideaway where one can relax discreetly,’ says Satoshi Kurosaki, founder of Apollo Architects. ‘To ensure comfortable living amid [a busy lifestyle], the client requested an infinity pool and terrace adjoining the family living area; and an eight-car-sized built-in car lounge. However, the design had to conceal these features from the exterior at first glance.’

To respond to the wishlist, the closed-off façade prioritises security and privacy, while the interior opens up to reveal an urban villa with expansive views.

Challenges included overcoming ‘stringent urban regulations such as height restrictions’, and the size of that garage. ‘To accommodate eight parking spaces,’ says Kurosaki, ‘we created an unusually large garage by installing only the minimum-diameter steel bars [as structural supports] – a feat typically difficult to accomplish.’

Upon entering the property, visitors are greeted by the generous garage, showcasing the client’s impressive car collection. An open-tread staircase beyond the double-height entrance hall provides access to the upper and lower floors.

In the basement, there is a gym, a golf room and space for karaoke, all of which are filled with natural light from a sunken courtyard. The second floor of the residence hosts private bedrooms. The primary suite connects to a walk-in wardrobe and a family bathroom. From the study, a glass wall offers a view down into the entrance hall.

Kurosaki says: ‘The visitor's anticipation begins in the double-height entrance hall and the car museum-like garage.’ There follows the soothing space of the private rooms and bathrooms on the second floor, and then, ‘the top floor offers an exciting escape from the ordinary – a resort hotel-like space with a spacious terrace and pool. Here, I hope they can savour the feeling of a hideaway or retreat.’

The louvres positioned at the top of a double-height space are the architect's favourite feature. He says: ‘[They cast] beautiful patterns of light and shadow onto the north wall, [taking] changing forms throughout the day.

'The shadows and light that emerge depending on the weather lend the architecture diverse expressions while also imparting a sense of wonder to its inhabitants, as if the building itself were breathing like a living creature.'

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Tour this brutalist mosque in Kerala, India

Common Ground’s Masjid an-Noorayn, pared back to the elemental, is shaped from just one material: exposed concrete. With the austere gravitas of brutalist architecture and the contemplative simplicity of the Zen philosophy that first inspired Ando, it is configured with deliberate restraint into a low-lying silhouette, contrasting its tropical context. In stripping away the symbols, ornamentation, and forms that have come to typify Islamic architecture over the centuries (such as domes, arches, geometric motifs, crescents, and stars), the rectilinear planes evoke a return to its earliest origins, defined by simple forms and orientation alone.

A counterbalance to the mosque’s stark geometry is a cylindrical minaret and an entryway drawn out through a concave gesture above a pivoting door. This threshold leads worshippers from brightness into dark and heightens the sensorial shift of arrival into the meditative space within.

Inside, without the use of formal windows, the architects’ experimental explorations introduce light in various ways as a symbol of spirituality: a linear skylight follows the curve of an inverted arch and funnels light down across the walls; the minaret doubles as a lightwell; and a narrow incision between the building’s base and the ground invites a faint glow to seep into the prayer hall. A skylight is also positioned above a central mimbar, the pulpit at which the imam delivers his sermons, forming a symbolic link between the earthly and the divine, while softening and purifying the weight of the concrete and its rough textures.

Designing a community mosque today also inevitably carries cultural weight, and notably, Masjid an-Noorayn was conceived by a team of architects consisting of Muslim women. It was led by Common Ground’s founder, Simi Sreedharan, who, from the outset, ensured that women would have equal access to the space as men. The women’s prayer hall is thus given equal presence from the entrance, and nearby, Sreedharan has also integrated a community space that remains open outside of prayer hours, emphasising the mosque as a civic anchor in the community.

To ensure you don’t miss a thing – and to showcase the scope of residential architecture today – we’ve launched a new monthly series: The Architecture Edit. Each instalment will highlight our favourite houses of the month: buildings that demonstrate creative planning, innovative methods and, of course, aesthetic excellence.

A pink desert house in Mexico

Casa Cardona, designed by Sensacional Dinamica Mexicana, stands out in the arid landscape of San Luis Potosí, Mexico, with its pink façade. Architect Sergio Padilla Contreras drew inspiration from the shades of the desert, but the home's vibrant exterior – which evokes the hues of prickly pear cactus fruit – is more than aesthetic: it reflects light and shadow throughout the day, echoing the natural shifts of its environment. Casa Cardona embraces the architectural principle of ‘mass over void’, forming a protective, introspective shell that prioritises interior experiences of silence, light and shadow. Strategically placed openings allow sunlight to filter across the interiors, while a tree, integrated into the living space, completes the sensory ambience with texture and scent.

A coastal Kent cabin

Nina Tolstrup and Jack Mama of Studiomama transformed a modest chalet on the Kent coast into a warm retreat for their friends, chefs Sam and Sam Clark of London restaurant Moro. The 33 sq m cabin makes the ever-changing sea view its focal point – the coastal light enters through a north-facing picture window framing the water, a glazed rear door, and skylights. Wrapped entirely in thermally-treated pine, the interior feels simultaneously minimal and inviting. Every detail has been meticulously designed for functionality and harmony, from bunk seating and under-bed storage to a built-in, curved kitchen that recedes into the timber walls. The result is a calming space that feels much larger than its footprint.

A floating modernist villa

Villa Kogelhof, designed by Dutch architect Paul de Ruiter, is a striking modernist residence in Kamperland, the Netherlands. It may sound counterintuitive given its concrete, glass and steel construction, but Villa Kogelhof was designed to blend seamlessly with the landscape and sky. Suspended on two concrete supports, the villa appears to float above a 25-hectare nature reserve. This land was once farmland, but has been rewilded as part of a national ecological initiative (permission to build on the site was only granted if it was restored to its pre-agricultural state). Featuring floor-to-ceiling glazing offering sweeping views of the flat Dutch scenery and North Sea, Villa Kogelhof’s minimalism is both dramatic and non-intrusive.

A midcentury bungalow

Osler House is a midcentury Vancouver bungalow originally designed by Canadian architect Ron Thom in 1951. It was renovated by Scott & Scott Architects in 2024, a project which aimed to preserve its original spirit while updating it for contemporary living. This was done with a full frame-up rebuild, along with the addition of a terrace, swimming pool and pool house. That said, much of the internal layout was retained, with only the 1982 staircase reconfigured. A concrete brick hearth provides privacy from the street, while cedar decking and Douglas fir interiors reflect both the home’s location and its midcentury roots. In fact, Scott & Scott was inspired by archival images of the home and used local wood construction techniques to echo Thom’s original design approach.

Donald Wexler’s Palm Springs home

The Wexler House, designed in 1954 by renowned Palm Springs modernist Donald Wexler, was both a family home and a design laboratory. Originally built for the architect and his wife Marilynn, the post-and-beam structure explored architectural concepts that would later influence his steel-framed prefabs. Despite its architectural pedigree, the home eventually fell into disrepair – until Daniel Patrick Giles, a fashion and fragrance entrepreneur, bought and restored it in 2007. Working with Wexler (before his 2015 passing) and architect Lance O’Donnell, Giles led a meticulous restoration. Although he sold the house in 2015, he bought it back six years later, and continued his project.

The last Alvar Aalto building in France

Technically, Maison Louis Carré, Finnish architect Alvar Aalto’s only remaining building in France, is now a museum, having been recently restored and reopened in this capacity. But it used to be the home of French art dealer Louis Carré, who commissioned it in the 1950s. It was completed in 1957, overseen by Aalto’s wife, Elissa, and local architect Marcel Roux. Located in Bazoches-sur-Guyonne, about 40km from Paris, the home was designed as both a private residence and a space to exhibit Carré’s art collection, and exemplifies Aalto’s holistic design approach, which integrates architecture, furniture and landscape.

A home of Indian modernism

The Kanade brothers – Shankar and Navnath – crafted a quiet but powerful legacy of modernist architecture in India, rooted in material honesty, contextual design and social consciousness. Their shared home in the village of Nagaj is an embodiment of these values. Designed by Navnath, the house is built from local laterite stone, with minimal finishes and clever spatial sequencing. It is a modernist structure that is deeply Gandhian in ethos – simple, with exposed materials and minimal ornamentation. Navnath, who passed away in 2024, believed air and people should move freely through space. The home reflects this, with fluid transitions between areas and human-scaled courtyards.

In 2022, architects Allies & Morrison, along with Asif Khan Studio, were appointed to lead the rejuvenation’s overall design, working with environmental engineers Buro Happold. For the Barbican Conservatory, however – an oasis of leafy, tropical planting in the heart of the City – Allies & Morrison enlisted the help of Harris Bugg Studio, an award-winning landscape design practice of growing renown. With the design team’s plans for the conservatory now being submitted for planning, we spoke with Harris Bugg Studio co-founder Charlotte Harris about the esteemed yet challenging task of revamping such a beloved indoor landscape.

Harris Bugg Studio on the Barbican, urban green and creative disagreement

‘It’s the dream project,’ says Harris, with palpable excitement. ‘It’s the monumentality and the cinematic nature of the space; the scale of the building, its proportion, and the drama. This is a vital green space in the City of London, and that’s what we’re passionate about.'

Having ‘professionally dated’ for a few years, as she puts it, assisting each other on numerous landscape projects, designers Charlotte Harris and Hugo Bugg formally partnered in 2017, and have since made a name as a progressive, environment-led practice, working on prestigious spaces including RHS Garden Bridgewater and Gothenburg Botanic Garden, and winning multiple Chelsea Flower Show ‘gold’ awards.

Their 2023 Chelsea show garden, designed for spinal injury charity Horatio’s Garden – later relocated permanently to the Princess Royal Spinal Cord Injuries Centre in Sheffield – won that year’s ‘Best in Show’ (see the Instagram post, above). In many ways, it distils the ethos of their joint practice: site-specific storytelling, prioritised accessibility, immersive planting, reclaimed materials and authentic craftsmanship. 'We spent nine months having conversations with patients and nursing staff before we started designing the garden,' Harris says. 'We thought a lot about how you bring elements of Sheffield into quite a challenging NHS setting where people are there dealing with an often sudden, life-changing injury.'

During the design process, Harris and Bugg were walking in the nearby Peak District and were inspired by cairns of stone in the landscape. 'They felt like such a metaphor for Horatio’s Garden, as markers of an unclear path – the suggestion that someone has been here before and a path, though unclear, has guidance.'

The studio subsequently engaged a pair of local, fifth-generation dry-stone wallers, who crafted beautiful, stylised stone cairns for the garden. In addition, Harris and Bugg conceived permeable terrazzo pathways designed to be wholly smooth for wheelchair users, constructed with cement-free concrete, recycled brick and waste materials in an effort to reduce carbon footprint. The planting, meanwhile, is both lush and tranquil, comprising airy birch and maple trees, sulphurous euphorbias and the soothing blues and mauves of iris, thalictrum and ‘mutabilis’ roses.

The studio’s many other projects – which include residential, botanical and commercial commissions, as well as work for charity-based clients – similarly demonstrate the highly considered, environmentally conscious principles that brought Harris and Bugg together. 'We have a very warm, close relationship despite coming from very different backgrounds,' Harris reflects of the joining of their two practices: 'He lives and grew up in rural Devon; I live in urban Stratford, east London, but we share values around respectful dialogue with the land and the balancing of beauty with accountability, questioning extractive process, questioning which materials can be reused from a site and how.'

Creative disagreement is also a fundamental to their studio ethos, Harris explains. 'We feel comfortable giving upfront feedback to one another, and that’s a really rich, enjoyable, creative experience. Differences of opinion allow questioning, and it’s in the rigour of that that I think the work becomes much higher quality.' With their team now grown to 15, Harris Bugg is split across three offices in London, Devon, and Scotland.

Working on the exciting redevelopment of the Barbican’s Conservatory, Harris Bugg Studio has the opportunity to exercise each of these principles. 'It’s a really specialist space: it’s not a botanic garden but a much-loved, eco-brutalist green space in the city, and its dialogue with the architecture is essential,' says Harris. 'Working with the conservatory’s head gardener, Marta Lowcewicz, has been crucial to the process; she is the lynchpin of the garden and her knowledge of it is unparalleled.'

Early in the design process, the studio assembled a team of consulting experts, including botanical consultant Phil Griffiths (who has worked on glasshouse projects at Kew Gardens and London’s Sky Garden), Christopher Young (Garden Manager at RHS Wisley) and Matt Pottage, who is head of horticulture and landscape strategy at the Royal Parks. 'We also worked with modernist landscape historian Karen Fitzsimon and project heritage consultants Alan Baxter Associated, as the original conservatory planting archives are limited. We wanted to be thorough and rigorous in thinking about how the new planting will be grounded in the dialogue with the conservatory’s brutalist architecture.'

In addition to consultations with architectural heritage bodies, including The Twentieth Century Society, the Design Council and English Heritage, Harris also talks of visiting and taking inspiration from the brutalist glasshouse at Denver Botanic Gardens in Colorado, and the tropical planting at Great Dixter in East Sussex. 'It’s about celebrating big textures, bold contrasts and something that is cinematic, theatrical and epic.'

Naturally, after four and a half decades, there are significant issues of deterioration to address within the site. 'It’s a huge piece of work for the whole team,' Harris explains. 'It’s a listed building, so Allies & Morrison and Buro Happold are taking exceptional care in how they ensure the new glazing, heating and ventilation systems are designed to both preserve the iconic building’s original architectural vision and be fit for purpose. In terms of our work on the planting design, we’re creating two different spaces for dry and tropical planting typologies, and really turning up the dial of those eco-brutalist principles: how the landscape frames and enhances the architecture and vice versa.'

Harris describes how some of the original plants – large weeping figs and monsteras – have rooted into the building’s flytower structure itself, making some of the walkways hazardous and impassable. Furthermore, she tells me, the conservatory has historically served as an event space as well as a place for plants, with the shared temperature and climate controls compromising both. 'Allies & Morrison have designed a contained events area within the conservatory, thermally suited for people to feel comfortable, meaning that the climatic settings for the [rest of the] conservatory will be focused on horticultural requirements.'

The studio’s ethos of reuse will also come into play. Having conducted a survey of the condition, size and health of the existing plants, they’ve assessed which might be reused or propagated from. Working with Allies & Morrison, the hope is that the conservatory’s brown floor tiles – many of which are cracked and broken and which must be lifted during the works – will be crushed for reuse as a planting medium for the arid, sand-loving plants, referencing the building’s history. 'As much as anything else, our work is about storytelling, so when we design, we try to speak to the history and the humanity of a place: design is about custodianship, and as a practice, we’re committed to how we strive to be better custodians.'

Perhaps one of the most exciting dimensions of the revitalisation of the conservatory is in continuing its legacy as a cultural space. When it reopens, it will welcome visitors for much more of the week, and, previously considered only 30 per cent accessible, it will become somewhere for everyone to enjoy. 'What’s particularly special about the conservatory is that it is a green space and a bridge to plants in the heart of the City of London. Many are recognisable houseplants; for those without a garden but with much-loved indoor plants, it represents the home for houseplants in London.'

Asked how she feels about undertaking a project of such prestige, Harris takes a measured view: 'We feel a huge responsibility to get it right, and committing to do our absolute best – in the rigour, respect and the care around it – is what’s at the heart of a project like this.'

Pending planning approval, the Barbican Conservatory will be closed for reconstruction in 2027

African brutalism: the origins

The movement’s global heyday, from the 1960s to the 1980s, coincided with the independence of many African nations, as they sought to articulate new national identities. Brutalism’s bold experimentation resonated with the optimism of state-building, while its monumental scale conveyed authority and permanence. It seemed a perfect fit for newly independent nations that required educational, financial and healthcare infrastructure, as well as spaces to celebrate culture, history and local heroes.

The history of African Brutalism

This appeal attracted both local architects and planners, some of whom had been educated abroad, and foreign practitioners commissioned by post-colonial governments. The result was a multifaceted body of brutalist architecture, as diverse as the countries in which it was built. The movement’s freedom and experimental character manifested in contextual adaptations such as the use of brise-soleils for shade, thoughtful building orientations and semi-open structures employing ventilation strategies suited to local climates. In some cases, forms and decorative elements drew inspiration from cultural references, further enriching the architectural language.

Yet brutalism carried contradictions. In apartheid South Africa, for example, the style was weaponised as a tool of control. In former Portuguese colonies, where independence came late, much of the brutalist legacy remains entangled with colonial rule. The rapid pace of construction often produced colossal structures that consumed vast resources but failed to fulfil their intended functions. Reflecting colonial hierarchies, international architects frequently secured opportunities to design brutalist buildings across Africa, whereas African architects rarely enjoyed similar prospects abroad. More troubling still, many local architects who shaped the distinctive features of African brutalism remain largely unknown.

Today, this eclectic legacy stands at a crossroads. Weathered by neglect, expensive to maintain and often cheaper to demolish than restore, these buildings nonetheless serve as markers of a historic period deserving of study and preservation. Renewed interest and critical re-evaluation could transform these monuments into contemporary assets, securing their place in both global and local architectural discourse. They hold significant potential for adaptive reuse and offer lessons in contextual design that merit documentation and conservation.

The following selection provides only a glimpse of the diverse typologies, ambitions and local conditions that shaped the presence of brutalism in Africa.

Examples and typologies

THE BANK: BOAD, Togo

Where: Lomé, Togo
Architect: DMT Architectes (Guy Durand, Philippe Ménard & Gerald Thibault) & Raphaël Ekoué Hagbonon
Construction: 1978-1980
Status: In use

A cluster of modernist banks dominates Lomé’s downtown, serving as a striking reminder of the country’s pivotal role in shaping the West African financial sector. Among these, the headquarters of the West African Development Bank (BOAD) stands out for its distinctive architectural language. Its design, which is a collection of domed buildings connected by linear elements, draws inspiration from the compounds of the Tatas Tamberma, an indigenous clay architecture found in northern Togo and neighbouring regions, reflecting a broader trend within Togolese modernism to incorporate local cultural references.

Notably, this cultural dialogue is credited to Togolese architect Raphaël Ekué Hagbonon, who collaborated with the French architectural team commissioned for the project. The BOAD building also represents an uncommon commitment by its owners to the structure’s longevity. The bank maintains a dedicated conservation office, an architectural archive and even a stockpile of the German-made tiles that clad its façade, ensuring that repair and maintenance remain possible well into the future.

THE UNIVERSITY: Obafemi Awolowo University (formerly Ife University), Nigeria

Where: Ife-Ife, Nigeria
Architect: Arieh Sharon
Construction: 1963-1980
Status: In use, with plans for restoration

One of the most significant dimensions of post-colonial freedom was the creation of educational infrastructure. Many universities established during this period remain in use today. In Nigeria, especially, higher education expanded rapidly after independence in 1960, with the country boasting five universities by 1962. These campuses became crucial spaces for intellectual debate on post-colonial priorities and identities.

Among the most notable examples is Ife University, now Obafemi Awolowo University, designed by Bauhaus-trained Israeli architect Arieh Sharon. He was later joined by his son, Eldar Sharon, and Nigerian architect Augustine Akhuemokhan Egbor. Constructed in phases over nearly two decades, the campus features an exceptional collection of climate-responsive buildings that embody the hallmarks of modernism: reinforced concrete, flat roofs and stark linear forms.

Today, the campus is recognised as part of the Bauhaus international heritage, with a transdisciplinary team working to ensure its conservation.

THE MULTI-USE COMPLEX: La Pyramide, Ivory Coast

Where: Abidjan, Ivory Coast
Architect: Rinaldo Olivieri
Construction: 1968-1973
Status: Abandoned

Conceived with exuberant optimism, the multipurpose high-rise La Pyramide now stands as an empty monument to some of the unfulfilled ambitions of modernist architecture. Designed by an Italian architect, the building takes the form of a pyramid with a concrete tower rising from its core. It was among the earliest high-rises of its era, incorporating apartments and offices on the upper levels and retail space at its base.

Constructed over five years during the late 1960s and early 1970s, it soon became evident that the design was ill-suited to its intended function. Signs of deterioration appeared before the building had even reached its twentieth year. Yet its allure persists. The skeletal frame of La Pyramide remains one of Africa’s most recognisable modernist landmarks. Although the Ivorian government announced plans to renovate the structure more than a decade ago, these have yet to materialise, leaving the building as a stark reminder of brutalism’s less successful, yet beloved experiments and an uncertain future.

THE HOTEL: Hotel du Lac, Tunisia

Where: Tunis, Tunisia
Architect: Raffaele Contigiani
Construction: 1970-1973
Status: Abandoned

The construction of large-scale luxury hotels in the 1970s reflected the era’s optimism for tourism and commerce, making this one of the most widespread brutalist typologies across many African nations. Among these is the Hôtel du Lac, an inverted pyramid whose top floor extends to nearly twice the length of its ground floor. Its structure combines exposed concrete slabs with a steel framework, a striking expression of the style’s boldness.

Abandoned since 2000, the building’s future remains uncertain. Yet even in its ruinous state, it endures as one of the most recognised brutalist landmarks in Africa. In Tunis, its prominent downtown location makes it a contested icon, while for its late Italian architect, it stands as the only memorable work by which he is remembered.

THE CINEMA: Cinema Studio Namibe, Angola

Where: Moçâmedes
Architect: José Botelho Pereira
Construction: 1973
Status: Abandoned

Across the African continent, cinemas form a fascinating architectural legacy, reflecting their central role in the flourishing pan-African film industry of the 1960s, 1970s and 1980s. In former Portuguese colonies, however, independence came only in the mid-1970s, a fact that shaped the modernist heritage of these nations. Many buildings from this period were still commissioned by the colonial administration, often serving political rather than cultural ambitions.

The Cinema Studio Namibe, resembling a vast concrete saucer, exemplifies this trend. Conceived as part of the Portuguese regime’s effort to use cinemas as propaganda tools, its construction began in 1973. Work progressed to the completion of a semi-enclosed dome designed for natural ventilation and filtered sunlight, enclosing a main theatre planned to accommodate around 400 people. However, construction came to an abrupt halt following Angolan independence in 1975.

Today, the unfinished structure remains an eccentric landmark, a reminder of how political upheaval can shape and interrupt architectural visions.

THE MONUMENT: Cinema Roundabout, Burkina Faso

Where: Ouagadougou
Architect: Ali Fao & Ignace Sawadogo
Construction: 1986-1987
Status: intact

The brutalist design language and liberal use of concrete are also evident in numerous monuments across the African continent, commemorating different facets of post-independence nation-building. One of the most distinctive and enduring examples is the Place des Cinéastes (Filmmakers’ Square) in Ouagadougou. Standing just over 12m tall, it offers a strikingly literal tribute to the pan-African filmmakers celebrated at FESPACO, Burkina Faso’s long-running film festival, which was a cornerstone of Thomas Sankara’s efforts to strengthen Burkina Faso’s decolonisation efforts.

The design evokes a stack of camera lenses and film reels, which were the essential tools of the craft at the time, and emerged from a public competition won by architect Ali Fao and city planner Ignace Sawadogo.

THE INSTITUTIONAL BUILDING: Kenyatta International Conference Centre, Kenya

Where: Nairobi
Architect: Karl Henrik Nøstvik and David Mutiso
Construction: 1967-1973
Status: partially in use

Still in active use today, the Kenyatta International Conference Centre (KICC) was commissioned by its namesake, Mzee Jomo Kenyatta, Kenya’s first president after independence. Designed by Norwegian architect Karl Henrik Nøstvik in collaboration with Kenyan architect David Mutiso, the complex is organised around a cylindrical 32-storey tower. Beside it stands an amphitheatre crowned with a conical roof, a gesture that references traditional rural forms. Inside, a retro-futuristic assembly hall unfolds, characterised by an intricate interplay of angular lines and expansive spaces.

Since its inauguration in 1973, the KICC has remained a central venue for political and cultural life, hosting numerous historically significant symposia, conferences and congresses and thus realising its founding vision as an architecture capable of accommodating the ambitions of a newly independent nation. In 2026, it is scheduled to host Africa’s first architectural biennale, a milestone that will further cement its place in the continent’s architectural history.

THE MUSEUM: National Museum of Ethiopia, Ethiopia

Where: Addis Ababa
Architect: Gashaw Beza Tesfamichel
Construction: 1978-1981

As Ethiopia was famously never colonised, brutalism in this context appears more closely linked to the nation’s socialist orientation and the architectural language that often accompanied it. Architect Gasha Beza Tesfamichel, who designed the National Museum, is believed to have studied in former Yugoslavia, where he likely encountered brutalist influences that informed his work in Addis Ababa.

The museum exemplifies the brutalist vocabulary through its use of unvarnished concrete and straightforward, rectilinear forms. This severity is softened by a vibrant mural by the late Ethiopian artist Afewerk Tekle, depicting some of the museum’s most celebrated artefacts. Positioned above the main entrance, the mural spans the two upper storeys, introducing a vivid cultural narrative to the otherwise austere façade.

Although relatively unassuming and easily overlooked, the museum remains a significant example of how architecture can reflect a nation’s political trajectory and aspirations.

Discussing 'Brutalist Interiors' with Derek Lamberton

W*: What inspired you to create this book?

Derek Lamberton: Brutalist Interiors follows a decade of publishing brutalist architecture maps and books. Visiting buildings featured in these titles is always fascinating, whether in Skopje, Buenos Aires or even here in London. But access to original interiors is rare – and it can be thrilling when the opportunity presents itself. This is what I hope readers find in the book.

W*: What makes a 'brutalist' interior?

DL: The vast majority of the interiors included in the book display the movement’s primary characteristics. Think raw concrete, exposed structural elements, and so on. Additionally, I have ended the book with a selection of contemporary interiors. Prefaced by an essay by Felix Torkar in which he elaborates on his term ‘Neobrutalism’, the interiors that follow all reveal the lasting influence of brutalism on interiors today. Some of the more memorable examples here are the Pedro Reyes House in Mexico City and the Shui Cultural Centre in Guizhou.

W*: What is the biggest misconception people have about brutalist interiors or brutalism?

DL: That it is all heavy, dark and grim. I had originally planned to print this book in black and white, but as I researched further, I was energised by both the tonal effect of the concrete interiors and, in juxtaposition, the power of a well-positioned colour feature. This was often as obvious as wooden furnishings or a brass handrail, but also appeared as yellow church organs, purple stained glass or creamy magnolia blossoms through a window. In other words, concrete is not only versatile but it can be made fun.

W*: What is your favourite brutalist building or interior?

DL: Some of the domestic interiors featured in the book are swoon-worthy and might be considered inspirational if you work in a more lucrative profession than publishing. But I’m more drawn to large public buildings – places like the Barbican and Sava Centre – where anyone can wander around with a friend and stumble upon details that encapsulate the era or piece together thematically.

W*: What surprised you when working on the book? Any new interiors you never knew existed, or anything about them that made you do a double-take?

DL: Over the years, I have rarely, if ever, published colour images of brutalist architecture. Our annual Brutalist Calendar, for example, leans towards more dramatic images with defined shapes and strong shadows. But, when the book’s designer, Jaakko Tuomivaara, and I were arranging the images, I realised there was something almost joyful about this book. It felt like an opportunity to present a different side of brutalism, and hopefully to broaden its appeal as a result.

W*: If someone can only visit three brutalist interiors in the world, which are the top three must-sees for a better understanding of the genre?

DL: Ha ha. I like this scenario. Let’s do this person a favour and stretch out their journey as far as possible. I suppose it is only right to begin with Le Corbusier… Let’s start with a trip to Northern India to Chandigarh, where the brutalist interiors of his planned urban centre can be explored sequentially. Then off to Vienna for a spiritual sojourn within the concrete blocks of Wotruba church. And finally, let’s finish things off in a leather lounge chair, feet up, cocktail in hand, in one of Ruy Ohtake’s residences in São Paulo – perhaps the Paulo Chedid Simão House. That should offer plenty to reflect upon as the ice cubes rattle.

This ambition could have led to organically sculpted architecture, with materials disguising themselves among plants and trees, wood and stone. Instead, de Ruiter opted for a long horizontal volume of concrete, metal and glass. Yet, for all its modern brutalism, its floating, white, no-nonsense, glass-enclosed body does integrate with the landscape.

Step inside this unapologetic Dutch house

Not many people make it to the district of Noord-Beveland, and fewer still to this house’s exact location, Kamperland. Despite the Netherlands being both small and flat, the Dutch seem to struggle covering the psychological distance to the second of three interconnected peninsulas that make up the south-western province of Zeeland. Whoever does make the journey, though, is charmed by the striking location. Surrounded by flatland, it is as far away from urbanity as one can get in this country. It is also within a stone’s throw of the North Sea and the 9km-long Oosterscheldekering (the Eastern Scheldt storm surge barrier), the largest of the area’s 13 Delta Works dams, locks and barriers.

The approach to the villa is along a deserted road across the estate. After a ten-minute drive, you reach an underground car park via a sloping driveway. For a high-density country like the Netherlands, such a prologue is astonishing. In fact, the site is part of a larger programme initiated by the government, which aims to connect regional ecological zones throughout the country. The current owner bought the site, once farmland, five years ago. Open to the public, it is a protected habitat for animals and plants and a major tourist draw in the area. Permission to build a house on the land was given only on condition that it was returned to its pre-agricultural state.

Villas are not what Amsterdam-based de Ruiter specialises in. He has devoted most of his career to developing and implementing designs that enhance sustainability in buildings – his own studio’s office comes with a generous patio and an inventive cooling and heating system regulated by a two-tank air circuit, the volumes stored under the premises. But he takes on a private villa or two each year, especially if they pose new challenges – and this one certainly did.

The sheer numbers impress. The planting of some 71,000, six-year-old trees hint at the future of the estate as ‘a villa in the woods’. Plans also included digging a generous rectangular pond, requiring the removal of 70,000 cubic metres of soil. Circling the whole area by foot takes an hour. Although his office frequently does larger-scale works, de Ruiter admits the project was quite elaborate for a villa.

The client, an international trader in onions, camped on-site during the three-year building process, while his family sought refuge elsewhere. His shower was a ritual dip in the pond. Now it is part of the view from his office at the north end of the structure. ‘He likes to be on top of things, and it’s always been his dream to build his own house,’ says de Ruiter.

The villa’s main body hovers 4m above the ground, its two ‘legs’ housing a concrete staircase at one end and forming a steel V-shaped truss at the other. The house itself adds another 4m in height. Built like a bridge, the 40m by 8m interior reads as one big void, with floor-to-ceiling glazing. Sliding doors and curtain rails offer the residents, a family of four, the option of privacy in some areas.

Structural elements are integrated and invisible as much as possible. A climate-active façade (a special air cavity has been incorporated into it to help control temperature) means the ventilation and heating inside the house adjust to respond to the weather.

The owner has plans to make the house entirely self-sufficient; solar panels installed on the roof will be the first step towards that aim. With birds already flocking to the immense ‘garden’ and deer and smaller animals finding their way back to Kogelhof’s nature reserve, it would be fair to say that at least the better part of the client’s extravagant mission has already succeeded.

This article was first published in the April 2013 issue of Wallpaper*

The organic process of creation with Lebanese artisans in Beirut, Tripoli and Beqaa was like a hybrid blend of archaeology and design, where found shells emerged as new kinds of functional fossils. Raphaël worked closely with Chérine Magrabi, founder of House of Today, and they titled the exhibition ‘Low Tide – Marée basse’, which expressed the idea of forms emerging from the sea framed by a scenography designed by Simon Basquin.

Shaha Raphaël's shell-inspired designs on view in Saint Tropez

The collection emerged from Raphaël and Magrabi’s shared love of collecting shells. Raphael began the process by casting shells, drawing and hand-making models that reminded her of fishbones. Together they visited craftspeople across Lebanon, where each object is made, from stoneworkers to aluminium specialists. Magrabi introduced Raphaël to a third generation lampshade maker and a lace maker. What emerged was a series of tables, stools, mirrors as well as tableware, glasses, cutlery, coffee cups, each expressing the precision of her organic, geology-inspired jewellery.

'I loved her sensibility and the quality of her work – she's quite a perfectionist, and always sees things through to the end,' says Magrabi, whose intention with House of Today is to challenge designers out of their comfort zone. The non-profit organisation amplifies emerging designers in Lebanon through mentorship, residencies and exhibitions from Basel to Milan. 'Our aesthetics were aligned and we evolved the collection together with the artisans – adding, removing, exploring.'

Subsequently this collection has seen Raphaël expanding her language in scale, function and experimenting with new materials. Take the Spine coffee table, composed of four aluminium modules – ‘a set of vertebrae’ describes Raphaël – resting upon a ‘comma’ shaped base made of found she-oak wood that has a ‘vanilla’ scent. This piece came from a carpenter from Bekaa, who saves unique pieces of found wood especially for her. Raphaël imagines the table as an infinitely modulating piece, 'We kept it super brute,' she says.

The Claw side tables evocative of ‘crab claws’ are made of the semi-precious stone of onyx, which was left unpolished. The Fossil table is made of a pale southern Lebanese stone with brass legs that cling into carved edges. Three ‘edgy’ fish-bone-evolved pairs of candelabras are coated in three patinas – silver, pink and blue and green. Silver coffee cups with brass handles sit upon brass plates; a chess table is laid with found shells cast in two different patinas.

There’s a lampshade with a brutalist base operated by a delicate chain, she originally imagined as a necklace and decorative spoons in brass and silver, cast by hand in silicon from fossilised fishbones. Raphaël explains: 'I’ve always loved the idea of having to ask yourself the question, is it found or is it designed?'

These mysterious, lyrical objects feel at home in Saint-Tropez, where the spirit of the Mediterranean Sea infuses the community. The ribbon to the exhibition was cut on opening night by Sylvie Siri, Mayor of Saint Tropez, and this summer the town welcomes further creativity with Marseille-based architect Isabelle Castanier’s group exhibition ‘Une Maison á Saint Tropez’ featuring friends and designers including Marion Mailaender, Sacha Parent (both highlighted by the Design Parade 2024) and Linde Freya Tangelder, and Astier de Villatte’s ‘Saison á Saint-Tropez’ with limited edition designs of ‘Triton et Sirène’.

‘Low Tide – Marée basse à Saint-Tropez’ by Shaha Raphaël – 1 Place des Lices, Saint-Tropez, until July 27

A whistle-stop introduction to modernist architecture

Throughout the 20th century, modernism spawned distinct regional variants. Le Corbusier's five points of architecture (more on this below) came to define the International Style, which is probably what most people think of when they think of modernism, characterised by clean lines, a ‘truth to materials’, and hallmarks such as flat roofs, glass curtain walls and steel frames.

In Europe, the Bauhaus School emerged as a prominent source of modernist thinking, with offshoots including brutalist architecture. The United States became a major centre for modernism, developing variants such as Frank Lloyd Wright’s Prairie School, California modernism and midcentury modernism. In Brazil and other equatorial regions, tropical modernism adapted the movement’s principles to local climates, while, in India, the quest for a postcolonial identity gave rise to its own iteration.

In the post-war period, modernist styles became the dominant aesthetic for institutional and civic buildings – known as late modernism (1950s-1970s). With the rise of minimalist modernism, which provided the blueprint for skyscrapers, and brutalism, which was often used in urban planning, the style faced mounting criticism for being sterile and monotonous. The architectural pendulum, as ever, began to swing back, sparking a renewed interest in complexity that heralded the rise of postmodernism.

Famous modernist architects

To tackle the long list of famous modernist architects, we have organised them by their continent of origin. This list is by no means exhaustive – modernism's vast and diverse nature means there will be many more – yet this is a strong starting point for the movement's most influential proponents.

Further, it reflects the societal imbalances of the 20th century – for instance, in terms of gender. Architecture has historically been a male-dominated profession, with women often pigeonholed into interiors or furniture design rather than building design. Recognition and attribution biases further obscured their contributions, frequently reducing their roles to collaboration or assistance.

Eurocentric aesthetic standards have also shaped the history of modernism, with Western movements often elevated as universal benchmarks, which is why we have chosen to represent a geographically diverse selection. That said, we have started with Europe, where modernism originated.

Europe

Le Corbusier (1887-1965)

Style: International style
Famous works: Villa Savoye; Unité d'Habitation; Chapel of Notre Dame du Haut, all France; the city of Chandigarh, India

Swiss-French architect and urban planner Le Corbusier viewed architecture as ‘a machine for living’, and was one of modernism’s most influential figures. He developed the ‘Five Points of Architecture’ – a set of principles advocating the use of pilotis (stilts), open floor plans, free façades, horizontal windows and rooftop gardens – which essentially constitutes the familiar modernist aesthetic. Le Corbusier is also known for the pivotal role he played in designing the Indian city of Chandigarh.

Walter Gropius (1883-1969)

Style: Bauhaus
Famous works: Bauhaus Dessau, Germany; Gropius House, USA

Walter Gropius founded the Bauhaus School in Germany in 1919 (later forced to close by the Nazis in 1933). The movement embraced key modernist ideas such as form following function and simplicity in design, while also introducing distinctive concepts like the fusion of art and industry and the use of materials such as steel and glass. The Bauhaus building in Dessau, the art school’s HQ, is an iconic example of this architecture.

Alvar Aalto (1898-1976)

Style: Humanist modernism, organic architecture
Famous works: Paimio Sanatorium; Finlandia Hall, both Finland; Viipuri Library, Russia

Alvar Aalto was a Finnish architect and furniture designer who embraced functional modernist principles while humanising them through the use of natural materials – especially wood – and organic forms. His career coincided with Finland’s rapid industrialisation in the early 20th century, helping establish the style that he developed with his wife, Aino Aalto, as a blueprint for the Scandinavian modern aesthetic.

Eileen Gray (1878-1976)

Style: International style
Famous works: Villa E-1027; Tempe à Pailla, both France

Irish designer and architect Eileen Gray struggled to establish herself in a male-dominated field, but is now celebrated as one of the most important figures in 20th-century design. Her style blended art deco elegance with modernist functionality, exemplified in the E-1027 house in France, a minimalist villa featuring built-in furniture and sliding panels, which was incorrectly attributed to Le Corbusier for many years.

Lisbeth Sachs (1914-2002)

Style: Organic architecture, humanist modernism
Famous works: Summer House Strauss, Switzerland

The work of Lisbeth Sachs, one of the first registered female architects in Switzerland, is marked by an organic sensibility, with curvilinear forms, expressive materials and structural clarity. She created spaces where interior and exterior boundaries blur, exemplified in her 1976 project, the Summer House Strauss. Her long-overdue recognition culminated with a dedicated showcase at the Swiss Pavilion during this year’s Venice Architecture Biennale (2025).

Africa

Hassan Fathy (1900-1989)

Style: Vernacular modernism
Famous works: New Gourna Village, Egypt

Egyptian architect Hassan Fathy blended modernist principles with traditional building techniques, using indigenous materials such as mud brick and vernacular methods like Nubian vaults and passive cooling to achieve climate-responsive design. Culturally, Fathy sought to develop community-centered, affordable housing for rural, economically disadvantaged Egyptians. This philosophy is exemplified in New Gourna, a planned resettlement village near Luxor, designed in the 1940s.

Demas Nwoko (b. 1935)

Style: African modernism
Famous works: Dominican Institute, Nigeria

Demas Nwoko, a Nigerian architect, artist and designer, integrated indigenous African motifs, materials and crafts into modern architectural practices, challenging Western conventions. He viewed design as a force to positively shape the environment, seeking to create meaningful cultural and social spaces for African communities, such as the educational Dominican Institute, built in the 1970s.

Asia

Charles Correa (1930-2015)

Style: Contextual modernism
Famous works: Gandhi Memorial Museum; Kanchanjunga Apartments; Jawahar Kala Kendra, all India

Although he was born in Mozambique, Charles Correa is primarily associated with Indian architecture, with much of his work addressing urban planning challenges in the country and helping redefine national architecture in the post-independence era. His style fused traditional elements with modernist principles while adapting to local climate and culture. The Gandhi Memorial Museum in Ahmedabad showcases Correa’s signature use of open spaces, natural light and ventilation.

Balkrishna Doshi (1927-2023)

Style: Humanist modernism, brutalism
Famous works: Indian Institute of Management; Aranya low-cost housing, both India

Balkrishna Doshi was profoundly influenced by mentors Le Corbusier and Louis Kahn, but forged his own Indian interpretation of modernism. His work often featured elements suited to India’s climate, such as open courtyards, shaded terraces and natural ventilation. Awarded the Pritzker Prize in 2018, Doshi was celebrated for his humanistic approach, which focuses on low-cost housing, communal spaces and sustainable urban design.

Geoffrey Bawa (1919-2003)

Style: Tropical modernism
Famous works: Kandalama Hotel; Lunuganga Estate; Sri Lankan parliament building, all Sri Lanka

Sri Lankan architect Geoffrey Bawa is widely regarded as the father of tropical modernism – an architectural style that merges modernist principles with the demands of tropical climates. His designs frequently blur the lines between indoor spaces and lush natural surroundings, featuring open plans and natural materials. Bawa’s work is climate-responsive, with examples including the Kandalama and Lunuganga hotels, where you can stay today.

Tadao Ando (b. 1941)

Style: Minimalist modernism
Famous works: Church of the Light; Naoshima Contemporary Art Museum; Chichu Art Museum; the Koshino House; the Water Temple, all Japan

Tadao Ando buildings are generally minimalist sanctuaries crafted from exposed concrete with plenty of natural light and water features. His work reflects the Japanese Zen philosophy, with a focus on calm, contemplation and harmony with nature. Iconic projects like the Church of Light in Osaka and the Naoshima Contemporary Art Museum redefined contemporary Japanese architecture.

Minnette de Silva (1918-1998)

Style: Tropical modernism
Famous works: Karunaratne House; Pieris House; Watapuluwa Housing Scheme, all Sri Lanka

Minette de Silva was the first Asian woman elected as an associate of RIBA. She blended modernist principles with crafts, materials and forms suited to the tropical climate of her native Sri Lanka, using, for example, methods such as rammed earth and wattle-and-daub and features like open courtyards, passive ventilation and adjustable partitions. De Silva’s work was largely overlooked due to the gender biases of the 20th-century architectural establishment, but her influence on figures like Geoffrey Bawa is being increasingly recognised.

North America

Frank Lloyd Wright (1867-1959)

Style: Organic architecture, Prairie style
Famous works: Fallingwater, Pennsylvania; Guggenheim Museum, New York; Robie House, Chicago

Frank Lloyd Wright revolutionised American architecture over his 70-year career with his philosophy of organic architecture – buildings that harmonise with their natural surroundings. His Prairie style, prominent between 1900 and 1917, sought to create a distinctly American aesthetic inspired by the landscapes of the Midwest, featuring cantilevered roofs, open floor plans and horizontal lines. Beyond his Prairie homes, Wright’s celebrated works include Fallingwater, a masterclass in environmental integration.

Ludwig Mies van der Rohe (1886-1969)

Style: International Style, minimalist modernism
Famous works: Seagram Building (with Philip Johnson), New York; Crown Hall, Chicago

Though he was born in Germany, Ludwig Mies van der Rohe made his mark in the US after emigrating there, helping to define the glass-and-steel aesthetic that laid the foundation for the modern skyscraper. The Seagram Building became, in many ways, the global blueprint for corporate architecture. Credited with popularising the phrase ‘less is more’, van der Rohe’s designs are characterised by clean lines, open floor plans and light-filled, transparent spaces. Read more about Mies van der Rohe's life and works.

Richard Neutra (1892-1970)

Style: Mid-century modernism, California modernism
Famous works: Kaufmann Desert House; Lovell Health House, both California

Austrian-American architect Richard Neutra was a key figure in midcentury modernism, particularly in Southern California, where buildings such as the Kaufmann Desert House in Palm Springs helped define the California modern style. His designs are sleek, light-filled and open plan, emphasising health, lifestyle and a connection with the outdoors through the use of glass and natural materials.

Louis Kahn (1901-1974)

Style: Monumental modernism
Famous works: Salk Institute, California; Kimbell Art Museum, Texas

Louis Kahn, recipient of both the AIA Gold Medal and the RIBA Gold Medal, was renowned for his monumental, monolithic buildings that showcase their weight, materials and structure rather than concealing them. Kahn’s designs blend modernism with classical influences, characterised by geometric forms and materials like brick and concrete.

Charles and Ray Eames (1907-1978 and 1912-1988)

Style: Mid-century modernism
Famous works: Eames House, California

Perhaps two of the most influential figures in 20th-century design, married couple Charles and Ray Eames are renowned for their contributions to architecture, furniture and industrial design. Their use of new materials like moulded plywood and fibreglass combined functionality with aesthetics. The Eames House, built in 1949 in Pacific Palisades, Los Angeles, stands as a landmark of midcentury modern residential architecture.

South America

Oscar Niemeyer (1907-2012)

Style: Brazilian modernism, sculptural modernism
Famous works: Civic buildings of Brasília; Niterói Museum of Contemporary Art, both Brazil; United Nations Headquarters, US

Strongly influenced by Le Corbusier, Oscar Niemeyer’s use of free-form concrete, often cast in sinuous curves that echoed the natural landscapes of Brazil, led some to dub him a ‘sculptor of monuments’. Along with urban planners Lúcio Costa and Joaquim Cardozo, Niemeyer helped design the new capital of Brasília in the 1950s, including the National Congress, the cathedral and the Palácio da Alborada.

Lina Bo Bardi (1914-1992)

Style: Brazilian modernism, humanist modernism, brutalism
Famous works: SESC Pompéia; Glass House; São Paulo Museum of Art, all Brazil

Born in Italy, Lina Bo Bardi is celebrated for her contributions to Latin American architecture, particularly in Brazil, where she navigated challenges as both a foreigner and a woman. An advocate for architecture’s social potential, she created buildings marked by cultural and material sensitivity, blending brutalist forms with Brazilian vernacular influences.

Carlos Raúl Villanueva (1900-1975)

Style: Regional modernism, brutalism
Famous works: Ciudad Universitaria de Caracas; Olympic Stadium, both Venezuela; Aula Magna, Mexico

Venezuelan but raised in Europe, Carlos Raúl Villanueva brought modernist ideals to Latin America, where he fused them with local cultural and climatic contexts. A defining concept in his work was the idea of ‘synthesis of the arts’, a belief that architecture should be integrated with painting, sculpture and other visual arts. Villanueva also drew from brutalism, with extensive use of reinforced concrete, and his projects often had a social dimension – he played a major role in shaping the urban fabric of cities like Caracas and Maracay.

Some people won’t even be able to locate Kyrgyzstan on a map, but, if this week’s Inside Story focus is anything to go by, this central Asian country, 90 per cent of which is covered in mountains, is sitting on some serious design talent.

Kyrgyzstan’s capital, Bishkek, home to a seventh of the country’s population, is an intriguing mix of Soviet legacy (the country declared its independence from the USSR in 1991) and central Asian culture. But it is also a modern metropolis making a name for itself in the interiors space, as evidenced by the emergence of spots like Capito, a café imagined by Kyrgyz designer Jamal Ramisova of Jamal Ramis Design Bureau.

This cool, open-plan space is a microcosm of Bishkek itself, deploying exposed concrete walls and original concrete columns to tap into a post-Soviet brutalist aesthetic. Yet this feature also has ripples of the lofts of Manhattan, over 10,000km away.

Ramisova calls upon other global influences: the 3,765 sq ft space, which stretches over two levels, incorporates ancient Greek and old European design moments with motifs of classical architecture and ornaments and vintage Viennese chairs, as well as the use of William Morris fabrics. The clash of styles is eclectic, but harmonious.

Despite its pared-back aesthetic, Capito is also cosy (integral for a café), a feeling achieved through details like shelves displaying tableware and newspapers, a piano (which was left over from previous tenants), soft fabrics and curtains, and the dark wood furniture of the European cafés of yesteryear.

Colour also plays a major role in making the space as inviting as it is: cheerful red accents, yellow stripes, bursts of green in the form of planting… These considered pops energise the beige backdrop of textured plaster walls and painted floors.

Ramisova’s design plays with form, colour and texture in a way that elevates the space from a cafe to a concept; a space where you want to linger, and that makes you wonder what's in store for design dark horse Bishkek.

@capito.bishek

If you move in architecture circles, chances are you’ve heard the term ‘eco-brutalism’ floating around. It refers to an emerging movement that incorporates the tenets of brutalism – exposed materials, functional, largely concrete-based – and principles of sustainable building; mainly the integration of biophilic design, which emphasises the connection between humans and nature.

What makes eco-brutalism ‘eco’?

The idea of transforming something cold and imposing into a green oasis is attractive. But does this trend go beyond aesthetics? What is the purpose of eco-brutalism?

Traditionally, brutalism has faced criticism for its environmental impact, largely stemming from its use of concrete, the production of which uses large amounts of water, raw materials and energy. Eco-brutalism seeks to reframe the style with modern ecological priorities in mind.

Eco-brutalist structures may incorporate hanging or vertical gardens, moss-covered façades or green roofs, which can improve air quality, promote biodiversity and regulate temperature (plants act as natural insulators and shade-givers, reducing indoor temperatures in summer and retaining heat in winter, thus reducing reliance on artificial temperature control).

It’s important, however, to note that the use of plants is not de facto evidence of green architecture. An eco-brutalist building should also, ideally, use eco-friendly materials such as recycled or low-carbon concrete (such as Seratech's carbon-neutral composite cement, which won the company an Obel award in 2022), reclaimed wood or salvaged steel, or replace traditional cement with alternatives like fly ash or slag. It may also integrate sustainable building principles like passive cooling (such as cross-ventilation systems for airflow), solar panels and rainwater collection systems.

The buildings of eco-brutalism

Jungle House, Brazil

Designed by Brazil-based Studio mk27 (whose founder, Marcio Kogan, guest edited Wallpaper's October issue in 2024), the Jungle House, also known as Casa na Mata, is a striking residence nestled in Brazil’s Atlantic Rainforest. Completed in 2015, the building features clean lines and exposed concrete, and is sequestered among native plants (to ensure minimal ecological disruption). Jungle House also uses accoya wood, chosen for its durability in humid climates, and is perched on pillars to minimise its ground footprint.

Art Villa, Costa Rica

Part of the Art Villas resort in Playa Hermosa, this two-storey concrete structure, designed by Refuel Works and Formafatal, features a minimalist aesthetic inspired by Brazilian architect Paulo Mendes da Rocha. The villa has a steel frame and a green roof that helps cool it, reducing the need for air conditioning, while perforated aluminum panels allow for natural ventilation and also create a dynamic play of light and shadow inside.

Mamun Residence, Bangladesh

This monolithic residence was designed by Shatotto Architecture and exemplifies a blend of modernist and climate-responsive architecture. Aesthetically, the Chittagong home draws inspiration from the traditional ‘mathal’ hat; in terms of innovative design, it features a concrete shell that serves as a protective barrier against strong winds, while layered parasols and overhangs and integrated gardens provide shade, promote natural cooling and improve air quality.

Hotel Terrestre, Mexico

Designed by architect Alberto Kalach, Oaxaca resort Hotel Terrestre won a Wallpaper* Design Award in 2022. It comprises minimalist, geometric villas built from local materials like clay, brick, wood and concrete. The design draws inspiration from Mesoamerican step-pyramids, and is enveloped in native vegetation including copal trees, mesquite and orchids, creating a sanctuary for local wildlife. Impressively, the hotel operates completely off-grid, powered entirely by solar energy. The design also utilises passive cooling and natural ventilation to the extent that the need for air conditioning is eliminated.

The Barbican Centre, UK

London’s Grade II-listed Barbican is a brutalist gem, originally built between 1971 and 1982 as an example of modern urban architecture in an area that was heavily bombed during the Second World War. This is a great example of eco-brutalism because it has been retrofitted to make it operate more sustainably; the Barbican Centre now uses 100 per cent renewable energy and aims to achieve net-zero carbon emissions through building system upgrades. The building’s conservatory contains over 1,500 plant species, promoting biodiversity in the heart of London.

More examples of eco-brutalist buildings

Reinforced hillside, Japan

This civil engineering project features a concrete grid system designed to prevent landslides on the steep terrain. Despite its utilitarian purpose, it has become a revered architectural feature of the island of Aogashima.

Les Étoiles d’Ivry, France

Les Étoiles d’Ivry is a social housing complex located in the Parisian suburb of Ivry-sur-Seine, constructed between 1969 and 1975. Designed by Renée Gailhoustet and Jean Renaudie, the project was built as part of an urban renewal initiative and included extensive planting as part of its original scheme.

Jurong Bird Park, Singapore

Jurong Bird Park was a well-known tourist attraction in Singapore, designed by architects John Yealland and J Toovey. When it opened in 1971, it housed over 3,500 birds across 400 species, championing biodiversity.

What is Filipino Brutalism?

But brutalism is not a style in the traditional sense. It is an architectural response borne out of post-war urgency – a global push to rebuild fast, affordably, and together. In the Philippines, it aligned with post-independence momentum. Concrete, introduced by American colonisers, was practical: durable, available, and suited to the realities of our climate and level of seismic activity. The material was first used in neoclassical government buildings and quickly spread across civic and commercial spaces after the war.

A brief history of Philippine brutalism

From the 1940s to the 1960s, Filipino architects travelled far and wide, exchanging ideas and tuning in to global modernist architecture. In the United States, National Artist for Architecture Leandro Locsin saw Paul Rudolph’s concrete work first-hand and resolved to make it his material. José Maria Zaragoza absorbed Niemeyer’s sensuous take on concrete in Brazil. A local take on Brutalism followed: tropical, experimental, and expressive.

The style peaked from the 1950s to the 1980s, tracking with post-war growth and, eventually, the Marcos regime. Under martial law, Brutalism was co-opted into state architecture: heavy, imposing, and unyielding. By the ’90s, its image had worn thin locally and abroad. Postmodernism took over: concrete was out, colour was in. Still, the buildings remain. Some are preserved, others are neglected or gone.

With all its polarising history, brutalism is back in the public consciousness and is worth taking a second look at. The list below isn’t comprehensive (and is, regrettably, Manila-centric). Still, it offers a cross-section of how Brutalism took root in our tropical context, how it was adapted, politicised, and ultimately became ingrained in the Philippines’ cultural and architectural narrative.

7 Filipino brutalist buildings

Several buildings still standing in Manila and beyond express this boldest of architecture movements. Here, we explore seven of Philippine brutalism's key highlights in a whistle-stop tour of the genre in the country.

Tanghalang Pambansa (National Theatre)

Where: CCP Complex, Pasay City
Architect: Leandro Locsin
When: 1969

Likely the first building that comes to mind in any local conversation on brutalism in the country. Its silhouette is Philippine brutalism at its most elegant and acrobatic: a travertine block ‘floats’ above a reflecting pool, approached by a sweeping concrete ramp used by theatregoers and weekend joggers. Known for its impeccable acoustics and striking concrete interiors, age has started to make its mark on the National Theatre, which is currently closed for a long-overdue renovation.

Philippine International Convention Center (PICC)

Where: CCP Complex, Pasay City
Architect: Leandro Locsin
When: 1976

Built in just 23 months for the 1976 IMF–World Bank meetings, the 12-hectare PICC was Asia’s first international convention centre when it opened. A more dramatic take on Locsin’s floating mass, first seen in the National Theater, the PICC is a daring showcase for a workmanlike material—concrete pushed to its formal and spatial extremes. Beyond hosting large-scale events, it has cemented its place in local culture as a graduation stage for select universities and the go-to venue for oath-taking ceremonies.

The Peninsula Manila

Where: Makati City
Architect: Gabriel Formoso
When: 1976

A landmark hotel that has hosted everything from a turn-of-the-millennium concert to an attempted coup, The Peninsula Manila has seen its share of history from behind its corduroy concrete walls. Opened in 1976 for the IMF–World Bank meetings, it was envisioned as a tropical hotel in the city: a concrete pedestal supporting two wings of rhythmic pillars and deep overhangs, originally anchored by a brutalist fountain of lush greenery and cascading water. The fountain was regrettably replaced in the ’90s with a kitschy neoclassical number.

The Makati Stock Exchange (MSE) Building

Where: Makati City
Architect: Leandro Locsin
When: 1977

Mr. Locsin’s command of concrete earns him a third (but not final) spot on this list. Designed as a stylistic template for a rising business district, the Makati Stock Exchange is both svelte and imposing—a sandwich of wafer-thin volumes lined with concrete sun baffles. The stock exchange has since moved to larger digs, but this early office building—set along what was once the runways of the country’s first commercial airport—still holds its own against newer, taller neighbours around the Ayala Triangle Gardens.

St. Andrew the Apostle Church

Where: Makati City
Architect: Leandro Locsin
When: 1968

Concrete takes on a fabric-like quality in this Bel-Air church by Locsin – tentlike in form, supported by two interlocking pillars forming an X, alluding to the crucifixion of the apostle it’s named after. From above, the floor plan resembles a butterfly, with two wings of curved pews radiating from a suspended copper cross by fellow National Artist Vicente Manansala.

Pacific Machines Building

Where: City of San Juan
Architect: Antonio Heredia
When: 1975

Dubbed the 'Brutalist KFC' online, the Pacific Machines Building by Antonio Heredia has lived many lives over its 50-year history, all under the same company that commissioned it. One of the earliest structures along this stretch of EDSA, its blocky, interlocking wedges were said to resemble typewriters, which the company once sold. As it began leasing space, the building’s raw concrete exterior took on different liveries: blue and yellow for an automobile association that also cut out a new front entrance, and now red and grey for KFC. Though the company still occupies part of the building, recent listings suggest the property may soon be up for sale.

Sunken Shrine of Cabetican

Where: Cabetican, Bacolor
Architect: Engineer Julio Macapal and seven unnamed architects
When: 1985

Our only non-Manila entry earns its spot for both form and story. The Sunken Shrine of Cabetican is, quite literally, a sunken church – buried under six meters of lahar, leaving only a third of its original 20+-meter height exposed. Its origins remain unclear; in 2005, the surrounding community excavated an entryway and reopened the wedge-shaped chapel. The only way in for a time was through meter-tall gaps surrounding the church, forcing visitors to kneel. Inside, a cavernous concrete ceiling rises to a half-moon oculus that lights a striking Lourdes grotto-inspired retablo. Recent renovations have eased access and helped guard the interior from regular flooding.

The Lighthouse: step inside this brutalist LA office

Its author is Warkentin Associates, headed by former Studio Shamshiri designer Nathan Warkentin. 'I was approached by Lighthouse founder Jon Goss to collaborate with him in creating a “campus” for creators with the opportunity to design a whole world from scratch,' he says.

Warkentin drew on the original art deco structure and the building's bones, and looked to the Bauhaus movement to further develop his design. 'Inspired by Bauhaus principles, the architectural design facilitates a fluid integration of analogue and digital environments, enabling frictionless creativity across multiple disciplines,' says Lighthouse co-founder Jon Goss. 'By reimagining a landmark site for a new generation, The Lighthouse establishes a dynamic setting that fosters experimentation, connectivity, and creative expression at every scale.'

Tackling the fairly raw space, the team got to work and designed much of the interiors using custom pieces, mixed with iconic designs by USM, Artek, Vitra, Herman Miller, Tecta, Emeco, and OMK. The designers wanted to craft a workspace that feels real and tangible, bringing in references such as the aesthetics of nineties college radio, Le Corbusier's architecture, Japanese libraries, and Paul Rudolph.

At the same time, The Lighthouse composes the feeling of a hospitality-led environment that blurs the boundaries between work and social areas. A material palette that mixes metals, wood, glass and concrete inspires juxtapositions of crisp and soft areas that create a lively and engaging office setting. A monumental painting, Abbot Kinney and the Story of Venice, created by Edward Biberman in 1941, was brought back to its original lobby location after a stint at LACMA.

Describing the project in a single sentence, Warkentin says it is 'a fluid blend of innovation, collaboration, and production in a space inspired by Bauhaus principles'.

warkentinassociates.com

After passing through the fissure that breaches its black aluminium-clad façade, visitors are greeted by a wondrous world of contrasts that blur the lines between inside and outside, art and architecture. Situated at the subtle transition between exterior and interior is a bronze sculpture by Richard MacDonald, a masculine figure that greets visitors with arms outstretched, gazing upwards to the skies and bathing in the light of a dramatic oculus.

A Medellin house blends art and brutalism

Beyond its decorative function, MacDonald’s sculpture, and others by Danilo Cuadros, Andrés Layos and Julian Voss-Andreae, contrast with the house’s geometrical purity. ‘It was clear that the goal was for the house itself to be a sculpture,’ says María José Fernández, co-founder of 5 Sólidos, who was charged with bringing physical form to Pérez’s poetic vision, creating a cinematic canvas for his artistic universe. ‘We decided to keep the design as clean as possible so that when scaling it to large volumes, the materiality wouldn’t work against us,’ she says.

Adding to the sculptural theme, a spiral staircase serves as a pivot for the otherwise angular aesthetic. Positioned in the centre of the house, the monumental stairway to heaven provides a celestial link between the common areas and the upper floor bedrooms, pinning together the house’s two rectangular volumes like the hands of a monumental clock. A 35m-long body, on a north-south axis, overlaps perpendicularly with the smaller, 25m-long body below to create a composition that reads differently from all angles.

Almost 4m in diameter, the oak veneer-clad staircase took artisans 90 days to complete. ‘It’s the heart of the house, and follows the Fibonacci spiral that repeats throughout nature – in shells, in plants, in the universe itself,’ says Pérez. The staircase provides a dramatic counterpoint to the home’s other defining feature, a V-shaped concrete column that supports the striking overhang of the upper body and permits the living and dining area to open out fully to the verdant mountain scenery at ground level.

Plunging into the pool, lined with black Bali stone tiles to reflect the play of light as it passes over its surface, the column composition represents ‘victory, dreams and stability’, themes that, according to Pérez, resonate throughout the project. The dark hues of the tiles reference the blackness of the Rio Negro, which backs on to the property and gives its name to the municipality that is home to most of Medellín’s most luxurious residences. The garden is also dotted with monumental rocks, plucked from local rivers for their energising properties, and native plants selected by landscape company Arte Natural Paisajismo, creating what Pérez calls ‘a vibrant environment that combines the natural with the modern’.

The house’s raw concrete interiors contrast with the more elaborate exterior cladding. Even the roof was treated with the same careful consideration as the façades – covered in stone sourced from local rivers, it creates an unexpected fifth elevation that aligns with the five platonic solids that give the architecture studio its name. According to Fernández, ‘design is rarely thought from above. That’s why we gave the roof the same importance as the other four façades’. Aluminium shuttering, painted to replicate the wood used throughout the house, softens the lighting and casts shadows as the sun passes overhead. Furniture by Paola Lenti and B&B Italia was chosen by Pérez to soften the otherwise brutalist interiors.

It’s in the passage from day to night that Casa Haras reveals its dual nature most clearly; as a place for profound reflection, it is both a powerful architectural statement and an intimate family home. ‘The sturdiness gives a sense of security, but it also represents how important and beautiful it is to be located in one’s own centre,’ says Pérez. Since shaping his dream home with 5 Sólidos, he has assembled his own team of architects in Miami to launch his design studio, Studio KP2, with a second brutalist project due to complete later this year.  

cincosolidos.com

studiokp2.com

This article appears in the May 2025 issue of Wallpaper*, available in print on newsstands from 3 April 2025, on the Wallpaper* app on Apple iOS, and to subscribers of Apple News +. Subscribe to Wallpaper* today

Shop our favourite brutalism books

Brutalist architecture is defined by its raw concrete forms and stripped-back geometric components, which make for a bold exterior. Whether seen as a grey eyesore or a powerful visual, there's no doubt that the architectural style, which first gained prevalence in the 1950s and 1960s, has impacted modern design and left a lasting impression. From the eco-brutalism of a reinforced hillside in Tokyo to urban landmarks such as the Barbican in London, it is a movement that continues to mesmerise.

Around the world in brutalist bathrooms

Importantly, brutalism continues to inform many interiors too. The round-up of brutalist bathrooms below forms a case in point. From concrete and lava stone basins to smooth sunken tubs, here, we note remarkable spaces with a stripped-back aesthetic that showcase the movement's popularity across the globe.

A Californian guest house by Mork-Ulnes Architects

‘There’s something elemental, honest and in a strange way, quite natural about concrete,’ said Casper and Lexie Mork-Ulnes, the husband-and-wife team of Mork-Ulnes Architects, of their compact concrete guest house in California’s Sonoma Valley. When using concrete as a material in bathrooms, it is easy for the space to feel cold and harsh. The architecture duo carefully placed a small window, bringing warm light into a bathroom that is furnished with Vola fixtures and a pair of ‘Favilla’ lamps by Manuel Vivian for Axolight.

See the full project here

Tsingpu Retreat by Neri&Hu Design and Research Office

Tsingpu is a 20-room boutique hotel located in Yangzhou, China. Design and research office Neri&Hu took over the neglected warehouse and transformed it into a calming retreat comprising grey-bricked pavilions, courtyards and internal decorative pools that evoke tranquillity. The bathrooms of each suite respond to the overall concept of this calming oasis. With concrete acting as its main material canvas, details of white oak, walnut and steel are welcomed, gently nodding towards the traditional architecture of this area.

See the full project here

Balnarring house by Branch Studio Architects

This lakeshore house is situated just outside of Melbourne, cantilevered over water at Balnarring, on the tip of Victoria’s Mornington Peninsula. Immersed in vibrant greenery, its façade takes on a cabin-like charm with large timber panelling. However, the inside tells a different story. Its stripped-back interior features large skylights, raw concrete floorings and walls, offering a contemporary take on indoor-outdoor living. The bathroom is a testament to this, with a large glass roof connecting residents with the natural surroundings. Exposed brass pipes communicate the simplicity and functionality of the house.

See the full project here

East London home by DGN Studio

This Victorian semi-detached terrace in east London has been given a contemporary spin and exudes calmness through a clever material composition that blends brutalist concrete with light-coloured wood. The home, which was designed by architects Daniel Goodacre and Geraldine Ng, feels light and sleek. In tune with the rest of the house, the bathroom is grounded on a heavy, concrete base and boasts minimalist surfaces anchored in craft, clever material choices and fine detail. The large window floods the space with light, which bounces off the smooth surfaces in neutral or natural colours, adding a soft aesthetic to the naked concrete.

See the full project here

Mexico City house by Pedro Reyes and Carla Fernández

In Coyoacán, south of Mexico City, Mexican artist Pedro Reyes and his wife Carla Fernández showed Wallpaper* around their brutalist home showcasing hammered concrete walls, chunky furniture hewn from volcanic stone and an abundance of rich, overblown greenery. ‘The use of concrete is very canonical, very clichéd, but it has many possibilities,’ says Reyes, pointing out the handmade bricks covered with a wax-like concrete paste, which he developed with his men. ‘There’s a palette of finishes still waiting to be recovered from brutalism.’ The couple also designed much of the furniture. In the bathroom, the lava-stone master bath and basin are artworks in themselves, partnered with a matching mirror in the master bathroom.

See the full project here

Three Object Apartment by DeMachinas

Three Object Apartment reveals its structural bones with an ode to unfinished architecture. The home is situated on the first floor of this Athens structure, which was left incomplete for 30 years. Now transformed into a dwelling, the building has become a contemporary, conceptual interpretation of its brutalist architecture, offering a raw, honest backdrop for Greek practice DeMachinas to create a sculptural, textural home for its private client. The bathroom displays smooth concrete walls and is softened with timber detailing for cabinets and joinery. An unexpected burst of red in the tap detailing adds to its contemporary feel.

See the full project here

A modern beach house by Matt Goodman Architecture Office

Responding to the 2015 wildfires, this Australian beach house by Matt Goodman is a balanced piece of minimalist concrete architecture. The design is clean and crisp, with large openings and exposed concrete which highlights a utilitarian approach. The bathroom follows this approach, posing as a large minimalist wet room, where flooring and walls merge into one wrapped in large grey tiling. Elegant detailing, from the lone waterfall showerhead to the crisp glass panel, adds to the overall contemporary look, which is softened by timber furnishings.

See the full project here

Nico Sayulita by Palma

On the Mexican Pacific Coast, Nico Sayulita is a hospitality experience showcasing eco-brutalism at its finest. Designed by architecture studio Palma and developer Hybrid, the five-suite building incorporates the airiness and openness of the rooftop, which immerses guests within the jungle and offers glimpses of the ocean. The bathroom continues this indoor-outdoor feeling, with a terracotta-hued bathtub in the centre of the room and a stripped-back, raw sink. 'The terrestrial level on the “Jungle suite”, a room encircled by native foliage, features a concrete built-in tub for a spa-like experience,' the team write.

See the full project here

Fishmarket by Ab Rogers

Designer Ab Rogers met artist Hiraki Sawa at the annual Wonderfruit cultural gathering in Thailand in 2018. Discovering a common interest in cooking, eating, and creativity, Sawa asked Rogers to design his studio 'For me, a studio is not just a space where I create something, a work of art, but a generous space where I’m allowed to do all the steps leading up to the creation of something,' Sawa says. 'Where I can cook delicious food, eat, talk, think, sometimes walk around, take a bath, enjoy the wind on the balcony, throw myself into the online space, or lock myself in the toilet.' The space is industrial and showcases the buildings bones. The bathroom is separated by large neon-coloured panels and kept simple, minimal and functional.

See the full project here

Star House by Atelier Gratia

Located in the southern Taiwanese city of Kaohsiung, this home is an amalgamation of glass and concrete that playfully juxtaposes the translucent and opaque and balances privacy and openness. 'The [glass] creates a dialogue with the city, while the [concrete] establishes a sheltered sanctuary for its inhabitants,' the architects write. The bathroom comprises concrete volumes stacked on top of each other like building blocks, while an angular skylight above cast linear light across the floor.

See the full project here

Casa Mérida by Ludwig Godefroy

Casa Mérida in Mexico boasts concealed concrete courtyards and contemplative rooms nestled on the Yucatán peninsula. Its unashamed brutalism allows for the residence to stand in raw and honest confidence. This bathroom area offers a softer twist on the architectural style; exposed concrete formwork gives texture to the walls and shower enclosure within one of the bedrooms. The concrete's dappling allows for a more organic feel while staying true to its stripped-back aesthetic.

See the full project here

Space House: a brutalist icon

Born as One Kemble Street, named after its address, the complex was built in 1968 for developer Harry Hyams to a design by George Marsh, an architect and partner at Richard Seifert's namesake studio, and the practice founder himself. Richard Seifert & Partners has been prolific in 20th-century London, and is behind well-known designs such as Centre Point, Tower 42, and the South Bank Tower.

Space House started life as an office block made of two large elements – a cylinder and a lower box. Featuring an angular modular façade and muscular supporting columns (something of a Seifert trademark), the complex was the HQ to the UK’s Civil Aviation Authority for many years. Its architecture, a brutalist, raw and unapologetic high rise, is now Grade II-listed.

Space House’s new, 21st century life chapter

Now, after a four-year redevelopment, the well-known building recently reopened its doors, and has high ambitions. The project was led by global real estate investment, operating and development company QuadReal, with Canadian-owned developer Seaforth Land, and Atelier Capital Partners. The UK's Twentieth Century Society has called Space House the 'coolest new office development of 2024'.

Its renovation architect, Squire & Partners, led the way in balancing the old and new, creating effortless transitions between the two, restoring, reconstructing and refreshing where needed – while seemingly effortlessly achieving a coveted BREEAM Outstanding, Net Zero Carbon certification for sustainability. The result, spanning some 260,000 sq ft across its two blocks, was crafted with the support of engineering firms Atelier Ten and Pell Frischmann.

'Space House is a very special and rare listed design icon. The opportunity for its full refurbishment demanded massive passion and drive to bring it back to life and reimagine it as something even better than it started out – much closer to its documented design intent than its final built-out, fitted-out self. This required an amazing client, consultant and construction team of doers, makers and believers with vision,' says Tim Gledstone, partner at Squire & Partners.

'Originally built in 1968 and refurbished in 1996 and 2003, our design has removed the layers of interventions to retain, expose and celebrate the original architecture and vision. At the same time, we have created respectful and highly sustainable new additions to publicly activate the ground floor, accommodate modern working environments, and answer the needs of tomorrow’s occupier and visitor – prolonging the life of the building for many more years to come. We must look back to look forwards!'

Beyond the careful restoration and reconstruction of the existing fabric, Space House additionally includes a range of new – seamlessly woven-in – elements. There is a new Sky Loft, exclusive to the 17th-floor office penthouse, which offers sweeping 360-degree London views; a new clubhouse on the eighth floor, containing a bar and terrace; extensive storage space and an events venue in the redesigned basement; and car and bike parking spaces and showers for tenants.

Tyler Goodwin, founder and CEO of Seaforth Land, says: 'Space House is not just a London prime grade-A office building, it is a globally relevant example of the future of the office market – designed to empower our customers (our tenants) win the war for talent and earn their commute with unique, experiential office space.

'Our vision doesn’t end here, the Space House Experience is about a humanised customer experience designed to serve our community, their employees, and their customers and to take full advantage of our extensive on-site amenities and Covent Garden’s many amenities.

'Making the Space House experience appear effortless – despite years of effort – has been a parallel objective. New sustainability and conservation standards have been achieved with this building that will resonate with the next generation of talent that want to work in a place that reflects their values and has a clear sense of purpose.

'Space House is the exemplar of what is possible when you have the best people, including the world’s best consultant teams, and great partners like QuadReal and Atelier all working together towards a common vision to set a new standard in best-in-class experiential offices.'

spacehouse.london

squireandpartners.com

Running until June 2025, 'Concrete Dreams' is a programme comprising an exhibition, an immersive installation, and a wide range of events exploring the past and future of Newcastle's urban transformation.

The exhibition, ‘Brasilia of the North’ (until 1 June 2025), delves into Newcastle’s ambitious 1960s and 1970s urban planning projects, drawing parallels to the then-emerging, futuristic Brazilian capital of Brasília.

Exhibits include the remarkable 6m-long Newcastle city model, first created in the 1960s to envision the city's modern future; the original architectural model for Gateshead’s Trinity Square Carpark, an icon of brutalist architecture; and a Metro ‘cube’ featuring typography by Margaret Calvert, renowned for her work on Britain’s road signs. Visitors can also explore a selection of maps, books, drawings, photographs, and films that highlight the complex socio-political forces that shaped Newcastle’s transformation.

The immersive installation, 'Alison’s Room: An Extended Reality Archive', offers a unique journey into the mind and work of Alison Smithson, a pioneer of brutalist architecture who, along with her husband Peter Smithson, redefined British post-war design (with buildings such as London's Economist Plaza, for example). Created by artist and researcher Paula Strunden, this life-sized virtual reality installation blends elements from the Smithsons' most influential designs with interactive objects, furniture, and even a talking cat that visitors can ‘pet’. As visitors move through Alison’s study, they are invited to engage with the visionary world of a defining figure in Newcastle’s architectural history in a fun, imaginative, and educational way.

Alison's Room: An Extended Reality Archive runs until 20 December 2025; booking is required.

‘Brasilia of the North’ runs until 1 June 2025.

farrellcentre.org.uk

Soviet brutalist architecture explored

The brutalist architecture of the Soviet era has found itself fetishised in publishing and across social media and succumbing to the indignity of apparently inspiring AI to create machine hallucinations feeding off their visual vocabulary. Everything from publisher Fuel’s counterintuitively successful Soviet Bus Stops (now also a film) to massive coffee table brutalist blockbusters (the spectacular photos of Frédéric Chaubin, in particular) and their occasional appearance in the backgrounds of movies and photoshoots has created a kind of cult.

But it is based solely on the image; these remarkable buildings represent a very different moment, a late burst of optimism in socialism expressed through architecture. What, exactly, do these buildings mean? And how did they come about in such numbers and become neglected so quickly?

Soviet brutalism: the history

To understand a little, you need to read the rapid waves of change from the revolutionary architecture of the Constructivists in the 1920s, who managed to build only a small number of (albeit deeply influential) structures, and their repression by Stalin in the 1930s in favour of a stolid, hypertrophied classicism. That, in turn, gave way after Nikita Krushchev’s accession in 1953 to a concentration on addressing the huge Soviet housing problem, the construction of millions of units of mostly panel blocks over the following decades.

It was with Leonid Brezhnev’s coming to power in 1964 (he served as General Secretary of the Communist Party of the Soviet Union till 1982) that the focus shifted to the many, vast regions of the country with a certain loosening of central control; and they, in turn, began to express emerging modern identities through architecture. At the same time, the sci-fi era had taken hold, first with the success of Sputnik and then with widespread scientific development in everything from nuclear power to virology, a new reliance on technology and a faith in the future expressed through fiction and film. There was also, contrary to the myth of a closed society, considerable exchange between East and West, with Soviet architects being well aware of the emergence of brutalism elsewhere in Europe.

Yet the Soviets developed their own remarkable genres, using expressive, sculptural language to mould a new architecture. Some of the results have become familiar. The UFO-machine gear of the Druzhba Sanatorium overlooking the beach in Yalta (Igor Vasilevsky, 1983) was so odd that the Pentagon mistook it for a new rocket launch pad. It now adorns the covers of dozens of brutalist books and regularly pops up in Instagram feeds. And the Ministry of Highway Construction in Tbilisi (George Chakhava, 1975) is an 18-storey series of interlocking blocks that can look bizarrely contemporary, even though it was completed half a century ago.

Another UFO landed in a street in Kyiv in the form of the Ukrainian Institute of Scientific and Technological Research and Development (Lev Novikov and Florian Turiev, 1971). Then there is the Polytechnic Institute of Minsk in Belarus (Igor Esman and Viktor Anikin, 1983), a space-age battleship of a building with what looks like ski slopes. These experiments illustrate the efforts across the Socialist republics to develop their own aesthetic identities.

This was also often done through the invention of wholly new building types, socialist equivalents to the cathedrals of the past. There were wedding palaces such as Tbilisi’s castle-like Palace of Ceremonies (Victor Djorbenadze, 1984) and funerary centres like the same architect's Mukhatgverdi Ceremonial Hall (also Tbilisi, 1974, and now itself looking more than a little corpse-like) and the strange, haunting Park of Memory in Kyiv (Avraam Miletskyi, Volodomyr Melnychnko and Ada Rybachuk, 1980).

Then there was a raft of memorials: powerful, theatrical gestures glorifying Soviet efforts in war, in space, in science or in ‘friendship’ with many other nations. There were also circuses (and circuses were very big in the USSR), tributes to tents reimagined in massive concrete, ‘Palaces of the Republic’, ‘Palaces of Sports’ and ‘Palaces of Lenin’, in fact, palaces for the people everywhere.

Some of these proletarian palaces also began to display intriguing inflexions, uncharacteristic of Western brutalism. The Peoples’ Friendship Palace in Tashkent (Yevgeny Rozanov, 1981) has hints of Islamic architecture, for instance; the Exhibition Hall of the Uzbek Union of Artists in the same city (R Khayrutdinov and F Tursunov, 1974), yet more so, with ogee arches and a façade like a carpet.

The expansion of holiday provision created yet more opportunities for architectural expression. The gorgeous cantilevered extension of the Union of Writers summer resort in Sevan (Gevorg Kochar, 1969) is an old favourite and the once derelict and now chi-chi Baltic Beach Hotel in Jurmala, Latvia (Normunds Pavārs, Viktors Valgums and Modris Ģelzis, 1981), with its staggered levels like a liner, remains remarkable.

Although the republics were keen to use architecture to express their burgeoning identities within the USSR, there was plenty going on in Moscow and the rest of Russia too, much of it dedicated to celebrating science, the atheist state’s religion. The astonishing bulk of the Atomic Engineers’ Building acts like a scientific city wall and the Russian State Scientific Centre for Robotics and Cybernetics (Boris Artyushin and Stanislav Savin, 1986) was a true cathedral of science, designed in the early 1970s but only completed a few years before the regime ran out of cash and Gorbachev ended it all. The slow pace of Soviet construction, a shortage of materials and labour and not a little corruption meant that brutalism flourished later here than it did elsewhere, well into the 1980s.

These sculptural spectacles, most of which survive in varying states of decay, bridged the visionary experiments of Constructivism with the more modern statement buildings used to build regional and metropolitan identity. From the most modest of bus stops to the most grandiose megablocks, they remain the representatives of a remarkable moment in which architecture’s capacity to define a place and accommodate genuine public participation was taken seriously. Many of the finest examples remain in a precarious position, crumbling and unloved, despite their global appeal and now is the time to save them.

Peak inside Rochester Street Office

Architecture firm Allied_Office worked with the client who had a clear vision in mind; to create a space which felt cohesive within its neighbourhood and was respectful of locals. The result is an architectural nod towards eco-brutalism, and a leafy space for thriving creativity and collaboration.

Directors of Robert Plumb Collective, Bill Clifton and Will Dangar, explained what they had in mind, saying, ‘... We wanted a space that was filled with light and provided a calm environment that makes coming into the office a joy - with a large kitchen where people could have lunch and socialise across the different levels and different arms of the business.'

'Some outdoor space for fresh air and to integrate planting with the built form was essential. We also wanted meeting rooms for privacy, breakout spaces so that people could get away from their desk and a ping pong table for some fun.’

With playful design at the forefront, Allied_Office got to work. The building consists of three stacked volumes made from concrete, beam and slab, a material choice which was easily malleable and accommodated the area's economical parameters.

This brutalist architecture façade frames big glass panes which define the building, allowing for natural lighting, and was a structural backbone for cascading planters that decorate the upper floors.

Dangar Barin Smith took charge of landscaping and wanted to craft a 'modest and rugged' look. Native plants including grasses, groundcover and shrubs alongside Melaleuca sp. and Eucalypt sp. tree specimens. The mix softens the industrial exterior, while adding visually intriguing tactile elements.

Akin Atelier designed the interior landscape for the new office space. Recycled offcut marble was used as flooring, while a timber staircase added an organic softness against the utilitarian exterior. Cubed glass panels create neat divides and privacy without isolating any room.

Second Edition contributed to the lobby, bathrooms, and loose furniture. The spaces showcase recycled waste materials, including terracotta roof tiles, timber, and natural stone.

‘Considering the myriad of inputs from planners, consultants, and specialist trades, as well as working with two clients at the top of their game, our aim was to condense all this into something effortless and honest.’ Says Allied_Office. ‘Something that felt thoughtful and straightforward, while respectful and confident enough to project the Robert Plumb Collective and the building itself, into the future.’

allied-office.co

The Room Next Door tells the story of a journalist dying of cancer who calls on an old friend to be with her when she ends her life (in the room next door). The two have not seen each other in a long time, but shift from Manhattan to a rented modernist house in upstate New York to prepare for death. The location house, Casa Szoke, is actually in Spain, located on the southern slope of Monte Abantos, near El Escorial, an hour’s drive from Madrid. Designed by Madrid-based studio Aranguren + Gallegos, who took inspiration from Le Corbusier’s box-like creations, it consists of a series of interconnected angular volumes in glass and corten steel, which nestle in a pine forest landscape.

We talked to the film’s Israeli-born, New York-based production designer Inbal Weinberg, whose previous work includes Three Billboards Outside Ebbing, Missouri and Luca Guadagnino’s 2018 remake of Suspiria. The sombre mood of the film, and the contemplative nature of its subject matter, was a guiding hand in the creation of the set design. ‘The connecting thread is Pedro's interest in elevated aesthetics,’ says Weinberg. ‘He has an innate sense of beauty and a particular appreciation for craft, which is apparent in every shot.’

The relocation to the upstate house marks the dawning of a new intimacy between the two women, with the site subtly setting the scene for the serious conversations to follow. ‘There's something about modernist homes that radiates calm, rationality, simplicity and appreciation for the environment. Specifically in our film, the idea of the space as a last respite, a place for both illness and healing, connected with the modernist sensitivity,’ says Weinberg. ‘With Casa Szoke, we appreciated the play between built volume, the human form, and nature. We liked the juxtaposition of linear planes and nature's curves, and the tension in the angular windows. The diagonal lines provided a sense of drama that highlighted the complex dynamics between the two characters, and the high stakes of their stay.’

Weinberg emphasises the importance of focusing on the people that inhabit the spaces within the films, of imagining their worlds. ‘As a production designer, you're constantly moving between a wide array of projects, from gritty realistic dramas to opulent period pieces to superhero blockbusters. You can't go wrong if you concentrate on the characters, and let them dictate their environments. We paid close attention to every prop. Pedro is very discerning when it comes to details, and he made sure that every piece of art, book and decorative element was curated. We had a rich mood board of references, from homes of real people that we met in New York to designers' pieces fresh from the latest design magazines. Pedro always lent his personal taste (and artefacts) as a finishing touch.’

The Room Next Door is on general release from 25 October 2024, warnerbros.com
Book at odeon.co.uk

Brutalist Plants by Olivia Broome

With its rough textures and sharp angles, brutalist structures can be divisive and omnipresent - such concrete monoliths contribute to many an urban landscape across the contemporary metropoles of the world. Yet, beauty and softness can be found within their undeniably sculptural, and seemingly harsh forms.

Incorporating vegetation can be part of the design offering a new, fascinating layer to the whole - as concrete volumes are intertwined effortlessly with leafy flora, contrasting harsh and soft, and the plants' bright green tones with the material's textured grey. 

Curated by Olivia Broome, ‘Brutalist Plants’ came from humble beginnings - an Instagram account which gained rapid traction from followers who also shared a love for eco-brutalism, and perhaps the visual juxtaposition between a monochromatic design and sweeping greenery.

Working alongside photographers, Broome curated over 150 images of brutalist structures surrounded by nature. The expansive image selection includes designs which have deliberately considered their green context, while others show greenery reclaiming its built environment.

Brutalist architecture tends to be associated with a colder, more bare-boned aesthetic. This monograph provides insight into the symbiotic relationship between the style and nature, highlighting its potential within architecture. From earthy roofs to living walls, greens and cool greys provide a poetic contrast and prove that one's existence doesn't have to preclude the other.

Browse the book to discover the pocket garden of Le Corbusier’s Unité d’Habitation, and the lush courtyards and conservatory of London’s Barbican Centre; Broome’s selection takes the reader around the world’s beloved brutalist structures with a verdant twist.

'Brutalist Plants' by Olivia Broome is on sale from 16 May, or available to pre-order from waterstones.com. See more of our favourite new architecture books.

A reimagined 1970s brutalist house

Designed by local architects Vanderbiest & Reynaert in 1970 for the artist and philosopher Jef Stuyven, the structure has been thoroughly overhauled to accommodate Kerkhofs’s studio, together with a new guest house component for artistic residencies, held in collaboration with Leuven’s Cas-co art space organisation.

Villa Stuyven is a classic slice of Belgian brutalist architecture, created during a fertile period of residential design that has withstood the test of time and continues to be much sought after. The concrete house is embedded in the forest, with board-marked internal and external walls paired with dark window frames, white masonry internal walls and dark ceramic tiles. The large windows frame beautiful views of a garden that blends seamlessly with the woodland. 

At entrance level, the house is arranged over two-storeys; the site slopes up to a single storey at the rear, giving it a very different visual character. The renovation has stayed true to the original materials palette, with the addition of oak flooring to complete the concrete ceilings found throughout.

Kerkhofs trained as a goldsmith, and his furniture and accessories combine metalworking with playful architectural forms, from the Coil cabinetry to ‘Les Gaufres’, a collection of modular candleholders inspired by Belgian waffles.

The house now provides a solid, uncompromising backdrop for both Kerkhofs’ own work and the couple’s accumulation of vintage furniture pieces. 

The designer’s workspace occupies Stuyven’s old art studio, and the original house’s six-bedroom layout provides ample space for the visiting creatives.

Bram-Kerkhofs.be

What is Brutalist architecture?

The term 'brutalism' is often associated with the French 'béton brut' - raw concrete. It perfectly describes the movement that a handful of modernists developed in the 20th century, which left their, often, highly expressive, concrete structures untreated. It encompasses an honest approach to concrete building, where the roughness of the well-known, ubiquitous material is left exposed and revered, celebrating engineering and functional form with little added decor (other than the build itself's beautiful detailing and concrete's innate tactile texture). Brits Alison and Peter Smithson are among the style's pioneers (among the first who used the phrase 'new brutalism' to describe their work), but many followed, as brutalism spread across continents. At the time of its birth in the 1950s and 1960s, brutalist architecture was often considered too rough and therefore, unattractive. Yet, over time the typology gained momentum - and the term came to be applied to other materials too (you may find the word 'brutalist' associated with brick structures, for instance). It has now been adopted by countless creatives, inspiring numerous architectural iterations, and interpretations across the wider design world - from product to jewellery and fashion.

While plenty of brutalism's best-known examples are in the UK, including from public buildings to homes, this is far from just a London-focused trend. Brutalist architecture around the world is being given a new lease of life. From developments at London’s Balfron Tower or Brussels' brutal tower converted into a co-working space, to a Marcel Breuer building in Connecticut, USA reimagined as a hotel; it's fascinating tracking the lives of this once looked-down-on style as it soars into the realms of high popularity. Scroll below, for some of the world's finest brutalist architecture across the globe.

Brutalist architecture in London

Centre Point

Architect: Richard Seifert & Partners
Date: 1963-1966
Location: London

When completed in 1966, Centre Point represented a beacon of optimism within its original context of a run-down, post-war London, standing out for its avant-garde architecture and engineering. However, it remained underused for years until, in 2010, it was acquired by developer Almacantar, which enlisted Conran and Partners to bring the building into the 21st century. Now the design includes modern apartments, a lavish penthouse and a series of amenity spaces, including a pool and a private lounge/club house area with screening rooms and treatment rooms for residents and their guests.

Thamesmead

Architect: Robert Rigg
Date: 1968
Location: London

‘Thamesmead’. Semantically, the word sounds like a riverside Shakespearean ale house. But, in the public imagination, it conjures images of a 1970s, crime-ridden neighbourhood, and the droogish backdrop to Stanley Kubrick’s 1971 dystopian drama Clockwork Orange. Initially hailed as a futuristic ‘town for the 21st century’, construction of the London City Council-commissioned Thamesmead began in 1968. Despite early promise, it quickly gained a reputation for no-go areas and poor transport links. Recently, after a complicated history, punctuated by well-documented attempts to renew and rethink the area, Thamesmead has been undergoing an extensive regeneration project by Britain’s oldest housing association Peabody, which promises around 20,000 new homes, and improved community facilities. Additional writing: Elly Parsons

123 Victoria Street

Architect: Elsom, Pack & Roberts
Date: 1970s
Location: London

Using Kvadrat curtaining, furniture from brands such as Vitra, Hem, Muuto and a specially-designed staircase, SODA Studio has conjured up classy offices in a brutalist block. The 40,000 sq ft workspace in London’s Victoria goes by the name of MYO, and is property firm Landsec’s first foray into flexible office space. SODA – the architects behind Soho’s new Boulevard Theatre – has converted the second and third floors of 123 Victoria Street, a 1970s building by Elsom, Pack & Roberts, which was refurbished eight years ago by Aukett Fitzroy Robinson. Inside, SODA took its cue from the blocky glazed exterior. ‘We didn’t want to fight against the building,’ says director Russell Potter. ‘Our driving principle was to create a rigorous grid with walls and partitions,’ which, he adds, they treated as ‘a kit of parts.’ These partitions add to the workspace’s flexible credentials. Additional writing: Clare Dowdy

Brixton Recreation Centre

Architect: George Finch
Date: 1974-1985
Location: London

The now listed Brixton Recreation Centre, designed by architect George Finch and completed in the mid 1980s is one of the new additions of remarkable brutalist architecture included in the refreshed Brutalist London Map (Second Edition) by Henrietta Billings and with photography by Simon Phipps, published by Blue Crow Media. The map aims to highlight London's rich legacy in brutalist architecture in order to celebrate and help save many buildings from demolition. 'In 2022, seven years on from the first edition of the map, the environmental impact of demolishing these buildings and their vast stores of embodied carbon is alarmingly clear. From a sustainability, as well as a heritage perspective, we cannot afford to lose any more of them,' says the author. More buildings that made their way into the map for the first time are the National Archives at Kew; Blackheath Meeting House; the Royal College of Art’s Darwin Building; and the Camden Town Hall Annexe, recently converted into the Standard Hotel.

Economist Building

Architect: Alison and Peter Smithson
Date: 1959-1964
Location: London

‘You’d originally sit with a typewriter on the windowsill, then swing round and write longhand at your desk,’ says Deborah Saunt, explaining the Smithsons’ tailor-made office space in the Economist Building for The Economist magazine. Saunt’s practice, DSDHA, won the competition to refurbish this London icon, a building that took the raw pragmatism of brutalism in another, very different direction. The best-known shots of the structure – three ‘roach bed’ Portland stone-clad towers around a central plaza – were taken by a young Michael Carapetian, a friend of the Smithsons who brought a cinematic, reportage-like quality to his images. The AA-trained architect recalls that he ‘wanted a day that was slightly misty and wet. It was the first time a new building had been photographed in the rain.’ The imagery cast has a moody, atmospheric light. ‘It wasn’t seen as shocking, but the building was respected for its ability to blend in with the rest of the street,’ he recalls. ‘The idea was to elevate the plaza above the rest of the street – a sort of utopian idea.’ Saunt says the practice envisaged the structure as a blueprint for a new form of urbanism, linked by walkways and quasi-public spaces. Her studio’s modest but comprehensive refurbishment strips away interiors that themselves were wholesale replacements of Smithsons’ careful original detailing. ‘We’ve made it a lot more harmonious, but have embraced their vision of architecture as a framework,’ she says. The revitalised building will see one of London’s most elegant public spaces brought back to life.

National Theatre

Architect: Denys Lasdun
Date: 1976
Location: London

The National Theatre courted controversy from the outset, with the UK's favourite architectural scourge, Prince Charles, casually dismissing the capital's new cultural flagship as a ‘nuclear power station’. Sir Denys Lasdun's rigorously composed concrete statement still looks at fresh as ever, thanks to an £80m refurb by Haworth Tompkins in 2015, not to mention the quality of the original design. With generous terraces that step down to the Thames and a monumental assemblage of interior volumes, spaces and stages, it remains one of London's contemporary classics. The city is also home to Lasdun's other masterpiece, the 1964 Royal College of Physicians, a Brutalist stage set of concrete and stone, rising up amongst the genteel stucco terraces of Regents Park. Lasdun's Theatre refined the aesthetic that had already been established by the adjacent Hayward Gallery and the Queen Elizabeth Hall. These buildings still represent a substantial chunk of London's cultural infrastructure and were built between 1960 and 1968 on the site of the Festival of Britain, alongside the remodelled Royal Festival Hall. Designed by a team of architects employed by the Greater London Council – including key members of the iconoclastic Archigram studio – this group of buildings represents concrete at its most diverse and distracting, a collage of textures and forms that rises up beside the river in a thrilling urban jumble. Much loved, forever threatened, but an integral part of the London experience

Alexandra Road Estate

Architect: Neave Brown
Date: 1968-1978
Location: London

Social housing at its most optimistic, aesthetically sophisticated and single-minded best, the Alexandra Road Estate snakes alongside a railway line in Camden, containing over 500 homes in a variety of configurations. Created by the late Neave Brown – then working in Camden Council's Architecture Department – it went wildly over-budget and later found infamy as a location for dystopian films and television. Yet despite the controversy it continues to be a desirable place to live, with its shuttered concrete flanks rising steeply above a pedestrianised central street.

One Kemble Street

Architect: George Marsh (Richard Seifert & Partners)
Date: 1968
Location: London

This cylinder and box office block is a typical piece of Sixties grandstanding, almost entirely blasé about its immediate surroundings. These days it finds itself an integral part of the eclectic cityscape. Designed by George Marsh, one of the partners in Colonel Richard Seifert's massive commercial architecture outfit, the circular building showcased Seifert's trademark angular modular façade and muscular supporting columns. It was also the HQ to the UK's Civil Aviation Authority for many years. Currently, the central London structure - also known as Space House - is being given a new lease of life by developers Seaforth Land and architects Squire and Partners, who are on site with a transformation of the iconic shell into modern office and retail spaces.

Brunswick Centre

Architect: Patrick Hodgkinson
Date: 1972
Location: London

Patrick Hodgkinson's original vision for Bloomsbury consisted of a vast trench of concrete dwellings and lecture halls, stomping across the remnants of Georgian London with Brutalist glee. The only chunk to be finished, the Brunswick Centre, is perhaps London's sole megastructure, a concrete valley of houses arranged above a shopping parade and cinema. It took three decades before a programme of refurbishment and upgrade works covered the raw concrete in the paint Hodgkinson originally specified. Now a highly desirable and light-filled place to live, it offers an insight into the grandiose schemes of decades past.

The Barbican Estate

Architect: Chamberlain, Powell and Bon
Date: 1965-1976
Location: London

For many Londoners the Barbican defines contemporary Brutalism. Yet behind the fortress-like construction of this 35-acre city centre site is a veritable oasis of greenery, culture, water and calm, all wrapped up in some of the most abrasive concrete finishes ever seen. The Barbican almost took as long to build as a city, with initial plans drawn up in the 50s and the final concrete slotted into place in the arts centre, which opened in 1982. The firm of Chamberlain, Powell and Bon oversaw this expansive piece of urbanism, which continues to define the highest standards of concrete design.

Keeling House

Architect: Denys Lasdun
Date: 1957
Location: London

An earlier outing by Denys Lasdun, Keeling House in East London was intended to form a 'street in the sky', replacing the low-rise back-to-back houses that had succumbed to war damage and old age. The cluster block form was carefully designed, with interlocking, overlooking apartments somehow combining both community and privacy, but it was rather less meticulously built. By the early 90s the block had fallen into disrepair; a pioneering refurbishment by Munkenbeck and Marshall gave it a new lease of life, adding penthouses on top and even securing Lasdun's blessing in the process.

Trellick Tower

Architect: Ernö Goldfinger
Date: 1966-1972
Location: London

The Trellick Tower is the archetypal symbol of brutalism in West London, a bold cliff of shuttered concrete that overlooks the city's western reaches. Despite a rocky start, the Trellick subsequently ascended to the status of cultural icon, adorning everything from t-shirts to coffee cups. Ernö Goldfinger's generous design initially suffered from poor maintenance but today the building's generous apartments are highly sought after, combining space, light and views, with services pushed to one side and contained in a slim adjoining tower.

78 South Hill Park

Architect: Brian Housden
Date: 1963-65
Location: London

Hampstead Heath’s 78 South Hill Park doesn’t look like a house born of embarrassment, but that is exactly what it is. In the 1950s, architect Brian Housden visited Dutch De Stijl master Gerrit Rietveld (who played roughly the role in architecture that Mondrian played in painting) and, when they parted, Rietveld told Housden he’d love to see the plans of the Hampstead house he was working on. Housden said he was mortified, ashamed of the timid designs he had drawn and decided to start over. Rietveld never saw the drawings, but the result is extraordinary – a brutalist house on the edge of Hampstead Heath that is one of London’s most surprising and inventive post-war dwellings. The 1924 Rietveld Schröder House, which so inspired Housden, is always photographed as a freestanding, almost autonomous building, but, in fact, bookends a dull brick Utrecht terrace. Similarly, Housden’s house squats between a pair of more conventional modernist blocks (including one by Howell, Killick, Partridge & Amis, architects of London’s Young Vic theatre), its muscular concrete frame seeming to push them apart, to defy them to crush it. Additional writing: Edwin Heathcote

Barbican sunken bars

Architect: Kam Bava
Date: 2022
Location: London

The much loved Barbican Estate in London comprises many parts and elements – from its famed performing arts centre, a key cultural hub in the City of London and beyond and the largest of its kind in Europe, to its iconic residences, outdoor spaces and brutalist architecture environment. Its scale means that there are many smaller areas, however, which often remain lesser-known, yet are no less important to the Barbican experience. Part of the Grade II-listed Barbican Centre Theatre, the Barbican sunken bars are two hospitality corners of the seminal modernist development, constructed between 1965 and 1971 and located under the steps of the theatre. The spaces were in need of a refresh, so London architect Kam Bava was asked to lead a careful restoration and interior redesign to breathe new life to the complex's much-loved leisure offering.

The bars’ facelift was not just about aesthetic fixes and a superficial polish. The architect ensured a technical upgrade was incorporated as well, because, after years of intensive use, the listed fabric was in dire need of an update. Seeking to maintain the interior's original character, as well as emphasise reuse and recycling as an approach, Bava cleverly redeployed elements found within the Barbican campus. ‘The steel bar structure is made from the handrails on the [Barbican] centre, and the ceiling comes from the art gallery. The handling of these pieces together with the use of mirrors creates a very different scale of experience, using very familiar design cues,' he explains.

South London house

Architect: Whittaker Parsons
Date: 2023
Location: London

This brutalist treasure in south London squeezes a surprising amount of space onto an unpromising spot, enhancing the streetscape. The addition, next to a terraced house, features a tough, hard-wearing exterior that brings a little brutalist architecture glamour to its neighbourhood. Whittaker Parsons’ Corner Fold House was designed for a downsizing couple, who swapped a conventional Victorian terrace for a faceted modern house that makes the most of its awkward site, tucked in between an immovable electricity sub-station and the clients’ former family home. The process was remarkably smooth, according to the clients, who were able to transform a garden plot at the side of their house into a completely separate dwelling, digging down to create a new basement and even finding enough space for a small rear terrace. Describing it as ‘the experience of a lifetime’, the clients are especially impressed by Whittaker Parsons’ ability to maximise the amount of available space.

Brutalist architecture elsewhere in Europe

CBR HQ

Architect: Constantin Brodzki
Date: 1970
Location: Brussels, Belgium

Constantin Brodzki is less than enthusiastic, to say the least, whenever he hears of one of his buildings being renovated. At 93 years old, the Belgian architect is still very much engaged with the architecture world, and he’s eager to point out the ways in which he would like his modernist legacy to be preserved. ‘I have experienced catastrophes before, so I’m suspicious,’ Brodzki admits, taking out plans and photos to show how some firms have botched his former projects. One of his designs, the former HQ of the cement company CBR in Brussels, is currently being converted into a new outpost for Antwerp co-working concept Fosbury & Sons. Close to the Sonian Forest, it’s just ten minutes from the high-end Avenue Louise. For Fosbury & Sons’ founders Stijn Geeraets and Maarten Van Gool, the initial impetus to take on the modernist office building, with its characteristic façade of curved concrete modules, was all about the immediate visual impact. But as they started to explore the building, the full package captivated them. Additional writing: Siska Lyseens

Zvonarka Central 

Architect: Raduz Russ
Date: 1988
Location: Brno, Czech Republic

Brno’s Zvonarka Central Bus Terminal has been a key Brutalist architecture landmark in the city since it first opened in 1988 - and is among the country’s most notable remaining examples of the genre. But years of intense use and high maintenance costs had resulted in a tired, decaying building in dire need of a refresh. Now, the Brutalist bus terminal has been given a new lease of life courtesy of architects CHYBIK + KRISTOF, who in 2011 embarked on a self-initiated journey to restore the famous building to its former glory. The design team worked with the station’s private owners and raised awareness through social media to instigate a discussion about the station’s future, securing the necessary funding for the redesign works in 2015. ‘Demolitions are a global issue,’ explains co-founding architect Michal Kristof. ‘Our role as architects is to engage in these conversations and demonstrate that we no longer operate from a blank page. We need to consider and also work from existing architecture – and gradually shift the conversation from creation to transformation.

Van Wassenhove House

Architect: Juliaan Lampens
Date: 1973
Location: Sint-Martens-Latem, Belgium

Those, like us, who have a soft spot for crude concrete architecture, will love the work of Juliaan Lampens (1926-2019). The powerful concrete roughness of the Belgian architect’s volumes is inescapable when you walk past two of his best known buildings, both near Ghent: the Chapel of Our Blessed Lady of Kerselare, in the village of Edelare, and the Van Wassenhove house in Sint-Martens-Latem. However, digging a little deeper into Lampens’ life and work, it quickly becomes apparent that there is more to his architecture than brutalism by numbers. Belgian curator Angelique Campens has been studying Lampens’ work since her university years and knew him well. The architect had a reputation for being reserved, keeping his business to himself to the point of avoiding contact with colleagues. He didn’t even travel much, reveals Campens. ‘But he had a lot of books. He admired Oscar Niemeyer and was influenced by Le Corbusier and Mies van der Rohe.’ He may seem to have lacked the desire for architectural pilgrimage, but Lampens practised non-stop from his base in Eke, East Flanders, from 1950 until his last work was built in 2002 – creating a legacy of about 50, mostly residential, projects, including the chapel and Eke library. Lampens was born in 1926 in De Pinte and grew up in nearby Eke, the son of a cabinetmaker. After working as a technical draughtsman, he studied architecture in Ghent and set up his own firm straight after graduation, kick-starting it with commissions from his father’s middle-class clientele. While following a more conventional design style at first, he nurtured an interest in modernism. ’His visit to the 1958 World’s Fair in Brussels was a turning point for him,’ Campens explains. ’Shortly after that, his designs changed drastically. He thought that Le Corbusier was too sculptural, and Mies too structured, but he wanted to combine the two. Read More

Clifton cathedral (1969-73) by Ron Weeks of the Percy Thomas Partnership

ArchitectL Ron Weeks of the Percy Thomas Partnership
Date: 1969-73
Location: Bristol, UK

Architecture buffs might recognise the brutalist cathedral in Clifton, Bristol by its distinctive, irregular, elongated hexagonal floorplan. What many don’t know however, is that the iconic building has been suffering from water leakages for years, due to its large, striking lead roof not being entirely watertight. Enter architecture and heritage experts Purcell, who have just unveiled their careful repair work to the building’s historical fabric, rendering the cathedral fully watertight for the first time ever. The structure, also known as Roman Catholic Cathedral Church of SS. Peter and Paul in Clifton, Bristol, was originally constructed between 1969-73 to a design by Ron Weeks of the Percy Thomas Partnership, and is a Grade II* listed monument. Due to the building’s sensitive and historical nature, Purcell worked closely with all relevant parties and the Lead Sheet Association to ensure the greatest care is taken when carrying out the repair works. The latter was heavily involved because the pitched roof required the majority of the works – some 86 tons of replacement lead. It was the largest lead roofing project in Britain at the time of its creation.

Rozzol Melara

Architect: built under the direction of Le Corbusier
Date: 1960s
Location: Trieste, Italy

Hefty monographs about concrete were everywhere in 2017. Once a marginalised and maligned genre, brutalism has burst back onto the design scene, cited as inspiration by a new generation seduced by the authenticity and heroic ambitions of this impressive architecture. Yet as well as being fetishised for its rough and ready qualities, there’s also a growing desire to preserve the best examples of concrete architecture in the face of widespread indifference and downright hostility. SOS Brutalism, a monumental survey of the more esoteric expressions of concrete architecture around the world, with a special focus on those that are threatened by alteration or demolition. This impressive book, which grew out of a collaboration between the Deutsches Architekturmuseum and Wüstenrot Foundation and was edited by Oliver Elser, Philip Kurz, Peter Cachola Schmal, is a treasure trove of unsung buildings and oddities, including works in Russia, the Middle East and Asia. Covering the period between 1950 and 1970, it uses new photography and archive imagery to rally for preservation and recognition, making it a must for lovers of architecture’s more far-flung fringes. Lovers of raw surfaces, bold forms and naked concrete are spoilt for choice. Additional writing: Jonathan Bell. Read More

County Hall, Truro

Architect: FK Hicklin
Date: 1963-66
Location: Truro, UK

Owen Hatherley – author of a new book on Britain’s modern buildings – is an architectural journalist with an agenda. Throughout a series of memoirs and travelogues spanning the UK and Europe, Hatherley has proved to be one of the most perceptive and insightful chroniclers of the modernist era. His urban perambulations are in the great tradition of some of the best writers on architecture and design, from Nikolaus Pevsner through to Ian Nairn, Jonathan Meades, and Reyner Banham. Like these critics and historians, Hatherley is adept at eking out some additional fact or stylistic note, while never being afraid of pronouncing an unpopular opinion. Among the buildings featured is Truro Town Hall, pictured here. Additional writing: Jonathan Bell

University of East Anglia in Norwich

Architect: Denys Lasdun
Date: 1962–68
Location: Norwich, UK

Our admiration for all things concrete is part of our DNA, so when we found out about fine art photographer Simon Phipps’ book on brutalist architecture, Finding Brutalism: A Photographic Survey of Post-War British Architecture, we were rubbing our hands together in glee; and when the book reached our offices, it did not disappoint. Filled with Phipps’ distinctive photographic compositions, this is a richly produced tome. The photographer spent more than 20 years, documenting brutalist architecture in Britain, creating a hefty archive of about 125 buildings. The book features some 200 takes of those, making for an impressive collection to reference and savour. Yet if you think that this is all about aesthetics, think again. Phipps, in effect, follows through his lens the rebuilding of Britain after World War II. His numerous photographs of Brutalist masterpieces not only appeal to the eye and refined tastes, but also ‘recognises the architects’ enormous contribution to the transformation of the political and social landscape of the country’ in the aftermath of the war, explain the publishers, Park Books. Included is the University of East Anglia in Norwich (1962–68) by Denys Lasdun, pictured here.

Pilgrimage Church

Architect: Gottfried Böhm
Date: 1968
Location: Germany

Architecture is one of those professions that can often become a family affair. Gottfried Böhm is not only the son of an architect, he is also the grandson, the husband and the father of architects. Since the early days of his career, more than 60 years ago, Böhm has been known for his original work, which, in 1986, earned him the Pritzker Prize. The Pilgrimage Church in Neviges, Germany, perfectly characterises his style – and is nothing like any church you could imagine. The Pilgrimage Church project began as a competition-winning entry in 1964, in response to the Catholic archdiocese of Koln’s call for a church in Neviges, a small town about half an hour outside the city. Böhm’s winning design ticked all the boxes, providing both the space and atmosphere for religious functions – it offers seating for 800 and standing room for 2,200 in a truly spectacular building – without any obvious recourse to traditional religious symbolism. The church was completed in May 1968 and instantly became a landmark in the town. Taking advantage of a row of pilgrims’ houses and the church’s position at the top of a slope, Böhm created a processional way leading up the hill, into the church’s open courtyard and inside, ending at the altar and the pilgrimage’s religious climax. Read more

Kineta holiday house

Architect: Alexandros Tombazis
Date: 1968
Location: Kineta, Greece

Alexandros Tombazis heads a 60-strong office in Athens and leads about 20 realised and conceptual projects per year. With more than 800 projects under his belt — about 300 of them built — and at least 110 prizes gained in competitions, Tombazis is one of Greece’s most prominent and successful living architects, appreciated more by his peers, perhaps, than by the public. Born in India in 1939, he spent his childhood in Karachi, Tunbridge Wells and London before his family settled in Athens. At the Architectural School of the National Technical University of Athens, he was taught by key figures of the Greek art and design scene — including Nikos Hatzikiriakos-Gikas and surrealist Nikos Engonopoulos — during the late 1950s and early 1960s. Coinciding with the peak of Greek modernism, it was an exciting time. As a student, Tombazis witnessed the global rise of the International Style, and travelled all over Europe visiting innovative buildings such as Le Corbusier and Iannis Xenakis’ Philips Pavilion, a multimedia showcase, at Brussels’ 1958 World Fair. From this inspirational start, he developed a dedication that has fuelled his tireless productivity, along with a sense of optimism and a belief in the power of technology in architecture. Pictured, here, the Kineta holiday house, designed in 1968 and influenced by the Japanese Metabolist movement, features slim but cleverly insulated concrete walls, using recycled waste from local steel industry furnaces. The bottom right unit is a later addition by the owners.

Orientkaj station

Architect: Arup and Cobe
Date: 2002
Location: Copenhagen, Denmark

Unlike Paris’ 100 year-old Metro and London’s vast and labrynthine Underground, established way back in 1863, Copenhagen’s transport network is very much a 21st century, work-in-progress project. First opened in 2002, the last two decades have seen the Copenhagen Metro steadily growing, its linear, driver-less, rapid-transport tentacles spreading ever-outwards to the city’s new frontiers. For the recently completed Nordhavn metro line extension, connecting northern docklands to town centre, the city has wisely decided against a generic architectural style with two new stations, Orientkaj and Nordhavn, taking a ‘passenger-focused’ approach that celebrates the character and industrial past of the rapidly developing work and residential area, currently one of the largest urban regenerations in northern Europe. London-based architects Arup and Denmark’s Cobe practice (whose office is actually situated in the Nordhavn district) worked together during a seven year period to conceive two new metro stations – one over ground, one underground – that handsomely reflect the character of the urban areas they serve. Photography courtesy COAST

AGET Iraklis

Architect: Alexandros Tombazis
Date: 1972
Location: Athens, Greece

On a generous, green site in one of Athens’ smarter northern residential suburbs, a strange concrete presence rises. The long, relatively low structure features unusual, almost retro-futuristic forms, screens that frame large openings and exposed textured concrete that make itclearly stand out from its neighbours. Locals know it well. This is not your typical Greek office building; it is the former headquarters of AGET Iraklis, one of Greece’s best known cement manufacturers. It was designed in 1972 by one of the country’s most celebrated 20th century architects, Alexandros Tombazis (see W*138). The architectural landmark is emblematic of its creator’s style and early explorations of concrete and Metabolist principles, such as the use of modular design and technology – this part of Athens also features his Iliako Chorio (meaning ‘Solar Village’, a 1980s experiment in environmental architecture) and his own office. The AGET building was left empty for seven years after the company moved out in 2010, but it has now been given a new lease of life by local architect Georges Batzios. ‘I was on the island of Kythnos for work and the client called me up out of the blue,’ recalls Batzios, who set up his boutique studio in the central Athens neighbourhood of Petralona in 2013, following an international career.

Church at Firminy

Architect: Le Corbusier
Date: 1953
Location: Firminy, French

Le Corbusier's built legacy was extensive, yet his archive of unfulfilled schemes was even more so. One town that reaped more than its fair share of his genius was Firminy, in France 's Loire Valley. In 1953, a determined post-war mayor decided that Firminy, a former mining town, was the perfect blank canvas for Le Corbusier's dreams of a vertical garden city: enter Firminy-Vert. The new town has three complete Le Corbusier works, but plans for a new church laundered as subsequent mayors weren't quite so keen on the brutalist style, and work slowly petered out, leaving an unfinished concrete shell. But thanks to former Le Corbusier apprentice, Jo se Oubrerie, the builders returned on site and the church was completed in 2006. Which is especially exciting because St-Pierre - a geometric composition dominated by a huge concrete cone punctured with slots that will allow light to cascade down into the nave - is only the third religious structure in Le Corbusier 's oeuvre. The full version of this article was originally published in the February 2006 issue of Wallpaper*