Brutalism: from Architecture to Canvas
- Anna Lilli Garai
- Jan 7
- 2 min read
Updated: Jan 10
Brutalism. The very word evokes images of stark concrete structures that tower over city streets, their angular forms casting long, imposing shadows. For many, Brutalism remains a symbol of urban decay—an aesthetic language linked to government buildings, post-war reconstruction, and the coldness of modernity. Yet, in recent years, Brutalism has found a new life within contemporary art, where artists are using its once-despised forms to reframe our understanding of the physical and emotional environments we inhabit.
Artists such as Bonaventura Genovese and Rachel Whiteread have begun to explore the architectural legacy of Brutalism, translating the harsh and unrelenting nature of its concrete forms into pieces that resonate with both social critique and personal reflection. The resurgence of Brutalism in art is not merely about revisiting a historical architectural style; it’s about reexamining the role of space in human life—how we interact with, are shaped by, and often repelled by the structures that define our environments.
At its core, Brutalism sought to strip away ornamentation, leaving behind raw, functional forms that communicated an honesty in material. Artists today are taking that minimalist approach and transforming it into something more emotionally complex. Genovese’s work, for instance, fuses elements of urban decay with a sense of intimate vulnerability. By using industrial materials like steel and concrete, he confronts us with the tension between strength and fragility, permanence and impermanence. It’s as though his sculptures are artifacts from a future that never was, frozen in time and left to decay.
What makes this artistic revival so compelling is the way it recontextualizes Brutalism’s inherent coldness. Far from just offering stark commentary on social structures or the alienation of modern life, contemporary artists are embracing Brutalism’s vulnerability. They explore themes of survival, resilience, and even beauty in the most unlikely places. The sheer weight and heaviness of concrete—so often associated with oppression and exclusion—are now being used to express fragility, to comment on the impermanence of urban life, and to remind us that strength is not always what it seems. Brutalism, in this sense, becomes a metaphor for the emotional walls we build—walls that protect us, isolate us, but also leave us vulnerable to collapse.
There’s something deeply powerful in the reclamation of Brutalism by artists working today. What once was seen as the epitome of inhumanity is now an artistic tool for introspection and critique. Brutalism in art is no longer just a relic of architectural history but an active commentary on our relationship with space, identity, and survival. It is a perfect reflection of our fractured, often disorienting, and always shifting world.