. . . and a forgotten building you should. First: The head-scratching conundrum of Brutalist architecture: it seems as if the bigger the building, the more the public didn't like it. Isn't that just odd? And it had a theory behind it, too. But don't take it from me. ArchDaily.com:

This wasn't tragic, unless your heart sings at the sight of dead concrete pressing its grey boot on the face of the city in perpetutity. There's a reason the Chair of Social Disapproval was yanked out: the people who lived in the cities weren't asked if these monsters should be invited to sit with the rest of the family.

The author discusses the Robarts Library at the University of Toronto. It wasn't going to abide by your uptight rules, pop; it was going its own triangular way. Dig?

Some people just love it when buildings disrupt the grid, particularly if such a thing can be seen as a blow against Cartesian prescriptions. But if you like your library to remind people of a guard house and a crematorium, this is your baby.

Hail! The watchers have seen our Queen Insect approach! Make ready!

Pictures from Google Street View. Now, elsewere in modern ideas, here's something that looks equally blunt, but has a rich and glorious past.


View Larger Map

And what's that, you ask, and who cares? Let's take another look. It curves:

Brutalism didn't curve. The Philly Ink architecture critic explains:

That's one of Vic's? Indeed:

Northland Center opened before Southdale, but it wasn't enclosed. That came later. This year Target moved out and Macy's said it was giving up the ghost as well; this page says it's closing for good in March. Anyway, the article notes that the blank facade once held an illuminated sign, and man, did it ever. A detail from this Flickr page:

Detail from here. The last days of downtown . . . before Gruen's work gave people another place to go. If only his Dayton's building in St. Paul had been so alive.