This is part 2 in a series. Lost Lagoon Terrace at 845 Chilco in Vancouver, built in 1972, is another example of 1960s/70s modernist apartment architecture. The undulating patterned concrete tile extends the whole way up the front face. Whatever happened to patterned concrete, and why are the 1970s the most reviled of all decades, when the 1980s are so much more deserving of dislike? I realize not everyone likes it – my boyfriend included – but to me the patterned section has aged really well. This abstract ornamentation is typical of modernist concrete architecture from this era, which tended to be minimalist except for one or two subtle decorative features, often with this primitive look. Once affordable, 845 Chilco now contains million-dollar condos, one per floor. With that most exotic of features, private keyed entry off the elevator.

This series is about a style of architecture that repelled me when I was growing up but that I now find strangely attractive. These examples of brutalist modernism are all from Vancouver, but there are equivalents all over North America. The brutalist hand-etched steel front door of this building is a classic in this style. I’ve always found it odd that concrete brutalism tends to be accompanied by this sort of medieval or Middle Earth/Lord of the Rings decorative treatment on metal (and in furniture), but it works. Is it concrete harking back to stone or what exactly? 815 Chilco Street, built in 1970, was designed by Vancouver’s “father of modern architecture,” Charles Burwell Kerrins van Norman (1907-1975).

The building of modernist lo-rise condos and apartments in the 70s was part of a deliberate move on the part of the city’s planning department to do away with a certain type of groovy downtown living in funky, sometimes decrepit (but affordable) Victorian and Edwardian houses. Read about the politics of this history in curator Scott Watson’s Urban Renewal: Ghost Traps, Collage, Condos and Squats. Despite the politics of their introduction into Vancouver, these buildings have the virtue of being solid and livable, and they’re now prized. This building, which sits right next to the large and beautiful Stanley Park, is particularly pricey these days. See the next post for another fantastic building, right next door at 845 Chilco Street. Vancouver, let’s not knock down any more 60s and 70s architecture.

Utopian soviet architecture, futuristic and sci-fi, photographed by Frederic Chaubin, editor of French magazine Citizen K. Interview and photos from Ping Mag. The architect who designed the building below was influenced by a sketch of an imaginary city drawn by a Russian artist. “Roads Ministry” (Tbilisi, Georgia, 1975). For more information on the others, see Ping.

Photo essay of post-war Yugoslavian monuments and architecture by Belgian artist Jan Kempenaers, from the Crown Gallery site. “Spomenik” means monument, and all of these structures were meant to commemorate WWII losses and point to progress and a generally utopian future. Thanks to the turmoil of subsequent wars in the former Yugoslavia, these brutalist monuments have fallen into disrepair. More information on Kempenaers here.

I’ve liked this building from childhood, but somehow I managed to see it with fresh eyes recently – I was late for an art event there, it was dusk, I was tired, the entry was deserted and somehow I suddenly noticed how ridiculously beautiful it is. It houses the Museum of Vancouver and the H.R. MacMillan Planetarium, famous in part for the Led Zep and Pink Floyd laser light shows which everyone steadfastly refuses to attend with me. I’ve been trying to get someone to go with me for years. The building’s shape probably references both flying saucers and the finely woven hats of the Salish First Nations on whose traditional lands Vancouver squats. The architect is George Hamilton and the building was completed in 1968; the stainless steel crab fountain (turned off for maintenance when I took these photos) is by sculptor George Norris. Click photos for more information.

and these shots by ChimayBleue on Flickr:

I found Lost City Arts by accident when searching for works by Harry Bertoia. Like this shop, Lost City has eccentric art and furniture pieces that are substantially more eye-catching or compelling than market-produced objects mainly because most of their art furniture was, in fact, made by sculptors. Most of it is one-offs or small editions which is why most of it is too expensive for me. But I like the fact that these objects came from also a time when buyers actually collected contemporary sculpture for their houses and apartments. I don’t know what these pieces awaken for me, but the more eccentric accessories of modernism – glam, or brutalist, or whatever – are becoming more and more appealing. Maybe everything’s too clean these days, or too girly; I don’t know. Captions and photos are from Lost City Arts. Above is a Spider table from Italy, 1950s.

Unique Animal Form Sculpture by Harry Bertoia, USA, 1950’s. Rare early example of Bertoia’s expansive exploration of metal work. Large carpenters nails are assembled in the form of a fantasy animal of insect. The entire surface is coated with a layer of melted bronze. It is extremely rare if not totally unique in Bertoia’s career to depict actual figures. Playful exercise predating the more formal styles that were to develop.

Walnut Occasional Table by Milo Baughman, USA, 1960’s. Occasional table by Baughman. Designed with a great sense of scale, the thick top matches the vertical dimension of the X base. Beautiful walnut grain overall, excellent as side table for the low slung sofa.

Above: Paul Evans, Brutalist Sculpture, USA, 1960’s. A very rare freestanding artwork by Paul Evans, known primarily for his artfully accented furniture. His sculpture is exceedingly uncommon. The trademark brutal approach has been applied to create a floral themed masterpiece.

Harp Chair by Jorgen Hovelskov, Denmark, 1960’s. Beautiful vintage example of the Harp by Hovelskov. A masterful exercise in material conservatism, the form more than makes up in its visual complexity. The expertly crafted frame, in solid walnut, anchors the hypnotic weaving of the jute cord forming the seat. A delicate but perfect balance of style, comfort and high design.

This is the piece I secretly hanker for the most: Motorized Kinetic Sculpture by Calleja, USA, 1970’s. A very cool, quiet and mesmerizing kinetic sculpture. A pair of chromed rods, each precisely curved, are mounted to a base which contains a motor. The motor slowly turns the rods, seemingly weaving the rods into and out of each other. A very simple method to achieve a subtly calming effect. The interior of the base is signed CALLEJA.