Buh-Bye Brutalist Bomb!

Houston, our nation's fourth-largest city, happens to be the largest city in the country without zoning ordinances. I can't help but wonder whether, in addition to speeding up the process of regentrification by removing regulatory barriers to land use, if the lack of zoning might have made it a lot easier to remove a particularly large eyesore from our urban landscape. The Central Administration Building of the Houston Independent School District, a building I have never liked, is slated for demolition. This picture comes as close to turning the old sow's ear into a silk purse as humanly possible.


In the bold below, look how education dollars were squandered on this monstrosity.

The HISD building borrows one very important Corbusian idea: the brise-soleil, or sun-break. Fixed or movable louvers -- in this case, panels of concrete -- were used to shade, direct or reflect sunlight. In hot, arid Chandigar, a brise-soleil controlled light while still allowing view and ventilation. In hot, humid Houston, it saved on air-conditioning bills.

More likely, Brutalism appealed to HISD for reasons other than energy efficiency. The style's heavy structural frames and often labor-intensive detailing were unsuitable for small buildings or money-short clients. A Brutalist building conveyed that an organization was important, that it took a no-nonsense approach to things and faced the future without blinking.

But that, of course, was 40 years ago, and Brutalism, once the architecture of the forward-looking, aged fast. The few Brutalist buildings that went up after the crest of Modernism were often reviled by the public at the time they were completed. And now, the architecture of the future looks outdated.

So perhaps it's not surprising that HISD chose to sell the valuable piece of real estate on which the building sits and move its headquarters elsewhere.

In a different city or era, the building might have become a museum or some other cultural resource, a library or theater. Perhaps even a hotel. Or a dance hall, maybe.

Instead, the landmark building is scheduled to be razed next year to make room for a mixed-use development. Preserving the building never seemed even remotely likely, and not only because Houston developers harbor a notable disregard toward historic buildings. Brutalism is one of the world's toughest sells for historical preservation. It isn't cute or friendly, like a Queen Anne cottage. It was meant to convey power, and it's hard to feel nostalgia for something that looks tough.

And in the last paragraph, you can see why I suspect that Houston's lack of zoning made this easier.

In closing I note that I have seen examples of brutalism that I at least found interesting, notably the interior of the Sydney Opera House, which I visited with my wife on our honeymoon.

Hmmm! It seems that will be changing as well!

-- CAV