Look, I knew my walk to the university through the open space along the wild green strip couldn’t last forever. It was Amsterdam South, of all things, possibly the most desirable real estate location in the country. In times of construction, it would be completely full. Logically.
But against my better judgement, I cherished the hope that something beautiful would emerge from all those construction sites. Something graceful. At some point this modernist era should pass. I’m a layman, but I thought that’s how art history went. One day tastes, the zeitgeist will change, and you will make other songs, other art and design other buildings.
But time and time again it appears that this period is far from over. A new disappointing variation on the same building emerges from every construction pit. The square box, a distribution center on its side, a brutalist angular humorless colossus in sober grey. Or white. Or in the case of my own university’s new science building, a new kind of brownish gray that reminds me of the Australian-mandated pantone 448C for cigarette packs, chosen by a panel as most repulsive and disheartening.
And really, I also see how the architects allow themselves subtle witticisms in every building. Here’s a window that makes a slightly sharper angle. Just there a point that protrudes, a square bite from the facade. Or, go crazy, a triangle. The architects themselves think this is all very clever and congratulate each other. Last week it was announced that a residential complex in the Amsterdam district of IJburg, the ‘Jonas’, receives a prize from the architect colleagues at the trade association. The jury praises the building for its sustainable yet affordable character and its careful design. The building is said to resemble a whale, partly because of the ingenious construction with wooden trusses reminiscent of ribs and baleen. Unfortunately, all this is well hidden behind the same dark gray angular facade. If only it was a whale shape. It would be revolutionary to build something round or wavy in this day and age.
There is hope at every construction site, but our ability to make our own living environment ugly seems almost endless. Even now that we have stumbled barefoot through the modernist artistic desert for so many years and we have collectively ended up in depression and burnout in 2023, now that everyone is longing for something cuddly, something beautiful, something comforting and heartwarming to rest their eyes on, we still don’t get out of the same reflex. We only know one construction mode: glass and steel, steel and glass. Tight. Industrial. You can almost understand why someone would spray graffiti on it. It begs for a drawing. A human expression. Something handmade.
You ask a contractor or a carpenter to put a flower pattern in something and he laughs in your face. We’ve forgotten how to decorate. To decorate ceilings, or to apply ornaments, something with stained glass, a mosaic, a decorated paneling, floor or window frame. It’s something of a bygone era. When the carpenter realizes it’s not a joke, he thinks deeply and refers you to an old friend who went to art school. Because drawing is only reserved for artists, or for children. It is no longer part of the work of craftsmen, architects and contractors. They are sleek, safe, sustainable and functional.
And don’t tell me it’s about money. Yes, making an ornamental ceiling or window frame is expensive. Especially since nobody knows how to do it anymore. But do you know what is also expensive? An absurdly high central hall, in which at least fifteen more apartments fit. A ‘bite’ out of your facade in which you could have housed three companies. The more expensive the apartment complex, the emptier, the tighter. With concentration camp gray tiles in the bathroom, and an industrial-looking Tata Steel construction for hanging a door. Of course made of glass. No, for something elegant you have to go to the cheaper shops. That’s what the contractor pointed out. You can buy ready-made plaster ceiling ornaments at the hardware store. For something round, something decorated, something cuddly, go to a store where things cost 2.50.
Soon this era will end. But not until after we have filled our country with modernist sadness in the coming years. So off to the hardware store, for a plaster ornamental ceiling. To Xenos for an angel or a column. Kitsch, that’s for sure. But think of it as an act of defiance.
Rosanne Hertzberger is a microbiologist.
A version of this article also appeared in the May 13, 2023 newspaper.