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Why brutalist buildings should stay, even if people think they're ugly

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Why brutalist buildings should stay, even if people think they're ugly

The J. Edgar Hoover Building of the Federal Bureau of Investigation (FBI) is seen on April 03, 2019 in Washington, D.C.

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If you’ve seen a large building made entirely out of concrete built sometime between the 1950s and 1970s, you’ve probably seen the style of architecture known as brutalism.

People have a lot of feelings about these buildings. NPR interviewed people on the street in front of FBI headquarters in Washington D.C. Built in 1975, it’s a well-known example of brutalism that takes up two city blocks — and that a lot of people dislike.

“I can’t stand it,” said Arielle Carani, a 24-year-old from Chicago. “I work right across the street from it, so I have to look at it every day that I’m in the office. And it’s just so ugly.”

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Darren Williams, a 29-year-old from Michigan said, “It kinda looks like a prison with windows. Just a concrete slab stuck in the middle of a city.” And Devon Akmon, a 48-year-old from Ann Arbor Michigan said it looks like “a mass of stone and glass without much architectural detail.”

Nobody we interviewed in front of FBI Headquarters had positive things to say about the brutalist style of the building.

“I think that folks can feel like these buildings are out of scale, and they’re maybe not as beautiful as other types of federal architecture,” said Angela Person, co-curator of a brutalism exhibit at the National Building Museum in D.C. “They just don’t look the same as many other architectural styles that we’ve become accustomed to encountering.”

So what is brutalism and why do people dislike it?

Brutalism started in the 1950s in the U.K. One of its pioneers was Le Corbusier, a Swiss-French architect who did a lot of work in raw concrete after World War II, including housing, religious buildings, and government buildings. He called this style béton brut, meaning raw concrete.

Portrait of Swiss-born French architect and designer Le Corbusier (born Charles-Edouard Jeanneret, 1887 - 1965), New York, New York, 1930s.

Portrait of Swiss-born French architect and designer Le Corbusier (born Charles-Edouard Jeanneret, 1887 – 1965), New York, New York, 1930s.

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“He was referring to the concrete material as being raw and not something you could totally control the precision of. And he just embraced that. He was such a leading figure that I think other people followed in his footsteps,” said Jeanne Gang, founder of Studio Gang, an architecture firm based in Chicago, New York, San Francisco and Paris.

Person says brutalism is a style of modernism, a movement that appealed to architects and designers because of its material honesty and lack of ornamentation. They felt they were creating beautiful, sculptural buildings that would stand the test of time

She says you can look at brutalist buildings and understand how they are laid out. The materials are presented how they are: There is no plastering, or unnecessary paint or finishes.

Habitat 67, a prefabricated housing structure designed by Israel-born Canadian architect Moshe Safdie for Expo 67. It's made up of a basic structural unit of precast concrete, 38 1/2 feet long, 17 1/2 feet wide and 10 feet high, which is finished off with a kitchen, bathroom, fixtures and other living features.

Habitat 67, a prefabricated housing structure designed by Israel-born Canadian architect Moshe Safdie for Expo 67. It’s made up of a basic structural unit of precast concrete, 38 1/2 feet long, 17 1/2 feet wide and 10 feet high, which is finished off with a kitchen, bathroom, fixtures and other living features.

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University Of California, San Diego, Geisel Library, La Jolla, California. (Photo by: Education Images/Citizens of the Planet/Universal Images Group via Getty Images)

The University Of California, San Diego, Geisel Library, located in La Jolla, California.

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There was a building boom after World War II, and many places, such as the U.K. needed to completely rebuild. Person says brutalism became popular for a lot of large, institutional buildings — like big government buildings, campus buildings, and public housing. The brutalist style lent itself to rapid construction and was relatively affordable. Plus, concrete was and remains largely available around the world.

“It was the style of the moment in the postwar period. I think it was a popular style in that time because there was this need to really rapidly scale up the amount of office space for the federal government,” said Person.

Boston City Hall, built in the Brutalist architectural style, is seen in Boston on Friday, August 13, 2021. (AP Photo/Ted Shaffrey)

Boston City Hall, built in the Brutalist architectural style, is seen in Boston on Friday, August 13, 2021.

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Robert C. Weaver Federal Building, headquarters of HUD, the U.S. Department of Housing and Urban Development, Washington, D.C.

The Robert C. Weaver Federal Building, headquarters of HUD, the U.S. Department of Housing and Urban Development in Washington, D.C.

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The Department Of Health and Human Services' Hubert H. Humphrey Building in Washington. D.C.

The Department Of Health and Human Services’ Hubert H. Humphrey Building in Washington. D.C.

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Brutalism got a bad rep in the press and sometimes for political reasons too, said Gang. That’s because these buildings often represented socially ambitious programs that then went into disfavor. Many brutalist buildings got torn down.

Person says she thinks some of these buildings are in disrepair because it’s been difficult to fund their upkeep and update them.

“If they’re not well-loved, it can be difficult to prioritize finding the funding and maintaining them,” said Person.

Why keeping them around is the green, sustainable move

These buildings were meant to stand the test of time, Person says. But they’re in need of significant investment if they are going to exist for another five decades.

Gang says there is an environmental incentive not to demolish brutalist buildings. The process of curing cement into concrete causes a lot of carbon emissions. Generally, people are now trying to use more environmentally friendly building materials.

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But the brutalist buildings have already been built, and the carbon has already been released into the atmosphere.

“So preserving them would really be saving carbon…little nuggets of carbon that you would be saving and reusing,” said Gang. “It’s the most environmentally friendly thing you can do to reuse a building like that.”

Brutalist buildings, though, can be more difficult to maintain. Person says sometimes if the plumbing or electrical must be updated, workers have to run wires or piping outside the walls so they are visible.

Gang has renovated brutalist buildings and says there are a lot of challenges with their preservation. They need to be adapted to accessibility standards, they have outdated mechanical systems, and some building features may be difficult to repurpose.

“If you tear them down, it’s so wasteful that it’s really criminal in a way. It’s like, you could be building on these interesting buildings and make them work for today,” said Gang. “Most people would just say this is not a good building. Let’s tear it down. It’s my impression they would be lost to the wrecking ball if people don’t start to kind of wake up and see the qualities there.”

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Obed Manuel and Suzanne Nuyen edited the digital version of the story.

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I played 'Survivor' in someone's backyard. Now I'm hooked on live reality games

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I played 'Survivor' in someone's backyard. Now I'm hooked on live reality games

The author on Surviving Bloomington.

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Ethan Gill/Surviving Bloomington

I was 12 years old when I discovered Survivor. My mom and I were flipping channels, and we paused to watch some cranky people arguing about where to build a shelter and a fire. Corporate trainer and eventual winner Richard Hatch was trying to organize the group, much to self-proclaimed redneck Sue Hawk’s chagrin. “Corporate world ain’t gonna work out here in the bush,” she complained.

It was a new show called Survivor, my mom explained, where people lived on an island and competed to win $1 million. By the end of the episode, I was a fan.

I’m 36 now, and as obsessed as ever. I’ve spent years discussing the game in forums, listening to podcasts breaking down each episode, trying to divine the winner of each season based on “edgic” (“logic from the edit”) and competing in Survivor fantasy leagues. I’ve often pondered applying, wondering if I could dig deep enough to actually be on this show I love more than almost anything, but 26 days of minimal sleep and food isn’t for me.

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What if I could get a little taste somehow?

On Jan. 31, 2023, the Survivor gods smiled on me. At the coffee shop, fetching his daily cortado, my husband noticed a casting flier for Surviving Bloomington, “a four-day live game based on the TV show Survivor.” Applications closed that day. I hastily filmed an audition video.

A few months later, I found myself in a heavily wooded Bloomington, Ind., backyard, meeting my tribe as the production crew filmed us with their iPhones.

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Outwit, outplay, outlast … or try, anyway

Though I had known live reality games (LRGs) existed, I’d never thought one would be just a few minutes down the road from me. Or that within 14 months, I’d appear in three.

I soon learned there are LRGs all over the country, and not just Survivor ones. There are versions of The Mole, Big Brother, The Challenge and others — even entirely new games. LRGs range from one to 10 days; some are live streamed, others are edited into episodes for YouTube. Survivor LRGs sometimes bring in players from the real thing to compete or just say hi.

These DIY games are true to their TV parents, with challenges, immunities, twists and turns, and themes. The Survivor Weekender LRG I joined in August was themed “Olive Garden of Eden,” with the starting tribes named Soup, Salad and Sticks. (I was a Stick.) Surviving Bloomington‘s conceit was Order vs. Chaos; my tribe was Order.

My time on Surviving Bloomington was short: Another player and I lost the first immunity challenge for our tribe — putting together a puzzle made of wooden planks — and I was voted out first. No one wants to be that person. Typical of Survivor, there were sudden shifts in allegiance. Also true to genre, the edit didn’t tell the whole story of my eleventh-hour betrayal.

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The author succumbs to gravity.

The author succumbs to gravity.

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Then, I lost my chance to return via a Redemption Island challenge: hold a bottle of water above my head for as long as I could. I made it to the final three, biceps on fire. After almost 25 minutes, I couldn’t go on. It’s not eating bug larvae, but it wasn’t fun.

Despite my brief tenure — and the “I’m not here to make friends” reality show trope — I did make friends. When my tribe got to camp, we immediately began swapping personal stories. One night on Redemption Island (another backyard), a group of us stayed up late talking, and I fell asleep listening to one of my mates tell ghost stories.

After Surviving Bloomington and Survivor Weekender, I joined The Mole Ohio. As in the TV version, contestants work together to add money to a pot that only one can win, all the while being thwarted by a saboteur appointed by the producers.

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Where Survivor requires teamwork and alliances, The Mole is a solo, self-reliant sort of game. Here, I could try on a different version of myself. I’m normally helpful and forthcoming. Not needing votes to stay in the game, though, I could be selfish, suspicious, cagey. I could — and did — sow chaos.

What happens in the game, stays in the game

LRGs are admittedly low-stakes. We’re usually competing only for bragging rights, so there’s a kindness and humanity not often seen on TV. And what happens in the game stays in the game. Slights and schemes don’t generally spill over into real life. I’ve kept in contact with almost everyone, either individually or in group chats.

I’m still unsure if I could make it 26 days on an island. But playing these games boosted my confidence. I consider myself pretty awkward, socially. In the company of people who nerd out over the same thing I do, I found strength in my ability to connect.

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Now, if you’ll excuse me, Survivor 47 premieres tonight. I’ve got my eye on Teeny for the win.

To learn more about live reality games, check out these links:

Survivor Weekender on YouTube and Instagram

The Mole Ohio on YouTube and Instagram

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Joey Bosa False Alarm Triggers Massive Police Presence At NFL Star's Home

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Edgar Barrera leads the Latin Grammy nominations for the second year in a row

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Edgar Barrera leads the Latin Grammy nominations for the second year in a row

Edgar Barrera, the songwriter and producer who leads all nominees at the 25th annual Latin Grammy Awards, shown here attending an event celebrating producers, engineers, songwriters and composers at the Grammy museum on January 31, 2024.

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With another Latin Grammys nominations announcement comes another potential armload of trophies for songwriter/producer extraordinaire Edgar Barrera. The Mexican-American hitmaker tops the list with nine nominations, including songwriter of the year, producer of the year and three different entries under song of the year.

Right behind Barrera with eight nods is Karol G, who collaborated with the writer/producer on the song of the year and record of the year nominee “Mi Ex Tenía Razón,” jabbing at her public breakup and new relationship. Last year, Karol G took home the album of the year award for Mañana Será Bonito; she’s nominated in that category again for her follow-up, Mañana Será Bonito (Bichota Season).

Also earning eight nominations is Puerto Rican superstar Bad Bunny, whose Nadie Sabe Lo Que Va a Pasar Mañana, released last fall, was more or less a return to his trap roots. Though the Latin Recording Academy has continually awarded Benito in the reggaeton/hip-hop categories, he has never won in a general category. This year, the bulk of his nominations are once again concentrated in the urban categories, save for record of the year (“Monaco”) and best short form music video (“Baticano”).

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The Latin Grammy nominations, which span 58 categories overall, were announced Tuesday morning by the Latino Recording Academy. After a controversial move to Spain last year, this year’s ceremony will take place in Miami on November 14.

Songwriter and frequent Barrera collaborator Kevyn Mauricio Cruz, known as “Keityn,” earned six nominations, showing the Latin Recording Academy’s love for behind-the-scenes players extends beyond Barrera. Behind Keityn, there are three contenders tied for five nominations each: engineer Adam Ayan, Dominican bachata and merengue legend Juan Luis Guerra and Colombian songwriter/producer Julio Reyes Copello.

Notably, Kali Uchis — who has spoken about facing resistance from her former label when it came to making Spanish-language music — secured four nods, including record of the year, best pop vocal album and best pop song, all off her second Spanish project, Orquídeas. Colombian reggaetonero Feid, Puerto Rican singer Kany García and regional Mexican artist Carín León all also received four nominations each.

Like their English-language counterpart, the Latin Grammys boast at least 10 nominees in each of the “Big Four” categories: record of the year, album of the year, song of the year and best new artist. Barrera, Karol G, Carín León and Argentine songwriter-producer Rafa Arcaute are all nominated in the first three categories. Other notable names up for awards in those categories include Shakira, Residente, Camilo and Jorge Drexler. The best new artist category includes Agris, Nicolle Horbath (who recently performed alongside Juanes at the Tiny Desk) and Sofi Saar.

The Latin Grammys will be introducing a new category this year, best contemporary Mexican music album, intended to shine a light on the names leading a new pop explosion within the traditional regional Mexican genre. Nominees for the inaugural award include Natanael Cano, DannyLux and Peso Pluma. Grupo Frontera straddles the old and new guard of the genre — the Texas group’s 2023 album El Comienzo is nominated for best Norteño album, while their 2024 record Jugando A Que No Pasa Nada is nominated for best contemporary Mexican music album. (To be eligible for nomination this year, recordings must have been released during the Latin Grammys’ eligibility period: June 1, 2023 to May 31, 2024.)

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