
Lately I have been coming across a lot of weblogs and sites devoted to modernist architecture and city planning, now fallen into decay after decades. I was especially happy to run across this post which pointed me to this incredible article by J.G. Ballard.
...in its heyday between the wars, modernism was a vast utopian project, and perhaps the last utopian project we will ever see, now that we are well aware that all utopias have their dark side.
The photo above was taken from the monorail train in Naha, Okinawa. Each floor is a single apartment from what I can tell. The following is Naminoue Beach in Naha, the only beach in the city, with a scenic view of an overpass right over the water rendering the horizon invisible.


Another beach we visited was called “Tropical Beach,” but a more accurate name might have been “Industrial Wasteland Beach.”


I’m not unhappy about the view at the beach. I wasn’t expecting pristine palm forests and cabanas. But a lot of people would be disappointed to see an industrial complex dominating the skyline when they come for their vacation on Okinawa. This is one of the reasons why the military bases actually detract from Okinawa’s economy, whose number one industry is tourism, rather than boosting it as they would try to get you to believe.
But besides the political, there is much beauty to be found in modern architecture. Those concrete structures evoke a certain sorrow over the idealism of the past now faded and unkempt and out of date.

The above photo is from a fantastic project called Restmodern, a collaborative effort of two Berliners, Andreas Muhs and Oliver Elser, who are documenting the everyday, postwar architecture of Berlin. According to their site, in the wave of renovation in the past ten years many of these buildings will be demolished to make way for the new. Restmodern wants to make sure we remember this architecture before it is too late.
Most people would ignore the tower blocks and overpasses, or treat them as eyesores. Greg Ercolano, however, finds beauty in one of the largest, most despised concrete structures that to many people signifies the absolute loss of nature in return for urbanity—the Los Angeles River. You can see his photo project here, at Friends of Vast Industrial Concrete Kafkaesque Structures (FOVICKS). Ercolano gives us not only great photos of the river, but a good explanation of the physics at work and the reasoning behind its structure.
When we ignore those structures that seem so unremarkable we learn nothing from them. Those concrete tower blocks and overpasses and strip malls affect us in many ways, psychologically and spiritually, but simply tearing them down and trying to forget that ugly environment won’t immediately create an environment that is pleasing and naturalistic.
I believe the Restmodern has the right idea. We cannot only look at the highpoints of architecture but must recognize the everyday, often seen but seldom analyzed. Let’s appreciate it for what it is, think about it, feel the hope in the building and the sorrow in the decay, before it is too late and these everyday buildings are demolished and we’ve moved on to the next stage of architectural style.
This hope and sorrow inherent in concrete ruins is what Mari finds beautiful, what the Japanese call “mono no aware.” In her post on the ruins of Gunkanjima she describes:
Why do ruins have some charm? I think it would be related to the feeling of “mono no aware”. There is no life, guilt, desire, joy, happiness, pain, or anything any more. Everything is over and just wind-blown.
She says the Japanese can find beauty in something that is dying, something ephemeral. Perhaps that is why some of us can see the beauty in the architecture of death. These structures once held all the promises that modernism never delivered. Now perhaps they are too ugly to redeem themselves from demolition. But isn’t it beautiful anyway?