Concrete Ideals – Dissonance and The New Brutalism

SAA Conference, Hawaii USA, 2013

Robert Maxwell

University of Sydney; Sydney, Australia

Abstract

This project aims to address the role played by social action and verbal meaning in the

formation of the archaeological record. The material and the social shared a layered,

nondeterministic relationship characterised by networks of verbal meaning and social

action. This process is universal and temporally nondeterministic. Though temporal

distance will impact upon the survival of an archaeological resource, it is not a necessary

precondition of archaeology. The argument is tested against three sites of recent origin

belonging to the Brutalist architectural style in Britain and Australia; a common post-war

architectural element in the urban landscape of both countries. Via separate articulation

of the social and the material, episodes of socio-material dissonance are identified.

These are interpreted via Fletcher’s theory of material non-correspondence in an effort

to highlight the archaeological significance of the contemporary cultural resource.

Keywords

Brutalism; Modernism; architecture; non-correspondence; dissonance

Introduction

The contemporary past is archaeologically navigable when contextualised in terms of its

three constituent elements - materiality, social action and verbal meaning. By

articulating the material as operationally distinct from the social we can see that the

relationship between materiality and social organisation is mediated by action and

verbal meaning. That mediation is conducted in response to a combination of both

social and material pressures upon the individual or group in order to maintain

organisational cohesion. The archaeological record can be shown to a product of the

multi-layered relationship shared between materiality, social evolution and human

action.

This study aims to identify socio-material interaction in a dataset of late-20th century

origin. A methodology based in ‘material non-correspondence theory’, as articulated by

Roland Fletcher (2002, 2004, 2007) has been applied to the data as a means of

extracting archaeological information about the recent past. The principle of material

non-correspondence holds that the social and the material share a nondeterministic

relationship – human action and verbal meaning are generatively independent of each

other. Over time the material becomes divorced from its original social function via

recontextualisation and acts as an increasingly abrasive force in the environment

requiring cultural mediation.

Though the material necessarily interacts with the social, one cannot be said to directly

describe or explain the other. Rather, the archaeological record represents human

behaviours intended to marry or cohere the material to the social. This is exemplified by

the processes of construction, amendment, destruction and super-deposition. A reading

of archaeology as a direct correlate of documents ignores an entire generative function

in social action, collapsing the social and the material into a single conflated entity.

This paper aims to disambiguate the social from the material using a dataset of recent

origin in order to reveal quantifiable archaeological data representing change in the late-

20th century. The dataset chosen for this task consists of built structures belonging to the

Brutalist architectural style built between 1949 and 1980.

Hypothesis

The current study aims to illustrate the utility of applying archaeological principles to the

analysis to a 20th-century dataset, chosen for their adherence to a consistent formal type

and period of construction. Via analysis of a series of sites conforming to the same type,

inter-site comparisons can be made and conclusions drawn regarding the archaeological

diagnosticity and cultural significance of that type. The hypothesis is tripartite:

1. The relevance of contemporary archaeology can be located via the principle of

material non-correspondence

2. Brutalist structures constitute a formal type which provides evidence of material

non-correspondence

3. Brutalist structures are therefore a diagnostic archaeological type in the modern

built landscape.

The study aims to explore architectural Brutalism as archaeology by addressing it in

terms of its materiality and formal qualities, separate to its associative social meaning

and significance. While an understanding of the history of Brutalism is necessary, this

study aims to approach the Brutalist structure as a stratified entity, comprised of

verbally-assigned meanings, human action and material agency. These organising

principles must be identified separately prior to recombination in the final analysis in

order to reveal the archaeological validity of the site and site type.

Terminology is often problematic, and for this reason a brief note is required regarding

the usage of the term ‘archaeology’ within this paper. Archaeology is taken to be the

evidential product of human interaction with the material. In this sense, the term

archaeology refers to anything with a material expression which is or has been culturally

created, manipulated or mediated in the human past as evinced by that material

expression. This reading of the term does not require a site or artefact to be outside of a

cycle of use; it may be or it may not. Rather, the relationship of the human to the object

over time is of primary importance.

Locating Brutalism

East wall, fire escape and air intake duct, Hayward Gallery, London (Heinle & Bacher)

The terms ‘Brutalism’ and ‘The New Brutalism’ are contextually separate, however the

difference is subtle and bears some explanation. In many cases Brutalism is used as a

short-hand referential term for the movement as a whole but this is technically

inaccurate. The difference is one of ethics versus aesthetics. The New Brutalism refers to

the ethical principles championed by the Smithsons and other members of the collective

known as Team 10 at the 1956 CIAM (Congrès International d'Architecture Moderne).

Throughout the 1950s, 60s and 70s this ethical position was expressed by architectural

Brutalism; the style or aesthetic of raw, untreated materials and prismatic forms,

appropriated by many architects and planners into the late 1970s.

As Western Europe emerged from the Second World War, there came a sudden and

critical need to build, particularly in Britain. The decimation caused by a state of total

conflict required urgent remediation in the form of rebuilding, resettlement and a

reassertion of civic order. Building, and by extension, architecture, would be key

governmental tools in the task. From this social milieu came the election of the Atlee

Labour government in 1945, an administration heavily committed to the ideals of the

British Welfare State. The period 1945-1951 saw a great bloom in construction in the

form of mass housing, infrastructure and civic planning. This created a potent

precondition for the emergence of a new form of 20th century architecture.

Led by les enfants terribles Alison and Peter Smithson, The New Brutalism was publicised

as the answer to the social needs of a post-war Europe and the rightful heir and

successor to the International Modernist figureheads of Le Corbusier, Ludwig Mies van

der Rohe and Walter Gropius. The New Brutalists intended their architecture to serve

the people via a literal and puritanical reading of the principles of architectural

Modernism. The movement’s insistence on raw materials, expressed structure and a

concentration on volume, mass and linear perspective created an aesthetic which was

absolutely and deliberately anti-picturesque.

The New Brutalism embraced a Corbusian social concern, presenting architecture as the

vehicle for the ideal urban life. This is ostensibly an expansion of Le Corbusier’s concept

of a ‘machine for living in’ (“une machine à habiter”); a structure which is the perfect

formal embodiment of functionality (Corbusier 1924: 73). The New Brutalism was to

produce material solutions for the urban environment which were structurally and

functionally solvent, emphasising plasticity, mass, volume and circulation. The first

significant architectural blow of The New Brutalism was made in 1954 by Alison and

Peter Smithson in the opening of Hunstanton Secondary School, a project begun in 1949

and historically identified as the first Brutalist architectural structure.

As Brutalism became the dominant idiom within architecture from the mid-fifties, this

produced a significant number of Brutalist buildings in the British landscape. Today, sites

such as the Hayward Gallery, the Barbican Estate, Trellick Tower, Robin Hood Gardens

and Park Hill Estate are amongst the most recognisable and contentious modern

structures in Britain. Through the publicity surrounding the Smithsons, and the

appropriation of Brutalism by prominent architects such as James Sterling, Colin St John-

Wilson, Owen Luder, Rodney Gordon and Erno Goldfinger, Brutalism came to flourish in

the major cities and suburbs of England. Brutalism would come to make a significant

impact upon the Australian urban landscape, too. In Australia, Brutalism was

championed by the likes of John Andrews and the NSW Government Architect’s office.

Brutalist techniques were used by Harry Seidler, most notably in the construction of

Penelope Seidler House (1966-7) in Killara, Sydney (MacMahon 2001: 68) with its blades

of untreated off-form concrete and exposed brickwork. Brutalist architecture would not

make an explicit statement in Australia until the construction of the Student Union

Building at Macquarie University in 1968 (architects Ancher, Mortlock, Murray and

Woolley). Significantly more high-profile was the construction of the National Carillon in

Canberra (Cameron, Chisholm & Nicol), officially opened by Queen Elizabeth II in 1970. It

was followed by the Cameron Offices in Belconnen, Canberra (John Andrews

International, 1970-7), Perth Concert Hall (Howlett & Bailey, 1971-3), Sydney Masonic

Centre (Joseland Gilling, 1974), the Institute of Technology campus at Broadway, now

the University of Technology, Sydney (Michael Dysart for the NSW Government

Architect, 1969-1978) and the High Court of Australia (Edwards, Madigan, Torzillo &

Briggs, 1975-80). Brutalism would come to represent the 1970s in Australia, long after

the style had fallen from common favour in Europe.

Brutalism emerged during the late-20th century as an answer to the social problems of

the period. The aspirational ethic of The New Brutalism would see mass populations

housed together, working together and interacting with one another in a Brutalist

landscape built in total accordance with the needs of a modern urban community. The

concept of the ‘cluster’ would be conjugated in a variety of ways, from inter-connected

industrial complexes to massive high-rise council housing schemes; the ethic of The New

Brutalism became materialised in the forms and fabric of Brutalist architecture.

Brutalism was intended to usher in a new, healthy, rational 20th century urbanism.

Objectifying the recent past – arriving at a dataset

A strict typology of Brutalist architectural forms has never been articulated. On this

matter, Banham has stated that Brutalist schemes “stamp a fairly consistent image on all

their derivations, even if the exact links in the chain cannot be established” (Banham

1966: 134). This study aims to identify those “links in the chain” as a series of key formal

attributes which distinguish Brutalism within the architectural register. The selection

criteria are intended to identify a structure as Brutalist via adherence to verifiable

historical descriptions of Brutalist architectural motifs and materials, such as those

within The New Brutalism: Ethic or Aesthetic? (Banham 1966), the central historical text

relating to 20th century architectural Brutalism.

Selection criteria

1. The principal phase of construction is no earlier than 1949

2. Structural materials are clearly expressed as surface detail; disuse of applied

ornament

3. A high valuation of raw, untreated materials

4. “Form follows function”; formal elements relate to the intended functionality of the

structure.

5. The structure visually conveys a sense of mass and volume via the use of surfaces,

slab blocks, voids, sky bridges and geometric/prismatic forms.

6. Significant use of, and surface expression of, raw off-form concrete, metal or brickwork.

Assessment against the points above shows it is possible to reinterpret an ambiguous

collection of architectural motifs as diagnostic archaeological indicators of a formal type

in the contemporary past. This process allows for the separate articulation of the

material and the social in the analysis of the site, as its archaeological qualities are

considered apart from and in concert with its social meaning as architecture.

A theory of difference – material non-correspondence

This paper uses the principle of material non-correspondence as described by Roland

Fletcher (2002, 2004, 2007) as a method of exploring the archaeological validity of 20th

century built structures. Using material non-correspondence theory as a methodological

framework, it is possible to show that archaeology of recent origin constitutes more

than a social epiphenomenon.

In the paper ‘Materiality, Space, Time, and Outcome’ (2004), Fletcher deconstructs the

relationship of the material to the social. He argues that the relationship between the

material and the social is more complex than previous theoretical models have

presented it to be, in that archaeology is the study of the interplay between the

material, social action and verbal meaning. He states;

“Currently, primary significance is allocated to whatever standard

verbal meanings are ascribed to the material by the conventions of

social analysis. Instead, we might ask what the material does and

how the collision of the material with verbal meaning and social

action creates what actually happens. In the latter view, the

conventional sense of the social, primarily as a suite of verbalized

meanings associated with actions and things, should now be

extended to include the material as another kind of social

phenomenon, with internal patterning and operational

characteristics independent of its associated verbal meaning

structures and patterns of social action. We need to treat the

material as a class of behaviour with its own generative system, its

own distinctive heritage constraints, and its own operational impact.”

(Fletcher 2004: 111)

Material non-correspondence theory recognises the ‘social’ as a heterogeneous entity,

constituted by verbal meanings attached to actions and words (Fletcher 2004: 114).

Although society is constructed of both verbal meaning and social action, they are not

deterministically linked to one another; these are generated separately within the

individual. Clearly actions and words are not the same; they cohere by social contract

rather than biological principle. Fletcher’s theory holds that the social and the material

share a layered relationship through human action and verbal meaning yet each process

is organisationally nondeterministic of the other. Thus, any attempt to explain the

material in terms of verbally-assigned meanings and social roles is both disingenuous

and misleading. Rather, one ought to approach materiality in terms of its own

chronological and spatial relationships.

“If the material is generated separately from the verbal, but the two

are juxtaposed in day to- day life, then collapsing the material via the

social into the verbal has removed an entire generative factor from

our perception of culture.” (Fletcher, 2004)

The assumption made by previous archaeological models that the material constitutes a

direct reflection of the social is therefore invalid due to a conflation of organisational

processes. Archaeology constitutes the evidential outcome produced by the friction of

human action and the material colliding within a social system based on verbal meanings

(Fletcher 2004:134). The dissonance produced when the social and the materiality

become out-of-step with each other spurs cultural elaboration in the form of mediating

behaviours. This, in turn, drives cultural evolution as those mediating behaviours

succeed or fail in their deployment.

Dissonance and inertia

Cultural forms such as garments and interior design replicate and change at a much

more rapid rate than other forms, like civic planning or architecture. This may seem

obvious but the principle is important. This difference is due to the relationship of the

social, constituted by verbal meaning and social action, to materiality. Clothing and

jewelry are much easier to change or amend than one’s house or the layout of a suburb.

Due to unequal rates of replication societies create cultural items which eventually

become out-of-step or ‘dissonant’ with changes occurring within the social organisation

of that same group. It is important to note that this process occurs at differing volumes

dependent on the variables at play. As such, if a structure is part of a closed system with

strong appeals to tradition, then changes to the social organisation of the society over

time will be negligible, cultural forms will remain the same and the level of non-

correspondence, and thus tangible dissonance, will be very low. If a society is

particularly exposed to social change via immigration or a high incidence of cultural

contact, however, then dissonance occurs at a greater volume and with a significantly

larger effect.

This dissonant effect is also contingent on the inertial values of the material culture in

question. As verbal meaning and social action reproduce at different rates, any

disjunction between the two must be mediated in order to maintain social cohesion. The

inertia of a built structure creates social friction, as over time action and verbal meaning

become imperfectly superimposed over the material. The more massive a structure is

the greater its inertial qualities will be, and thus the greater its dissonant effect in a

rapidly changing social environment. In the case of the post-war 20th century – a period

which saw episodes of complex, rapid social change – this matter becomes significant.

Brutalism, therefore, would appear to be a viable form by which to examine the

potential effect of material non-correspondence on the formation of the contemporary

archaeological record.

Material evidence of non-correspondence:

Case Study No. 1 – The Cameron Offices, Belconnen ACT Australia

Cameron Offices, Belconnen ACT, c. 1977. Garden; 'gallows beam' detail (L. Speck)

The Cameron Offices are located in the suburb of Belconnen, 20km north-west of

Canberra, Australia. The Cameron Offices were designed by lead architect John Andrews

of John Andrews International, assisted by Peter Courtney (MacMahon 2001: 144). The

project was commissioned by National Capital Development Commission, a body set up

to plan and construct the new civic centres of the Australian Capital Territory through

the National Capital Development Commission or NCDC . Construction of the offices

began in 1970 with progressive occupation of the site from 1973 (Martin and Goodwin

2000: 2-3). The offices were officially opened on 24 September 1976.

Belconnen, c. 2008. The location of the Cameron Offices is indicated in blue. Lake Ginninderra is to the north (Google Earth)

When complete the complex consisted of eight parallel concrete office wings, running

east-west. Each wing was linked to the next by a long north-south ‘mall’ building. Each

section of mall contained three levels of offices, amenities, kitchens, walkways, lifts and

stairs (Martin and Goodwin 2000: 2). The mall structures were (and still are) the primary

traffic corridors within the complex which also contained shops and cafeteria (Martin

and Goodwin 2000: 2). A pedestrian bridge or ‘sky bridge’ links wings three and four.

The design qualities of the Cameron Offices were recognised as significant at the time of

their construction, particularly in relation to its rare gallows beam construction

technique (Taylor 1990: 106-8).

View to the north, Cameron Offices sky bridge, towards former site of Wings 1 & 2

(R. Maxwell)

The NCDC had foreseen Belconnen becoming an urban centre with a “large workforce of

public servants with related housing, cultural and commercial facilities” (Taylor 1990:

107), envisaging a resident population of 10,000 and a daily workforce of 20,000

(MacMahon 2001: 144). The original plan envisaged by Andrews, of which the Cameron

Offices are the primary element, is contingent with the New Brutalist concept of the

“cluster” (Lichtenstein and Schregenberger 2001: 138-55) or “habitat” (Banham 1966:

130). Andrews planned a tightly clustered pedestrian-oriented urban core running

north-south toward the man-made Lake Ginninderra (Taylor 1990: 107). The Belconnen

complex was proposed to link across traffic corridors via pedestrian walkways, to

adjacent residential and retail complexes (Martin and Goodwin 2000: 2-3). The plan saw

raised pathways link residential housing zones located to the south, via the offices, to a

bus interchange and large shopping centre and cultural precinct to the north on the

shores of Lake Ginninderra. A second phase of the complex saw the Benjamin Offices,

built to the west of the site across Benjamin Way, linking into the system by raised

pedestrian routes. Its orientation respects the site of the proposed shopping centre in

the north east.

Andrew's original site plan for the Cameron Offices. Wing 1 is at the far-right.

Andrew's original cross section & longitudinal section plans for the Cameron Offices.

Cameron Offices, Belconnen ACT, c. 1976.

The mid-1970s saw a period of economic downturn in Australia, and due to pressure

from commercial interests the Belconnen shopping centre was relocated to a site on the

western side of Benjamin Way (Taylor 1990: 108). At this time the Cameron Offices were

nearing completion, and construction on the Benjamin Offices was well underway. A

change of this magnitude critically compromised the realisation of the scheme’s

fundamental architectural premise, the pedestrian-oriented cluster, around which the

offices had been constructed. (Martin and Goodwin 2000: 5). The repositioning of the

shopping centre made it impossible for a pedestrian network to service the cluster. The

plan had become fatally flawed prior to its completion. Canberra’s reliance on

automotive transport meant that Belconnen too needed to accommodate cars, and so

the structures envisaged as interconnected and idyllic by Andrews became disconnected

elements in a bare landscape, surrounded by windy, exposed car parks (Taylor 1990:

108) . Architectural historian Jennifer Taylor has noted that the “raised pedestrian

routes now have torturous connections and the open, unconnected walkways from the

office complexes tells of the intent of the unrealised scheme. Further, the town turns its

back on the lake”(Taylor 1990: 108). In Belconnen the material and the social have

become starkly disengaged. In 2005, a portion of the offices, wings three to five and

walkway connecting wings three and four across Cameron Way, were added to the

Commonwealth Heritage List (Place No.105410, 2005). The following year the non-listed

portions of the complex were demolished.

Plan showing the contemporary layout of Belconnen. The shopping centre labelled 'Town Centre' was originally intended to be located to the immediate north of the Cameron Offices

& Bus Interchange.

Andrews’ ideal of the incorporated urban unit is indicative of an over-arching social

concern for integration and order. Changes to the original plan required material

mediation. If the change is too great, then the material inertia of the building prohibits

its cohesion with the new social schema. This was the case for the Cameron Offices. The

monumentality of the construction created a state of inertia, resulting from the

combined effect of materials (reinforced, off-form concrete construction), and form

(scale and alignment). The Cameron Offices became disconnected from the revised

social scheme for Belconnen. The complex could not adequately mediate the negative

effect of the relocation of the shopping centre, which caused a change to the social

organisation of Belconnen (changes in pedestrian routes, site use and circulation). As a

result of this dissonance the plan ultimately failed, and the site has been drastically

reduced in size.

Cameron Offices, aerial view, circa March 2008. Blue indicates the location of wings 1&2, now a car park abutting the bus interchange to the north (note the pilings for wing 1 evident as pale circular marks). The last element of wing 8 can be seen standing prior to demolition to the bottom-right of the frame, marked in red. (Google Earth)

Detail, truncated mall building, wing 3, looking south. Three scars in the concrete’s surface at this point represent the former location of wing 2. (R. Maxwell)

Detail, looking north-west. Truncated bus interchange walkway, fence line and surface debris scatter indicate the former location of wing 1. (R. Maxwell)

Detail, garden bed, wing 5, showing surface scatter of blue-metal aggregate concrete associated with prior phases of demolition (R. Maxwell)

Detail, northern site boundary. Concrete and metal debris surface scatter, indicating demolition of walkway and wing 1 (R. Maxwell)

The Cameron Offices are an interesting case study in the confusing relationship we have

with the recent past, as the offices are partly heritage listed, partly redeveloped and

partly demolished. Archaeologically evidence survives of the intended functionality of

the complex in its mall structures and promenades, and in buildings scars, truncated

walkways and changes to fabric. The Cameron Offices clearly show evidence of the

rapidly evolving social landscape of Australia during the 1970s. Although it is ultimately a

failed scheme, the dissonance caused by the location, form and material of the Cameron

Offices complex is significant. The principle of non-correspondence is a formative

element in the landscape of modern Belconnen.

St Peters Catholic Seminary, Cardross Scotland, circa 1966.

Case Study No. 2 – St. Peters Seminary, Cardross Scotland

St Peter’s Catholic Seminary is located north of the village of Cardross, approximately 32

km north of Glasgow on the banks of the River Clyde (Heinle and Bacher 1971: 179). The

seminary was constructed between 1960 and 1966, designed by Scottish architectural

firm Gillespie, Kidd & Coia under project architect Isi Metzstein (Glendinning 1996: 463;

Watters 1997: 1-5). The seminary was designed to accommodate 100 students of the

Roman Catholic priesthood in a newly designed cluster of buildings, situated within the

abruptly sloping grounds of the 19th century, Baronial Kilmahew House (Heinle and

Bacher 1971: 179).

2008 Cardross ordinance survey. Location of St. Peter's Seminary highlighted in blue. Cardross village is situated to the south-west.

The seminary comprises three main blocks; a long, central four-storey block

incorporating two chapels, refectory and three tiers of study-bedrooms; a three-storey

library and classroom block (at a right angle to the main block) and a small, rhomboid,

two-storey convent block located behind Kilamhew House in the north-eastern corner of

the site. Side chapels, consisting of ten individual apsidal cells on the northern and

southern walls of the main block, are accessed via the central chapel within. A small

kitchen wing connects the north-eastern corner of the main block to the south-eastern

corner of Kilmahew House. The seminary complex won the Architecture Award for

Scotland of the Royal Institute of British Architects in 1966 (Heinle and Bacher 1971:

179).

GK&C 1961 site plan – ground floor

GK &C 1961 site plan – first floor

GK&C 1961 site model, looking north. Kilmahew House is to the left, the main block to the right and the school block in the foreground. The convent block is situated behind Kilmahew

House.

The main block and convent buildings are constructed from light-brown precast

concrete slabs with an exposed aggregate finish of large rounded pebbles. The stepped-

back profile of the main block is achieved via a series of combined frames and cross-

walls of reinforced concrete poured in-situ at eight foot centres (Heinle and Bacher

1971: 180). The classroom block is constructed from off-form concrete, the horizontally-

laid wooden shuttering evident in the surface of the concrete. This block is cantilevered,

and juts out over a steep slope. The convent wing is built from double-cantilevers in

reinforced concrete, using the aggregate finish and forms seen in the main block in its

first storey, over a cellular, curvilinear ground floor design (Heinle and Bacher 1971:

181). The architectural forms and composition seen in evidence at St Peter’s owe much

to Le Corbusier, particularly his work at the Monastery of Sainte-Marie-de-la Tourette

(Heinle and Bacher 1971: 80-1).

Gillespie, Kidd & Coia were first engaged to construct a new seminary for 100 students

at Cardross in 1953, after a fire destroyed the existing seminary in the Glasgow suburb

of Bearsden (Arneil-Walker 2000: 39; 171-3). The first sod at Cardross was turned by

Archbishop Campbell of the Glasgow Archdiocese on 30 November 1960 (Avanti

Architects 2008: 291). The construction process was marred by a series of delays relating

to changes in design and structural revisions. The seminary was finally opened at an

Inauguration ceremony on 30 November 1966, six years to the day after construction

began (Avanti Architects 2008: 291).

GK&C 1961 cross-section plan of the main block. 1 = student rooms, 2 = chapel.

GK&C 1961 longitudinal section plan of the main block. 2 = chapel, 3 = sanctuary, 4 = chapel.

The construction phase at the Cardross site is contemporary with the convocation of

Second Vatican Council, or ‘Vatican II’, an event which ushered significant reforms to the

operation of the Roman Catholic Church in the 20th century. Vatican II opened under

Pope John XXIII on October 11, 1962 and closed under Pope Paul VI on December 8,

1965 (Proctor 2005: 294-6). The church had begun to publicly divest itself of the biblical

literalism which had characterised Vatican I, and sought ways to re-engage with its

clergy, laity and the wider community (Proctor 2005: 294-6). The changes wrought by

Vatican II would have a direct impact upon St Peter’s Seminary in terms of both its

organisation and operation. Under the new Vatican II liturgy, student priests were

encouraged to take part in part-time pastoral duties in the communities which they

would come to serve. As architectural historian Robert Proctor noted, the organisational

arrangement of St Peters adheres to a version of Catholicism which was about to be

completely abandoned:

“This changed conception of the liturgy brought with it other

implications for church architecture, elaborated in the Vatican

documents. For example, to increase the congregation's focus

on a single, communal act of worship, the number and

prominence of side chapels was to be reduced. The practice of

concelebration (where several priests said a shared Mass at one

altar) was encouraged, where previously it had been an

exceptional rite, so that where secondary altars had occasionally

been necessary in churches served by several priests, they were

now redundant. “ (Proctor 2005: 294)

The changes to liturgy and organisation under Vatican II meant St Peter’s had ultimately

lost much of its intended functionality as a retreat of religious seclusion and dedicated

learning even prior to its completion. The complex was completed in 1966, yet its

organisational footprint functions in concert with the standards of Catholic seminary

practices pre-1965. This can be seen archaeologically in the organisation of space at

Cardross. While Vatican II liturgical changes saw a move toward the concelebration of

mass, at St. Peters the architecture conforms to the old liturgy. A series of 10 individual,

apsidal side chapels which project from the north and south walls of the main chapel

represent the pre-Vatican II model of solitary liturgical instruction. The arrangement of

internal space within the main block also coheres with this model. On the ground floor

individual spaces, side altars and chapels, are located off the central communal spaces

of the main chapel and refectory. On the upper floors, individual study bedrooms open

onto common thoroughfares, arranged around the upper chapel and refectory

Figure 1 - Staff and students at St Peter’s, 1968.

The complex never functioned as it was intended to have done, and combined with a

stark drop in the number of young men entering the clergy, attendance was low. By

1979 there were only 21 students in residence at St Peter’s (Watters 1997: 15). A series

of serious structural issues sealed the fate of the seminary. In April 1973 a report was

tabled reporting severe water ingress and other structural problems, and in September

of 1974 a large section of roof collapsed in the classroom block (Avanti Architects 2008:

292). The seminary was officially closed in February of 1980, just 14 years after opening.

The structure sat vacant for three years until the Archdiocese began using the former

seminary buildings as a drug rehabilitation and detoxification centre in 1983. The same

year, the Archdiocese submitted an application to demolish the seminary, which was

rejected (Avanti Architects 2008: 292). The rehabilitation centre closed in 1987, marking

the final phase of occupation at the site. Though vacant and untended, the site was

given a Category A heritage listing by Historic Scotland in 1992 in recognition of its

architectural significance (Avanti Architects 2008: 292). Currently the seminary is a ruin.

A fire in 1995 gutted the majority of the main block, and destroyed Kilmahew House

which was consequently demolished in the same year (Avanti Architects 2008: 293).

Vandalism has seen much of the superstructure covered in graffiti. St Peter’s Seminary,

though derelict, has become a point of discussion in UK heritage circles over the past

several years as professionals attempt to marry its current derelict state with its

perceived architectural significance.

Detail, main block, view from study room to chapel, first floor, circa 2007.

Kilmahew House and convent block to the rear, circa 2007.

Detail, main block, view toward sanctuary, circa 2007

The site of St Peter’s Seminary in Cardross is a keen case study in the effect of severe

material dissonance. St Peter’s had become obsolete by 1965, yet was not completed

until 1966. A sudden and significant change in the social organisation and orientation of

the Catholic Church would necessarily have an effect upon the operation of a large

seminary such as St Peters. However, the fact that some of the most profound changes

under Vatican II concerned the role of the student-priest and the nature of their training

meant that a sudden and severe state of dissonance was created between the sociality

of the church and the materiality of the seminary itself. As the sheer materiality of the

seminary negated any opportunity for appropriate remediation of this non-

correspondence, the site was eventually abandoned due to its dysfunctionality.

“That St Peter’s early closure was a substantial

consequence of these (and other) factors is itself evidence

of the relative rarity and growing incongruity of its original

social model in modern times. Being initiated at a moment

of anticipated expansion in the church’s development then

rendered ‘redundant’ by virtue of almost concurrent

doctrinal changes it was caught within a particular historical

time capsule. It was a rarity within a genre that was itself

already rare. (Avanti Architects 2008: 67-8)

Detail, study chapel, circa 2007.

The Vatican II seminary student was encouraged to engage in secular life and embed

himself within the community which he would come to serve. This required the location

of the student within the wider community. Clearly St Peter’s was not designed for such

a purpose. Its composition represents an out-moded model of secluded seminary life. Its

structures face each other around a central courtyard, turning their back on the outside

world. The inability of the design to cope with dampness and water ingress combined

with its out-dated social orientation eventuated in a total failure of the settlement.

Detail, high altar, 2007.

The confluence of factors which ultimately made the site untenable are the same traits

which make it archaeologically significant. Its failure ultimately speaks to the complex

social milieu at the time of its construction, and the social pressures placed upon the

settlement in the period immediately following its construction. The disjunction which

Vatican II caused in the socio-material relationship at Cardross highlights material

agency - the ability of the object to shape behaviour, just as behaviour shapes the

object. In this case the inertia caused by fabric and form was substantial enough to

preclude any sort of behavioural mediation in the form of partial demolition or

structural reorganisation. This is also the case in terms of its ability to respond to

destructive taphonomic processes. Ultimately, although the community at St Peters was

short-lived, its archaeology is a rare and highly acute artefact quantifying the social

pressures and changing social landscape in Europe during the 1960s-70s.

UTS Building One (C. Marotta)

Case Study No. 3 – Building One, University of Technology, Sydney Australia.

Building One (1969-1978) more commonly known as the UTS Tower, is located at 1

Broadway, which becomes George Street, the arterial thoroughfare of the Sydney CBD

to the east of the site. The building was designed by the NSW Government Architect’s

Department for the NSW Institute of Technology, which became the University of

Technology Sydney in 1988 under an Act of NSW State Parliament (University of

Technology Sydney 2008). Information on the site in the public domain is sparse,

however the lead architect for the scheme has been identified as Michael Dysart by

Australian architect and commentator Elizabeth Farrelly (2009), corroborated by Joan

Kerr of the Royal Society of NSW (Kerr 1986: 192-3) and architect Peter Johns (2009).

The UTS site (blue) in relation to the Sydney CBD (yellow) and Broadway/George St (red) (Google Earth)

The site consists of a single 32-storey concrete tower above a tiered pre-stressed

concrete podium. The tower is cuboid, comprised of 21 evenly-spaced, slab-like levels

separated by recessed ribbon windows with a thick capping slab marking the top of the

structure, which one newspaper article reported as having the appearance of “sliced

bread” (McGregor 1969). The surface detail of the tower and podium displays a washed

or brushed aggregate finish.

Primary documents regarding the UTS site and its construction could not be located,

which is unexpected given the relative youth of the development. What information is

available consists of the official history of the institution on the UTS website

(www.uts.edu.au) and a series of press reports regarding the construction and plans for

the Broadway campus, dating from between 1969 and 2009. The difficulty in obtaining

the information would appear to be significant.

Reports indicate that in 1964 the original plan was for a row of seven 12-stories

buildings. This plan was modified the following year, replaced by a one consisting of four

buildings of 14, 15, 19 and 20 stories each (Ashton and Salt 2008). Ultimately, upon

commencement of construction in 1969 the revised plan for the campus described a

cluster of three interconnected towers to be constructed in the Brutalist style

(McGregor 1969). Tower One (the extant Building One) was originally intended to stand

at 28 stories, and to be completed by 1974. Tower Two was to be shorter yet wider and

to be located at the western side of Tower One, standing to 17 stories and slated for

completion in 1976. Tower Three was to be the smallest tower, at the eastern side of

the block, coming to a height of 11 stories and to be completed by 1978 (McGregor

1969).

The 1969 three-tower model of the NSW Institute of Technology site.

Due to a lack of on-going Commonwealth funding only one tower would be completed.

The second tower, which had already been started, was built to just above ground level,

incorporating 11 stories including several basement levels. It was roofed at this height in

1980 (Ashton and Salt 2008). One report holds that, although the tower was intended to

progress by one level every three weeks, at one stage a single level took eighteen

months to complete (Ashton and Salt 2008). Ultimately, when completed in 1978 Tower

One would cost the state government in excess of AUD $25 million (Hicks 1974).

Building One during construction, circa 1975 (UTS)

The UTS tower has been the source of much negative opinion in relation to its visual

impact , having been voted ‘Sydney’s Ugliest Building’ in a 2006 public opinion poll

(Cubby 2006). This is largely due to its prominence in the landscape, which serves to

highlight the structure’s Brutalist architecture – the most prominent structure of this

type on the southern periphery of the CBD. As a result it has become a highly

controversial structure in the contemporary Sydney skyline. While some, such as

Farrelly, hold it to be “a fine essay in mid-century Brutalism and one of Michael Dysart's

more glorious moments” (Farrelly 2009), it has attracted a significant hostile response

from the general public over time.

Detail, surface finish and post-tensioned cabling terminals, Building One and Podium (foreground) (M. Lynch)

UTS site, aerial view showing the intended location of Tower One and Podium (yellow), Tower Two (blue) and the approximate intended location of the Tower Three, cancelled prior to

commencement (red)

Evidence of the ‘Three Tower’ plan for the Broadway site can be seen archaeologically in

the footprint of the current building complex. While the site of the third tower remains

undeveloped, the proposed location of the Tower Two, now known as Building Two, can

clearly be seen in aerial views of the site, indicated by the large rectilinear roofed

structure which abutts the podium to the west of Building One. This structure represents

the truncated base of Tower Two.

The UTS campus is problematic largely due to the visual impact of the material. A

paucity of sympathetic construction in its immediate surroundings amplifies its anti-

picturesque qualities. Because of this, the tower appears as an exclamation point on the

southern horizon of the city centre, standing in isolation amongst structures of much

lower elevations, respecting a largely 19th century street plan. Social pressures of

economics and politics reduced the original NSWIT scheme to a single vertical structure

which bears no relationship to the surrounding topography, architecture or urban

landscape. As a result of this, a state of non-correspondence is engaged. Expressions of

public negativity regarding the UTS Tower, like the Cameron Offices, stem from the

impact of a failed ideological landscape. In this case, it was a plan for a cluster of

formally similar buildings representing Australian technical achievement, intended to

visually describe the southern skyline of the city became a single, monolithic concrete

and aggregate construction standing alone, weathering on the city fringe.

The UTS Tower, like the Belconnen complex, is an indicator of the non-deterministic

relationship the material shares with the social. The materiality of the structure itself has

come to have a tangible impact upon site use and interpretation – its lack of open space

is often perceived as antagonistic, somehow ambiguously intended for control and

surveillance. The lack of a readily accessible history explaining the current structures in

evidence contributes toward its dissonant effect, as the materiality thus takes

precedence in its interpretation by the public. History has the capacity to reveal that its

current form relates to the Tower’s relationship to an intended landscape, however that

history is not publicly known, nor readily accessible. In essence, one cannot see a

building which was never built, only that which was. The public perception of the site

involves only the Tower, interpreted in isolation, and potentially misunderstood for that

reason.

The consequences of non-correspondence

The immaterial nature of words and verbal meaning allows for their evolution and

change at a higher rate than that of the material, which has an innate inertia and must

be culturally managed. As a result social change is significantly more likely to outstrip

material change, and a state of non-correspondence is revealed. Material non-

correspondence can be shown to operate at across scales of volume. If the material

inertia is too great then the state of non-correspondence can become critical, as seen in

the Cardross case. At a lower volume, dissonance can create a problematic material

landscape which requires far-reaching mediatory behaviours, as seen in the landscape

and archaeology of Belconnen and the UTS campus. At all three sites archaeology

provides clear evidence of change over time – in the truncation of the Cameron Offices,

the failure of the Cardross seminary and the fragmentary nature of the UTS site. The

identification of dissonance highlights the organisational quality of the material itself –

the monumentality inherent in Brutalist structures requires cultural mediation as time

passes and social landscapes change. Materiality shapes human behaviour in the same

way that behaviour shapes the material. The inertia inherent to Brutalist concrete

construction is separate to the socially-determined verbal meaning of the structure

itself. As a result, the formal qualities of the structure can act against its intended

functionality and give rise to behaviours originally unintended or unforseen.

In applying the principle of material non-correspondence to a data set of modern origin,

archaeological principles are shown to function in even the most recent of temporal

contexts. By approaching the recent past with the tools of archaeological analysis, layers

of significance are revealed which would otherwise remain hidden. Ultimately this is due

to the objectivity that archaeology provides. Through the location of material attributes

– quantification in terms of fabric, type, composition, location, phase, etc., the material

may be analysed apart from our own culturally-embedded understanding of it. By

disambiguating the various strata of ‘meaning’ from the innate materiality of the object

itself processes of cultural location and dislocation become explicit archaeological

behaviours. This reveals the modern built landscape to be made up of those elements

and processes commonly accepted in deeper chronological contexts – super-deposition,

stratigraphy and change over time. The material remains of the recent past may not be

underground or in a relict state, nor may they require orthodox ‘excavation’ in the

physical sense, however an excavatory act is required nonetheless. In the above cases,

the significance of the recent archaeological past must be excavated from the

overburden of social data which obscures our objective understanding of it.

Towards an archaeology of everything

“Rainwater gross as gravy is filtered from

Its coarse detritus at the intake and piped

To the sedimentation plant like an Egyptian nightmare,

For it is a hall of twenty pyramids upside-down

Balanced on their points each holding two hundred and fifty

Thousand gallons making thus the alchemical sign

For water and the female triangle...”

Staines Waterworks, Peter Redgrove

The Brutalist example used in this paper is useful but unexceptional. The decision to use

Brutalist dataset was typological - the type lends itself to deeper analysis via its highly

diagnostic formal register and tendency toward overt dissonance in the landscape. This

thesis aimed to recontextualise that which is familiar, common or everyday. It is now

possible to speak of an archaeology of everything, or more appropriately, everything

human (though studies looking at material-cultural organisation in non-human contexts

have the potential to call even the basic anthrocentric assumption into question).

Wherever humans interact with each other and the material world around them

archaeology is the product. Temporal distance between the observer and the

observable is a factor in the interpretation of the archaeological resource; however it is

completely nondeterministic in terms of significance. In this respect the archaeology of a

Mesolithic camp site and that of a 1970s camp site are points on a continuum. Rather

than being a vain attempt to import theory into historical archaeology, contemporary

studies aim to show that the archaeological resource is actually much larger than

generally acknowledged. More importantly, it can be shown that archaeology is of direct

use in even the most hyper-documented societies through it engagement with both the

material and the social. It may be that new avenues for archaeological inquiry remain

unidentified. Areas typically the domain of anthropology, cultural studies, sociology, fine

art and modern history suddenly become archaeologically relevant. Peter Redgrove’s

surprisingly evocative poem about a sewage works in Staines, of which an excerpt is

printed above, speaks to the point at hand – the familiar, once seen in a different

context, becomes advantageously unfamiliar. The everyday is abstracted to allow for its

constituent parts to speak more clearly. For Redgrave the end result was artistic, but for

archaeologists the output f this process has serious analytical merit.

Frankenstein’s monster

The New Brutalism was an attempt to create lasting positive change in the urban

landscape. The Brutalists based their architecture on honesty –in material, composition

and construction. They aimed to create a new humanism, a model for the optimal urban

existence. What we see now is the result of this ideology in concrete, where it

succeeded and, more often, where it failed. The concrete which describes the Brutalist

structure also contributes to its demise. Durability of the material increases the chances

of its survival. Equally, it increases the risk of dissonance. In this regard our material

environment can become a kind of Frankenstein’s monster – the product of our labours

made real, yet independent because of its very realisation. This process is largely

obscured by mutually-negotiated strata of meaning, importance and context which we

negotiate in daily life.

For most, the decaying, windowless concrete buildings, the dark, sprawling car parks

and the abandoned industrial estates which pepper our cities have very little meaning or

importance. They are the monsters of our recent past which we choose to ignore.

Archaeology affords a distance and a filter through which we may approach the material

remains of the recent past and reveal its true significance. Archaeology is the only tool

which allows us to confidently address our shared past in all its facets - monsters and all.