Loving the Grey: Case study on Warwick University’s Architectural Beauty

For this article, I decided not to focus on the more modern academic buildings, such as the Faculty of Arts and Oculus, which have received significant architectural recognition, with the FAB ranked in 2023 amongst the top 50 Arts and Humanities departments in the world. Instead, I opted to focus the discussion to often dismissed as cold or impersonal, brutalist architectural components of Warwick University’s campus. I believe that the original campus remains one of the most defining yet misunderstood features of the history of our university. I personally find myself drawn to the grey buildings, the abrupt exteriors, either the library’s white tiles or the SS’s red bricks. I find them much more intriguing than the modern, futuristic buildings, and their greater historical value adds to their complexity. The brutalist grey architecture of Warwick’s original campus is not only an adaptation of an unpopular yet edgy architectural styles that is Brutalism, but also the embodiment of the frustration, industrial development, and cultural innovation of a British area that suffered during the war and is to this day still considered one of the most notorious cities in England.

Brutalism, a specific style that grew out of the broader modernist movement, is an architectural movement from the post-WWII period, especially the 1950s and 1960s. It features repeated geometric shapes and a lack of ornamentation, reflecting the complex relationship between raw concrete and design. Brutalism is often associated with Peter and Alison Smithson, architects active during that era. The term originated when British critic Reyner Banham gave a playful spin to French architect Le Corbusier’s phrase “béton brut.” The harsh term was meant to echo the negative reaction this style received in Britain, a reaction our university campus still faces from newcomers. According to Google Dictionary, the term also means cruelty and savageness.

The political discussions associated with the Brutalism movement are mostly based on the idea that its rise was timely, linked to a period when Communism was also in crisis, meaning that the breaking up of European political and design ideologies were changing at the same time and place

Although efficiency remains central, brutalism is still one of the most heavily criticised architectural movements. Critics accuse it of disfiguring urban cities and promoting social violence. Brutalism has also been linked to bunkers and communist architecture. The political discussions associated with the Brutalism movement are mostly based on the idea that its rise was timely, linked to a period when Communism was also in crisis, meaning that the breaking up of European political and design ideologies were changing at the same time and place. Britain’s historically traditional architecture contrasts sharply with brutalism’s harsh forms. This contrast helps explain why local communities often react negatively to such projects. The clearest example of this is the city of Coventry, whose spectacular rebuild inspired the creation of our university.

The University of Warwick was first conceptualized when Dr Henry Rees, a prominent figure in Warwick University’s history, noticed Coventry’s lack of cultural institutions. He simply asked, ‘Why not a university in Coventry?’, arguing for a “complete institution of advanced learning” and sparking much debate. In the 1960s, Coventry consisted of Britain’s most specular rebuilt project, having lost much of its original character in the Blitz. The city’s modern reconstruction stood out in contrast to older, more traditional British cities.

Of course, what turned out to be the core city of the British motor industry had been predominantly redesigned in the new, uncompromising, abrupt style of the post-war period, and, when it came down to it in 1958, so was Warwick University.

The University of Warwick buildings were designed by architect Yorke Rosenberg Mardall, who was experienced in designing large infrastructures such as Gatwick Airport. The architect’s vision for Warwick was clear. He wanted it to be typically modernist in its plan layout and to differ from self-constrained university megastructures such as the University of Essex, where the campus consisted of a single architectural form.

At first, each discipline’s area seems separate, but students often find themselves on unexpected, elevated hallways linking Social Science with Law, or the Library with the Science department

The initial plan for Warwick included a wide, elevated pedestrian network, raised above car traffic, to connect academic buildings at first-floor level. Although many aspects of the plan were later dismissed, with clear priority given to vehicular traffic, elements of raised walkways remain across campus. These abstract and sometimes confusing designs create architectural intrigue. At first, each discipline’s area seems separate, but students often find themselves on unexpected, elevated hallways linking Social Science with Law, or the Library with the Science department. The Science department also hides more than it seems, with interdisciplinary connections made between Chemistry and Physical Science. This is why students often discover whole uncharted departments when assigned new seminar rooms.

These discrete interdisciplinary connections also align with another aspect of Yorke Rosenberg Mardall’s initial plan, which was later deemed outdated. Individualization of departments was to be resisted, something that justifies the uncompromising brutalist campus architecture, organised by the isotropic application of the grid logic. The university’s earlier design reflected its own educational philosophy, to avoid promoting the distinctions between departments and showcasing unity. The map of learning was mainly centralized, with disciplines feeling connected rather than separated. Eugene Rosenberg, another original architect of the campus, said, ‘it will not be possible to give physical recognition to individual schools of studies in the plan’, a brutalist approach that aimed to convey unity and equality across the University Campus.

The grid logic to which the architects refer is a mirror image of the university’s highly structured academic organisation. Unfortunately, by the time the first buildings were built, the design was seen as impersonal, overly repetitive, and detached, reflecting uniformity and control rather than the creativity and innovation the designers had hoped for. Where the initial campus design aimed to embody intellectual order and unity, its modernist and brutalist architecture came to symbolize constraint. Ironically, this also supports the links drawn between the architectural style and communist ideology, as they seemingly receive similar criticism.  The original campus also met with displeasure from its first students due to its lack of comfortable, meaningful social spaces, an issue that was eventually addressed with the commissioning of both the Student Union and the library Buildings in the early 1970s.

For many of its fans, brutalism is a rebellious style that, despite criticism, continues to shape trends such as boxy designs and exposed concrete. It symbolizes urbanization and, while often blamed for homogenizing city character, remains influential

Whether someone likes brutalist architecture or Warwick’s older buildings depends on personal taste. For many of its fans, brutalism is a rebellious style that, despite criticism, continues to shape trends such as boxy designs and exposed concrete. It symbolizes urbanization and, while often blamed for homogenizing city character, remains influential.

The FAB, for example, represents nonstop movement and ambition, whereas the two-floor social science building offers a more tranquil, slower environment, to which I tend to gravitate during busier days on campus

For me, the modernist buildings on our campus provide a sense of comfort, the origin of which is hard to pinpoint. It could be because they resemble many of the buildings found in my hometown, Nicosia, back in Cyprus. It could also be that they serve as a shelter from the constant ambiguity and noisiness of the newer buildings. The FAB, for example, represents nonstop movement and ambition, whereas the two-floor social science building offers a more tranquil, slower environment, to which I tend to gravitate during busier days on campus.