Some people like to refer to concrete as cement. But that is technically incorrect. Cement is just one of the main ingredients in concrete, along with water and aggregates. So it's a bit like referring to a beer as a bottle of yeast.
That said, cement is pretty integral to concrete and it's largely the reason why the embodied carbon is so high in this widely-used building material. According to Brian Potter, cement production is responsible for somewhere between 5-10% of global CO2 emissions.
This is coming from the roughly 4.25 billion metric tons of cement that is produced annually and the 30 billion tons of concrete that it ends up in. The world likes concrete. And in particular, China likes concrete.
China alone is now producing about half of the world's cement. And since consumption generally tracks production, and the consumption of cement generally translates into concrete, China is using, by far, the most concrete.
I don't know what the right answer is to this particular carbon problem, but
Some people like to refer to concrete as cement. But that is technically incorrect. Cement is just one of the main ingredients in concrete, along with water and aggregates. So it's a bit like referring to a beer as a bottle of yeast.
That said, cement is pretty integral to concrete and it's largely the reason why the embodied carbon is so high in this widely-used building material. According to Brian Potter, cement production is responsible for somewhere between 5-10% of global CO2 emissions.
This is coming from the roughly 4.25 billion metric tons of cement that is produced annually and the 30 billion tons of concrete that it ends up in. The world likes concrete. And in particular, China likes concrete.
China alone is now producing about half of the world's cement. And since consumption generally tracks production, and the consumption of cement generally translates into concrete, China is using, by far, the most concrete.
I don't know what the right answer is to this particular carbon problem, but
Brian Potter's latest construction physics post
is perhaps a good place to start thinking about it. In it, he covers who is producing it, where it is being used, and how we might get to a world with less concrete.
Brutalism is an architectural movement that most people, other than architecture nerds, hate. Derived from the French words for raw concrete – béton brut – Brutalist architecture is characterized by its use of exposed concrete and its imposing fortress-like qualities.
Most people find it too cold, sterile, and impersonal. But this 99% Invisible episode perfectly sums of where I think we sit with this era of building:
“Back in the 1960s, Victorian style buildings were considered hideous and impossible to repair. We were tearing batches of Victorians down to erect big concrete buildings. But some Victorians were saved—and today, some of them are considered treasures.
Concrete architecture now finds itself at an inflection point: too outdated to be modern, too young to be classic. And a small, but growing band of architects, architecture enthusiasts, and preservationists, would like us to just wait a bit and see.
Maybe, with a little time, we’ll come around to love these hulking concrete brutes.”
Concrete can be a wonderful building material all on its own. I mean, just look at the work of Tadao Ando.
But all concrete is not created equal. Here is a taxonomy of concrete textures that was also part of
Brian Potter's latest construction physics post
is perhaps a good place to start thinking about it. In it, he covers who is producing it, where it is being used, and how we might get to a world with less concrete.
Brutalism is an architectural movement that most people, other than architecture nerds, hate. Derived from the French words for raw concrete – béton brut – Brutalist architecture is characterized by its use of exposed concrete and its imposing fortress-like qualities.
Most people find it too cold, sterile, and impersonal. But this 99% Invisible episode perfectly sums of where I think we sit with this era of building:
“Back in the 1960s, Victorian style buildings were considered hideous and impossible to repair. We were tearing batches of Victorians down to erect big concrete buildings. But some Victorians were saved—and today, some of them are considered treasures.
Concrete architecture now finds itself at an inflection point: too outdated to be modern, too young to be classic. And a small, but growing band of architects, architecture enthusiasts, and preservationists, would like us to just wait a bit and see.
Maybe, with a little time, we’ll come around to love these hulking concrete brutes.”
Concrete can be a wonderful building material all on its own. I mean, just look at the work of Tadao Ando.
But all concrete is not created equal. Here is a taxonomy of concrete textures that was also part of
I am sure that many of you have been eagerly waiting for an old Brutalist wine warehouse to come on the market near Bordeaux, and so here is a listing from Espaces Atypiques. The site is over 1 hectare. The ground floor is about 2,000 square meters. And the central atrium space is some 25m tall. It's listed for €550,000 and I reckon it needs a bit of work.
I don't know where exactly it's located in Saint-Émilion, France (nor have I ever been) and I can't vouch for the condition of the existing building in any way shape or form, but I do think it would be a lot of fun to turn a Brutalist structure like this into a hotel, restaurant, and creative event space. Public gathering space(s) in the atrium; private rooms along the perimeter.
I say all this because if we believe that Brutalist architecture has no value then we are likely to believe that it doesn’t need to be preserved. And that may very well be the case for some Brutalist architecture. But if history is any indication, some or much of it may also be considered beautiful one day.
Most cities have a rich history of demolishing (or almost demolishing) buildings and neighborhoods that today we would (or do) treasure. Which tells me that we’re not always very good at figuring out what has value or will have value in the future.
So maybe some of those brutes are worth a second look.
I am sure that many of you have been eagerly waiting for an old Brutalist wine warehouse to come on the market near Bordeaux, and so here is a listing from Espaces Atypiques. The site is over 1 hectare. The ground floor is about 2,000 square meters. And the central atrium space is some 25m tall. It's listed for €550,000 and I reckon it needs a bit of work.
I don't know where exactly it's located in Saint-Émilion, France (nor have I ever been) and I can't vouch for the condition of the existing building in any way shape or form, but I do think it would be a lot of fun to turn a Brutalist structure like this into a hotel, restaurant, and creative event space. Public gathering space(s) in the atrium; private rooms along the perimeter.
I say all this because if we believe that Brutalist architecture has no value then we are likely to believe that it doesn’t need to be preserved. And that may very well be the case for some Brutalist architecture. But if history is any indication, some or much of it may also be considered beautiful one day.
Most cities have a rich history of demolishing (or almost demolishing) buildings and neighborhoods that today we would (or do) treasure. Which tells me that we’re not always very good at figuring out what has value or will have value in the future.
So maybe some of those brutes are worth a second look.
