Imagine walking down a street framed by towering Gothic cathedrals, adorned with gargoyles and spires that seem to reach toward the heavens. Light filters through intricate stained glass, dancing across cobblestone paths. Now imagine, at the end of this enchanting street, a flat cube of concrete and glass rises like a misplaced LEGO block. That’s modern architecture barging in—a bleak, soulless interruption to a symphony of design.
Modern and minimalist architecture, with its straight lines, monochromatic palettes, and obsession with “function over form,” has become dominant in our urban landscapes. But is this a trend we should embrace? No. They rob spaces of its soul, stripping away meaning, beauty, and comfort. They replace vibrancy with lifeless emptiness and history with shallow, hollow trends.
“Art, whether on a canvas or in the form of architecture, should make statements” writes Richard Lind in The Journal of Aesthetics and Art Criticism, “It should captivate, provoke, and inspire.” Minimalist structures, often praised for their “clean” design, rarely accomplish this, prioritizing what’s “trendy” over what endures. What reaction do we feel when we see a plain, white cemented building? Indifference. Compare that to structures inspired by Baroque architecture, where intricate adornments and dramatic shapes create a sense of grandeur. Aesthetics aren’t just about looking “neat”; it’s about evoking emotion.
Modernism claims to simplify life, but at what cost? Bauhaus-inspired buildings, which serve as reference for the minimalist block structures, emphasize utility over beauty. Even the so-called “useful” simplicity of modern designs fails its purpose. Hospitals, for example, often employ long, straight, white corridors—minimalist to the extreme. A study on hospital design undertaken by Alan Beattie and Jude Curtis show these environments increase stress and discomfort. A lack of visual variation and warmth can make a space feel more like a prison than a sanctuary. In a world full of chaos and discomfort, the least we could do is aim for comfort in our surroundings, not distress.
Proponents of minimalism argue that clean designs are better for our psychological health. Schools, homes, and offices designed in the modernist style tend to feel bland and lifeless. Giant white rooms, meant to be “stimulating,” often feel alienating. I can personally compare two classrooms from my own experience. My calculus teacher’s room, painted in purple and adorned with spiraling designs, stuffed animals, and various shapes, creates a comforting atmosphere that softens the challenges of the strenuous subject. In contrast, stepping into my history classroom feels like being engulfed by its stark white walls, making the class feel endless and draining. Instead of fostering creativity, my history classroom creates distractions. Our neurological systems thrive on visual and sensory complexity—on patterns, textures, and designs that excite and ground us simultaneously. Historically, architecture catered to these needs. The Gothic style “sought to bring buildings closer to God” (Craven 1), while Neoclassicism emphasized symmetry and intellect. Even the over-the-top Baroque and Rococo styles embraced ornate detail. These styles were not just practical; they were expressions of humanity’s highest aspirations and aesthetic creativity. In comparison, modernism is a retreat into monotony; the world’s beauty is in the hands of engineers rather than artists.
Some argue, like philosopher Nick Zangwill, author of Are There Counterexamples to Aesthetic Theories of Art, that without the “ugly,” we wouldn’t appreciate the “beautiful.” But the current dominance of modernism has turned this balance upside down. Beauty has become the exception, not the rule. These changes eliminate history and artistry in favor of fleeting trends. When entire cities are swallowed by steel-and-glass skyscrapers or plastic-clad homes stripped of detail and replaced with solid white or black plastic looking furniture, we lose the opportunity to celebrate the architectural diversity that makes cities special.
Architecture should enhance its surroundings, not disrupt them. We must return to styles that embrace beauty, complexity, and humanity. Gothic spires, Neoclassical symmetry, and the playful curves of Art Nouveau—all of these remind us that architecture can be both functional and breathtaking. Even the simple extra decoration in my Calculus teachers’ room adds an extra something to the space. Modernism had its moment, but it has overstayed its welcome, so let’s bid goodbye to the barf and restore the world’s beauty.
Works Cited
Beattie, Alan. Curtis, Jude. “Hospital Corridors as a Case Study in Architectural Psychology.” Journal of Architectural Research, vol. 3, no. 2, 1974, pp. 44–50. JSTOR, http://www.jstor.org/stable/43475096. Accessed 4 Dec. 2024.
Craven, Jackie. “Architecture Timeline – Western Influences on Building Design.” Thought.Co, 02 September 2024, https://www.thoughtco.com/architecture-timeline-historic-periods-styles-175996. Accessed 4 Dec 2024.
Gevork, Hartoonian. “Modernism.” 20th Century Architecture, 2018, http://architecture-history.org/schools/MODERNISM.html. Accessed 4 Dec 2024.
“History of Modernism.” Miami Dade College, 2022, https://www.mdc.edu/wolfson/academic/artsletters/art_philosophy/humanities/history_of_modernism. Accessed 4 Dec 2024.
Lind, Richard. “The Aesthetic Essence of Art.” The Journal of Aesthetics and Art Criticism, vol. 50, no. 2, 1992, pp. 117–29. JSTOR, https://doi.org/10.2307/430951. Accessed 4 Dec. 2024.
Zangwill, Nick. “Are There Counterexamples to Aesthetic Theories of Art?” The Journal of Aesthetics and Art Criticism, vol. 60, no. 2, 2002, pp. 111–18. JSTOR, http://www.jstor.org/stable/1520010. Accessed 4 Dec. 2024.
