From paper to pour, architecture flows like a movie: sequences of concrete, light, and memory.
Brutalism is not a style, but a fixed frame on reality, without makeup or dubbing.
Between joints and formwork, construction becomes editing: cuts of light and shadow, links between ethics and aesthetics.
Each section is a long take, each module a frame that tells the story of dwelling.
Le Corbusier, Harumi, Kahn: choral scenes of suspended cities, where the collective becomes the protagonist.
Béton brut is raw grain, direct sound, with no post-production.
Not styles, but scenes: the room, the street, the human pact — one single take, with no cuts.
The architecture that remains is both still frame and tracking shot: memory and future in the same image.
Brutalism is not a style, but a fixed frame on reality, without makeup or dubbing.
Between joints and formwork, construction becomes editing: cuts of light and shadow, links between ethics and aesthetics.
Each section is a long take, each module a frame that tells the story of dwelling.
Le Corbusier, Harumi, Kahn: choral scenes of suspended cities, where the collective becomes the protagonist.
Béton brut is raw grain, direct sound, with no post-production.
Not styles, but scenes: the room, the street, the human pact — one single take, with no cuts.
The architecture that remains is both still frame and tracking shot: memory and future in the same image.