Switch House at Tate Modern by Herzog & de Meuron

I know I'm Late to the party, and I didn't take my camera, but I went to the Tate Modern for the first time since it's Herzog and de Meuron's Switch House extension. I like it from the outside, the brick reflecting the functional aesthetic of the Gilbert Scott's original power station while its quirky 'twist' keeps it contemporary, but the inside is absolutely fantastic. I've not seen concrete deployed so beautifully since the original Southbank centre buildings.

I love how they've largely kept the original Tanks on floor zero untouched, dark and spooky perfect for the video displays they are used for, including a short flight of ghost steps that now start halfway up the space and lead straight into the brick wall.

The smooth and mainly circinate raw concrete stairwells of the new building proper are stunningly beautiful. Don't be lazy and take the lift and less you have too. They also provide the drama on your quest to reach the infamous viewing gallery - a quest that reminded me of the journey through the levels of the Guggenheim in Matthew Barney's The Cremaster Cycle 3.

Once you reach the peak you have a fantastic view of London and are free to make obscene gestures at the tax cheats in the luxury flats opposites, those that are occupied anyway.

The actual galleries are white space functional, they do not try and re-invent the wheel, and are as good the work displayed.

Brutalist Architecture, Photography & Memory.

The photographs of Brutalist Architecture I find most engaging are those that have a significant people and/or nature presence. Dappled light refracted through trees, the warmth implicit in the stark contrast of light and shade caused by the sun and its shadows, or kids hurrying to class. Concrete's monolithism can be oppressive in urban areas were there is little nature to soften its brute force, but I also find nature oppressive in its 'authenticity' without the contextualisation brought about by proximity to the man-made. It is this juxtaposition that causes me to love airplane vapour trails, Hammersmith Flyover and the Westway (low level auto-mobile flying on concrete).

My warmth towards Brutalism may also be auto-historical. Born in the winter of 1969 I was a child of the 70's when it was still 'in' (in the 70's cinemas still occasionally showed B-movies to support the main feature and I once witnessed a corporate style documentary called the 'The History of Concrete' - I found its boringness absurd). I would also play with Tess and Mark Tinker, the children of Tim Tinker, the lead architect of the recently demolished Heygate housing Estate in Southwark, It had been completed in 1974. Brutalism also has a boldness and bravery that embraced the future: sci-fi realised. These are some of the reasons photographs of Brutalist Architecture evoke in in me feelings of warmth, hope, idealism and utopian progress, and sunlit days.