Welcome to Brutal Yorkshire, a world of craggy concrete edges and buildings with bite. Martin Dust has taken his camera on a journey through this most myth-laden of counties and returned with images capturing a future that’s already deep in the past. From subways to stairwells, bus stations to bridges, this is stark and staggering architecture from the Yorkshire they don’t put on the ads.
Brutalism for me is punk rock: ignoring what went before and completely disregarding nature to forge a new future, one that shouted “Fuck you” and “I don’t care” long before those words left Mr Lydon’s mealy mouth.
These buildings are our homes, our backdrops, they punctuate our lives. Loved or hated, they exist, and beyond your prejudice, we find their beauty and function beyond demographic fictions of the future. New forms were created and invented because that’s what art does. T.S. Eliot once said “Immature poets imitate; mature poets steal; bad poets deface what they take, and good poets make it into something better, or at least something different.” And that’s what brutalism is: something different.
So come with me as we journey across Yorkshire to see and enjoy some of its finest examples of brutalism – before the Luddites take over and remove our heritage, or clothe it in the emperor’s new cladding!