Who would think that this modest upstate town would hold a feast for the eyes of brutalism fans?
Consider, for example, the Empire State Plaza, directly across the street from the State Capitol. This, I can tell you, is my kind of public space:
More closely resembling a North Korean parade ground, this concrete wonderland, laced by modernist buildings on all sides, naturally lead the pedestrian's eyes to the borderline brutalist Cultural Education Center. Yes, even the name of the building replicates a militant, unapologetic governmental stance. A gathering place for the community, or an indoctrination center to praise the dear leader?
Even better, step back a few steps to the Northern entrance to the plaza, and look to your left and right:
First, the Robert Abrams Justice center:
Who wants a justice building to look friendly and welcoming? Brutalism tells the man on the street: don't mess with Albany - we will crush you.
Turn your head and it's the suitably stark "legislative office building." (above). Wouldn't you shudder at the thought of trying to find a bureaucratic solution upon being faced with walking under the massive concrete slabs, or with trying to find your friendly state senator or representative to seek some redress?
All the while, across the street behind you, you see where we came from, in the face of the ornate capitol building:
So on one end of the plaza we have the Capitol building, completed between 1867 and 1899. And we have a plaza lined with stark 1970's modernist and brutalist timepieces. So what about the time frame in between? Just gaze up the street for a handsome art deco palace, the 1928 Alfred E. Smith State Office Building:
So who would have thought, in Albany of all remote earthly places, we could encounter such impressive takes on modernism and brutalism, all within a stone's throw of some delicate antiques? Bravo, Albany, bravo.
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