Truly Brutiful: The University of York’s Campus Art and Architecture
Words by Josh Haining
The student population is divided over the University of York’s campus architecture: for some, the sixties era brutalist-cum-soft-modernist campus architecture is visually appealing and even considered beautiful. For others, it is a hideous reminder of their high school experience: bells ringing for the start of class, detentions at the mercy of cruel teachers, and sub-par canteen food. However, I am here to convince you that during your time studying at the University of York, you will warm to the architecture, and begin to perceive the concrete structures that make up West Campus in a new light.
Central Hall at the University of York. Photo by Ellen Morris, 2024.
A fervent ally of the university’s architecture is the artwork found around campus, which prompts the viewer to not only engage with the artworks themselves, but with the campus environment as well. But, before we discuss the campus art, let's establish some context around the university’s architecture. The university buildings are known as CLASP (Consortium of Local Authorities Special Programme), a “chief contribution of RMJM” (Robert Matthews, Johnson-Marshall and Partners), the principal architects who worked closely with John West-Taylor and Lord James of Rusholme in realising the 1962 development plan for the university. One of seven innovative ‘plate glass’ universities, the steel and concrete used in the campus buildings give the university a very raw and efficient appearance - an insurmountable Brutalist form supporting the students which move throughout it. It provides the student body with a place to learn and student accommodation steeped in a rich and innovative era of British Architectural ingenuity.
The Brutalism of Derwent college meets the Jacobethan style of Heslington Hall. Photo by M. McClean, 2024.
The artworks located around West Campus utilise the same materials as were used in the building's creation; they act as a form of artistic representation for the university's design. A notable example of this is Thomas M. Taylor’s Meditation on Exhaustion (2006). Situated to the left of Central Hall on a grass mound, the irrigated steel sculpture consisting of six uniquely shaped girders, embodies both the University of York student and campus. How so, you may ask? Well, upon closer observation, the sculpture resembles that of a person reclining on the ground which can either be interpreted as an abstract figure lying down and relaxing (‘meditating’) or contrastingly laying down due to tiredness (‘exhausted’). The sculpture epitomises tiredness and as the viewer, most likely a student or faculty member, we can universally identify with that feeling. I would argue Thomas M. Taylor wished to create this dichotomy within his artwork, further reinforced by the artwork's title. Both the location of the sculpture and its materials directly link the Meditation on Exhaustion to the university. Interacting with the artwork forces the viewer to interact with it in a multitude of ways, perceiving the artwork and surrounding campus from a plethora of angles. The reward of this interaction, a new perspective and appreciation of both campus and artwork. Some may argue that the steel employed in the sculpture's design is not visually appealing. However, it seems as though a large focus is placed on aesthetic value today (in the form of appearance) rather than that of its evident success in its purpose. ‘Meditation on Exhaustion’ has most definitely embodied its Brutalist surroundings in an art form and although the sculpture may not have found traditional aesthetic appraisal, it most definitely displays the narrative of the university's history and is an abstract display of student life.
'Meditation on Exhaustion' by Thomas M. Taylor, 2006. Photo credit to Art UK:
https://batch.artuk.org/discover/artworks/meditation-on-exhaustion-293432
Another set of artworks located on campus are Fred Millett’s six sculptural relief panels in concrete at Derwent College, cast in 1965: they are a direct synergy of the university’s architecture and campus art. Another interpretation is to consider Derwent College being art itself; granted, this is a hard line and not one I quite believe myself. Nonetheless, the relief panels found in the walkways of Derwent guide you throughout the building. The concrete relief panels represent the squarely uniform college buildings in which they live. Upon closer observation, they resemble an aerial shot of campus, with the abstract concrete shapes and lines carved into the panels creating an alternate viewing condition of the campus, that of one of the many species of birds found within the dense flora of campus. The artwork is one of two sculptural commissions Millett undertook during his career and it is a privilege to have them at the University of York. For many, the downside of the works is that they go unnoticed, as students speedily rushing through Derwent on the way to various university events or lectures may easily overlook them, simply casting a passing gaze. But if you spend some time looking at them, maybe you’ll find a newfound appreciation for not only the artworks themselves, but for the university’s architecture too.
One of Fred Millett's six sculptural relief panels on campus, under the Norman Rea Gallery in Derwent. Photo by M. McClean, 2024.
The placement of Austin Wright’s Dryad within the grounds of Heslington Hall’s ‘Quiet Place’ creates a profound contrast between itself and the other artworks found across campus. The welded aluminium sculpture installed at the ‘Quiet Place’ in 1984, is arguably Wright’s magnum opus - a culmination of a long and prolific career as a sculptor and artist. The sculpture is more closely tied to Heslington Hall, a 16th century building later rebuilt in the 19th century, than the 60s campus. The Dryad attempts to detach itself from the brutalist architecture that so much of West Campus consists of. I would like to invite the reader to think of the Dryad as the cross-bridge between the concrete and formidable appearance of campus architecture, and the idyllic, quaint setting of both Heslington Hall and the location in which the campus is located. Welded aluminium itself acts as a hybrid material that channels neither the brutalist materials that act as the cornerstone of the University’s identity, nor the historic red brick appearance of Heslington Hall. Wright’s interest in naturalistic plant forms is reflected in an alternative manner, through the use of aluminium in the sculpture’s composition. The Dryad, also pertaining to a natural figure of mythology, reinforces this argument as the man-made material used by Wright in the sculpture’s casting gives the artwork an uncommon and unique appearance. This may unfortunately contribute to viewers disregarding it as another ugly clump of metal, but in reality, the Dryad’s dystopian and even alien appearance offers students an opportunity to resonate with the work. Those that have recently begun their academic ventures at the university, or even those continuing, may feel out of place in an unfamiliar setting, and the Dryad shares those feelings too, through both its place in situ on campus and the materials used in its creation.
'Dryad' by Austin Wright, 1984. Photo by Madeleine McClean, 2024.
Another campus artwork I will be discussing in an attempt to show you, the reader, that the University of York’s campus architecture and art is ‘brutiful’, is again a work by Austin Wright labelled Untitled. Untitled is one of, if not the most viewed and well known sculptures on campus for two reasons. Firstly, its location in the concrete ramp walkway up to the library bridge means students on their way to study in the Morrell, Burton or Fairhurst library frequently see it: and secondly, it's more common title ‘the avocado’ given to it by the student population has meant the work has received more attention than the other artworks on campus. The ‘avocado’ name is most suitable for the artwork, whose hollow centre created by the cutlass like shards of the sculpture resemble the stone found in the centre of the fruit. The sculpture’s colour blends it in with the surrounding concrete walkway, reinforcing its placement there as being most visually coherent and suitable. However, this suitability is where most distaste with the campus design is found. The pitfall is that many perceive the campus’ appearance to depict weathering and deterioration of the buildings over time. Seemingly, Untitled only adds to this, an artwork that through the materials used in its design only grows more and more grey, rundown and unappealing over time. But what if I told you, this was not the intention of the architects - that actually, there was a plan to maintain the campus building’s appearance with frequent repainting; the first repainting intended to be two and a half years after the building's creation and every five years thereafter. If this was maintained, the university campus’ appearance would undoubtedly look drastically different and most likely appear modern to students even today. Although this repainting schedule never came to fruition, it emphasises the changing demands of the University and where funding and support was not invested, even though it would have benefitted massively if it was maintained.
Nonetheless, one cannot come to a conclusion of what-ifs, but rather that the visual change caused by time gives the campus more character than was originally intended in the architectural brutalist-cum-soft-modernist campus design. It can’t be overlooked that the largest limitation to artworks and buildings is time, but we should see this as a historic landmark for the university, surviving sixty years of consistent use by students. The campus and artwork’s power lies in the fact they can stand the test of time, and I hope that students now and in the future can come to appreciate this.
'Untitled' by Austin Wright, (aka 'The Avocado'), 1967. Photo by M. McClean, 2024.
A very recent surprise addition to the vast sculpture collection at the University of York is one that will undoubtedly usurp Untitled for the top spot as the most famous sculpture on campus; Neil Mason’s large bronze Longboi. Whilst covering the unveiling event on behalf of Nouse, broadcasted and covered live on September 26th by BBC Radio 1’s Greg James, we spoke to Neil about his new addition to the sculpture collection. Neil was extremely proud for Longboi to join the collection of sculptures at the university, alongside other prominent artists such as Barbara Hepworth, Fred Millett and Austin Wright. We spoke about the lengthy and intense casting process which shows the care and dedication that goes into creating such an impressive bronze sculpture. The sculpture itself will reinvigorate student engagement with not only his own artwork through the bronze nature of the sculpture, but also others on campus. Many students will flock (no pun intended) to Longboi to rub his beak, giving the sculpture a unique characteristic that many sculptures at the university do not have themselves, physical interaction. Repeated physical interaction with the bronze material will polish his beak and the student population can pay homage to both Longboi and art on campus. This new addition shows that the relevance and importance of sculptures within the university’s ethos is in fact a priority of the University of York. Mason’s sculpture, although now the most famous contemporary piece, will not be the last to join the plethora of amazing artworks permanently exhibited across the university’s campus.
'Longboi' by Neil Mason, 2024. Photo by M. McClean, 2024.
