Beyond the Concrete Jungle: Preserving Individuality in an Era of Minimalism
Tetris and/or Tetanus
It was the day I first came to NIT Trichy with my dad, the day offline college had begun. After registration, we moved to the hostel and looked around. The furniture was ordinary, worn by use, bearing scratches and dents that whispered tales of the past. Not all of these marks were testaments to a glorious occasion, most were merely reminders of the age of the furniture, urging us to replace them as soon as possible lest we contract tetanus.
The presence of drawings on the bathroom walls, posters on the cupboards, and scribbles on the walls of my college dorm can be seen as a form of personalization, remnants of previous occupants who, for a moment, believed they were adding their unique imprint to the space. This might not always result in aesthetically pleasing outcomes, much of it might be included in the vandalism department, but it still radiates a certain charm.
A welcome sight of individuality amidst the uniformity of the dull hostel structure.
Similarly, when we broaden our perspective to consider cities, we can observe a somewhat parallel scenario, albeit on a much larger scale. Picture a city in your mind, and you’re likely to imagine a skyline filled with towering structures. If your drawing skills are anything like mine, which have seen little to no improvement since grade 3, your mental image might comprise rectangles of various sizes — tall rectangles for buildings, embroidered with smaller rectangles for windows, and perhaps a larger one at the base for the entrance. If you are exceptionally creative, your mental picture would have the buildings would be slightly rotated, and the rectangles evolve to become cuboids. This childhood sketch has become a somewhat accurate representation of our modern cities, a sprawling matrix of concrete rectangles, each echoing the other. Lookup cities on Google and you will see most images are just of concrete jungles made of rectangles of different dimensions. And this trend isn’t just limited to one place, everywhere, everything just seems to look the same.
Where the heart is
However, the repetitiveness of this design doesn’t necessarily spell a lack of creativity or aesthetic appeal. Instead, it brings to light the prevailing trend in urban architecture and design. Buildings, shopping complexes, street lights, fences, and benches all seem to conform to the mantra ‘form follows function’. Yet, cities, as representations of the pinnacle of human civilization, shouldn’t just be conglomerations of featureless rectangles.
The equation of modernity with towering, identical buildings raises questions.
How did becoming modern equate to constructing tall, echoing buildings? One might argue, “Aren’t hostels also rectangles? :nerd:” Indeed, they are. However, the uniqueness that grants an object its identity lies in the details. Think about it, when describing your hostel appearance, you will have the most fun describing the scribbles on the door walls instead of the door etc. These details are the cornerstone of innovation, and their absence has become an all too familiar aspect of design choices.
Lesser than less
Could minimalism, which is often equated with lack of detail, be one of the key factors for this becoming the default design? But minimalism is about prioritising the essential. Stripping an object or a building down to its core function, using limited materials, neutral colors, and simple forms, and avoiding excess ornamentation to achieve a pure form of elegance. While the final expression of a minimalist design might appear effortlessly simple, achieving this kind of poetic simplicity is anything but easy.
Conscious minimalism allows us to declutter our workspace and focus on what’s important. It creates a calming atmosphere and helps us conserve resources. Restricting minimalism to just a design choice would not be fair, it’s now an adopted lifestyle. I tried minimalism once — got rid of everything in my home except one ‘aesthetic’ painting. Let’s just say minimalism and lack of decision-making skills don’t really mix.
Now, as we become a globally connected society that could be considered one giant city, what happens to our cultural identity? What about the final rendition built by improvements across generations? It’s not hard to see the practicality of minimalist designs and their ability to serve a purpose just as well, if not slightly better. Also, the cost of details, designers, and materials, given the pace of urban expansion, makes it hard to recognize our cultural identity in cities so making each city unique is impossible given the size of modern cities.
Most cities now have an ‘old’ city, which is the less developed areas with roads riddled with potholes, streets too narrow for cars, and centers too crowded for comfort. Despite their shortcomings, these areas tell us stories about the culture and priorities of the time.
They remind us that while the world may be moving towards a minimalist design trend, our histories and cultural identities should not be forgotten.
Cheap Thrills or Uniform Drills
As cities expand and populations grow, there is pressure to build quickly and efficiently. Standardized high-rise buildings are economical and practical. But in the process, we lose the charm and character that comes from unique architecture and design. Though difficult, cities should aim to balance efficient growth with preserving local culture and heritage. Zoning laws can maintain historic districts while allowing new development elsewhere. Incentives can encourage architects and developers to incorporate regional styles and details.
With some creativity, cities can retain their souls even as they modernize.
The minimalist trend also permeates interior design. From living rooms to workspaces, sleek and sparse reigns supreme. This pared-down aesthetic has benefits — it creates serene environments that can aid concentration and relaxation. But when taken too far, it can feel cold and sterile. People enrich spaces with possessions that express their personalities. A few carefully chosen decorative items, artworks, or textiles can inject character without clutter. The best interiors strike a balance between minimalism and personalization. I once visited a friend who took minimalism to the extreme — his living room just had one mat. I believe it was due to his new car(poor financial choice), but he wouldn’t budge.
Beauty lies in the details. Though simple, clean designs have their appeal, most people are drawn to spaces with character.
The chip on the coffee mug that’s your favorite. The dent in the hardwood floor where you once dropped a heavy book. The marks on the wall after your parents told you not to play with your ball indoors. Imperfections that add warmth. As cities grow and life accelerates, we must be intentional about infusing personality into homes and communities. Small touches that spark joy prompt a memory or reveal something unique. Details that make a space live and breathe.
For it is the stories and the spirit of the people (and the occasional silly scribble on a bathroom wall) that truly make a city more than just buildings. (The author here would like to distance himself from any act of vandalism done in the name of adding uniqueness).
