A photographic insight into the Soviet-era architecture of one of the most extreme, little-known and vast territories on Earth. From the Ural Mountains to the Arctic Circle, the book features the extensive microrayons of Siberia’s urban centres, the brutal landscapes of industrial monotowns, cosmic circuses, concrete theatres and opera houses, as well as prefabricated panel blocks, or panelki, erected on permafrost.
Divided into 6 chapters, Concrete Siberia by Zupagrafika contains over 100 photographs taken by Russian photographer Alexander Veryovkin, capturing the stark splendour of post-war modernist architecture scattered around the cities of Novosibirsk, Omsk, Krasnoyarsk, Norilsk, Irkutsk and Yakutsk and the quotidian lives of their inhabitants.
Includes a foreword by architectural critic Konstantin Budarin, orientative maps and informative texts on the featured cities and buildings.
For me this book, while nicely presented, is a bit disappointing. At a bit under A4 format and running to 160 pages it tries to present an overview of the major Soviet era cities of the Siberian region. Despite the relatively small amount of text, and covering just six cities, there does not seem to be very much here. The book also does not seem to know if it is about artistic photo composition (this is more where it nods) or architecture. For an art book the photos are too small with some are annoyingly spread across two pages (which I personally dislike). There are however some very nicely composed and arty shots, if diminished by their small size. For an architecture book the subject matter is very limited and some of the shots fail to show complete structures or their more interesting aspects. The limited space means no city is really presented in anything like detail regarding its layout or composition. There is mention of interesting city specific structures which are then overlooked photographically. The subject is certainly interesting but once I'd finished the book I felt while it might have whetted my appetite it had certainly not satisfied it. This series of books is not cheap and there are books of a better format covering similar subject matter. For those interested in architecture of the Soviet era there are certainly better options. That said this is a nice handy size, coffee table, flick throughable, book for those with very small coffee tables.
If you are into this sort of thing there really is no better book. Soviet prefab and Brutalism is, I will acknowledge, not to everyone's taste, but I found the introductory essay helpful and the photography is astounding.
Great photographs and a bit of historical information on presented cities. I love the style of writing, it is engaging and sparks interest. My favorite chapters are Omsk, Norilsk, and Yakutsk.
I just wish that the content were a bit more connected: Where are the constructions showcasing the historical information? For example, when there is an entire paragraph dedicated to a specific important industry, I expect a photograph portraying this industry. This expectation is usually not met.
I also think that the book is lacking contrasts. Of course I bought it to see a specific architecture, but it would be really interesting to see it next to more "non-soviet" constructions, or - if applicable - in seasons where not everything is frozen. The (intended) sterile portrayal makes some of the towns look much less attractive than they actually are. Are there, despite the bland architecture spread across the entire USSR, any notable contrasts between the cities, between their districts? The book does not elaborate.
In general, though, Concrete Siberia is pretty much what I expected and I enjoyed it a lot. It is not perfect, but definitely a fantastic book if you are interested in the subject.
A fascinating window into a part of the world most have barely considered from a anthropological perspective, let alone an architectural one. Concrete Siberia perfectly captures the bizarre juxdaposition of one-size-fits-all soviet brutalism leading to the same style of housing occurring right across Russia's frozen north, and the impressive feats of engineering required to adapt such structures to a climate with a year-round permafrost.
Best of all, Concrete Siberia is informative without being too text-heavy, so it works as both a coffee-table book for the casual observer awed by the strange beauty of Alexander Veryovkin's incredible photographs, and those looking for a deep-dive into the exact districts of Siberia's industrial cities where these concrete monoliths can be found.