What Brutalist Architecture Taught Me About Great Brands.

In an age of constant reinvention, the strongest brands still trust the truth of their foundations

I recently watched The Brutalist, a heavily-awarded film that’s been quietly picking up momentum in its streaming afterlife began. It’s a beautiful movie. It’s also over three hours long.

Early on, I realized this wasn’t going to be just a film. This was going to be an experience. The kind that engages your senses in layers, that plays with time, texture, and silence in a way that’s both unsettling and oddly beautiful. I found myself noticing details I wasn’t expecting to care about. The light. The surfaces. The tension in the pacing. And then, without warning, something shifted. A single scene caught me off guard and drew me all the way in. From that moment, I was fully immersed.

There’s a moment where a group of characters walks through a towering Brutalist structure for the first time. No marble. No grand chandeliers. No ornamentation at all. Just vast planes of concrete, steel beams, and exposed piping. Raw and unapologetic.

At first, you expect them to be put off by it. But something else happens.

They’re in awe.

Not because the building tried to impress them, but because it didn't. They could see the integrity, the strength, and the truth of the foundation. It was all right there, fully visible and unhidden. And it was breathtaking.

Watching that scene, something clicked for me. The best brands, the ones we admire, trust, and stay loyal to, are built the same way. They do not hide their structure. They do not depend on trends or decoration to stay relevant. They are confident enough to let their foundation show.

When we experience a brand like Patagonia, we see its raw materials: environmental purpose, activist spirit, and product integrity. When we walk through the world of IKEA, we find a commitment to function, simplicity, and accessibility. Even Apple, at its most iconic, has trusted simple structures and bold choices, allowing clarity and design to speak without shouting.

Are these brands Brutalist in spirit? After all, they are built to endure, not to dazzle. (okay, Apple is pretty dazzling in its design)

Brutalism, at its core, is about honesty. It’s about stripping away anything unnecessary and letting the structure itself be the beauty. That is what the best brands do too. They don’t need to add layers of noise. Their truth is enough.

The strength of any Brutalist structure begins where we can’t immediately see it. The  foundation. Before the concrete can rise into dramatic planes and shadows, it must settle into something immovable, something weight-bearing. A foundation built without compromise, built to hold not just mass, but meaning.

I think it’s the same with the great brands. Long before the product or campaign comes the groundwork. A clarity of purpose. A definition of values. An unshakable sense of what the brand exists to serve. Without that, no amount of aesthetic polish or marketing muscle will hold the weight. But when the foundation is right, everything else aligns. Decisions feel simpler. Creative feels braver. Messaging feels like memory instead of invention.

But not all materials make a strong foundation. Brutalist architects selected concrete and steel not for their glamour, but for their durability. These were materials that could carry the truth. They didn’t warp under pressure. They didn’t need to be painted pretty to serve their purpose.

For brands, the foundational materials are different. But the logic is the same. Values like trust, usefulness, courage, and consistency may not dazzle on a vision board, but they endure. They can be lived. These are the steel beams and poured concrete of great brand structures. They give the brand a weight people can lean on, even as the world shifts around them..

So, you’ve probably figured out by now that I’m no fun to watch a movie with. While most people leave the theater talking about the actors' performances or the cinematography, I’m the one thinking about brand architecture, story arcs, and archetypal symbolism.

It’s a blessing and a curse, I guess.  But mostly, it’s just how my brain is wired these days. Let me know what you think. Maybe you have a theory about Craftsman architecture and service brands. See, isn’t this fun?