Every capital city has a “claim to fame.” There’s that certain statistic the tourism office can proudly proclaim to attract visitors. Most northerly capital! Closest capital to the equator! We have the tallest Ferris wheel! Tallest flagpole! Longest mural in the world!
But Skopje’s bragging rights are whispered by the city government, rather than shouted from the rooftops. Skopje has more socialist brutalist architecture per square kilometer than any other city in the world. It may attract a niche audience, but architecture nerds from all corners of the globe make their way to the North Macedonian capital to marvel at the concrete giants that magnificently make up the Skopje skyline. Despite the government’s best efforts to move away from the brutalist style in the 21st Century, these buildings remain one of Skopje’s big ticket draws.
Why does Skopje, of all places, have so many brutalist buildings? The origin of this architecture was, sadly, born out of suffering and sorrow.
Музеј на град Скопје (Museum of the City of Skopje)
The Museum of the City of Skopje is housed in the Old Railway Station, which was partially destroyed by an earthquake on the morning of July 26, 1963 at 5:17; you’ll notice that the clock on the outside of the building has been frozen in time at 5:17 ever since that fateful day. Measuring 6.1 on the Richter scale, the quake lasted a mere twenty seconds. In an instant, over 80% percent of Skopje’s buildings had been reduced to rubble. 1070 people were killed, 4000 more were injured and nearly 200,000 found themselves homeless by the time the sun had risen.
The museum, which is free to enter, spends considerable time detailing the aftermath of the earthquake. Josip Broz Tito, then President of Yugoslavia, of which North Macedonia was a part, vowed to rebuild the city. Dozens of countries donated food, tents and monetary aid. Many streets in Skopje are named after the nations that assisted the Macedonian people during this time; there were protests when the government attempted to change the name of Mexico Boulevard several years ago, lest the legacy of Mexico’s generous aid be erased and forgotten.
The United Nations was also actively involved in the reconstruction process. Kenzo Tange, a Japanese architect, was awarded the prize to redesign Skopje. Tange would control 60% of the urban planning and local Macedonian architects would contribute the other 40%. Many of the Macedonian architects I will credit below worked side by side with Tange to create his new vision for the city. With less than a quarter of the capital still standing, Tange essentially had a clean slate upon which to build his futuristic metropolis made of gray concrete.
For the rest of this post, I will take you on a tour of some of the socialist brutalism highlights in Skopje. Special thanks to the staff at Urban Hostel for alerting me to a few lesser known gems and helping me map out a walking route to best utilize my time.
македонска пошта централа (Macedonian Central Post Office)
Janko Konstantinov (1974/82/89)
Constructed in three phases, the Central Post Office is easily the most famous of Skopje’s brutalist buildings. Due to its placement at a busy intersection, the post office is rather difficult to photograph, but if you make your way up to Kale Fortress, you’ll be rewarded with the bird’s-eye view of the picture I snapped above. It is illegal to take photographs inside a post office in North Macedonia, but no one will stop you from capturing the exterior on film (or your phone).
Македонцки Телеком – ТКЦ (Macedonian Telekom – TKC)
Janko Konstantinov (1974)
Right next door to the Central Post Office is the TKC headquarters, one of North Macedonia’s largest telecom and internet providers. Photographing this building was the first time I ever got in trouble for taking pictures while on my travels. After walking to the rear of the building a stern-faced security guard approached me and asked why I was taking photos of the building. I told him I was simply interested in the architecture and nothing more. Unimpressed with this answer, he told me to hand over my phone so that he could see the photos I had just taken. After flipping through the numerous photos of brutalist buildings from all over Skopje, he seemed satisfied that my intentions were pure. He allowed me to keep the photos I had already taken, but told me not to take anymore. Grateful to get out of the situation, I happily complied.
Академија на науките и уметностите (Academy of Sciences and Arts)
Boris Cipan 1976
If you walk east along the banks of the Vardar River that cuts through central Skopje, you’ll soon stumble upon some of the best brutalism the capital has to offer. The Academy of Science and Arts is one of the most prestigious institutions of higher learning in the country. If your field of research is in the natural sciences, geology, Macedonian literature, culture or fine art, you’ll probably be passing through these doors at some point. There is a sculpture garden located in an inner courtyard, but the Academy was closed on Sunday and I wasn’t able to go inside.
Македонска опера и балет (Macedonian Opera and Ballet)
Biro 71 (1972)
After the 1963 earthquake, all of the major theaters for drama, opera and dance had been leveled. Before the artistic organizations of Skopje could even think of planning a new season, new stages would have to constructed. The opera and ballet found their new home on the banks of the Vardar; it was designed by a group of Slovene architects known simply as Biro 71. (Tito encouraged Skopje to employ the help of urban planners from all regions of Yugoslavia. If there was a way for Tito to tie in his national unity propaganda into a situation, he would find it!)
Македонска радио телевизија/МРТ (Macedonian Radio Television/MRT)
Kiril Acevski (1971-84)
At the time of its completion in 1984, the MRT building was the tallest in North Macedonia, standing at 70m (240ft). It has since been stripped of this distinction by a modern skyscraper in 2015, but the radio and television center still dominates the eastern skyline. The broadcasting system first started transmitting programs in the Macedonian language in 1944. After the fall of Yugoslavia in 1991, all public works had to be re-incorporated and structured within the newly-formed FYROM (Former Yugoslav Republic of Macedonia- we’ll discuss all of North Macedonia’s crazy name changes in a later post). The structure itself appears to defy the laws of physics. Certain rooms and floors jut out past the floors below. Somehow the whole thing doesn’t topple over so I guess Acevski knew what he was doing!
Socialist-era Mystery Monument
In a park next to the MRT headquarters in this delightfully bizarre red monument. It’s not listed on google maps and there’s no signage explaining its significance in the park. I took some photos and later asked around if anyone knew the history of this piece. People recognized it, but no one knew its name, when it was erected or for what reason. I began scouring the web for answers, but likewise came up short. Apparently this monument wants to remain a mystery and I’m ok with that. We don’t receive all the answers in life and this art work in Skopje was going to remain a mystery too.
Народната Банка на Република Северна Македонија (National Bank of the Republic of North Macedonia)
Radomir Lalovic and Olga Papes (1975)
On the south side of the Vardar sits the National Bank of the Republic of North Macedonia (trying saying that ten times fast!). You’ll notice that even though many of these buildings were designed by different people, Tange’s guidance helped everyone maintain a uniform aesthetic. The result is not a jumble of ideas, but rather a united vision for Skopje’s future.
Универзитет Свети Кирил и Методиј (Saints Cyril and Methodius University)
Marko Mušić (1974)
Wandering around Saints Cyril and Methodius University was my favorite stop on my socialist brutalism tour, and it almost didn’t happen. I was visiting Skopje in the late summer, a few weeks shy of the start of the fall semester. The campus was empty and I was met by a security guard at the front gate. Here we go again, I thought.
I explained that I was a tourist and just wanted to see the university’s architecture. This guard, perhaps already accustomed to the random architecture nerd stopping by the school, waved me in and told me not to miss the dorms around back!
Saints Cyril and Methodius University was founded in 1949, making it the oldest public university in North Macedonia. At 25,000 students, it is also the largest. The 1963 quake completely destroyed the campus, including some of Yugoslavia’s most state-of-the-art laboratories. Rebuilding the university was a top priority, although the work would not be completed until 1974. The campus looks like a giant concrete sea anemone or coral reef with dozen of little cylinders, punctuated with nautical-looking round windows. I really felt like Alice in Wonderland falling down the rabbit hole into a strange, new world.
Соборен храм Свети Климент Охридски (Church of St. Clement of Ohrid)
Slavko Brezovski (1972)
A few blocks west from the Central Post Office sits the unusual Church of St. Clement of Ohrid, the largest Macedonian Orthodox Cathedral in the world. Brutalist churches are rare, so anytime I find one is a treat. There are no flat or angular ceilings in the church- all coverings are comprised of domes and arches. A crystalline acrylic was applied to all the windows, refracting the light as it enters the sanctuary. It’s worth returning to St. Clement’s in the evening to witness its dramatic illumination.
Фонтана ([Lotus] Fountain)
The Lotus Fountain, or simply “The Fountain,” marks the most popular meeting spot in Градски парк (Gradski Park), otherwise known as Skopje City Park. (So many places, streets and buildings have changed their names since North Macedonia broke away from Yugoslavia that it genuinely becomes confusing at times. Gradski Park is a prime example. Locals, especially anyone over 35 who still remembers life in Yugoslavia, will probably tell you to join them at The Fountain, or at least Gradski Park. Skopje City Park just hasn’t caught on in the same way, plus The Fountain is a more evocative (and way cooler!) sobriquet than the generic sounding “City Park.” And just to add that extra little layer of difficulty: Google maps only marks the green space as Skopje City Park, so good luck to you.)
As for the Lotus Fountain itself, Tange was not simply tasked with designing buildings, but making the city feel like a new home for its citizens. The fountain was constructed in 1970, but I could not track down the name of the specific architect/artist to whom its design should be accredited. Another interesting feature of the park is that the concrete footpaths were not mapped out until the first winter snow had fallen. Tange waited and watched where people naturally tromped across the snow-covered lawn and then placed the sidewalks accordingly. The people did not conform to the park, but rather the park was made to conform to the habits of the people.
Универзална Сала (Universal Hall)
Stankovi Brothers (1966)
The last stop on our little socialist brutalism tour is a melancholy one. Universal Hall, now hilariously called Alexander the Macedonian (take that, Greece!) Congress Center, was once the premiere center for theater, music and Skopje’s famed annual jazz festival. (Yes, there’s jazz in the Balkans too.) The concert hall has become very rundown and urgently needs a round of structural repairs.
This was happy news to the city government who announced in 2013 that Universal Hall would be torn down and a new concert hall, designed in the shape of an egg to symbolize North Macedonia’s rebirth, would be erected in its stead. (An egg? A little on the nose, don’t you think?) Well, this didn’t go over too well with locals who wanted to see the hall refurbished, but not demolished. Somehow the building is still standing as the city waits in a stalemate over what to do with Universal Hall.
When I visited Belgrade for the second time, I noticed little changes here and there, evidence of the Serbian capital evolving and growing, like all cities do. Revitalization usually happens slowly like a flower unfurling one petal at a time. On rare occasion, regeneration is born out of necessity with a flash of lightning and a crack of thunder. The latter is what happened to Skopje on that fateful morning in 1963. There wasn’t time for Skopje to evolve; there wasn’t even enough of the past to evolve from. Skopje got a fresh start in the most dramatic way possible.
And now that the local government views Skopje’s brutalist rebirth as an ugly reminder of the past, what will become of the city as a new wave of architectural and aesthetic changes are thrust upon the capital through the “Skopje 2014” project? (Don’t worry, I’ll be discussing this in the following post!) Skopje is often a city at odds with itself, but one bursting with a unique flavor all its own; it doesn’t hurt that Macedonians would give you the shirt off their backs if you needed it and embrace tourists like long-lost family members. Maybe Skopje is like a rebellious teenager, trying out new looks and styles until the right one fits. Whatever the case may be, enjoy the socialist brutalist architecture now; who knows what will replace it tomorrow.
