Charles-Édouard Jeanneret-Gris. You probably know him as Le Corbusier. Or maybe you just know the giant, grey concrete blocks that seem to dominate every major city from Marseille to Chandigarh. Some people love him. Others—mostly those who have to walk past his "brutalist" masterpieces on a rainy Tuesday—absolutely loathe him. But here is the thing about Le Corbusier on architecture: you cannot ignore him. He didn’t just design buildings; he redesigned how humans exist in space.
Architecture is a machine for living in. That was his mantra. It sounds cold, right? Like he wanted us all to be cogs. Honestly, though, his vision was more about liberation than restriction. He looked at the cramped, dark, disease-ridden slums of early 20th-century Paris and thought, "We can do better." He wanted light. He wanted air. He wanted greenery.
The man was a bit of a contradiction. A Swiss-born watchmaker’s son who became the face of French modernism. A painter who hated clutter but loved precise, geometric chaos.
The Five Points That Changed Everything
If you’ve ever sat in a room with a long, horizontal window that lets in a ton of sunlight, you’ve felt the influence of Le Corbusier on architecture. In 1927, he laid out his "Five Points of a New Architecture." It wasn't just a manifesto; it was a manual for the future.
First, there were the pilotis. Basically, these are reinforced concrete stilts. By lifting the building off the ground, he reclaimed the space underneath for cars or pedestrians. Then came the roof garden. Why waste the footprint of a building when you can put a park on top of it? He also championed the free plan—getting rid of load-bearing walls inside so you could move rooms around however you liked.
Then there was the ribbon window. Before Corbu, windows were usually vertical holes punched in masonry. He realized that with concrete frames, you could run a window across the entire facade. It changed the way we see the horizon from our living rooms. Finally, there was the free facade. Because the structure was an internal skeleton, the "face" of the building could be anything.
It sounds standard now. In 1920, it was heresy.
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He didn't stop at windows. He was obsessed with the human body. He developed the "Modulor," a scale of proportions based on a man with a raised arm (roughly six feet tall). He used this mathematical ratio to decide the height of ceilings, the width of doorways, and the scale of entire cities. It was his attempt to bridge the gap between the infinite math of the universe and the physical reality of a person reaching for a light switch.
The Villa Savoye: A Masterpiece or a Nightmare?
You can’t talk about Le Corbusier on architecture without mentioning the Villa Savoye in Poissy. Completed in 1931, it’s the ultimate expression of his five points. It looks like a white box floating over a green field. It is beautiful. It is iconic.
It was also a disaster for the people who actually lived there.
Madame Savoye wrote letters complaining that the roof leaked like a sieve. The giant glass windows made the house freezing in the winter and a greenhouse in the summer. It was technically "perfect" but practically a bit of a mess. This is the central tension in his work. He was a visionary who sometimes forgot that rain exists and that concrete cracks.
Yet, when you stand in that space, you see the genius. The ramp that leads you through the house isn't just a way to get upstairs; it’s a "promenade architecturale." He wanted you to experience the building like a movie, frame by frame, as you moved through it.
The Shift to Raw Concrete and the Rise of Brutalism
After World War II, things got heavy. Literally.
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The sleek white plaster of the 1920s gave way to béton brut—raw, unfinished concrete. This is where we get the term "Brutalism." It wasn't about being "brutal" in the sense of being mean; it was about being honest. He wanted you to see the texture of the wooden planks used to mold the concrete.
The Unité d'Habitation in Marseille is the prime example. It’s a massive "vertical garden city." It has 337 apartments, but it also had shops, a school, and a running track on the roof. He was trying to solve the housing crisis with a single, giant, concrete hug.
Did it work?
Sorta. The Marseille building is still a highly sought-after place to live today. It feels like a community. But the thousands of cheap imitations built by governments in the 60s and 70s? Those turned into the "concrete jungles" we associate with urban decay. It turns out that if you take the concrete but leave out the soul, the light, and the roof gardens, you just end up with a depressing box.
Why We Are Still Arguing About Him
Critics like Jane Jacobs later tore into his urban planning ideas. He wanted to bulldoze large chunks of Paris to build the "Plan Voisin"—a series of identical 60-story towers in a park. Thank God it never happened. He hated the "chaos" of old streets, but as we’ve learned, that chaos is exactly what makes a city feel alive.
But look at your phone. Look at the minimalist furniture in your local coffee shop. Look at the open-plan office you might work in. That’s all him. He stripped away the Victorian fluff and the unnecessary ornaments of the 19th century. He forced us to look at the bones of a structure.
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Applying the "Corbusian" Mindset Today
If you’re looking to incorporate the philosophy of Le Corbusier on architecture into your own life or home, you don't need to pour ten tons of concrete in your backyard.
Think about light. Corbu once said, "Space and light and order. Those are the things that men need just as much as they need food or a place to sleep."
- Maximize your "Ribbon" view. Don't block your windows with heavy drapes. If you have a view, treat it like a landscape painting that changes with the weather.
- Reclaim the "Roof." Even if it’s just a few pots of herbs on a balcony, the idea of the roof garden is about staying connected to nature while living in a man-made structure.
- The "Free Plan" at home. Use furniture to define spaces rather than walls. Let the air move.
- Function over ornament. Before you buy that decorative trinket, ask if it serves a purpose or if it’s just "noise."
Architecture is always a conversation between the past and the future. Le Corbusier was a man who lived in that conversation every single day. He was arrogant, he was brilliant, and he was often wrong. But he understood that the buildings we inhabit shape the thoughts we have.
Next time you see a building that looks "modern," look for the stilts. Look for the flat roof. Look for the long windows. You’re looking at a ghost. You’re looking at Le Corbusier.
To truly understand his impact, visit a local landmark from the mid-century modern era or pick up a copy of Toward an Architecture. Pay attention to how the light hits the floor at different times of day. Evaluate your own living space: does it feel like a "machine for living," or is it just a storage unit for your stuff? True Corbusian living requires stripping away the excess to find the essential. Focus on creating a "promenade" in your own home by clearing paths and ensuring every room has a clear, unobstructed relationship with natural light.