One of the most controversial architectural decisions in Austin in recent years has been the demolition of the Austin Convention Center. Critics have said that it has come down too soon, but the reality is that it wasn’t going to last long anyway.
Buildings seem permanent, but very few even come close to a lifespan longer than that of their architects. Even with constant maintenance, every modern building in Austin will have to come down at some point, some sooner than others – and then what?
The cycle of construction and demolition is Viktor Kossakovsky’s latest obsession, and the subject of his new documentary, Architecton. It’s the capstone to what has become known as his Empathy Trilogy, which began with his 2018 meditation on humanity’s relationship with water, Aquarela, and continued with Gunda, his 2020 look at farm life from the perspective of the animals. Both films examine an abstract concept that shapes our entire world in ways we rarely perceive, but the subject here is far more concrete – because it is in fact concrete.
Kossakovsky’s films force you to consider an underlying precept of your life – in this case, how stone becomes cement. The last few thousand years of civilization have been quite literally built on this process, but its boons and curses rarely impinge on the day-to-day thoughts of the average person. In part, he was inspired to look at the subject when he visited the site of an earthquake. He said, “All of the buildings had been destroyed, but rather than cleaning the area they decided to cover it in concrete. The idea is to make a memorial, a memorial from concrete. A memorial is supposed to last forever, but concrete doesn’t last forever.”
“I asked architects, ‘why are we using concrete?’ ‘Because it’s cheap and convenient.’ Cheap for whom?”
The filmmaker was in Barcelona when I spoke with him, and I mentioned that I had been there recently. He asked if I had been sprayed with water by the locals. “There is a movement against tourists,” he said, “because they have changed the face of the city.”
Part of the issue is how visitors have pushed up the price of housing, not least with the construction of gigantic hotels that dominate the skyline. But it’s not like tourism is a new invention. “Some countries only live because of tourism,” Kossakovsky said. “If you go to Jerusalem, you think that they only live because ‘Oh, Jesus Christ was passing on this street.’ In Egypt, every single person is selling you the pyramids.”
Not every building survives. Indeed, there are many archeological sites where the only signs of lost structures are postholes that must be carefully excavated, and the buildings themselves have been absorbed into the soil. As Architecton shows, humanity is now literally destroying mountains, grinding them to dust, shipping that debris across the planet, turning it into concrete, making buildings, and then knocking those buildings down a few decades later.
For Kossakovsky, it’s an environmental crime that most people do not comprehend. Every year in Europe alone there are 300,000 buildings demolished every year, much of it to make way for new construction with a disturbingly short lifespan. That process is both costly and has a massive ecological impact, with cement production alone responsible for 8% of global CO2 emissions, while the overall construction process pushes that figure up to 32% in some countries. As for green roofs, the filmmaker sees them as green washing. “They put plants on the roof or on the balcony and say, ‘This is sustainable architecture, this is green architecture.’ In fact, when you put a plant on a balcony you need three times thicker cement. It’s absurd.”
So why does this cycle of construction and demolition keep happening? Kossakovsky points to the disturbing and ubiquitous connections between the construction industry and local governments. “It’s really easy to put sparks in the eyes of the citizens of the cities, going, ‘Wow, we’re really doing something important.’ They don’t tell them that in 40 years they will be demolished, but right now they can go, ‘We’re being really productive.’”
Kossakovsky’s film examines the impossibility of permanence, making him to buildings what photographer Joel-Peter Witkin is to the flesh. The filmmaker noted that 18th century Italian artist Giovanni Battista Piranesi was an inspiration, especially his landscapes of Roman ruins, and several scenes were shot in high-contrast black-and-white to the look of his etchings. Kossakovsky praised Piranesi for capturing those ruins in almost photographic detail, “but at that moment people told him, ‘Such buildings did not exist. You are inventing them.’”
That sense of impermanence is portrayed in the film through images like contemporary artist Nick Steur making his balanced statue. Reminiscent of the one-minute sculptures of Erwin Wurm, there’s a Sisyphean edge to his labors, with rocks teetering on stones for mere moments before collapsing. At the other end of the temporal spectrum is archaeologist Abdul Nabi al-Afi. His whole career has been dedicated to uncovering and reassessing the ruins of an ancient stone quarry at Baalbek in Lebanon, including a 1,670 ton cubic megalith that was 20 times larger than the biggest stone used in classical Roman architecture, and is too big to be moved by modern machinery. “For 30 years, he was digging this up for us, and we didn’t even pay attention,” he said. Similarly, in Turkey there is a large number of huge amphitheaters, “entirely made from rocks and in excellent condition to this day, and all are several thousand years old, and no one even puts them in the books. Even locals do not know about them. There are no roads there, no tourists guides.”
It’s hard not to think of Barcelona in this context. The W Barcelona was built in three years due to modern construction techniques, but it’s almost impossible to conceive that it will survive to the turn of the century. Four miles away, the epic Sagrada Familia church has been under construction for nearly a century and a half, but due to the use of more traditional techniques and materials it will last many times that. The W someday will become landfill. The worst fate for the Sagrada Familia would be that of many ancient structures, with its fallen stones being reused for other structures. A concrete building will be gone within the builders’ lifetimes, but one built of stone could last literally millennia.
Moreover, Kossakovsky argues that shifting back to historic and sustainable processes will even result in more aesthetically pleasing architecture, just because people are too used to disposable buildings being kind of ugly. “If you build from cement and you know it’s going to be temporary, why not build a rectangle. [But] If you build something for a long period of time, you need to be sure it’s excellent, it’s beautiful, it’s emotional and important for you.”
Architecton is in theatres now from A24 Films. Find tickets and showtimes here.
This article appears in August 1 • 2025.