Brazilian modern architecture is often celebrated as a landmark of innovation and national identity, projecting the country onto the international stage with iconic works and a distinctive aesthetic. However, recent research and publications have highlighted its deep entanglement with colonial narratives, both in its influences and its social impact. Although modernism emerged as an attempt to break away from European academic traditions, it remained dependent on foreign references and incorporated strategies of domination that echoed colonial logic.
The idea that Brazil’s modernization and national identity formation are deeply tied to the country’s colonial past found one of its strongest ideological expressions in modernist architecture. However, this perspective—gaining traction in recent debates—still faces resistance, mainly because it challenges a hegemonic narrative: that of a national identity built on concepts such as tropical civilization, racial democracy, and a distinctly Brazilian modernism. This narrative, widely disseminated through art, architecture, and cultural media, has played a central role in shaping Brazil’s image on the global stage for decades.
The 1943 Brazil Builds exhibition at MoMA, for instance, cemented the international recognition of Brazilian modernist architecture, portraying the country’s built environment not just at that moment but as far back as the mid-17th century. Reflecting the collaboration between the Brazilian and U.S. governments, the exhibition sought to present Brazil as a nation where citizenship prevailed over racial prejudice. However, it included architectural structures that had originally served as instruments of the necropolitical system of slavery in colonial Brazil. These buildings, seemingly stripped of their historical context, were rebranded as aesthetic references for tropical modernism.
The parallel between colonial and modern architecture in Brazil emerged in the early 20th century when national identity became a central concern—not only in visual arts and literature but also in architecture. At the time, it was widely believed that the national spirit was reflected in European colonial architecture. However, this revivalism was imbued with colonialist concepts, such as ideas linked to white supremacy.
One of the leading figures of Brazilian modern architecture, architect and urban planner Lúcio Costa, viewed the creation of modern and independent national art as being intertwined with colonial heritage rather than opposed to it. For him, the colonial was a key element to be revitalized as the foundation of Brazilian modernity. As a civil servant at the National Historic and Artistic Heritage Service (SPHAN), Costa published several articles asserting that "the ingenious technique of colonial architecture—mud reinforced with wood—has something in common with our reinforced concrete," and that "just as the furniture of modern European avant-garde masters was light, simple, and stable, so too was Jesuit colonial furniture, designed according to human proportions, just like their buildings."
Costa did not shy away from making direct comparisons between modern and colonial architecture. Persisting in this parallel, he elaborated a historiography of Brazilian modern architecture in his 1951 text Depoimento de um Arquiteto Carioca, stating that the transition to modernity was shaped by two "fundamental" factors: the abolition of slavery and the industrial revolution. As Paulo Tavares, architect and co-curator of the award-winning Brazilian Pavilion at the 2023 Venice Biennale, points out in his book Was Lúcio Costa Racist?, Costa’s obsession with synthesizing the colonial and the modern led him to draw an analogy between Le Corbusier’s "machine for living" and the Brazilian slave system:
The Brazilian machine for living, during the Colonial and Imperial periods, depended on this mixture of things, animals, and people—that is, the enslaved. [...] They made everything work—there was a Black person for everything. [...] The Black person was the sewage system; the running water in the bedroom, hot and cold; the light switch and doorbell; the one who patched leaks and lifted heavy glass panes, who washed clothes automatically and fanned the air like a ventilator.
Within this context, the attempt to define, differentiate, or even merge modernity and tradition led to dominant ideas about the much-coveted modern national identity—ideas that continue to be perpetuated today, often without critical reflection. Even the very conception of Brasília—described by Paulo Tavares as a "colonial capital"—reflects colonial thinking, despite being internationally recognized as a model of modernist urban planning. The construction of Brasília, starting with the Pilot Plan, was presented as a territorial conquest, symbolizing a fresh start for Brazilian identity and modernity. By placing the new capital at the heart of Brazil’s then-uninhabited interior, Costa conceived it as "a pioneering gesture, in the tradition of colonial expansion." This symbolism is embedded in the Plano Piloto itself, whose spatial configuration materializes a colonial-Christian cross—a design that Costa justified in his own words: "a drawing born from the primary gesture of someone marking a place or claiming it: two axes crossing at a right angle, the very sign of the cross." This gesture carries significant violence in multiple ways. While narratives often obscure this colonial character, they emerge clearly at times—presented positively and tied to modernization. This explains how the colonial cross came to be interpreted as an airplane heading toward progress, reinforcing the deep connection between coloniality and modernity.
Despite the contradictions in the history of Brazilian modern architecture, it is essential to recognize that modernism, as a cultural and political movement, aimed to transcend national and racial divisions—it aspired to be international and universal. However, in Brazil, these ideals clashed with colonial and racialized perspectives, which, while exemplified by Lúcio Costa’s thinking, must be understood within a broader cultural and historical context—one in which he was not an exception. Regardless, although Costa’s ideas cannot be judged solely through the lens of the present, we cannot ignore the fact that his vision of Brazilian architecture and national culture was built on specific foundations. The challenge lies in engaging critically with this legacy—not only preserving its strengths but also exposing its contradictions, ensuring that its influence on the present is both conscious and reflective.
This article is part of the ArchDaily Topics: 100 Years of Modernism. Every month we explore a topic in-depth through articles, interviews, news, and architecture projects. We invite you to learn more about our ArchDaily Topics. And, as always, at ArchDaily we welcome the contributions of our readers; if you want to submit an article or project, contact us.
