Built in 1972 by the Greater London Council, the Robin Hood Gardens estate provided social housing as ‘streets in the sky’. Its form was as much appreciative as it was reactive to Unité d'habitation, the modernist housing typology conjured by Le Corbusier that birthed the architectural style associated with Brutalism. The development was compared to famous developments across Europe, including the Barbican in the City of London, but was said to be a failure ‘as a place for human beings to live’.
These words, uttered by the Labour MP and Minister of Culture Andy Burnham in May 2009, reflected modern opinion of the estate. The decline in support for similar social housing structures was catalysed in 1997, with Tony Blair’s first speech as prime minister, delivered at Southwark’s Aylesbury Estate. He said:
"Behind the statistics lie households where three generations have never had a job. There are estates where the biggest employer is the drugs industry, where all that is left of the high hopes of the post-war planners is derelict concrete. Behind the statistics are people who have lost hope, trapped in fatalism."
Tony Blair
This opinion contrasted with that of the Smithsons and their colleagues, as well as that of some residents. Richard Rogers, known for his work on the Pompidou Centre in Paris and the Millennium Dome and Lloyd’s building in London, claimed the estate was ‘one of the most outstanding social housing buildings in Britain’. Residents said that the estate provided a rich communal life, with bright and light-infused living spaces and a surrounding green space that protected children from busy, traffic-ridden roads. Yet, the building's concrete facades weathered poorly, and their deterioration was partly caused by the road pollution that cut the estate off from the wider community in Poplar.

Photo courtesy of Steve Cadman
‘We still feel under an obligation to provide the best possible quality, irrespective of what people expect and what treatment it’s going to get’.
Peter Smithson
The Smithsons work was defined as New Brutalism, a school of thought they thought of as ‘an ethic, not an aesthetic’. The duo, who met whilst studying at the University of Durham, married in 1949 and their architectural partnership sought to alleviate the struggles of modern life facing people in post-war Britain. Their competition entry for the Golden Lane Estate was rejected in favour of a proposal by Chamberlin, Powell and Bon, but the ideals of this entry pervaded in their later work on Robin Hood Gardens.
‘Its form will respond, we hope, to the way people want to live now… it’ll be like the first Georgian square in London.’
Peter Smithson
Their development of the ‘streets in the sky’ concept, which rigorously separated traffic and pedestrian circulation and was a form of architectural democracy, sought to build community and connection between residents. These ‘streets’ and the alcoves that extended from them into each personal doorway ended up as blind spots, seized upon for crime and disorder. The belief that these quiet spaces benefitted anti-social behaviour is similarly echoed at the Aylesbury Estate. Such commentary was used as justification for the redevelopment of both estates, though, unlike Robin Hood Gardens, the Aylesbury has resisted total closure.
Robin Hood Gardens was an imperfect development, but for many residents living there, the estate provided valuable connections with their neighbours. The redeveloped estate will replace wide walkways with narrow corridors, and wide front alcoves with private balconies. A rich communal life has likely been lost.

Photo courtesy of Steve Cadman
Nick Thoburn, Runa Khalique, Aklima Begum and Kios Miah collaborated to capture a vital document of the estate and its people. With photography by Miah, interviews by Thobury, Khalique and Begum focused ‘on residents’ social, emotional, and sensory experiences of living on the estate, and their views about its demolition and regeneration, its representations in media and by government, and council housing.’ Brutalism As Found, the name for this collective work, is a thorough and empathetic portrait of the Robin Hood Gardens and its residents.
The optimism of the Smithsons practice, that which built the Robin Hood Gardens estate, never waned. Their ideals, for a standardised and high-quality provision of state housing, were directly challenged by the policy-making of Thatcher’s Conservative Government and its scheme for the ‘Right to Buy’.
Today, the Smithson's well-regarded values are undermined by the tendency for redevelopment projects to diminish the social housing stock. Social housing projects are frequently acquired for redevelopment and residents are decanted to the extremities of London or the counties beyond.
Joe Gilbert’s film, Robin Hood Gardens: A Brief History, is an important document of the estate and its unfortunate demise. We spoke to Joe to better understand his work.
WT: Your work seeks to document the stories associated with Brutalist architecture, how did your interest in this develop?
JG: I’ve always had a vague interest in architecture generally. As a teenager, I was fascinated with skyscrapers - researching and collating facts about the tallest buildings in the world over the last 100 years or so. I then studied film production at university and my eyes were opened to the art of documentary filmmaking. I’d always previously been more interested in the idea of fiction but this soon changed during my theory lectures.

Photo courtesy of Joe Gilbert
My lecturer had an encyclopaedic knowledge of non-fiction films and what resonated most with me was the ‘City Symphony’ films of the 1920s, most notably Berlin, Symphony of a Great City. The penny dropped that I could just go out on my own, with my cheap DV camcorder and film my surroundings as I saw them.
I started by creating cheap imitations of what I’d seen previously, shooting all the obvious locations in London: Piccadilly Circus, Oxford Street, The Southbank etc. But it lacked any deeper meaning or purpose. I wasn’t really saying anything. After graduating and starting my first job in London, a colleague asked if I wanted to have a walk around the Barbican estate. Put simply it blew my mind. I hadn’t seen anywhere like this before. It lit an intense fire of creativity within me, and ideas suddenly started to pop into my head. I googled ‘history of brutalism’, and I was away! The obsession had begun. 10 years later I’ve dedicated much of that time almost exclusively to making films about brutalist housing estates.

Photo courtesy of Joe Gilbert
WT: You began your documentation of the Robin Hood Estate during a tumultuous period. How did this impact the processes of planning and filming?
JG: I found Robin Hood Gardens at a perfect time to make a film. It was 2015 and the estate had lost its final appeal against demolition. I knew I had to film it, so I visited several times in quick succession, often during the lunch breaks of my job. I didn’t realise the importance of what I was capturing at the time - a historical record of something that would soon disappear forever. After that initial visit in 2015, I’ve been back in 2018 and 2021. I’ve essentially documented its entire demise, even attending the ill-judged exhibition on the estate at the Venice Biennale. The creative process wasn’t one of planning, at least in the traditional sense. And I think that’s the magic of documentary filmmaking. You have to go where the story takes you and be adaptable to change. If the core idea is strong enough, everything will follow and fall into place.
WT: The use of archival narration, juxtaposed with your images of the estate's decline and early-stage redevelopment, creates a feeling of optimism. Why was it important for you to include the testimony of the architects in this way?
JG: I think it's very tempting to just film the bad. I’ve been guilty of that in the past and didn’t want to venture into navel-gazing!
My aim with all these films is to make the buildings the main character. I’m trying to bring them to life, tell a story and make the audience feel something. I always want to show the subject in a sympathetic light, or offer an alternative narrative from “Well they’re ugly” and “Thank god I don’t live somewhere dystopian like that”.
I wanted to include the interview of Alison and Peter Smithson (the architects) firstly because they had such unique and distinctive voices - this assured, omnipresent, authoritative tone. They spoke with such truth and conviction, so it was such a shame their vision collapsed. The contraction of my visuals only served to hammer their point home even more.

Photo courtesy of Joe Gilbert
WT: The film score is an ideal accompaniment to the narration. It seems to emphasise the mood of the commentary. How did you develop this?
JG: I wish I had the means or contacts to be able to create original scores (Maybe one day!). This track was bought from a well-known music license site. I’ve always had a love of ambient, almost melancholic music, (particularly Aphex Twin) so I wanted to find something like that as a starting point. I always listen to songs when I’m filming. It helps my creativity hugely and allows me to visualise what I’m trying to create.
WT: Alison and Peter Smithson designed the estate in the late 1960s. The principles of their considered and functional design are lasting, though the estate could be deemed a failure. Are you optimistic about the future of council housing?
JG: I’m certainly more optimistic now we have a Labour government, but I’m still not convinced the future is positive. We’ve got to reverse the status quo of the last 40 years or so and it’s going to take huge bravery and investment to set us on the right path. I think the principles of that time are certainly popular amongst many people in our society though so time will tell.

Photo courtesy of Joe Gilbert
WT: During your time making this film, was there a moment or conversation that was particularly significant to you?
JG: When I first started filming in 2015, there was one particular moment that stood out. I was very naive and a bit fearless (more so than I am now) and managed to work my way up the lifts of one of the tower blocks, to the top floor. I nervously started shooting straight away, amazed at the view this had given me over the entire estate. Suddenly, the flat door next to me swung open. I panicked and expected to be shouted at (fair enough, a strange man with a camera and tripod had appeared). Instead, 3 very inquisitive children came running over to me - asking how my camera worked, if they could take my picture, showing me their toys etc. I looked over to the mother for reassurance. She smiled at me, turned her back and left, leaving the front door slightly ajar. It was a simple act of hospitality, I was an uninvited guest, but this encounter was filled with innocence and positivity.