From Ruin to Rebirth with Brutalism for the People | SESC Pompéia by Lina Bo Bardi
- Arq. Pablo Vazquez
- Oct 14
- 6 min read
Author: Pablo Vazquez.
A lover of discovering new places and a workaholic—in short, an architect.

NAME OF WORK: SESC Pompéia.
ARCHITECTS: Lina Bo Bardi.
PHOTOGRAPHY: Pedro Kok, talleravb, Maxine Brown Stephano, J Felipe.
LOCATION: Rua Clélia, 93, São Paulo, Brazil.
YEAR: 1977.
SQUARE METERS: 22,026 m2.
Have you ever walked past an abandoned factory and thought, “What if this were something else?”


Perhaps a cultural center, a place to meet, play, learn, and build community. In São Paulo, Lina Bo Bardi didn't just imagine it: she made it happen. She transformed an old drum factory into SESC Pompéia, a warm, rebellious, and deeply human example of brutalism. A work that shows that urban rebirth can also be an act of resistance and poetry.

A drum factory and the dream of public life
When SESC (Social Service for Commerce) acquired the land of the old abandoned factory in the Pompéia neighborhood of São Paulo in the 1970s, the intention was clear: to provide a space for the physical and cultural well-being of workers. What was not so clear—even to the managers themselves—was that they would end up creating one of the most powerful works of 20th-century Latin American architecture.

Lina Bo Bardi, the Italian-Brazilian architect already recognized by MASP (São Paulo Museum of Art), was called upon to take charge of the transformation. Her response was radical: not to demolish, but to engage in dialogue. Not to impose, but to understand. Where others saw ruins, Lina saw living matter. Where many would have seen a vacant lot on which to build something new, Lina saw history, community, and potential.

Brutalism as an embrace: concrete, bridges, and humanity

The result was a powerful intervention: a blend of the pre-existing and the new. It preserved the original warehouses—with their red bricks and high ceilings—and added two towers of pure concrete, connected by elevated bridges like suspended arteries. Brutalism, which in other hands can feel cold or authoritarian, here becomes warm, accessible, deeply human.
At SESC Pompéia, there are no luxurious finishes or unnecessary ornaments. Beauty comes from honesty: exposed concrete, formwork marks, exposed structure. It is architecture that does not hide its process or its wounds, like the city itself. A harsh aesthetic that does not seek to please but to activate, to summon, to open space for everyday life.
And that is what happens inside: sports courts, swimming pools, theater halls, art workshops, exhibitions, cafes, libraries, games, conversations. Everything lives, everything mixes. There are no visual or spatial hierarchies. It is a place where design fades into the background so that people can take center stage.
Architecture without ornamentation: space as a tool for freedom

The architecture of SESC Pompéia is, above all, architecture without ornamentation. But that does not mean it is austere or empty. Quite the contrary. Lina Bo Bardi created architecture with content, with density, with intention in every decision. A space in which each element speaks of the social and human project that sustains it.
The old factory was surgically intervened. The industrial warehouses and their original structures were maintained. Not out of nostalgia, but because Lina understood that the value of a building does not lie in its novelty, but in its ability to be useful to life. The exposed brick walls were restored, the metal structures were cleaned, and courtyards and circulation areas were opened up to allow for air, light, and encounters.

A few meters from this restored factory, Lina designed two 30-meter-high brutalist concrete towers connected by suspended walkways. These new pieces do not imitate or compete with the existing building: they complement it with another language, one that speaks in reinforced concrete, circular perforations, and external emergency staircases. It is raw architecture, yes, but full of sensitivity.
The walkways connecting the towers to the original building are not just functional resources. They are poetic acts. Lina called them “streets in the air.” They are pedestrian bridges that not only allow people to move around, but also to look at the neighborhood from another height, share a suspended moment, open the architecture to the city, and break with the logic of confinement.

This circulation system is not hierarchical. There are no monumental entrances or mandatory routes. Visitors can wander, discover, and encounter things. It is an architecture that embraces freedom of use, spontaneous appropriation, and programmatic ambiguity. Something that we now consider key in contemporary architecture, Lina was already doing in the 1980s.
And here there is an important structural decision: these walkways are suspended from metal tensioners and cross the void without intermediate supports. This not only requires admirable technical precision, but also symbolizes something else: the connection between bodies, ideas, spaces, and generations. It is, literally, building bridges.
Brutalism with soul: materiality and affection
Exposed concrete, a central element of brutalism, is not a gesture of strength or coldness here. Lina uses it as if it were clay: she molds it, lets it express itself, lets it be imperfect. The textures of the formwork, the stains, the cuts, the shadows... everything remains visible. This concrete is not disguised or embellished. It is accepted as it is. Like a living body.

The circular perforations in the towers—more than 200—function as windows, vents, eyes. From the inside, they filter natural light and create an ever-changing atmosphere. From the outside, they generate a playful, almost musical visual rhythm, like a musical score on the façade.
But in addition to concrete, Lina works with rustic wood, handmade furniture, ceramics, and spontaneous vegetation. The contrast between hard and soft is constant. Where many saw a cold factory, she placed human warmth. Where many would have built a technical building, she thought of an emotional space.

A porous building: interior, exterior, and neighborhood

Another great success of SESC Pompéia is its urban porosity. The building is not presented as a closed box or an autonomous object. Its ground floor is open, allowing pedestrians to pass freely, connecting with the sidewalks and the flows of the neighborhood. There are no fences, turnstiles, or security walls. The public is not protected: it is offered.
And in that architectural gesture lies a political statement: the city should be for everyone. Architecture should dissolve barriers, not build them. The common good is not privatized, it is enhanced.

Finally, the passage of time has shown that SESC Pompéia is not only beautiful but also durable. Its design withstands intensive use without losing its dignity. Its materiality tolerates wear and tear without becoming obsolete. It is a building that ages gracefully, adapts, and resists.
And that, perhaps, is the highest test that an architectural work can pass.

An uncompromising work

The most admirable thing about SESC Pompéia is not only its form, but also its ethical stance. Lina Bo Bardi rejected market logic, functionalist homogenization, and architectural spectacle. She opted for an architecture of possibility, of community, of politics in the best sense of the word.
Her decisions were provocative even within SESC itself. She refused to include air conditioning, defended the use of simple furniture, and promoted a horizontal relationship between those who use the space. The project was built in the midst of the Brazilian military dictatorship, and although it may not seem so at first glance, it is a deeply subversive act: giving back to the people a space for the body, culture, and freedom.
What does SESC Pompéia say about our cities?

In an era where cultural centers are built as consumer capsules, SESC Pompéia poses another question: can architecture be generous without losing its power? Can it build identity without erasing memory?

Today, decades after its inauguration, SESC is still alive. Not as a relic, but as an organism. Every day it is filled with children, the elderly, teenagers, workers, artists, neighbors. The city passes through it and it lets itself be passed through. It is a porous space, resistant to oblivion and faithful to its popular origins.

Perhaps that is why it moves me. Because it does not speak to you from above. It speaks to you from the ground, from the street, from the drum that was once made there, and now resonates as a metaphor: from industry to art, from abandonment to community, from concrete to the heart.
What about you? Is there an abandoned factory in your city? Can you imagine turning it into the social and urban heart of your neighborhood? SESC Pompéia shows us that architecture, when designed for people, can transform not only spaces, but also ways of living together.
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