People know that Adolf Hitler was once an aspiring painter, but some might not know of his intense passion for architecture. He would walk through Vienna and just take in all of the beautiful buildings for hours on end. Many of his paintings show his fascination with great architecture, and his incredible attention to detail. Hitler writes in Mein Kampf of how he was rejected by the Academy of Fine Arts Vienna because he was told that he should be in the School of Architecture.
In the last months of her sickness, I had gone to Vienna to take the entrance examination for the Academy. I had set out with a pile of drawings, convinced that it would be child’s play to pass the examination. At the Realschule I had been by far the best in my class at drawing, and since then my ability had developed amazingly; my own satisfaction caused me to take a joyful pride in hoping for the best.
Yet sometimes a drop of bitterness put in its appearance: my talent for painting seemed to be excelled by my talent for drawing, especially in almost all fields of architecture. At the same time my interest in architecture as such increased steadily, and this development was accelerated after a two weeks’ trip to Vienna which I took when not yet sixteen. The purpose of my trip was to study the picture gallery in the Court Museum, but I had eyes for scarcely anything but the Museum itself. From morning until late at night, I ran from one object of interest to another, but it was always the buildings which held my primary interest. For hours I could stand in front of the Opera, for hours I could gaze at the Parliament; the whole Ring Boulevard seemed to me like an enchantment out of -The Thousand-and-One-Nights.
Now I was in the fair city for the second time, waiting with burning impatience, but also with confident self-assurance, for the result of my entrance examination. I was so convinced that I would be successful that when I received my rejection, it struck me as a bolt from the blue. Yet that is what happened. When I presented myself to the rector, requesting an explanation for my non-acceptance at the Academy’s school of painting, that gentleman assured me that the drawings I had submitted incontrovertibly showed my unfitness for painting, and that my ability obviously lay in the field of architecture; for me, he said, the Academy’s school of painting was out of the question, the place for me was the School of Architecture. It was incomprehensible to him that I had never attended an architectural school or received any other training in architecture. Downcast, I left von Hansen’s magnificent building on the Schillerplatz, for the first time in my young life at odds with myself. For what I had just heard about my abilities seemed like a lightning flash, suddenly revealing a conflict with which I had long been afflicted, although until then I had no clear conception of its why and wherefore.
In a few days I myself knew that I should some day become an architect.
As we know, Hitler never became an architect as he imagined, as he was transformed by his struggle in the First World War and instead became the architect of one of the greatest nations the world has ever seen. Part of Hitler’s vision for Germany involved a revival of great art and architecture, hearkening back to classical themes while still keeping an eye on the future. Hitler’s most celebrated architect was Albert Speer, who survived the war and would go on to write some less than favorable things about Hitler and the Third Reich in later years. During their productive time together, however, Speer worked with Hitler to create masterpieces of architecture.
Unfortunately, most of their great plans never came to fruition, as little Germany became embroiled in a war against the world’s greatest empires. Hitler held out hope that upon victory they would be able to create a country filled with magnificent architecture, especially in the capitol city of Berlin. There are many videos you can watch regarding the plans for “World Capitol Germania” (a name Speer later invented), some of which have good information, but there is almost always some bias. To just give you a taste of what they had planned, here is a short video with some foreboding music and a very dramatic sky.
Instead of realizing their dreams, Germany’s amazing architecture (along with her innocent citizenry) was bombed to bits. The country was left in ruins. Some National Socialist buildings still stood and some masterpieces in cities like Dresden were rebuilt, but there was to be a new vision for the architecture of Germany and the rest of the world following World War II. Jews, who had absolutely no tradition of architecture besides their fabled Temple (built by a “goy” named Hiram Abiff), were to take the lead in reshaping the entire world around us.
Lacking a body of historical precedents, creating a ‘Jewish’ architecture simply isn’t possible.
The above quote comes from the Jerusalem Post, which details just how inexperienced (and inept) jews are in regards to architecture.
Most synagogues in the Diaspora weren’t designed by Jews and mainly resembled the architecture of their host countries. Until modern times, the synagogues of Europe were built by Christian architects. Fear of idolatry and transgressing the second commandment limited Jewish artistic activity for generations to the adornment of ritual objects.
Judaism has always been mainly a literary culture in which the height of achievement was to be a scholar of the Torah. Moreover, in Judaism, the emphasis is placed not on the physical but on the spiritual. Lacking a body of historical precedents, a Jewish architecture could not possibly have flowered. […]
With the decrease of anti-Semitism following World War II, greater numbers of Jews began to enter the profession. By 1960, three Jewish architects – Oscar Niemeyer of Brazil, Eric Mendelsohn (born in Poland) and Richard Neutra (born in Austria), were already counted among the masters of 20th century architecture, but Judaism was never their point of departure. While today we have quite a number of Jewish architects of international stature, their works are irrelevant to Jewish life.
The jews who began to dominate the architectural landscape brought us “modernism”, which has effectively severed us from thousands of years of European tradition and architectural advancement.
The Daily Beast reports:
Most design aficionados know the modernist greats. But what they don’t realize: They were all Jewish.
The article goes through the jewish modernists in all different fields, including architecture:
R.M. Schindler and Richard Neutra, the trailblazing Austrian émigrés who transformed Los Angeles into a hotbed of modernist architecture. […] Architect Marcel Breuer. […] Architectural photographer Julius Shulman.
Some of the modernist jews came to us in America after leaving Hitler’s Germany.
Hitler was profoundly anti-Semitic, but he was also anti-Modern. So you had a large contingent of émigrés from the Bauhaus, and they were very much embraced by places like the Museum of Modern Art. That exodus greatly increased the number of modern Jewish designers and architects in America.
Their motivation for creating such crap?
European Jews gravitated toward modernism as a way to get away from history. At the same time, though, they wanted to define themselves as sort of elite and up-and-coming.
Another gem, showing us just what modern architecture is really all about:
I’m reminded of a quote from the Jewish architect Percival Goodman. He wrote in 1961 that modernism was especially suited to “people historically conditioned like the Jews” to embrace social reform and community spirit.
What effect does this all have on our minds?
A jewish architect even said that the right angle is now morally suspect due to the Holocaust. From E. Michael Jones in Living Machines : Bauhaus Architecture As Sexual Ideology:
According to [Peter] Eisenman, “the smoke of Auschwitz” has rendered certain architectural styles morally invalid. People who persist in the wickedness otherwise known as classical (or modern) architecture, run the danger of incurring the wrath of commissars like Eisenman or Daniel Libeskind, who claims that the Holocaust has rendered the right angle morally suspect. The right angle, Libeskind tells us, “is a product of a spiritual history… and when that spiritual history is no longer decisive, the right angle also changes. Perhaps yesterday’s perfection is no longer ‘right’ for us.” Libeskind dislikes right angles because they imply “the right, the orthogonal, the vertical versus the horizontal, man versus woman, earth versus God, light versus darkness, and good versus evil. It would be easy if the categories were still valid, but so many things have changed. We no longer operate with the right angle in the sciences, economics, chemistry, in our daily life. So it seems we should ask: What do we operate with? What are our geometries? What are our orientations?” The only legitimate architecture, in other words, is one that gives form to “fragments, approximations, [and] indeterminacies…””
Let’s now take a look at some of the buildings created or planned by Daniel Libeskind, the world-famous architect who hates right angles.
These are just a few of the modern monstrosities created by one jewish architect, but there are many more going up around the world all the time. This is the world jews have created. Does anyone actually like seeing these buildings? I have a feeling very few non-jews get much delight out of this awful architecture, but do not trust their instincts, and instead go along with this new vision because it is what is popular. They do not even know they should say “thanks jews” for all their cultural subversion.