The Travel Diary: Exploring the brutalist backstreets of Split
- Text by Vedran Kolac
- Photography by Vedran Kolac
Based on the cost of Adriatic sea, Split is known for its rich history and unique mix of architecture.
‘Split 3’ is a residential district on the south-east side of the city, filled with a distinct complex of buildings. They were built during the ’70s and ’80s, back when Croatia was still part of Yugoslavia – a sprawling communist state that doesn’t exist anymore.
Although I’m currently based in Zagreb, where I’ve lived for 18 years working as a photographer and developer, I’ve been holidaying in Split for the last half a decade. When I first came, I stayed in a central apartment a few minutes walk from the palace that was built as a residence for Roman emperor Diocletian in third century AD. At that time, I had minimal knowledge about the building, as well as the city’s modern architecture.
When I returned in 2013, I stayed for a month in a high rise in the Pujanke quarter. Living there changed my view of the city. That was when I discovered Split 3 – an abstract, concrete composition of buildings that sit somewhere between sculptures and houses.
The complex was built in 1969 as a reaction to the mono-functional design seen in Zagreb and other cities in Yugoslavia. At the time, the district’s construction was a hot topic in the architecture scene – revitalising the city’s street, squares, and approach to urban planning.
In Split 3, pedestrian streets are oriented east to west, and the buildings on the north side of are taller than those on the south side. This kind of design makes people free to the see both sides of the street, with many settlements located on a hill on the city’s south side. Cars are parked on the north side, behind the taller complexes. Small cubes, made for birds to nest on, lie on the buildings’ facades. Even the surrounding streets, designed by architect Dinko Kovačić, are known for their abstract and sculptural form.
The district’s modernist architecture is mixed with an authentic Mediterranean flavour, which gives you a feel of a traditional Dalmatian street.
More of Vedran Kolac’s work can be seen on his official website and Instagram.
Enjoyed this article? Like Huck on Facebook or follow us on Twitter.
You might like
Louis Theroux’s ‘Manosphere’ shows men aren’t the problem, platforms are
No Ws for Good Men — The journalist’s new documentary sees him dive headfirst into the toxicities and machinations of the male influencer economy. But when young creators are monetarily incentivised to make more and more outrageous content, who really is to blame?
Written by: Emma Garland
In the 1960s, African photographers recaptured their own image
Ideas of Africa — An exhibition at the Museum of Modern Art explores the 20th century’s most important lensers, including Seydou Keïta, Malick Sidibé and Kwame Brathwaite, and their impact on challenging dominant European narratives.
Written by: Miss Rosen
Reynaldo Rivera’s intimate portrait of queer Latino love
Propiedad Privada — Growing up during the AIDS pandemic, the photographer entered a world where his love was not only taboo, but dangerous. His new monograph presents inward-looking shots made over four decades, which reclaim the power of desire.
Written by: Miss Rosen
In photos: The newsagents keeping print alive
Save the stands — With Huck 83 hitting shelves around the world, we met a few people who continue to stock print magazines, defying an enduringly tough climate for physical media and the high street.
Written by: Ella Glossop
Inside Bombay Beach, California’s ‘Rotting Riviera’
Man-made decay — The Salton Sea was created by accident after a failed attempt to divert the Colorado River in the early 20th century. Jack Burke reports from its post-apocalyptic shores, where DIY art and ecological collapse meet.
Written by: Jack Burke
The quiet, introspective delight of Finland’s car cruising scene
Pilluralli — In the country’s small towns and rural areas, young people meet up to drive and hang out with their friends. Jussi Puikkonen spent five years photographing its idiosyncratic pace.
Written by: Josh Jones
