Bratislava: Baroque to Brutalism, No Boredom

SNP Bridge (Bridge of Slovak National Uprising) Bratislava built between 1967 and 1972, nicknamed the UFO Bridge.

With travel blogs strongly advising travellers to limit their stay to a single day, my announcement of a four-day visit to Bratislava in May 2018 was met with bemusement and even interrogation from friends and strangers alike. “The consensus seemed to be that the city was worth a visit for an afternoon or so, perhaps as a day trip from Vienna, to tick ‘Slovakia’ off your list of countries,” noted one blog. 

An Austrian couple I met while dancing in a park in Vienna several days before had urged me to instead do a only day trip to Bratislava, so horrified were they at the thought of me spending four days in Bratislava. "Why come all the way to Europe if you can easily tick off as many countries as possible, like other travellers?" Their sentiments only strengthened my resolve to prove them wrong.

My first day and evening in Bratislava did just that. My home-exchange apartment placed me in an ideal central location, with on one side a Postmodern juxtaposition of old-town cafés and clubs, and on the other just a six-minute walk to the Danube and the infamous Most Slovenského národného povstania, commonly known as the UFO or Bridge of the Slovak National Uprising.

Without effort, my first day out offered easy walking access to a diverse array of architectural sites:

• The Church of St. Elizabeth (Blue Church) – Built between 1909 and 1913, this Hungarian Secessionist (Art Nouveau) Catholic church is renowned for its pastel blue façade and whimsical design. 
• SNP Bridge (Bridge of the Slovak National Uprising) – Completed in 1972, this asymmetrical cable-stayed bridge is a striking example of Brutalist engineering, featuring a futuristic UFO-shaped observation tower.
• Námestie Slobody (Freedom Square) – Dating back to the 17th century, this expansive square was transformed in the 1980s into a functionalist-style public space, reflecting the era's architectural trends. 
• Slovak Technical University (STU) – Established in 1939, this institution is a hub for modernist architecture, with its campus showcasing mid-20th-century design principles. 
• Slovenský Rozhlas (Slovak Radio Building) – Constructed between 1963 and 1985, this iconic building is a prime example of socialist realism, featuring a distinctive upside-down pyramid shape. 
• Hotel Kyjev – Opened in the 1970s, this high-rise hotel exemplifies socialist-era architecture with its utilitarian design and central location.

The Church of St. Elizabeth designed by Ödön Lechner (commonly known as The Blue Church) and built between 1909 and 1913. 

One of many Art Nouveau buildings in Bratislava.

Of course there were many other interesting churches, castles and soviet sculptures and buildings along the way too numerous to mention. Here is a taste of the plethora of architectural sites I visited:

The Blue Church or The Church of St. Elizabeth is a Hungarian Secessionist (Jugendstil, Art Nouveau) Catholic church located in the eastern part of the Old Town in Bratislava, present day Slovakia. It is referred to as "The Little Blue Church" because of the colour of its façade, mosaics, majolicas and blue-glazed roof. It was initially part of the neighboring gymnázium (high school) and served as the school chapel. I saw the school along the way and was fascinated by the architecture without realising it was designed by the same architect, Ödön Lechner and was built from 1909—1913.

Views of the Fountain of Union (Slovak: Fontána Družby); it was built from 1979 to 1980 by sculptors Juraj Hovorka, Tibor Bártfay, Karol Lacko and architects Virgil Droppa and Juraj Hlavica.

Námestie Slobody or Freedom Square may on the surface appear ugly and derelict; graffiti covers many of the stairs and surfaces, there is no water in the fountain and weeds grow through the many steps leading you in or out of the Square from numerous angles - it's not really a square but a multifaceted octagon with a large steel flower sculpture (which weighs 12 tons) as the central focal point. Even its name -Freedom Square – sounds very socialist. And the fountain is entitled the Fountain of Union (Slovak: Fontána Družby); it was built from 1979 to 1980 by sculptors Juraj Hovorka, Tibor Bártfay, Karol Lacko and architects Virgil Droppa and Juraj Hlavica. It is the biggest fountain in Bratislava and in the whole Slovak Republic. But there's more than meets the eye: the fountain features an underground tunnel and a relatively large machine room, located underneath the fountain. Due to water continually entering the underground control spaces because of lack of maintenance after the fall of Communism in 1989, the technological and electrical parts of the fountain are severely damaged. The hydroisolation of the basin is damaged as well. No water has run since 2007 and it is deemed too expensive to fix.

Tricky to photograph without a drone, the Slovensky rozhlas (Building of Slovak Broadcasting). 

Just a street apart from the Freedom Square is another unique architectural design, the building of the Slovak Radio, also called the Pyramid. It was referred to as “the building of the century” because its construction took a very long time. The project was established in 1967 and the building was only finished in 1983! Its second nickname is the “iron fist of the regime.” Its architecture is very original as it is built in the shape of a reversed pyramid. The material of the construction is mainly steel. The first experimental broadcasting was started in 1984 and a year later the broadcasting became regular. It also contains an excellent concert hall with one of the biggest organs in Slovakia. Many classical or alternative music performances still take place here.

Sad Janka Kráľa is a park that was founded in 1774-76 with the idea of ​​creating the first park for the general public. The park was built on the right bank of the Danube on the floodplain forest. The influence of the Baroque classicism created an eight-pointed star of the slopes along which the trees were later planted. Sternallee (Hviezdicova alja) named Sternallee according to the arrangement of the sidewalks. Like many of Bratislava's spaces, the park (on the day I visited, the warm weather) was eerily empty, the antithesis to Central Park in New York City.

Panelaky in Petržalka (concrete apartment buildings in Petrzalka) viewed from the SNP Bridge observatory tower.

The Petržalka borough is sometimes derisively nicknamed the Bronx of Bratislava, but for fans of Brutalism, their repetitive geometric coloured shapes are now seen as having architectural significance. Having recently visited Le Corbusier's modernist icon, Cité radieuse, in Marseille France, I can appreciate the similarities in modernist aesthetics in both examples of socialist housing. This is considered the largest concentration of rough concrete high-rise housing units across the landscape of a Central Europe formerly under communist control. The Slovak name of this functionalistic apartment building is “panelak”, having its roots in a technical compound term for “panel house”. Panelaky were rapidly assembled and cheaply built to solve a post-World War II housing crisis. At the same time, they also expressed a basic aspect of Soviet ideology, providing egalitarian habitat for humanity. The idea was to build as many apartments as possible taking up the smallest possible area. Construction activities started in 1973 and the first panelak was ready for moving in in 1977.

Hotel Kyjev, contrasting greatly with the Baroque era Church of St Elizabeth of Hungary (Alžbetínky).

Walking through central Bratislava, I stopped by the once-famous Hotel Kyjev, built between 1968 and 1973. Known for its socialist-era architecture, it was once home to a Tesco (supermarket), a popular bar and restaurant with panoramic city views, the city’s first department store and even a discotheque. Later, when I looked up photos online, I was surprised to see it had since been repainted for a Street Art Festival in 2018, after my visit, transforming its appearance entirely. I couldn’t help feeling that such drastic changes risk erasing the building’s architectural legacy. Restoration, to my mind, should aim to maintain original features while allowing for practical updates, keeping these landmarks both functional and true to their origins for future generations.

Next to it stands the Church of St. Elizabeth of Hungary, or Alžbetínky, built between 1739 and 1742 in the high Baroque style by the Viennese architect František A. Pilgram. Its façade is decorated with statues of Hungarian rulers St. Stefan, St. Ladislav and St. Elizabeth with a beggar, created by sculptor Ľudovít Gode. Consecrated in 1743, it remains one of the city’s most graceful examples of Baroque design.

The two neighbours could hardly be more different, yet both reflect moments when architecture carried ideals, one of faith and ornament, the other of structure and purpose, each telling part of Bratislava’s layered story.

Church of St. Elizabeth of Hungary, or Alžbetínky, built between 1739 and 1742.

Dancing Popes, Sunlit Galleries, and Stormy Skies or Art, Antiques and thunderstorms

Tuesday was always going to be an ideal day to explore Bratislava indoors. The weather forecast promised 'A thunderstorm at times' with little clarity about what time this would occur; then there was the inevitable zatvorené v pondelok (closed on Mondays, which can often affect a misplanned traveller). Monday had been used as a marathon effort to tick off as many of the outdoor Bratislava sites as I could, and it was time to maximise that ICOM (International Council of Museums) pass again. Other advantages included the close proximity of most visits, less than 10 minutes' walking, according to Google Maps.

Bratislava is actually well supported by tourists, most of them parading through the old district, trying out the typical Slovakian food (although ice cream and gelati stores seem to be doing a boom business at this time of year), taking selfies in front of the historic buildings, doing sedgeway tours and lying on the ground next to Cumil, a novel contemporary sculpture of a sewer worker emerging from the ground.

Surely I'll just follow the hoards of tourists attending the museums too? Not so easy. Museums in Bratislava are inexcusably badly signposted, with entrances so vague that it's easy to walk past a museum and not think it is of any significance. This was such the case with my quest to find the Slovak National Gallery that I resorted to asking cafe staff where it was; - 'It's here!' I was told, with gestures towards a modest glass door with SNG monogrammed on it. Most of these museums are in old palaces which means they are multi storeyed, but the doors are often small and insignificant. At each of the museums I visited I seemed to be the only visitor, which mean that the attendant, positioned on every floor would jump to attention, switch on the lights and then keep a watchful eye on me (not hard being the only guest) as I meandered from room to room.

The Slovak National Gallery seemed tiny compared to the colossal museums in Vienna such as the Kunsthistoriches Museum but it has obviously developed its own style for displaying its Medieval through to Baroque paintings and sculptures, using a numbering system and darkly painted walls, which enabled the spotlighting to do its trick. Unlike most traditional European galleries, SNG positioned the Medieval wooden figures alongside each other in an open display on a large plinth; it almost trod the line between integrity and humour as some of the figures appeared to be dancing with each other. One of their so called highlights is surprising in that it appears contemporary, through both content and display technique. František Xaver Messerschmidt's Character Heads appear contemporary but they were executed in 1777–1783; the heads appear cartoon like as if the figures are pulling faces. Apparently during this time he was experiencing paranoid thoughts and illusions; it made me consider how much great art has been produced out of perceived madness, or as we now term it - mental illness.

Bishops in the background and a weary female figure sitting quirkily on the edge of the plinth; curator having fun at the Slovak National Gallery.

František Xaver Messerschmidt's Character Heads 1777–1783 at Slovak National Gallery.

A stone's throw away (well literally 1000s of stones as the ground in Bratislava is covered in quite uneven stones and you have to watch your step!), I found the Nedbalka Gallery which promised 'modern' art, and modern it was but I'm not sure that its comparison with New York's Guggenheim is completely justified; about the only thing they have in common is a rotunda ceiling. I have noticed that Slovakia is very proud of its artists so many of these galleries and museums focus on art from the country rather than attempting a who's who of artists from around the world. This is good as it forces the viewer to see the uniqueness of Slovak art.

The Nedbalka Gallery with its famous rotunda.

As no trip to Bratislava is complete without a trip to the city's historical architectural icon, I joined the hoards to do the quintessential climb up the hill to see the Castle. As I've written much about other castles during my trip this time I'll just say - the views were terrific, especially as the second of those promised thunderstorms were about to occur. (See photo of UFO bridge and clouds for evidence!)

Bratislava Castle, external view.

Three Bratislava icons: View from the Bratislava Castle with St Martin's Cathedral on the left and the Bridge of Slovak National Uprising in the centre. 

St Martin's Cathedral.

In yet another architectural style, St. Martin's Cathedral is a Gothic masterpiece, constructed between the 13th and 14th century. It was consecrated in 1452 and served as the coronation church for the Kingdom of Hungary from 1563 to 1830. Its distinctive spire enables its visibility across town providing a counterpoint to the UFO building on the opposite side of the river. 

After a sumptuous, eye mask aided sleep in, I decided to give Bratislava’s museums another go and set out in search of the City Gallery, or rather galleries, as I soon discovered. That seems to be a characteristic of Bratislava, its major museums and galleries are often spread across several locations.

Once again, each entrance was inauspicious to the point of being an OHS hazard. If there were a fire, would we all be able to squeeze out the single doorway? Probably, if today’s attendance was anything to go by. I was the only patron at both locations, and in each, a solitary, or in one case a pair of, older attendants rose from their seats to switch on the lights and observe me as I made my rounds.

At one site, a younger man, possibly neurodivergent, actually sighed audibly when he realised I intended to explore the upper level as well. Perhaps they take their custodial duties a little too seriously and have forgotten the part about engaging with visitors. A shame, really, since the content and exhibitions were not bad at all and often included English labels alongside the Slovak ones.

The older staff rarely spoke English but knew how to point effectively. At the City Museum, the infrastructure was similar, although in this case they seemed so eager to retain visitors that the single brown exit door had no signage whatsoever, making it genuinely difficult to work out how to leave. The museum itself had a strong focus on wine and winemaking, by the way, a pity I was taking a few days off or I might have ventured down to the cellar for the tasting experience.

A fascinating bed in the City Museum.

After exploring Bratislava’s mix of architectural eras, from elegant 18th century façades to stark modernist structures, I decided to end the day somewhere entirely different. I waited until the weather seemed cooler to visit Slavín, a memorial monument and military cemetery about a 35 minute walk away. As I crossed the city, I noticed a large digital thermometer flashing 32°C, so perhaps it had heated up instead. Thirty five minutes and one steep hill later, I channelled my inner Rocky for the final jog up the steps to the top.

Slavín is the main war memorial in both Bratislava and Slovakia, built to commemorate the liberation of the country by the Soviet Red Army in the final year of World War II. Nearly 7,000 Soviet soldiers who fell during the battle for Bratislava in April 1945 are buried here, their remains resting in mass graves around the site.

The monument itself is a striking example of Soviet monumental architecture, severe and imposing, and visible from much of the city. A grand staircase leads up to a balcony above the sculpted relief, offering sweeping views over the surrounding hills, Bratislava Castle (Hrad), the UFO bridge (Most SNP), and parts of the Old Town. Along the approach path, an information panel in five languages, including English, recounts the historical background and expresses gratitude to the Soviet soldiers who gave their lives fighting Nazi Germany to liberate the city.

That gratitude became more complicated in later decades when Soviet liberation turned into domination, culminating in the 1968 invasion that crushed the Prague Spring. Yet the monument remains well maintained, standing as both a reminder of sacrifice and a relic of shifting history.

Descriptions of Slavín often mention that it offers one of the best views in Bratislava and is a popular spot for couples seeking a little privacy. This was certainly true for one pair I passed mid tongue lock, not exactly hidden given the number of camera wielding tourists wandering by. Romance, remembrance and history all meet here under the same Bratislava skyline.

Slavín, a memorial monument and military cemetery.

A sculptural frieze at Slavín.

The view downtown from Slavín.

After four days wandering Bratislava, from the solemn grandeur of Slavín to the quiet, slightly awkward charm of the City Gallery, it became clear that sculpture comes in many forms. From heroic Soviet monuments commemorating nearly 7,000 soldiers to small, cheeky modern works, art and history intermingle across the city. From opposite ends of Bratislava’s history, the other tourist icon is that steel sculpture affectionately known as Cumil. Installed in 1997 to liven up an area long marked by what is considered drab Communist-era architecture, this playful figure peering out of a manhole is a drawcard.

Personally, I prefer the boldness and drama of the communist-era buildings, the stern museums, and the weighty memorials. But I can see why tourists flock to Cumil; he is the small, unexpected wink of humour that softens the city’s seriousness. Bratislava is a city of contrasts, and whether you are admiring brutalist blocks, paying respects at memorials, or simply crouching to snap a photo of a mischievous steel man in a manhole, the city is never boring.