Retrofuturism of Yugoslavia: Forgotten Architectural Utopias of the Balkans

Most of us tend to forget some of the craziest chapters in architectural history, for a few short decades after World War II, a country that no longer exists managed to build some of the most astonishing concrete structures the world has ever seen.

Yugoslavia, stuck between East and West from 1948 until about 1980, refused to align with either side. Because of that freedom, architects went completely wild with socialist modernism. The result was giant spaceships parked on mountains, flying saucers on legs, flowers made of concrete bigger than houses, and pyramids turned upside down.

These structures can still be found across Slovenia, Croatia, Serbia, Bosnia and Herzegovina, Montenegro, and North Macedonia. Here are six of the most significant examples.

Spomeniks

Right after the war, Tito decided the country needed monuments that felt like the future, not the past. No statues of generals on horses. Instead, he gave money to artists and architects who created pure, abstract, and concrete sculptures.

Places like Jasenovac with its enormous stone flower, Tjentište with broken wings reaching the sky, Kosmaj’s clenched fists, Podgarić’s exploding sun. They were completed between 1960 and 1980 and were intended to symbolize brotherhood and unity for the new century.

Now the country is gone, and the fields are empty, and the monuments just stand there. The scale still knocks the breath out of you when you finally see one up close.

Šerefudin White Mosque

Built in 1980 in Visoko, Bosnia, this mosque looks exactly like someone parked a spaceship and called it a place of worship.

Zlatko Ugljen bent concrete in ways that should be impossible. Light falls through geometric holes as if it were planned by a computer. Whisper in one corner, and the person on the other side hears you perfectly.

It won the Aga Khan Award in 1983, survived the war with almost no damage, and people still pray there every day. Yet most of the planet has never heard of it.

Skopje 1963

When the earthquake destroyed Skopje, Yugoslavia did something unbelievable. They invited architects from everywhere to design the new capital. Kenzo Tange won and gave them sweeping concrete curves, organic clusters, fortress banks, and a railway station that looks like a moon base.

Only about sixty percent ever got built because money ran out. That half-finished feeling actually makes it more powerful today.

You walk between finished towers and empty plots where even bigger things were supposed to rise. It really does feel like tomorrow got cancelled halfway through.

Genex Tower

Everyone just calls it Genex Tower. Two huge blocks connected at the top by a revolving restaurant that hasn’t moved in thirty years.

Finished in 1980, it was meant to show perfect balance between work and home.

Now the restaurant is frozen, covered in graffiti, lit up at night while the city parties below. It is still the single most recognisable shape on the Belgrade skyline.

Avala Tower

Opened in 1965, destroyed by NATO bombs in 1999, rebuilt exactly the same between 2006 and 2010 because people refused to let it stay dead.

Standing on the viewing platform now, surrounded by pure 1960s design while everyone takes selfies, feels like proper time travel.

Petrova Gora

A giant steel and concrete flower on a Croatian mountain, finished in 1981. It used to shine for miles when the sun hit the metal tiles.

After the wars, people stole everything they could carry, gutted the inside, and removed the lifts.

What’s left is a skeleton that somehow looks even more futuristic in ruins. Getting to the top is dangerous and not exactly legal, but the view at sunrise is worth every risk.

In Summary

These buildings were never just buildings. It was Yugoslavia’s loud declaration that a small country could dream bigger than America or the Soviet Union combined.

Because they mixed raw concrete with pure utopian imagination, they feel more real than most science fiction. Almost all of them are currently free to visit. Go soon.

Every year, another piece crumbles away, and that impossible future gets a little more forgotten.