Goldfinger or Goldprick? While Ernő Goldfinger might arguably be most well known for inspiring Ian Fleming’s villain Goldfinger in the James Bond story of the same name, the enduring legacy of his stark, Brutalist architecture demonstrates his right to international fame.

What’s more, Ernő Goldfinger’s architecture, and the work of his legion of fans, can be appreciated throughout all corners of London, meaning you could be closer to an architectural masterpiece than you imagine.

First, it seems right to clear up the narrative of how Ernő Goldfinger earnt his ‘baddy’ status. Ian Fleming was a resident of Hampstead, and put forward a formal objection when Goldfinger submitted radical proposals to tear down several cottages and build his own modernist home, 2 Willow Road. During the 1930s, large numbers of progressive artists, writers and thinkers moved from Chelsea to Hampstead, drawn to the relatively low cost of housing. The expression ‘Hampstead intellectual’ characterised left-wing idealist thinkers like the Goldfingers, with their high living standards. These left-wing ideals were a shock to the quiet, residential London suburb. While fans of British modernism now flock to tour Goldfinger’s former home in the leafy suburbs (now run by the National Trust), at the time its uncompromising horizontal, modular façade challenged traditional notions of the ideal home. After his defamation by Fleming, Goldfinger consulted his lawyers, but eventually settled the dispute with all legal costs being paid to Goldfinger from the publishers. The furious Fleming demanded that his character’s name be changed to Goldprick, luckily (or unluckily) the publishers were reluctant to do so.

2 Willow Road exterior

2 Willow Road exterior, completed in 1939, shortly before the outbreak of WWII. The plans for Willow Road were rejected by London County Council in 1936 and most famously by Lord Brooke of Cumnor, MP for Hampstead who protested the ‘”modern” angular house in reinforced concrete which would be disastrously out of keeping with the character of the neighbourhood’. Goldfinger explained that minimal concrete would be in view, and that the building would conform to the surroundings and tradition of Georgian building in London. Ironically, when 2 Willow Road was handed over to the National Trust in 1993, it was by Peter Brooke (Secretary of State for National Heritage), the son of Lord Brooke, the property’s most vocal opponent. Image by National Trust.


Open plan living space and industrial style furniture designed by Goldfinger, a pragmatic designer way ahead of his time.


Brass and concrete step staircase designed by Goldfinger, Willow Road. Image by National Trust.


Goldfinger’s open plan living area, Willow Road.

From the outside, the modern brick terrace does not appear hugely radical. This is somewhat deceptive, as the houses are supported on cylindrical concrete cores that allow for extremely open, flexible interiors. Goldfinger was an early proponent of open-plan living, deploying foldable partition walls to double the size of a room.

The British public’s ire towards Goldfinger’s buildings is well documented, with Trellick Tower inspiring J.G. Ballard’s dystopian novel, High Rise, a story about the horror of modern, communal living. What is clear is that Goldfinger’s buildings bring people together, whether through criticism or dogged adoration.


Interior set of Ben Wheatley’s adaptation of High Rise, 2016


Upper hallway, Trellick Tower

Trellick Tower, designed by Ernő Goldfinger in 1972. Notting Hill, London.

Trellick Tower, designed by Ernő Goldfinger in 1972. Notting Hill, London.

Trellick Tower lobby

Lobby, Trellick Tower

Trellick Tower upper hallway entrance

Upper hallway entrance, Trellick Tower

His building for the Ministry of Health, Alexander Fleming House (now Metro City Heights in Elephant and Castle) was controversially recently recognised as a design classic with listed status.

‘Listing Goldfinger’s Alexander Fleming House is a timely reminder about important principles in architecture. Buildings are not good because they are old. Nor are they bad because they are new. Instead, great architecture across the ages is connected by the same timeless principles. A good building is related to its site. Its function should be suggested by its form. Its spaces and materials are carefully arranged and specified so as to cause surprise and delight to the people who use it. And good buildings soon come to occupy a place in the popular imagination’ Stephen Bayley, The Telegraph

metro city heights

Metro City Heights (previously Alexander Fleming House), designed by Ernő Goldfinger in the 1960s. Elephant and Castle, London

To those that see his buildings as inhumane and aloof, pointing sharply as they do in to the grey London skyline, it is worth being reminded that Goldfinger used to invite the neighbours in his 26-storey Balfron Tower, Poplar, round for glasses of champagne, over which he would hear their comments and grievances about everyday life inside the tower block.


Balfron Tower, 26 storey social housing development designed by Ernő Goldfinger in 1963. Poplar, London.

‘Withal, any Ernö Goldfinger building is, for those willing to see and think, satisfyingly complex. Proportions are fine, details careful, the effects measured (even if that measurement is often on the bombastic scale) and the results enduring’. Stephen Bayley, The Telegraph

For a taste of the (little less) high life, visit 2 Willow Road on a sunny Sunday afternoon. More modernist architectural fun can be had at the nearby Isokon Gallery, which is housed in a 1930s former residential block and design studio envisioned by its residents as ‘an experiment in urban living’. The current exhibition celebrates the Penguin, both the iconic designs of the publisher, and the majestic black and white bird, in a somewhat surrealist curatorial move.


Trellick Tower casts a dramatic shadow over neighbouring Maida Hill.

Images (unless stated otherwise) by Tine Bek. Copy by Issy Muir.