I don’t know about you, but when I think of Belgian architecture, the first thing that comes to mind is the 2008 comedy thriller In Bruges. Specifically, the hot-headed gangster boss Harry Waters and his obsession with the city. He describes it as a “fairytale town”—the canals, cobbled streets, and historic churches, all that picturesque “fairytale stuff.” “How can that not be somebody’s f-ing thing, eh?” he exclaims, completely baffled that anyone wouldn’t love it.

But Ugly Belgian Houses, the project started by freelance digital creative Hannes Coudenys in 2012, has nothing to do with medieval architecture like that of Bruges. Instead, it documents—well, shames—modern homes that defy traditional categorization but share one undeniable trait: they’re hideous.

In The Architectural Review, Coudenys himself calls Belgium a “nightmarish architectural Legoland” where “everything is possible” and “everything is permitted.” Unlike the Netherlands, where inspectors regulate how homes are built, Belgium offers near-total freedom in architectural design. “Except it feels as if you’re stepping on Lego blocks the whole time. An excruciating t*****e which can only be endured if you are Belgian.”

But what exactly makes a house ugly by Coudenys’ standards? We know boring doesn’t count. Beyond that, his criteria are broad. He dislikes house facades that resemble faces—“grimacing in terrible anthropomorphic glee at its equally bad neighbors.” He’s also not a fan of pharaoh statues, gnomes, or any kind of terrible sculpture. Ridiculous mailboxes? Definitely not his thing either.

As a Kyiv native, I completely understand Coudenys’ frustration. Ukraine’s capital boasts plenty of stunning architecture, but after suffering heavy destruction in World War II, its reconstruction led to a strange mix of styles—contrasting neoclassicism, Soviet brutalism, and everything in between.

Things only got worse when high-rise apartment buildings—9, 16, even 20 stories tall—became the go-to choice for investors and developers. Their sheer size allowed for more apartments (and bigger profits), but they were often built in an overwhelmingly dystopian manner, stacked on top of one another and destroying the skyline. And to make matters even more depressing? They’re not just ugly—they’re boring.

One thing Ukraine does have in common with Belgium, though, is a lack of architectural regulation. That’s why high-rises keep appearing in places where they clearly shouldn’t. However, large-scale developments aren’t the only issue—Kyivans, and Ukrainians in general, take plenty of liberties with their own properties. This has led to some truly curious choices, like our nationwide obsession with balcony extensions.

These extensions pop up on all kinds of buildings, old and new, all in an effort to turn balconies into extra storage rooms. The problem is, the e*******n is often horrendous. Imagine a beautiful early 20th-century building with a clunky metal-and-plastic box pasted onto it. It’s chaotic. It’s bizarre. And yet, in some strange way, it’s uniquely ours. Personally, I have an inexplicable fondness for them, though they also make my eyes bleed.

At the end of the day, taste is subjective. Every architectural choice, no matter how strange, is cherished by someone. For them, it’s not ugly—it’s unique. One-of-a-kind. Eccentric. Maybe even fun. But whether you love them or hate them, one thing is certain: they get people talking. And that, more than anything, is what matters. Because in the world of architecture, the one thing worse than being ugly is being boring.