In 2004, when I was around three, my parents finally decided that I was old enough for them to bring me along to the capital of Hungary, Budapest. Other than falling head-first into a fountain in the Buda castle, the most memorable moments of my visit came from the discovery of the metro, hidden below the city.

I was amazed by this intricate, yet robust underground system and all its audio-visual aspects: the colourful and grandiose interiors of the stations, the smell of electricity, the sounds of announcements, the loud rumbling of the rolling stocks, or standing on seemingly never-ending escalators connecting these cut-off spaces with the surface above.

Some 19 years later, I found myself returning to this interest leading to the topic of my thesis on the exploration of the Budapest metro. Having started my studies in the graphic design field, it is my intention to use this acquired knowledge to investigate the metro system in sufficient depth, focusing on Metro Line 3 as a landscape of transition.

Metros are an essential part of many modern cities. In the rush of the metropolis, our means of traveling present themselves as a necessity to attend to our everyday duties. As metros are one of the most feasible and reliable ways of transportation, and with many countries currently maintaining or building metro lines, they emerge as relevant focal points of modern metropolitan infrastructure.

Budapest opened the first of its current four metro lines in 1896, becoming continental Europe’s first subway, with line 3 built between 1970 and 1990 respectively.

Commonly referred to as the Kék Metró (Blue Metro) Line 3 runs from North to South on the Pest side of the city. Being the longest and busiest line in the Budapest public transport system, it serves as a vital connection between commercial, industrial, and residential areas, while also accessing several important public points such as hospitals, bus terminals, train stations, and other metro lines.

Given its age, Line 3 has been has been granted the nickname “commie line”, (Robert, 2018) [3]Robert, N. (2018). Communist-era subway line in Budapest - Soon to disappear. YOMADIC. , based on the fact that the landscape of the metro didn’t change whatsoever before its renovation commenced in late 2017.

With its oldest section being almost 50 years old, it remained an archeological ground of the past socialist era, serving mostly as the “blue-collar” (Wilkinson, 2019) [4]Wilkinson, C.J.. (2019). Making Ends Meet – Metro Line 3: Riding the Blue Line beneath Budapest (For the Love of Hungary Part 15). Europe Between East and West. line of the city.

In the duration of its renovation process (2017–2023), the contrast between the use of these underground man-made environments, in old and new socio-economic and political contexts is quite vast and stark. Therefore Line 3 provides us with points of interest regarding how these spaces are conveyed from a design point of view, whether it be from the institution [5]The two companies that are present in the metro system today are the BKV (Budapesti Közlekedési Vállalat — Budapest Transit Company) and the BKK (Budapesti Közlekedési Központ — Budapest Transit Center). BKV runs the system, while the BKK conducts the ticket inspection on the metro, as well as on other public transport in Budapest. that runs the metro or from the perspective of the passenger that travels on it daily.

Since the old environment is only accessible via archival documents such as blogs, photographs, sound recordings, and moving images; my research was primarily focused on collecting such artefacts.

Besides the documentation of others, it was also imperative to gain a first-person insight into the system as it is today, so I have decided to explore and document the metro in late December of 2023.

To present my findings in a structured framework I will handle and dissect the site of Line 3 as a palimpsest. While originally referring to “something having usually diverse layers or aspects apparent beneath the surface” (Merriam-Webster, 2024) [6]Merriam-Webster. (2024). Palimpsest. Merriam-Webster Dictionary. , in the case of this paper the term is used in the context of the broader notions of past and current uses of Line 3 from a contemporary angle.

“(...) Postmodernism cultivates, instead, a conception of the urban fabric as necessarily fragmented, a 'palimpsest' of past forms superimposed upon each other, and a 'collage' of current uses, many of which may be ephemeral." (Harvey, 1989) [7]Harvey, D. (1989). The condition of postmodernity: An Enquiry Into the Origins of Cultural Change. Wiley-Blackwell.

With that taken into account, I would like to use Harvey’s definition to lead my research, organised in separate chapters around four areas of interest: “The Underpass”,“The Gate”, “The Station” and “The Metro”.

I wish to delve into the certain intricacies that are specific to each of these locations, yet constitute the greater environment of the metro as a whole. My footage thus will be presented in comparison to the documents, created by others. I thus would like to path my way towards answering the question:

What can we learn from the individual experiences of the journey on line 3 of the Budapest metro, regarding how power creates and maintains public environments for travel?

As we walk down the stairs into the underground, natural light gets replaced by buzzing electric lamps. The floor is sticky and dirty, littered mostly with cigarette buns and other small-time trash. The paint on the walls is scraping off, which at least is covered up by gigantic graffiti at some places. From and to both directions masses of people pass by small businesses.

One can find flowers for their valentine, a nice handbag, or get their phone fixed. And if here, why not eat a Gyros or Schnitzel at one of the restaurants that try to invite people in for a quick bite?

A man is playing their violin with his hat on the floor for coins, a homeless person lies passed out by one of the pillars, and tourists try to buy some tickets from a vending machine. This place is a mess.

When someone decides to take the metro in Budapest, they must find the entrance to the station, which in most cases is situated in an underpass. These underground networks were planned and built alongside the stations to provide spaces for the mass movements of the people.

While being inevitable sections of one’s journey, the underpasses often don’t even belong to the transit company that is in charge of the metro, meaning that unlike the system itself, they are freely accessible, never closed, and often left unsupervised.

Provided this restricted control, as well as, external financial reasons, the underpasses of Budapest were left out of the renovation in 2017. The old constructions of Line 3 still remain untouched, both in regards to the architecture and social landscape.

In my personal exploration I have descended multiple of these underpasses, one of them being the largest underground system in the city: Nyugati Pályaudvar. (Western Railway Station)

While the underpass of Nyugati Pályaudvar is a huge and busy environment, for many it is but a temporary location. As passing through it from the stairs to the entrance of the metro, it takes but a fraction of one’s travel. After all, it was designated to be a transitional zone, yet among the constant rush of this underground complex one can easily miss those who stand, sit, or lay still in this space.

For the less privileged individuals of society, an underpass such as Nyugati often means a constant habitat. Many of the homeless in Budapest for example, having been prohibited from permanently occupying public areas (Verseck, 2018) [10]Verseck, K. (2018). Hungary: When poverty becomes a crime. dw.com. and with shelters in the capital being overcrowded (McLaughlin, 2018) [11]McLaughlin, D. (2018). Hungary’s rough sleepers go into hiding as homelessness made illegal. The Irish Times. , often take refuge in these covert spaces.

With police being present on the streets and the security personnel guarding only the metro; The unhoused often find themselves squeezed between two inaccessible environments, with the underpass being a tolerance zone for those who otherwise are not welcome on the street or on the metro itself. A de facto enclave for the marginalised, a ghastly resemblance to an open prison, “in which individuals whose behaviour is deviant in relation to the required means or norms are placed.”
(Foucault, 1984) [12]Foucault, Michel. (1984). “Of Other Spaces, Heterotopias.” Translated from Architecture, Mouvement, Continuité no. 5: 46-49.

For the capital, they are hidden spots, mismatched with the ever-evolving image of Budapest, while for those occupying these spaces daily, the left-behind state of Nyugati and other underpasses as such, still provides a shelter.

An example of such occupants is István Trényi - a homeless, self-publisher often seen selling his newspaper „A LÉT A TÉT” (Existence at stake) in the underpasses of Budapest. I purchased two copies from him at Újpest-központ in 2023.

With the labelling of these spaces, the gap between citizens such as Trényi and mainstream society is ever-expanding. Since the popular rhetoric around the issue of homelessness commonly targets the individuals rather than the root of the issue of their circumstance, the underpasses remain an ongoing dilemma from both ends of society, simultaneously foreshadowing the grim future of these individuals once the underpasses eventually get renovated.

As the above image shows, there are already existing plans for the rehabilitation of the underpasses of Line 3, which sooner or later will become unavoidable. As an expected result, the underpasses of Budapest would be rid of their grimy associations. However, the gentrification of these spaces also calls into question whether it will leave a gap for the marginalised such as Trényi, whose existence is indeed at stake.

Eventually, I found the entry. It is not hard to spot among the junk of the underpass, as its shiny-colored design stands out from afar. The escalators lead down to a probably just as nice place. As I approach the entry I spot a line of people in uniforms, standing by the escalators. They all pose a small machine, resembling a barcode reader.

There is no doubt at this point that these are the ticket inspectors of the company. I reach into my pockets and look for my ticket. A pack of cigarettes, keys, a lighter, ticket. I take it out. It’s folded in ways that would shame origami. Barely going into the ticket reader, I finally stamp it. I approach the personnel, and one of them silently swings his left hand toward the escalators. I pass them. They couldn’t care less about checking my ticket. Without saying a word I slide my ticket back into my pocket and step on the moving stairs under.

Upon passing the inspectors of the metro, I couldn’t help but think of Nimród Antal’s debut film from 2003, Kontroll. Entirely filmed in the Budapest metro system of the time, the story presents a fictional tale of a group of ticket inspectors, whose daily routine mostly consists of checking for passengers' tickets and passes. In the world of the underground, they are the first line of defense, supervising people and deciding who is eligible to use their territory based on the regulations of the overseeing company.

In Kontroll the metro acts as an environment of duality, despite its strictly controlled, technical stage, it is also a place inhabited by humans, meaning that just as much as the space in which the story takes place was designed to be supervised, the humans that are meant to supervise it, often are forced to obey rules of thumb, rather than the written laws issued by the overseeing company.

Albeit the movie often presents extremities for the average user of the metro in 2003, Kontroll’s depicted situations felt familiar as the Budapest underground, especially before the renovation represented a difficult environment to navigate from the institutional point of view. The average passenger wouldn not have a hard time spotting frictions in the system, ranging from the misuse of space to rampart corruption among the ticket inspectors. (Fahrsbucht.de - Graffiti, 2003) [18]Farbsucht.de - graffiti. (2003). MST Special. Farbsucht.de.

According to Kalmár György’s interpretation, Kontroll builds on the ever-existing contrast between the individual and the artificial environment of the metro, whose cold regulated atmosphere aims to step out any subversions. (Kalmár, 2015) [21]Kalmár, György. (2015). A posztkommunista tér belakása Antal Nimród Kontroll című filmjében. Apertúra.

To supervise a claimed space and to establish a tangible and metaphysical hierarchy of rule, enforced using direct or non-direct force is an institutional need. Contemporary supervision and surveillance politics are often focused on controlling access, particularly to infrastructural spots, such as border crossings, airports, or in our case metros, where consequently humans become quantifiable data and the rules of the overseers are enforced in a faceless unknowable form. (Galič et al., 2016) [22]Galič, M., Timan, T. & Koops, (2017). BJ. Bentham, Deleuze and Beyond: An Overview of Surveillance Theories from the Panopticon to Participation. Philos. Technol. 30, 9–37

Since some 20 years had passed after the filming of Kontroll, the job of the inspectors “had remained pretty much the same.” (Patakfalvi, 2023) [23]Patakfalvi, Dóra. (2023). Nekünk két anyukánk van: az édesanyánk meg a BKK-s, ha utóbbit szidják, azt nem szabad mellre szívni. Telex. . While the spaces of Line 3 can be automatised via CCTV cameras and ticketing machines, the order of the stations is still relying on the often unforgiving jobs of ticket inspectors and perron guards. This means that the system, despite its renovation had inherited the same functions in terms of supervision, which has also brought along the frictions of it’s past state.

As an example, I have discovered a video (Közlekedő tömeg, 2017) [25]Közlekedő Tömeg. (2017). Simán hamisítható a mobilbérlet: 10-ből 10-szer jutottunk át az ellenőrzéseken [Video]. Youtube. , about how easy it was to forge the newly introduced electronic ticket of the company. The video itself was rather a call to action towards the company to fix the issue, yet I found that many comments under the video have started to recall their own cases of getting through security with a various “replica” of passes. The passes (supposedly) included:

— an IKEA family card;
— a slice of cheese;
— a pub’s customer card;
— a pass from another region of the country;
— a label of a wine bottle;
— an entrance ticket to the Vesuvius;
— saying “hi”

To cut frictions as such loose, in the 2010s Budapest had tried to (re-)implement a system of gates, similar to the ones used in the Netherlands or on the Brussels metro, however, this was never achieved. Even though the gates have appeared on top of the escalators in some of the stations, they never become truly operational.

In most cases, they simply were removed thereafter, while in others it was the ticket inspector’s job to manually open and close them after the passengers had shown them their tickets. (Szalai, 2017) [26]Szalai, Anna. (2017). Világváros Budapest: A metró beléptetőkapuit az ellenőr nyitogatja majd az utasoknak. hvg.hu.

As the doors would work on a binary basis (one either can pass or not), and one could hardly argue with a soulless machine, by still heavily relying on human force, the system creates a large space for resistance, which from the perspective of the institution can mean another set of problems and a lesser degree of supervision. Yet on the other hand, such resistance and irritation can also uphold certain humanity under the Earth.

The escalator is not quite like the ones that I have remembered. The walls were of strong colours and covered by a myriad of small billboards encapsulating advertisements, with pairs of lamps running all the way down into the depths below. In the new ones I somehow don’t feel the same vertigo. As I approach the level of the station, I am now fully convinced that the new stations are going to be just as bright and modern, overall: boring.

As I land on the platform, I am welcomed in a much brighter open space. We have left the unease of the underpass behind. The white LED lights run parallel with the perron. There is no more buzzing, the escalator is also far enough for it to fade into the silence of the station.

The walls surround me in brighter, happier colors, all the signage shines in one of the globally used fonts, probably some slightly altered version of Helvetica.

Despite the fact that the previous sections tackled the lacking aspects of the renovation, such as the underpass and the conduct of oversight; once we arrive at the stations, we are welcomed by a completely changed environment, which some six years ago, was a vastly different landscape.

By realising ideas through the occupation of these spaces, designers oversee refining these environments to provide an optimal space for the institution that commissions them, just as much for the passenger that uses the metro.

As the original planning of the line ran on an arguably low budget, one wouldn’t find the same “underground cathedrals” that were thematically present in other countries of the Eastern Block.

Instead, contemporary designers, architects, and urbanists had to implement cheaper and often more playful visual ideas to provide and imitate a pleasant environment for travel. The aim was to uphold both the aesthetic, as well as, the infrastructural needs of the system.

This led to a deeply interesting and aesthetically detailed attention to the space, categorised by the vivid choices behind the use of colours, materials, shapes, and textures, informed by the taste of the time trends of the 70s and 80s.

Despite my subjective preference for the original designs of these domains, the handling of these spaces throughout the renovation came from a coherent and understandable interpretation of today’s design and architectural agencies. (Bán, 2022) [31]Bán, Dávid. (2022, May 19). Emberközpontú mélység – megújuló metróállomások. Építészfórum.

The trends of station design changed with time, and many of the old stations were not aging well, especially in the broader framework of a developing capital city. Therefore the designers were given a free hand regarding to what extent they can alter the interiors of these stations.

Since the line counts 20 stations in total, the extent of deviation from the original interiors varies by each space. The designers of the new environs, however, had overall rejected to maintain the visual traditions of the previous era. The overarching notions included more welcoming designs, presented in cleaner and brighter settings. .

Other than the general landscape of these stations, as a graphic designer, I was particularly interested in the ways they handled the signage inside of the stations, as the use of typography has to be harmonised with the station interiors to create legible, yet aesthetic information containers for the sake of public navigation.

The original type choices saw a visual clutter of different colors, fonts, and even logos being used simultaneously within the same system, which “...especially in an environment that is below ground level with constant artificial lighting, and where ceiling heights (265cm) often dropbelow the comfortable levels common in public spaces...” (Marafkó, 2000) [37]Marafkó, Bence (2000). A budapesti metró arculata és információs rendszere - Diplomadolgozat (részlet). Építészfórum. didn’t ease the navigation inside of the metro whatsoever. Getting rid of the visual clutter therefore meant an inevitable undertaking for the renovators.

In Deák Ferenc tér we can still observe the remnants of this otherwise bygone visual era. Given the fact that it serves as the main transfer point between 3 of the city’s 4 lines (1,2,3) one can find a sharp and often contrasting blending of visual solutions since the station itself has been expanded several times in the past, and current centuries, without a complete standardisation effort ever taking place. Visiting the different points of the station, the passenger finds a maze of graphical and architectural disharmony consisting of alleyways, escalators, platforms, signs, and textures.

What might reflect on this aspect of Deák Ferenc tér better than I ever will is a contemporary joke from 1976, when the station was extended to its current form:

— Did you know that they have reopened the magical castle?
— Really? Where? At the amusement park?
— No at the Deák tér metro station.

We are now on the platform and are awaiting the train’s arrival. Soon we enter a locked box along with strangers, which delivers us on our route. People are standing on the platform. An announcement goes off regarding the change of travel on New Year’s Eve. The sings fixated on the ceiling display numbers, counting back every half a minute, signaling the trains assumed arrival.

As the clock hits 00:30, the wind starts blowing from the tunnel, the tracks start to glow up as they reflect the front lights of the metro, while the rumbling sound of the train gets louder. Eventually the metro emerges from the tunnel. Six wagons line up perfectly alongside the perron. The doors slide open, I get on, a beeping sound goes off, the doors close. Soon the windows run dark as we enter the tunnel. Now we are left only with sound.

While the station interiors describe a visual narrative and act as important reference point of navigation, the average passenger can find themself spending most of their time on the metro, idly waiting to arrive to their destination. Given the rapid pace of the system in general and with 19 of the 20 stations of Line 3 running below the ground, one is provided with way fewer visual confirmations as compared to other above-the-ground means of transport.

Contrary to a bus or a tram, where with the movement of the vehicle one can see their environment changing as they enter different parts of the city, in the case of Line 3 we mostly see darkness with stations suddenly appearing or passing by.

Therefore, the sonic staging inside the metro becomes just an important factor in one’s journey.

“Modern man is beginning to inhabit a world with an acoustic environment radically different from any he has hitherto known…”
(Chafer, 1993)  [44]Schafer, R. M. (1993). The soundscape: Our Sonic Environment and the Tuning of the World. Destiny Books.

R. Murray Chafer’s idea of acoustic ecology aims to dissect such environments through sonic means. The metro in this sense is the extreme of such a radical acoustic environment as all its sonic elements are confined to the boundaries of man-made enclosed spaces.

In the case of Line 3, announcements, warning sounds, and trains approaching, all define an unnatural space through sound, in which the individual often falls silent.

Other than constituting an already overwhelming ambiance of buzzing lamps, loud trains, monotone escalators and slamming doors, the metro requires the passengers to also pay attention to the vocal instructions of the system.

On the old line, power commanded the passenger from rusty loudspeakers, as a faceless human voice, repeated pieces of information regarding where we are and where we are going. It alarms us of the dangers of the platform edge or the closing doors and does not forget to remind us to present our tickets to the inspectors.

Transcript of an announcement and ride from 2016. There was no English translation. [46]Budapest Bus Sound - A Buszhangok csatornája. (2016). [SOUND] Budapest Metro Sound 361 Metrovagonmash 81-717 BKV M3 Metró [Video]. Youtube.

1. A two-note signal (E-C) followed by the statement:

“Kérem vigyázzanak, az ajtók záródnak!”
(Please be careful, the doors are closing!)


2. After that came the announcement of the upcoming station, along with additional information if needed, such as the sides on which the doors will open, or transfer options:

“A Népliget következik. Az ajtók a jobb oldalon nyílnak. Átszállhatnak a távolsági és helyközi autóbuszokra.”
(The following station is Népliget — People’s Park. Doors will open on the right. You can transfer here to national and regional buses.


3. At the time of the arrival to the station, the name will then be repeated once more as to state that one has indeed arrived.

These vocal frameworks, however, often got sabotaged by their surrounding sonic conditions. On many of the footage that I came to find, the voices of the announcers, fade into the loudness of machines that surround them.

As no regulations exist for the maximum allowed loudness of metro environments, neither in Hungary nor as a European Union standard, (Augusztinovicz et al., 2014) [48]Augusztinovicz, F. & Fürjes, Andor & Márki, Ferenc. (2014). Prediction of noise of the stations of the new Budapest metro line M4. 3413-3428. the average passenger had to bear the sounds of the metro, often reaching 85 decibels (Magyarósi, 2017) [49]Magyarósi, Csaba. (2017). S01E82: Régi VS Új HÁRMAS METRÓ (és az összes többi) [Video]. YouTube. on average when the train was in the tunnel; as a consequence of their travel.

As these conditions don’t necessarily provide a pleasant nor an efficient manner of communication towards the passenger, the new trains were aimed to also possess a sonic development. They became less loud, even though by a small margin of around 2 decibels.  (Magyarósi, 2017). [50]Magyarósi, Csaba. (2017). S01E82: Régi VS Új HÁRMAS METRÓ (és az összes többi) [Video]. YouTube.

The sonic staging of the metro in general acquires an inescapable space of sonic conditions, which albeit come from our own decisions to use such systems, overall reflect on the notion of being surrounded by artificial environments.

“All acoustic symbolism, even that associated with archetypes, is slowly but steadily undergoing modification. Modern man has sought to escape both the wind and the sea by encapsulating himself in artificial environments.” (Chafer, 1993) [52]Schafer, R. M. (1993). The soundscape: Our Sonic Environment and the Tuning of the World. Destiny Books.

As the metropolis leaves less and less space for natural sound environments, metros can provide us with a speculative reading regarding the dominance of structured sounds in our everyday lives.

While we can be rid of the seas and winds, especially being under the ground, we might as well find that it is in the end our man-made sounds that force us into silence.

As the train starts to slow down, I stand up and squeeze myself onto the nearest door. My blue coat collides with other thrifted coats, bumper jackets, and counterfeit bags of famous brands. I am standing in the first cart of the train.

As we emerge from the tunnel, the darkness on the other side of the windows suddenly turns into a fast-moving station. We pass by many white pillars, seats of concrete, all metallic textures, most of the time lit by clinical white lights. The train starts to slow down, the space slowly stops moving, the deep-voiced announcer states the station. We have arrived.

As we get off, the doors close and the train speeds off onto the next station. We leave the perron and emerge from the depths of the metro back onto the street, fulfilling the function of this system. Our travel was a success, as we have reached a destination, in an efficient manner. We probably will not be late to our workplace, school, exhibition or meeting.

As we pass shady figures in the underpass, the smell of piss slowly replaces the electrical scent of the tracks. As we approach the stairs to the street, cold wind blows in our face. We are close to being back in the “natural world”. Leaving the underground behind and getting freed of the rules and limits of this environment.

As the renovation of Line 3 of Budapest remains a fresh contribution to the Budapest infrastructure, the integrity of these spaces will remain a question for the future. However, since metros remain relevant factors within a city’s ecosystem, my investigation of the renovation process aimed at compiling the notions behind the renovation of such an environment. Having presented various functions inside of Line 3, I hereby wish to devote my findings as a guide for all, to help understand how the transformation of these spaces will both inherit and reject their past functions.

— Balázs Milánik

Prof. Dirk Vis
— the supervisor of the paper;

Thomas Buxó & François Girard-Meunier
— coding tutors;

Antonina Świetlicka
— for proofreading;

The members of the graduating class of 2024
— for their feedback;

Saci Gázmár, Domonkos Greskó & Markus Hermann
— for descending to the metro with me.


© Balázs Milánik
— Royal Academy of Art, The Hague 2024