If most craft breweries look like lumberjack cabins or abandoned chemistry sets, Bauhaus Brew Labs looks like a discotheque located inside a bomber factory.

Situated in the Northeast district of Minneapolis, this brewery is an assault on the beige. Inspired by the German art school of the same name (1919–1933), the branding eschews the typical rustic hops-and-barley imagery for bold geometric shapes and primary colors that vibrate if you stare at them too long. It is a place that argues, quite convincingly, that beer should be loud, colorful, and meticulously designed.

The Lager Manifesto

Philosophically, Bauhaus is a rebellion against the “IPA Arms Race.” While other breweries are trying to see how many hops they can cram into a tank before it gains sentience, Bauhaus focuses on the lighter, crispier side of the spectrum: Lagers.

This is a brave stance. In the American craft scene, brewing a pilsner is like bringing a slide rule to a knife fight. Their flagship, the Wonderstuff Neu Bohemian Pilsner, is a testament to the fact that “light” does not have to mean " watery." It suggests that true brewing skill isn’t about hiding flaws behind a wall of bitterness, but about creating something so clean that there is nowhere for a mistake to hide.

The Schwandt Dynasty

Culturally, the brewery is a family affair, run by the Schwandt family—a clan of musicians, scientists, and lawyers who apparently decided that the legal profession wasn’t loud enough.

This musical DNA is evident in the vibe. The space is vast, echoing with sound, and feels less like a taproom and more like a performance venue where the headliner happens to be a Schwarzbier named Stargrazer. They approach brewing with the same improvisation-meets-structure mindset of a jazz band. It is serious fun, executed with a level of technical proficiency that makes you wonder if they are brewing beer or conducting a physics experiment.

The Patio of the People

Ultimately, the crown jewel of the location is the patio. In a state where winter lasts for nine months, the Bauhaus patio is a sacred summer ritual.

It is a massive, sprawling concrete expanse where the entire neighborhood gathers to worship the sun while drinking liters of Schandtoberfest. It is a democratic space where dogs, toddlers, and hipsters coexist in a chaotic harmony, united by the shared understanding that summer in Minnesota is short, and we must consume as much Vitamin D and malted beverages as possible before the snow returns.