Good buildings sound quiet.
A concrete frame transmits the pounding of a pneumatic drill all the way into your bones. A wooden box can project the vibration from strings into the air around it. Played in a concert hall, the tone can be flavored by the room’s timber lining. A stone vault is the strongest voice in the choir, and the empty echo of a vacated room fills anyone with melancholy. When a home is undressed, it loses its private sounds. Quality also has a more objective tone: just as the sound a car door makes when you close it indicates the quality of the chassis, solid rooms respond to our presence with a reassuringly substantial voice, but only when spoken to. Well-conceived buildings don’t jabber.
Rasmus Waern & Gert Wingardh