According to writers Barry Blesser and Linda-Ruth Salter, aural architecture is the creation of "a composite of numerous objects, surfaces, and geometries in a complicated environment" (2). When these spatial elements interact with sound waves from different sources, creating echoes, "we can see with our ears" (2). In other words, our brains are capable of converting the perception of the reverberations of a sound (for instance, a hand clap) off of a wall or other object into information about that objects’ size, location, surface materials, etc. We synthesize all of these reverberations into a perception of the aural architecture of a space, to which “we assign an identifiable personality” (2). If I clap my hands in a closet, it will sound very different than if I were to clap my hands in a cathedral.
Not only does aural architecture allow us to sonically perceive objects in space, it “can also influence our moods and associations” (2). The characteristics of a space may give us the feelings of claustrophobia, intimacy, loneliness, reverence, warmth or coldness. When I read this part, I thought of playing piano recitals in a church when I was younger. The music that I had practiced in the small, hard space of my living room took on another, more powerful emotional quality when played in the grand reverberence of the church—which also made each mistake feel like an epic failure.
The designing of aural architecture, as the authors point out, is not limited to civil engineers or actual architects. Consciously or not, we are constantly acting as aural architects simply by situating ourselves in space. The other day I had an interesting experience in which I became suddenly aware of myself as an aural architect. I was biking in the rain with my helmet strapped around my rain hood, tightly encapsulating my ears. This had the unexpected effect of amplifying the sounds within my head (breaths, swallows, etc.) while still allowing me to hear the sounds of the street. I took pleasure in the feeling that I had my own private, intimate space within the busy, impersonal streetscape, an experience of aural architecture to be shared with no one.
Work Cited:
Blesser, Barry and Salter, Linda-Ruth. Spaces Speak, Are You Listening? MIT Press, 2006.
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