At the time when their much acclaimed concert hall in Bruges neared completion, the architects Robbrecht en Daem were invited by a private client to convert an old dairy into a place for all his passions to come home to: an interest in modern architecture, a life-long collectors’ mania for old books, a love for old Flemish landscapes and historical gardens, and an active involvement in music. In a rare demonstration of contemporary patronage, the architects were given carte blanche in the conversion of the existing building into a library, a music room, reception spaces and accommodation.
The site is located next to the patron’s estate and situated in a bucolic landscape south-west of Brussels. The green pastures, boarded with rows of pollard willows, old farmsteads, farm horses and cows recall the prosperous times of the early 16th century when Flanders played a first rank role in the economic, cultural and political life in Western Europe. The famous painter Bruegel the Elder and his sons spent much time here, painting the landscape and scenes from daily live. An important reminiscent of this mythic past lies adjacent to the building site: the Gaasbeek castle and its beautiful park. Once an important fortification, it was converted in the 19th century into a neo-renaissance castle which is now open to the public as a museum.
The original building for which an addition was commissioned was an old dairy with several later additions, all built in traditional red brick; its layout has been maintained by the architects. The front section, erected in 1899, has been soberly restored; its anonymous façade with the typical loading bridge and the tall brick chimney have been kept to remind the building’s former function. The exterior has hardly been altered; it has a gray-painted cement-rendered plinth and façades in white lime mortar. The front building has been converted into accommodation comprising a sitting room, a kitchen and a couple of bedrooms, while the spaces on the street side can be used for small gatherings or exhibitions. The former vehicle garage, a utilitarian structure built in 1952, has become the main entrance: it provides access to the accommodation, the music room and, via a large glass door, to an exterior spiral staircase.
The rear building has discretely been replaced by a new addition containing the music room. Embedded in the slope behind the parcel – there is an 11-metre difference in ground level over the site – it is hardly visible from the street. In terms of both color and material, the annex blends well into the ensemble. The outer wall of the concert hall is realized in red brick and white-painted render, like the old dairy. The exterior form of the music room recalls a ziggurat: the outermost walls start low and run up in a spiral to the middle of the building, a shape that is visually accentuated by the concrete colored coping. The roof is in fact a spiral staircase that unites the interior space with the surroundings; it leads to a terrace that provides a magnificent but discrete view on the neighboring castle grounds and the bucolic landscape; the latter has been restored during the past decades, partly through funding of the client.
Associated with the Tower of Babel, the ziggurat form was a popular theme amongst 16th century Flemish painters: it was depicted twice by Brueghel the Elder and numerous contemporaries after him. The castle of Gaasbeek has Maarten Van Valckenborch’s 1595 interpretation of the theme in its collections, while Bruegel’s Tower of Babel belongs to the Boymans van Beuningen museum in Rotterdam (for which Robbrecht & Daem realized a new wing in 2002). The composer Josef Haydn once stated that music is the only universal language. It could be said then that the Tower of Bable is a paradoxical metaphor in this context: with its musical theme, this ziggurat rather unites people than dividing them by linguistic confusion. This is certainly true during the venerable Queen Elisabeth music competition, when young top musicians from all over the world stay here to prepare their concerts, in quietness and seclusion.
The music room is accessed through a ‘soundlock’, a soundproof vestibule that constitutes an acoustic barrier between the hall and the exterior world. The plan of the concert hall is a trapezoid, defined by three square walls and one angled wall, partly with brick facing, partly whitewashed. The space is surrounded by an uninterrupted, sturdy wall of books that reflect the broad interest of the patron. The collection comprises precious volumes, such as vintage copies by the famous 16th century printer Plantin from Antwerp, and first prints of Balzac and Verlaine. The openings in the walls are carefully studied: the rhythm of the bookshelves, in MDF and brushed oak veneer, is punctuated only by the main entrance and a couple of doors giving access to the adjacent rooms. The meticulous integration of these doors into the shelving recalls the secret passages in the library of the adjacent Gaasbeek castle, allowing the lord to spy on his servants. The windows, with brass frames, are abstract light paintings in the walls. They brightly illuminate the interior space without offering a view to the exterior; natural light is the only thing that penetrates this room from outside. The only window on eye level gives on to a patio; dug into the hill, its pentagon shape is reflected in the chandelier that hangs from the ceiling. The latter is conceived as a multi-faceted cupola; it is composed of several irregular planes reflecting the line of outer ramp on the roof. The ceiling’s cladding with red-brown field-oven brick, used as formwork for the reinforced concrete frame, and the irregularity of its contour favor the homogenous dispersion of the sound. Together with the floor in American oak parket, these acoustic features allow for a variety of uses and seating layouts. The room can receive audiences up to a hundred people but can also be used for meetings of four. This flexibility allows for a great intimacy with the sound, bringing the concert as a social and artistic event back to its original meaning: a sort of collective ritual in which both the performers and the audience participate. The sound here is let loose in space, doing away with the respectful distance that characterizes traditional concert practice.
Robbrecht en Daem’s concert hall in Bruges comes to mind here. Apart from its sophisticated main hall (for audiences up to 1200), it comprises a chamber music hall, integrated in the so-called ‘lantern tower’ that stands a bit isolated from the main corpse of the building. Although it was not part of the 1997 competition brief, the chamber music hall is probably the most powerful space of the whole edifice. It shares many themes with the music room in Gaasbeek, such as the almost archaic treatment of the sound and the non-conventional relationship between the musicians and the listeners. Here too, the spiral is the dominant spatial figure: the audience (approx. 300) is seated in two rows that wind up three times around the central space; from the balconies, one looks down to where the musicians are. The choice of materials – polished concrete for the robust, apparent structure and wood for the acoustically sculpted infill-panels and the floor – makes for a great clarity of the sound; it fills the room instantly. In contrast with main hall, that can be acoustically adapted for concerts as well as for opera performances, in the chamber music hall, there is only one archaic device to control the sound propagation: if required, cloths can be hung along the walls. Just like in Gaasbeek, the spiral visually connects the interior space with the exterior surroundings: through the vertical ribs in the façade of the tower (terracotta tiles held in a steel frame), one can see the hustle and bustle of the town of Bruges. This view and the bright daylight that illuminates the chamber music hall reminds us that once, music was played on the streets, and not in acoustically isolated spaces subject to sophisticated social codes.
Both the music room in Gaasbeek and the chamber music hall in Bruges propose simple but powerful strategies to intensify the listening experience. Yet both buildings not only address the ear: the closeness with the sound is stimulated by the plastic expressivity of the architectural surroundings. The characteristic geometry and the sensual materiality of these spaces induce an atmosphere of quietness and introspection, a necessary background for any true moment of passion and exaltation.

Aus der Ausgabe 12-2006