Imagine a time when you entered a building and could taste the space; a richly ornamented cathedral may taste of dark chocolate, whereas a very modern minimalist high-rise feels like a sip of effervescent citrus water. In a few cases, a house may hum or vibrate like a violin, or a pavilion in the park may offer a fresh and crackling sound like autumn leaves.
This is not pure fantasy—this is the world of synesthetic architecture, where the senses blur and buildings evoke tastes, sounds, and even emotions beyond sight and touch.
What Is Synesthesia, and How Does It Relate to Architecture?
Synesthesia is a neurological phenomenon where one sensory experience involuntarily triggers another. Some people may see colors when they hear music, while others may associate letters with textures or numbers with flavors.
Architects, consciously or not, often design spaces that trigger multi-sensory experiences. Whether it’s the warm, honey-like glow of a wooden cabin or the metallic sharpness of a high-tech building, architecture has always spoken a silent sensory language.
Architectural firms like Superlimão exemplify this by using unusual materials, vibrant colors, and daring compositions to craft environments that stimulate various senses. Their work demonstrates how deliberate design choices can evoke sensory responses, creating a more immersive experience for occupants.
Incorporating sensory elements into design can transform how people interact with spaces. For instance, textures, smells, and sounds can significantly affect a user’s experience, making the interaction between people and the built environment deeper and more meaningful. archdaily.com
Can Buildings Have a Taste?
If flavors could be translated into structures, how would they manifest?
- Baroque Palaces – Like a layered mille-feuille, they are rich, decadent, and full of detail.
- Brutalist Concrete Towers – Bold and unfiltered, perhaps the bitter bite of black coffee.
- Minimalist Japanese Tea Houses – Subtle and intentional, like a perfectly brewed matcha.
- Venetian Villas – A fusion of textures and colors, reminiscent of tiramisu.
Certain materials and designs evoke taste through association—smooth marble may remind us of cool vanilla ice cream, while rough brick may bring to mind the crusty warmth of freshly baked bread.
Can Buildings Have a Sound?
We don’t just see architecture—we hear it. The acoustics of a space, the materials that absorb or reflect noise, and even the subconscious emotional responses they trigger all contribute to a building’s “sound identity.”
- Gothic Cathedrals – A deep, resonant organ note, echoing into eternity.
- Glass-Walled Modernist Homes – The light, tinkling sound of wind chimes.
- Industrial Warehouses – A repetitive mechanical hum, the rhythm of a factory at work.
- Ancient Temples – The low, grounding resonance of a monk’s chant.
Frank Lloyd Wright famously emphasized “organic architecture,” where buildings harmonize with their surroundings. But could they also harmonize with soundscapes, as if composing a symphony in physical form?
Experiencing Synesthetic Architecture in Everyday Life
Even if you don’t have synesthesia, you can train yourself to perceive buildings beyond sight:
- Listen to a Space – Pay attention to echoes, silence, or the way sound bounces off materials.
- Taste the Atmosphere – Not literally! But think: does a room feel like crisp champagne, or warm cocoa?
- Touch with Your Mind – Imagine how a building might feel even if you don’t physically touch it.
- Observe Emotional Responses – Some buildings feel heavy, some uplifting. What “color” would the feeling be?
The Future: Designing for the Multisensory Experience
What if, in the future, architects purposely designed buildings that evoked purposeful flavors and sounds? For example, envisioning an art museum where each gallery had a distinct ‘flavor palette’ or a concert hall designed in the shape of a particular genre to enhance the sound of that genre.
With the emergence of more immersive and sensory-rich environments, synesthetic architecture could change the way we relate to the built world, not only through sight but as an orchestration of senses.
