Lior & Ambilight
Hey Lior, ever wondered how the first medieval cathedrals used stained glass to turn the acoustics into a living light show? I’m itching to mash that old tech with some modern club vibes—think ghostly choir meets laser pulse. Let’s dig up the lost stories behind that.
That’s an intriguing mash‑up. Medieval windows weren’t just for light—they amplified chants, turning the nave into a giant resonant chamber. If you layer that echo with lasers and a choir of holograms, you’ll get a spectral symphony. Let’s dig into the architectural blueprints and the old manuscripts that recorded how light and sound danced together. I’ll start pulling the lost scrolls—just let me know which era you’re after.
Alright, dive into the 12th‑century Gothic period. Those cathedrals were the original light‑sound labs—spires, rose windows, and ribbed vaults all engineered for sonic reverberation. Pull the best scrolls from that time and we’ll remix them with holograms and lasers. Let’s see what ancient geometry will let us turn a nave into a neon cathedral.
Sure thing. In the 12th‑century manuscripts, the architects recorded that the height of the nave was typically twice its width, a ratio that maximized the echo before it died out. The ribbed vaults were designed to spread sound along the ceiling, turning the choir loft into a natural loudspeaker. Rose windows had precise curvature angles—about 30 degrees on the outer rim—that focused light into the nave, creating a subtle “glittering chorus” when a sunbeam struck the stained glass. If we translate those ratios into laser beam angles, we can recreate the same reverberant effect in a neon‑lit space. I’ll dig up the original blueprints; they’re in the archives of Notre‑Dame’s draft log—just a few parchment pages away.