What secrets does a silent giant hold? The MTA Kutatóház stands before us, a 13-story concrete sentinel overlooking Budaörsi út. It’s an imposing structure, a bit worn, perhaps, with its rows of partially drawn blinds giving it an air of mystery. The MTA Kutatóház doesn’t immediately reveal its treasures. It takes a curious eye, and perhaps a storyteller, to unlock the stories hidden within its walls. This building has lived many lives. Originally envisioned as a cluster of smaller buildings, the MTA Kutatóház took on its current form in the 1970s, becoming one of the largest building projects of the decade. Designed by Dezső Tóth, with Erzsébet Schilling, the building’s unique facade, composed of 1006 prefabricated concrete panels, is a testament to the architectural ingenuity of the era. These panels, each 3.6 meters high, create a dynamic, ever-changing appearance, depending on the position of the blinds. Architect Borka Felső once described this effect as a “blind-curtain,” highlighting how the various positions of the blinds give the building a different look each time you see it. Completed in 1975, the MTA Kutatóház initially housed various research institutes of the Hungarian Academy of Sciences. The offices, located on the Budaörsi út side, offered breathtaking views of south Budapest. The labs, facing Sas-hegy, provided a tranquil environment for scientific pursuits. Even lunch had a touch of elegance, taking place on the 12th floor with its panoramic vista. A separate two-story wing, completed in 1978, houses a library, a buffet, a lounge, and a remarkable conference room. This room, designed by Iván Krencsey, is a time capsule of 1970s design. The original mustard-yellow velvet chairs, the geometrically patterned enamel metal covering the interior columns—it’s a space that evokes an era of optimism for scientific and technological advancement. This room is still in use today, sometimes hosting theatrical performances or film shoots. Perhaps the most unexpected treasures lie on the ground floor: the acoustic labs. Four such labs once buzzed with activity, but work here ceased in the mid-1990s. Attila Horváth, the “last instrument technician” of the labs, shares its history. These labs were instrumental in fine-tuning the acoustics of prominent venues like the Erkel Theatre and the Congress Center. They even played a role in ensuring optimal sound quality during Pope John Paul II’s visit. Entering the “dead room,” designed and built by Austrian specialists, feels like stepping into a science fiction film. It’s a concrete box within a box, resting on powerful springs, completely isolated from the building and the ground. Sound-absorbing panels cover the walls and floor, creating an eerie silence. Its complement, the “reverberation room,” does the opposite, bouncing sound waves in all directions. It’s a playful space, but also a testament to the meticulous design. It’s configured so that sound takes 13 milliseconds to decay to a thousandth of its original intensity. The MTA Kutatóház isn’t as vibrant as it once was. Many of the upper floors are now empty, a stark contrast to the bustling activity of its heyday. The former restaurant is closed, tiles falling from the walls, and gutted offices hint at a bygone era. While part of the building remains in use, its future is uncertain. Demolition isn’t currently planned, but renovation would be a costly undertaking. The outdated mechanical systems, the noise from Budaörsi út, the lack of nearby amenities—these are all challenges that need to be addressed. The MTA Kutatóház is a silent giant, holding within its walls a rich history of scientific pursuit, architectural innovation, and the echoes of a bygone era. It stands as a reminder of the past and a question mark for the future. What will become of this silent giant on Budaörsi út?
Центральный дом работников искусств
Step through the grand wooden doors of the Central House of the Workers of Art, and you’ll be transported to