We are exploring what happens when a knitted strong-wool surface is mounted on a 3‑D‑printed resonant frame: one object that absorbs the mids and highs like a textile and traps the bass like a tuned cavity. Beautiful enough for a lobby. Accurate enough for a control room.
Glass, polished concrete, exposed steel, hard timber. They photograph beautifully and they reflect almost everything that hits them. The result is a room where speech smears into itself, music loses its edges, and everybody quietly raises their voice.
A porous absorber only works properly once it is about a quarter of a wavelength thick. At 100 Hz that is 860 mm of material. Nobody hangs that on a wall — so most panels simply give up on the low end.
Soaking up reverberation inside a room and stopping sound passing through a wall are opposite problems with opposite physics. Sold together, delivered badly, they disappoint on both counts.
The acoustic market's default answer is a flat rectangle of mineral fibre or PET felt. It works, it looks like ceiling tile, and it usually ends its life in landfill.
Sound absorption is not one phenomenon. Porous materials convert sound to heat through viscous friction as air is forced through their pores — a mechanism that scales with material depth, and therefore struggles at low frequencies. Resonant cavities do the opposite: they are compact, tuned, and devastating in a narrow band. Put them together and each covers the other's blind spot.
Stitch-level control lets a single piece carry varying porosity, pile height and thickness — a seamless sculptural surface that nonwoven felt cannot make. Acoustically it is a graded porous absorber: airflow resistivity tuned by knit density rather than by pressing a board.
The frame is not a skeleton — it is the bass. An array of printed necks and coiled cavities behind the textile, each cell a Helmholtz resonator with its own tuning, deliberately staggered so the array covers a band rather than a spike.
Because it is printed, the tuning is a parameter, not a product line.
Sound meets a soft, deep, three-dimensional wool surface: the highs never come back. What passes through arrives at an array of tuned cavities, half of them resonant cells, half open air — and the frequencies wool cannot touch are converted into air motion in a neck, then into heat.
The whole assembly is 40–200 mm deep, mounts on a standard rail, and comes apart into wool and polymer for recycling.
This is the real calculation, not a drawing: a Delany–Bazley porous layer over an array of Maa perforate cells and air cavities, combined by transfer matrix. Move the sliders and the curve moves the way a measured panel would. Then switch the resonant frame off and watch the low end fall away.
Model: Delany–Bazley empirical fibrous layer, Maa micro-perforate necks, rigid-backed air cavities in parallel admittance, normal incidence. It is a design tool and an honest illustration of the mechanism — not a datasheet. Product figures will be published from ISO 10534-2 impedance-tube and ISO 354 reverberation-room measurement on real prototypes.
The same two mechanisms, weighted differently. An open-plan office needs speech intelligibility across a wide floor; a control room needs a flat decay at 80 Hz. The frame is what lets one product do both.
Open plan turns every conversation into everybody's conversation. Wool ceiling rafts and wall reliefs cut reverberation and the low-mid rumble of an air-handling system in the same object.
Hard-floor, open-plan living is an echo chamber with a sofa in it. A sculptural wool piece reads as art on the wall and quietly takes the ring out of the room — and out of the video call in the corner of it.
Small venues live or die on whether a kick drum stays a kick drum. Tuned frames target the room modes that turn low end into mud, while the wool face keeps the space lively rather than dead.
Control rooms need a short, even decay at every frequency — the hardest specification in the building. Per-cell tuning lets a treatment be designed against a measured room response rather than sold by the square metre.
Inside a cabinet, wool has been the fill of choice for decades — and coarse crossbred fibre is well suited to it. We are developing knitted, form-fitted internal damping and printed rear-wave traps for cabinet builders, plus wool-faced baffle surrounds that stop edge diffraction at the source.
Atria, lobbies and stairwells where the brief is a statement object that also has to hit an acoustic target. Knit and print are both digitally driven, so bespoke geometry costs design time rather than tooling.
Crossbred — "strong" — wool is coarse, around 35 µm, and for years has often cost more to shear off a sheep than it earns at auction. It is renewable, biodegradable, naturally flame-resistant, and it manages moisture and heat as well as it manages sound. We think it has been waiting for the right structure.
Coarse-wool felt has reached a noise reduction coefficient of roughly 0.4 in published impedance-tube work — comparable with commercial ceiling tiles. Crossbred waste-wool fabrics span roughly 0.26 to 0.64 depending on how they are built. Thickness and pile height are the levers that matter.
In other words: the fibre clears the bar. The interesting question is what you build with it.
The literature is consistent that finer fibres absorb sound better, while coarser fibres insulate heat better. New Zealand strong wool sits firmly on the coarse side. On fibre diameter alone it is not the ideal absorber.
That is precisely why the structure exists. Geometry, pile, thickness and the printed cavity do the work the fibre diameter does not — and the same coarseness that costs us absorption buys a genuine thermal story alongside it.
New Zealand wool acoustic panels already exist and some are made by serious companies. Almost all of them are flat and felt-like: a wool face doing porous absorption, and nothing underneath it addressing the bass.
Our position is the structure — three-dimensional knitted form over a tuned, printed resonant frame. That combination is, as far as we can find, unoccupied.
Impulse response and RT60 by octave band in the actual space, plus the geometry that produced it.
Transfer-matrix modelling of the panel stack against your measured curve, targeting the bands that are actually wrong.
Knit the wool face; print the frame with its cell tuning baked into the geometry. Both digitally driven, both bespoke.
Standard rail fixing, 40–200 mm off the wall or suspended as rafts. The mounting depth is part of the tuning.
Re-measure. Publish the before and after. If the room did not change, neither did we do our job.
A Sabine estimate — the same equation acousticians start from. It assumes an untreated hard-surfaced room and a 1200 × 600 mm panel. Treat it as an opening conversation, not a quote.
Resonant Fleece is a research-stage venture and we say so plainly. The mechanisms below are textbook; the combination is what we are building and testing. Everything we claim traces back to published work or to a measurement we will publish.
Our full technical reference: porous dissipation, Helmholtz and membrane resonance, the quarter-wave rule, diffusion, metamaterials and transmission loss — with the equations and two interactive calculators.
The venture thesis behind Resonant Fleece: the three building blocks, the value propositions, the market, the competitive landscape, and the sixteen peer-reviewed sources the design rests on.
Key sources include Delany & Bazley (1970) on fibrous absorbers; Maa on micro-perforated panels; Cox & D'Antonio, Acoustic Absorbers and Diffusers; Allard & Atalla, Propagation of Sound in Porous Media; and published work on the sound absorption and thermal insulation of pure and crossbred sheep waste wool, knitted spacer and crochet fabrics, and 3-D-printed acoustic metamaterials. All are indexed in the concept brief.
Aotearoa New Zealand — working with growers, knitters and acousticians across the motu.
Research and prototyping. We are looking for pilot rooms, wool partners and manufacturers who want to measure something rather than be told about it.
An RT60 by octave band, or even a phone recording of a hand clap, tells us more than a floor plan. Attach whatever you have.