I’ll be honest – before I started optimizing my home office, I thought architecture was just about making buildings look nice. Then I read some research about how physical environments affect cognitive performance, and suddenly I’m paying attention to things like natural light angles and the psychological impact of curved versus angular surfaces.
Which is how I ended up spending way too much time analyzing a banister during a work trip to Brussels.
I was there for a conference, had some free time, and decided to check out this place called Horta House. It’s the former home of Victor Horta, a Belgian architect from the late 1800s who pioneered Art Nouveau design. I figured it might give me some ideas for my own workspace setup – I’m always looking for design elements that actually impact productivity rather than just Instagram aesthetics.
Walking into that house was like getting hit with a data visualization of everything I’d been reading about biophilic design. You know that research about how natural elements in work environments can improve focus and reduce mental fatigue? This guy was implementing it over a century ago, probably without even knowing the science behind why it worked.
**The Guy Who Figured This Out Before We Had The Data**
Victor Horta was born in 1861 and basically invented a whole architectural movement based on bringing organic forms indoors. While other architects were still doing rigid geometric patterns, he’s incorporating flowing vines, water-like curves, and tree branch shapes into building design. The man was running biophilic design experiments before we even had terms for it.
What struck me about Horta’s approach was that he wasn’t just adding plants to rooms and calling it nature-inspired. He was fundamentally changing how architectural elements worked – making structural components like support beams and railings mimic natural growth patterns. It’s like he intuitively understood something about human psychology and our connection to natural environments that we’re only now proving with studies.
Reading about his design philosophy later, I found out he viewed buildings as “living entities” rather than static structures. Which honestly sounds like something a modern workplace wellness consultant would say, except he was doing it in the 1890s.
**The Banister That Made Me Rethink Everything**
So I’m walking through this house, taking notes on lighting design and spatial flow, when I get to the main staircase. And this banister just stops me completely.
Most of the time, I don’t even notice bannisters – they’re functional, you hold onto them going up stairs, whatever. But this one demanded attention. The metalwork curved and flowed like it was growing rather than manufactured. The materials – warm wood combined with intricate ironwork – created these organic geometries that somehow felt familiar even though I’d never seen anything like it.
I spent probably twenty minutes just studying that thing, running my hand along the rail, watching how light and shadow played across the surface as I moved. It sounds ridiculous, but touching it felt calming in a way that’s hard to describe. Like my nervous system recognized something natural about the patterns even though it was clearly human-made.
This got me thinking about all the research I’d read on biophilic design elements. Direct connection with nature through plants and natural light, sure – but also indirect connections through natural materials, organic shapes, and patterns that mimic natural processes. This banister was hitting multiple biophilic design principles simultaneously.
**Testing Whether This Actually Works**
Here’s where my data analyst brain kicked in. Was I just getting caught up in the aesthetic appeal, or was there something measurably different about how this design affected my mental state?
I started paying attention to my physiological responses as I moved through different parts of the house. Areas with more organic curves and natural materials correlated with what felt like lower stress and better focus. Rooms with harsh angles and purely geometric patterns felt more mentally fatiguing.
Obviously this wasn’t a controlled experiment – I was one person having one experience in an unfamiliar environment. But it aligned with studies I’d read about how exposure to natural patterns can reduce cortisol levels and improve cognitive restoration.
The banister specifically demonstrated something interesting about material selection and form. The combination of wood’s organic warmth with metalwork that followed natural growth patterns created what felt like a perfect synthesis of human craft and natural design. It wasn’t trying to fake being nature – it was using natural principles to enhance human-made structure.
**Modern Relevance For Remote Workers**
Walking through Horta House made me realize I’d been thinking about workspace optimization too narrowly. I’d focused on getting plants, maximizing natural light, and improving air quality – all important. But I hadn’t considered how the actual structural elements of my office could support or undermine the biophilic effect.
Most home office furniture is aggressively geometric. Sharp corners, straight lines, industrial materials. It’s efficient and affordable, but it’s also completely disconnected from natural forms. After seeing Horta’s approach, I started wondering if some of my afternoon mental fatigue came from spending eight hours surrounded by purely artificial patterns.
I’m not about to renovate my entire office to look like an Art Nouveau museum. But I did start incorporating more organic shapes where possible. Rounded desk edges instead of sharp corners. A wooden desk organizer with natural grain patterns. Even switching from harsh angular task lighting to fixtures with softer, more curved forms.
The impact has been subtle but measurable in my productivity tracking. Nothing dramatic, but my afternoon focus sessions have improved, and I feel less visually fatigued by end of day. Could be placebo effect, but the data suggests otherwise.
**Is This Actually Biophilic Design?**
Here’s the thing – Horta wasn’t consciously implementing “biophilic design” because that term didn’t exist yet. He was following artistic and aesthetic principles that happened to align with how humans naturally respond to environmental patterns.
But looking at his work through a modern lens, it hits most of the key biophilic design criteria. Natural materials, organic forms, patterns that mimic natural processes, integration of light and shadow that follows natural rhythms. Whether he intended it or not, he was creating environments that supported human psychological and physiological wellbeing.
This raises interesting questions about intuitive versus evidence-based design. Horta achieved biophilic effects through artistic intuition. We now have research proving why those effects work, but are we actually creating better environments than he did 130 years ago?
**Practical Applications For Modern Workspaces**
The current trend toward biophilic design in office spaces definitely echoes what Horta was doing. Google and Amazon spending millions on workspace environments that incorporate natural elements, co-working spaces emphasizing plants and natural light, the whole “bring nature indoors” movement in commercial real estate.
But most of this focuses on adding natural elements to otherwise conventional spaces. What Horta demonstrated was more fundamental – designing the basic structural elements to follow natural principles from the ground up.
For remote workers optimizing home offices, this suggests looking beyond just adding plants and improving lighting. Consider the shapes and materials of your actual workspace components. Do your desk, chair, and storage solutions follow organic forms or purely geometric ones? Are you surrounding yourself with materials that connect to natural patterns or purely artificial ones?
I’ve started noticing this in other people’s workspace setups during video calls. The spaces that feel most calming and focused tend to have more natural materials and organic shapes, even if the person didn’t consciously design for biophilic principles.
**The Bigger Picture**
Analyzing that banister in Brussels made me realize that good workspace design isn’t just about functional optimization – it’s about creating environments that align with how human psychology and physiology actually work. We evolved in natural environments with organic patterns, varied textures, and dynamic light conditions. Purely artificial spaces can be functional, but they’re fighting against our built-in preferences.
Horta figured this out through artistic intuition and careful observation of how people responded to different design elements. Today we have research explaining the neurological and hormonal mechanisms behind why his approach worked. But we’re not necessarily creating better environments – we’re just understanding why the good ones work.
For someone like me who spends most of my waking hours in a home office, this isn’t abstract design philosophy – it’s practical workspace optimization that directly affects daily productivity and wellbeing. Every element in that space either supports or undermines my ability to focus and perform.
That banister demonstrated how thoughtful design can create functional beauty that actually enhances human performance rather than just looking impressive. Which is exactly what I’m trying to achieve in my own workspace, just with a lot more spreadsheet tracking and a lot less artistic genius.
Currently testing whether curved monitor arms improve focus compared to angular ones. Early data looks promising, but I need more time to establish statistical significance. Horta probably wouldn’t need the spreadsheets to know what works, but this is how I figure things out.
James is a data analyst who applies the same spreadsheet logic he uses at work to optimizing his home office. He experiments with light, plants, sound, and setup to see what really improves focus and energy for remote workers — and he shares the data-backed results.
