I’ve always been fascinated by how the spaces we inhabit affect our health. Not just in that vague “wellness” sense that gets tossed around in glossy magazines, but in measurable, physiological ways. There’s something genuinely remarkable about walking into a room filled with thriving plants and instantly feeling your shoulders drop and your breathing deepen.
That’s not imagination—it’s your body responding to improved air quality and biophilic elements that we’re evolutionarily programmed to find comforting. Last winter, I discovered just how profound this connection could be when my partner developed a persistent cough that wouldn’t respond to any treatments. After three doctor visits and countless remedies, we finally traced the problem to our newly renovated home office—specifically to the VOC-emitting furniture and carpet we’d installed.
It was a wake-up call, to say the least. I remember standing in that room, looking at the sleek, modern workspace we’d created, and realizing it was essentially a chemical box. Beautiful, sure, but completely disconnected from anything natural or genuinely healthy.
Within weeks, we’d transformed the space—integrating several large leafy plants, swapping synthetic materials for natural ones, and installing a small desktop water feature that added gentle humidity to our centrally-heated air. His cough disappeared within days. Coincidence?
Maybe. But I don’t think so. The thing about indoor air quality is that it’s invisible but incredibly influential.
We’ll notice a room that’s too hot or too cold immediately, but we’ll sit for hours in spaces with air that’s actively compromising our respiratory health without realizing it. The average person takes about 20,000 breaths daily, and for many of us who spend 90% of our time indoors, that means potentially breathing in a cocktail of volatile organic compounds, particulate matter, and various other pollutants that our buildings trap and sometimes even generate. This is where biophilic design—the practice of connecting buildings and occupants more closely to nature—offers some genuinely practical solutions, not just aesthetic ones.
I’m not talking about slapping a fern in the corner and calling it a day. Proper biophilic approaches to air quality involve thoughtful integration of natural elements, systems, and materials that actively improve the air we breathe while satisfying our innate need for connection with nature. Take my friend Jamie’s apartment renovation as an example.
She lives in a compact loft in a converted factory building—gorgeous exposed brick, but terrible ventilation and no outdoor access. Rather than just accepting poor air quality as the price of cool urban living, she developed what she calls her “plant strategy”—carefully selecting species known for their air-filtering abilities and positioning them strategically throughout her space. In her kitchen, she placed several spider plants and peace lilies to combat cooking fumes.
Near her workspace, a large monstera and snake plant help with general air filtration. By her bed, lavender and jasmine contribute gentle, sleep-promoting scents while adding to the overall air-cleansing effect. The transformation was remarkable—not just visually, but in how the space felt to breathe in.
“It’s like the difference between drinking stale, room-temperature water versus fresh, cold water,” she told me once. “You don’t realize how bad it was until you experience better.” The science backs this up. NASA’s famous Clean Air Study found that certain houseplants can remove up to 87% of air toxins in 24 hours.
Plants like peace lilies, bamboo palms, and Boston ferns are particularly effective at filtering common indoor pollutants such as formaldehyde, benzene, and trichloroethylene—chemicals frequently found in furniture, carpeting, and household products. But effective biophilic design goes beyond just adding plants. It considers how natural materials can help regulate humidity and reduce the need for chemical treatments.
I worked on a community center project last year where we replaced standard vinyl flooring with natural cork—a material that naturally resists mold and mildew without requiring toxic sealants and cleaning products. The cork also helped maintain optimal humidity levels in the space, reducing the dry air problems they’d previously experienced during winter months. The maintenance staff reported significantly fewer complaints about respiratory irritation after the change.
Water features are another powerful element that’s often overlooked. They’re typically viewed as decorative, but they provide crucial humidity in dry environments and can help capture airborne particulates. In my own home, I’ve installed a simple wall fountain in our main living area.
Beyond creating a soothing ambient sound, it’s noticeably improved the air quality during our dry Colorado winters. Natural ventilation strategies represent another aspect of biophilic design that directly impacts air quality. I’m absolutely obsessed with how traditional architecture around the world addressed air movement long before mechanical systems existed.
Persian wind catchers, Japanese cross-ventilation techniques, and courtyard designs from Mediterranean regions all developed sophisticated methods of moving fresh air through buildings while exhausting stale air. A couple years back, I helped a friend redesign her Victorian home’s ventilation based on these principles. By simply unblocking original transom windows, creating strategic airflow pathways, and installing ceiling fans to enhance air movement, we transformed stuffiness into freshness without expensive mechanical systems.
During one dinner party, a guest who’d previously complained about always feeling stuffy in the home remarked, “I don’t know what’s different, but I can actually breathe in here now.” When mechanical ventilation is necessary—as it often is in modern buildings—biophilic approaches can still play a role. Living walls integrated with HVAC systems are becoming more common in commercial spaces. I’ve witnessed their effectiveness firsthand at a healthcare facility where I consulted on a renovation.
The reception area featured a large living wall connected to the air handling system, essentially creating a natural biofilter for incoming air. Staff reported fewer headaches and respiratory complaints after implementation, and patient satisfaction scores improved significantly. Material selection is another crucial factor.
We’ve somehow normalized surrounding ourselves with materials that actively degrade our air quality. Standard cabinetry often contains formaldehyde. Many paints and finishes emit VOCs for years.
Synthetic carpeting can release a dozen different airborne chemicals. I’ve become somewhat notorious among my clients for my “smell test” approach to materials. If you can smell it, your body is reacting to it.
That “new furniture” smell? Those are volatile organic compounds your liver now needs to process. That fresh paint smell?
Same thing. Biophilic alternatives focus on natural materials that either emit no VOCs or actually positive, beneficial compounds. Real wood finished with natural oils instead of polyurethane.
Clay or lime-based plasters instead of vinyl-based paints. Wool or cotton textiles instead of synthetic fibers. In my sister’s nursery renovation, we took this approach to the extreme—using only solid wood furniture finished with beeswax and linseed oil, cotton and wool textiles, and clay-based wall finishes.
The results weren’t just healthier but created a sensory experience you could immediately feel. Visitors consistently commented on how “clean” and “fresh” the room felt compared to other nurseries they’d visited. Plants, water, ventilation, and materials form the foundation, but truly effective biophilic design also considers how these elements interact as a system.
My own home serves as my ongoing experiment in this regard. I’ve positioned plants near ventilation sources to maximize their filtering capacity. My water features are placed where they’ll add humidity to typically dry areas.
Natural materials are used more extensively in spaces where we spend the most time. The cumulative effect is significant. When friends who suffer from allergies visit, they often remark how much better they can breathe in our home.
My mother-in-law, who typically gets sinus headaches in Colorado’s dry climate, finds she doesn’t need her humidifier when staying with us. I should clarify that biophilic design isn’t about rejecting technology—it’s about working with natural systems rather than against them. Some of the most effective approaches combine traditional wisdom with modern innovations.
For example, new photocatalytic materials can be activated by natural light to break down air pollutants. Certain mineral-based paints actively neutralize odors and pollutants. Advanced plant-based biofilters can be integrated into standard HVAC systems.
What excites me most is how accessible many of these approaches are. You don’t need a massive budget or a complete renovation to implement biophilic principles that improve air quality. Start with strategic plant placement.
Switch to natural cleaning products. Open windows more frequently to establish cross-ventilation. Use natural materials when replacing items naturally over time.
Last month, I visited a primary school where they’d implemented a simple classroom plant program with minimal budget. Each classroom had been equipped with five strategic plants and basic care instructions. Teachers reported better attendance rates and improved student focus.
One teacher told me, “The plants make the room feel alive. The kids notice when things aren’t growing well, and it’s become this whole additional way of teaching them about care and responsibility.” That’s the beauty of biophilic approaches—they often deliver multiple benefits simultaneously. Better air quality comes packaged with psychological benefits, educational opportunities, and aesthetic improvements.
I believe we’re at an interesting inflection point with indoor environments. The pandemic heightened everyone’s awareness of air quality and how our built environments affect our health. People who never thought about ventilation are now asking about MERV ratings on filters and inquiring about natural alternatives to chemical cleaners.
This awareness creates an unprecedented opportunity to rethink our indoor spaces. Rather than treating nature as something that exists outside our buildings, we can recognize that we are natural beings who function best when connected to natural elements and processes—even indoors. Especially indoors, given how much time we spend there.
The air we breathe indoors doesn’t have to be a compromise. By thoughtfully integrating biophilic elements, we can create spaces that actively contribute to our respiratory health rather than undermine it. That’s not just good design—it’s recognizing a fundamental truth about human physiology that we’ve ignored for far too long.
