It was not until I was standing in the Amazon Spheres in Seattle last month that I saw how architecture could affect someone emotionally. I watched as employees drifted toward the curved glass walls where the morning light filtered through the thousands of plants. Employees simply felt drawn to those areas — to linger and chat with colleagues under the plant canopy. For me, that was the first time I realized why my children reacted so differently to the different rooms in our house.
Over the past few years, I have been learning about how the home environment affects my children’s sleep and my son’s ADHD. Seeing it happen in a large-scale architectural project, however, really helped me understand what biophilic design is actually about. Biophilic design is not just sticking some houseplants in your home (although I have certainly added my fair share of those). Biophilic design is understanding that we are wired to respond to natural patterns, materials and connections to the outside world.
You hear the term “biophilic design” a lot, especially when companies try to sell you expensive living walls to install in your business. While that may be true in some cases, the definition of biophilic design is far more complex and deeper than just making your space appear green. When architects speak of biophilic design, they refer to using intentional aspects of nature (patterns, materials, etc.) and design elements within buildings to support human health and well-being; or in other words, designing spaces that work with our biology, not against it.
One example that has stayed with me is the Gando School Library in Burkina Faso, designed by Francis Kéré. This library does not even have houseplants inside and is still considered to be one of the best examples of biophilic design available today. The architect utilized local clay brick that reacts to temperature fluctuations, created a double roof system to cool the space similar to how tree canopies cool the surrounding environment and positioned windows to frame landscape views while controlling the desert sun. Following this move, students in the school saw their test scores improve by 28%. That is the type of results I am looking for for my own children’s environments.
Interestingly, this concept is not entirely new. We are essentially discovering what traditional architecture already knew. Traditional Japanese homes blended the lines of interior and exterior with sliding screens and views of gardens. The Persian wind towers cooled spaces naturally before air conditioning existed. Scandinavian buildings maximize natural light during the dark winter months. We are simply taking those concepts and applying them to our current building codes and materials.
As we consider building codes — that is where the frustration begins for individuals who would like to implement biophilic design in their homes. I have encountered numerous regulations that seemingly view nature as a problem to be solved and not a valuable resource. Many times, obtaining the necessary permits for items such as green roofs and natural ventilation systems can be difficult due to code limitations.
For me, the break-through moment occurred when I read about a residential project in Philadelphia that took an older 1920s building and implemented biophilic design strategies throughout the renovation. Operable windows, reclaimed wood finishes, a shared rooftop garden and visual connections to either the garden or the street trees were incorporated into each unit. The estimated additional cost of the renovation was approximately 12% above conventional renovation costs.
Two years later, the building had a waiting list, rented for 18% more than comparable units, and had the lowest turnover rate in the area. In addition, the residents reported better sleep, fewer respiratory problems and greater overall life satisfaction. Additionally, the rooftop garden produced nearly 30% of the residents’ vegetable needs and was the hub of the building’s social activity. That is what really caught my eye — not only is biophilic design beneficial in terms of emotional well-being, but also provides tangible financial benefits.
Current trends in biophilic design are exciting to me, specifically as technology continues to integrate with natural systems. The Edge building in Amsterdam utilizes sensors to adjust lighting, temperature and air quality in response to real-time conditions and human circadian rhythms. Living walls are no longer merely decorative, they serve as active air filtration systems linked directly to the building’s mechanical systems. Water features provide noise reduction while contributing to cooling through evaporation.
While many of the most innovative applications I have read about are complex, many of the most effective changes are quite simple. One example that stood out to me was the case study of an elementary school renovation in North Carolina. The largest benefit derived from the renovation did not come from the physical changes to the building itself (such as removing fluorescent lights) but rather from replacing those lights with full spectrum LED lights that change color temperature in accordance with the natural daylight pattern throughout the day. Each classroom cost $340 and the impact on student focus and behavior was significant enough to prompt the adoption of the same strategy by the three neighboring school districts.
That is consistent with what I have seen in our own home. Simple, low-cost changes such as painting rooms with warm colors, installing sheers to allow for more natural light and adding window seating to facilitate sitting near windows have all positively impacted how everyone feels in those spaces.
Biophilic design research is continually showing positive results — and that is encouraging for those of us working to promote biophilic design in schools and community buildings. Productivity in biophilically designed offices is shown to increase anywhere from 6-15%, hospital patients with nature views require 20% less pain medication and leave the hospital an average of 2.3 days earlier. Test scores for students in naturally lit classrooms are 7-18% higher than students in classrooms lit artificially. These are not insignificant improvements — they are substantial enough to impact budgets and ultimately, outcomes.
What concerns me is how often biophilic design is viewed as a secondary consideration rather than a fundamental aspect of design. All too often, landscape architects are brought in at the end of a project to add some plants to a building that was designed with no consideration to natural systems or human biology. True biophilic design should begin with an understanding of the existing ecosystem, solar patterns, prevailing winds, seasonal changes, and how the building can work in harmony with those forces rather than opposing them.
The trend of biophilic design appears to be moving toward creating buildings that function as living systems — structures that respond to environmental conditions in real time, utilize living materials that grow and evolve over time, and provide habitats for both humans and other species. The California Academy of Sciences in San Francisco is a perfect example of this with its living roof that provides habitat for native plants while insulating the building and managing storm water runoff.
I have been tracking advancements in biomimetic materials and construction techniques that seem to border on science fiction. Using mycelium as a base for insulation that grows in place. Creating concrete that contains bacterial spores to repair cracks in the material when they occur. Building structural systems that are inspired by the manner in which plants grow to minimize material usage while allowing for naturally ventilated spaces.
These types of innovations are currently being applied in actual projects. The Growing Pavilion in the Netherlands utilized mycelium-based panels for both structural support and insulation. The panels grew in just a couple of weeks and provided superior thermal performance than traditional materials, with the added benefit of being completely biodegradable at the end of their useful life.
Ultimately, biophilic design is based on the very simple premise of creating spaces that will enhance human flourishing by reconnecting us to the natural world we developed in. Every time I see my children settle into a naturally lit area of our home, or watch them spend hours in our backyard garden, I am reminded that we are not separate from nature — we are nature. Our buildings should reflect that relationship and support that relationship, regardless if we are discussing a massive architectural project or simply the changes we can make in our own homes.
David is a dad of two who started caring about design after realizing how much their home environment affected his kids’ moods and sleep. He writes about family-friendly, budget-friendly ways to bring natural light, plants, and outdoor play back into everyday life.
