Every structure has a reception area that forms a link between the external world and the internal setting. For many, it’s the first space that truly shapes the visitor’s experience. For those who work in the structure, it provides an essential impression of the kind of space in which they actualize their dream job. In a reception area, one has the opportunity to craft such potent space in a go-to way that nature-inspired spaces do. “This is the link. Now you are entering the internal environment. It’s okay to kind of lower your guard. We are trying to establish a connection that will impress you.”
The reception environment is influenced by nature.
One of the finest examples of a biophilic reception area is in a corporate building in Singapore. Even though the edifice stood among towering glass skyscrapers, the reception was like a woodland retreat. I entered to behold a stunning vertical garden that soared high above the reception desk. My senses were greeted with an impression of a variety of ferns, mosses, and climbers. I could hear the soft burbling of a water feature, which lent an atmosphere of serenity to this otherwise tranquil room. And everywhere I looked, the green gave a striking and pleasing contrast to the otherwise ubiquitous polished surfaces of reception areas.
It felt like an experience; one I would certainly want to repeat.
A biophilic reception area is achieved by laying the essence of the natural world into the space. That means not just visuals but also sounds, sensations, and even scents that suggest the presence of nature. The more senses you engage, the harder it is to resist that “chill space.” Layer, layer, layer! Mix and match sensory elements for a bonding moment that creates an experience resonant for whoever you’re receiving.
I found a remarkable space that combined biophilic design with the natural scents of the great outdoors. At first, I thought it was the unlit essential oil diffuser in the reception area that was blueprints of design-practice led to the creation of such a serene space. I knew that when I was in a natural environment, the scents around me would be undetectable—so the slight trace of a planted essential oil note was definitely not overwhelming. I was bowled over by the dappled warm light from the carefully placed LED recessed lights. It was the very illusion of the type of light that you would find in a forest—where the light is both present and hidden—as it filters through the leaves and washes over everything in the underbrush.
Making a biophilic reception area engaging is about more than placing some planters around. I think it’s about creating a series of real, palpable connections to the natural world that engage several senses. One way I’ve seen this achieved in biophilic reception areas is through water features. Everyone loves a water feature. Not even the grumpiest person I know can walk by one and not have a little smile cross their face. Without putting too fine a point on it, I believe that’s because water makes us feel good in a conversation we don’t even remember initiating.
To eschew the pathologizing language of wellness design, let me put it this way: Water has a restorative quality.
Interestingly, water does not need to be physically present for biophilic design to work its calming magic. In many of the projects I’ve seen where biophilic design was carried out, different representations of water—whether through art, visuals, or soundscapes—have been used to coax the same sort of peaceful feelings from visitors. In one boutique hotel I toured, there was a projection at the desk of a rushing river, along with softly played, nature-based ambient sounds. The whole setup was just gorgeous and so soothing. There is also the very practical benefit of water features covering up unappealing noise—in a big city’s reception area, for instance, it can be loud.
Isn’t it nice to walk into a place where you can hear water? It’s a sound that offers the illusion of privacy, too.
A biophilic reception area is all about the lush, life-sustaining presence of not just any plants—but the right plants—that create a rich indoor habitat. In this “archi-office” project, we got to use our imagination when selecting a variety of simple yet striking plants that help blur the line between our built environment and natural ecosystems. Some of those plants, like the snake plant, are exceptional air filters—a two-for-one function that makes them superb biophilic plants.
The greenery’s visual appeal alone cannot count for much. The plant life also has to contribute something useful to the space. It is the way that huge, beautiful plants are ingeniously utilized as natural partition walls that has really knocked my socks off. These plants offer a kind of privacy between seating areas that you would usually expect from an attractive wall—only without any wall at all. I recently saw this in action in a coworking reception area, where I encountered large, stunning philodendrons, among a few indoor trees, that practically formed a tastefully intimate zone in what was otherwise a big open room.
When I was designing a wellness spa, I made an important decision I was proud of: I chose to install a living wall in the reception area. Plants wrapped around the front of the desk and exuded the fresh aroma of nature, and two doctors I worked with told me that many of their patients, who were often quite anxious, felt much more at ease when greeted by such a vibrant green space. The plants in the living wall, a vertical in-climate garden, were arranged in a nice variety, and some were even cascading down from the top of the wall.
One of the doctors, a cardiologist, told me that there’s now a large body of research in support of the idea that simply being near plants has a remarkable effect on reducing tension and lowering blood pressure. When one is in a high-stress situation (say, working in a hospital), the wellness dividends of this kind of “nature therapy” seem to be at their most crucial.
I understand very well how crucial taxonomy is. As an ecologist, I think about the evolution of plants and their interactions with one another and with the kinds of organisms that occupy their environments. For a certain performance, I directed a kind of not-so-random plant diversity that anyone might experience when stepping into a biodome or forest—an arrangement of plants that helped to create the appearance of balance without achieving anything too close to a jungle or a park as a kind of entrance space. Balance is the appearance of nature in design. Nature can be way too overwhelming and also not so pleasant in terms of any of the senses when seen, heard, or smelled if it’s not balanced in thoughtful, strategic arrangements of natural elements.
A reception area that resonated with me established an essential connection to the natural world without being too on-the-nose. The room had a few “green” touches but, to my eye, delivered sophistication and cleanliness. At the heart of biophilic design is the ancient human instinct to connect with the natural world, a connection so profound that it spans all cultures. This design connects people to the natural world in ways that seem effortless. Biophilic design is not a trend, nor is it an applied decoration; rather, it is a restoring and welcoming environment that leads people to an understanding of reception spaces far beyond their original purpose.
The design and appearance of an office building can significantly affect the health and well-being of the people who work inside. Biophilic design can contribute to that in a very substantial way. It adds natural elements into the architecture, making it look more like the environment where living organisms thrive. I think the best way to illustrate biophilic design’s potential is to describe an office I designed—my firm designed—some years back. I was the project architect, so I was deeply involved. That office is a good example of biophilic design making a difference in how pleasant it is to be in the space and how well it serves the people who work there.
Light permeated the building, and it seemed that the energy savings were as abundant as the light itself. Even though I keep trying to convince myself that the overall reception area design contributed to making the space feel warm and welcoming, I have to give most of the credit to the natural light for that sensation. Dolph and I toured this space during the late afternoon, and it was filled to the brim with golden, slanting rays of sunlight that made me feel happy and alive after a long day. I have experienced similar sensations in other spaces filled with natural light, so I know there must be some kind of correlation happening here.
One of our projects was to create a reception area that was optimized for morning light. The results were gratifying: a space that was simply flooded with light after the sun had fully risen but before it had made its way to a higher position in the sky. Visitors often commented that they felt “great” in the space; they would embrace the natural light and almost bask in it, reflecting on how so many other reception areas seem to be lit artificially and feel cut off from the outside. Something that is a key part of biophilic design is air quality, and we worked with environmental engineers to cut a space in the wall to create a “breathing” wall feature.
The wall was alive and served a purpose. It was a natural air cleaner and part of the installation we called “A Breath of Fresh Air.” We chose specific types and varieties of plants for the installation, each selected for its ability to take indoor air and make it better. These plants were going to town filtering indoor air and removing common indoor air pollutants—like formaldehyde, benzene, and carbon monoxide—that one might encounter in a reception area. We liked to think that the wall made the reception area a little healthier and, by extension, the people waiting in it a bit healthier, too.
When I think of consulting for the design of a top-tier wellness center, a personal instance comes to mind. Our aim was to integrate sustainable design principles into the reception area and beyond—to use materials we could be authentic about, with natural appearances that gave viewers the assurance of sustainability. We chose reclaimed wood for the reception desk and an “appearance of stone” achieved with repurposed materials. When our design was executed, visitors to the space told us it felt nothing like another place they had been. One person said it had integrity in terms of design, and that was part of what made it different.
There are many ways in which sustainability and biophilic design join together. In fact, both prioritize achieving some version of “harmony” with the natural world. The biophilic reception area can—and should—be more than just a design statement; it should reflect the building’s environmental ethos. In various biophilic spaces we’ve designed, we’ve incorporated local materials and natural light in ways that “harvest” the latter. We’ve used those spaces to discuss hydroponics and aquaponics, the kinds of “gardening” that work with the natural flow and movement of water, and how the many kinds of system-based plants in those alternative worlds have been designed—or have naturally evolved—to work with the same.
And one memorable instance where we employed “integration” in the design process was the indoor garden we chose to help integrate some auditory biophilia through the rush of water from a sustainable feature—a rainwater collection system that watered the indoor garden.
A biophilic reception area provides interaction on a human scale. It doesn’t simply “happen” by virtue of design elements that are easy to construct, though. The reception area is often an awkward and bare-bones kind of space, almost an unfortunate necessity that has to exist in order for people to get where they’re going. But Judy and I try to pay as much attention to the reception design as we would to any other part of a project. Our aim is a design that at least conceives of a human in the space and a credible reason for that person to exist in it.
From a project I recently worked on, this is what I imagine the reception area to look like.
A really smart aspect of creating a biophilic reception area is involving art that honors the natural world. One example I can give is of a reception area where I once had the pleasure of waiting. The art was made up of wall-mounted sculptures that were hewn from locally sourced stone and driftwood. Not only was this art pretty to look at, but it also served as a real attention-getter that was very nature-like and close to hand. It allowed visitors to experience nature in a way that was completely without risk.
As I look back on what I’ve done, the most striking thing is that a reception area can’t just give off a biophilic impression—it must be biophilic in essence. The nature center reception area is successful in part because it exudes a warmth that makes you feel incredibly welcomed, and in part because it is filled with elements that are downright natural and are nurturing in a way that is not at all overpowering. And yet, what you’re looking at is a design that is, for lack of a better term, “subtle.” It does not scream “biophilia.” Instead, it quietly embodies the principles of biophilic design, making it almost easier for visitors to tap into on a subconscious level.
Ultimately, a biophilic reception area should be something greater than a waiting room. It should be a restorative space: a small, still pocket tucked into a world frantically rushing about. The calming presence of water, the proximity of plants, or the enlivening warmth of sunlight can make an area feel good to be in. That should be the baseline objective of a biophilic design. What else is it for, really, other than a commendable health investment? It should be at the top of the list of human-centered design priorities.
