For me, designing a biophilic living room goes beyond simply populating the room with plants. It’s about something deeper—tapping into our almost genetic proclivity to connect with the natural world. That’s what the biophilic theory is all about—to design a space that feels alive not just in its appearance but also in the way it engages our senses; a space that uses natural light, plant life, and organic textures to create an environment that has a direct impact on our moods. I’d argue that it’s also about creating a living room with good air quality—that’s definitely a big part of the “mood lighting” experience.
When I design a biophilic space, I make natural light one of my top priorities. To be sure, I want my rooms to have the sort of ginormous windows that would make a modern artist swoon. More than that, though, I want to understand the movement of natural light as it performs a kind of alchemy throughout the day. I want sunbeams, not just sunlight, to fall with precision into the room I’m designing so that I can, in a way, imagine the secret life of that space. Natural light has the potential to energize a room like nothing else.
When it’s combined with the right materials, it can make any interior sing.
I recall working on a project set in an urban area where direct sunlight was a rare commodity. Rather than seeing this as a problem, we took it as a design challenge, the answer to which was to create a living room that vibrated with light even in such a sun-starved location. We used quiet, highly reflective materials—wood paneled with a subtle sheen, stone that was light in color and warm to the touch. We embraced the idea of soft, diffused light and filled the room with as many sources of it as possible, getting it to ricochet around the space, sort of like a sunbeam bouncing off a cat’s eye marble.
Biophilic design encompasses many aspects, but one doesn’t often think about is air quality. In a recent living room project, my favorite part was the vertical green wall with air-purifying plants. “Fresh” is often not the first word you think of when describing living rooms, but this one literally had that quality. There was something about being in that space, and what I had installed, that felt cleaner than just being in a usual room. Your living environment affects your health, both physically and mentally. Air quality is tied to both of those factors. Could biophilic design be working on a more primal level by just giving you a “natural high”?
When it comes to connecting a living room to the natural world, the choice of materials plays a huge role. Touching raw, natural materials can feel deeply satisfying, and going even just a small step beyond the common choices of perfect stone, luster-glazing ceramic, or synthetic wood can make a living room feel as though it is a part of the natural world. I once designed a living room with reclaimed oak floors that fit this bill perfectly. The wood was unfinished, the edges raw, the timbers just slightly warped—a heavenly place for barefoot strolling. And this is a space that feels like it’s an extension of the natural world.
Biophilic design is all about the pleasures of texture. One of the reasons why I love the texture of wool is that it feels so much like nature. I grew up near a sheep farm, so wool has always been part of my life. Wool is part of the ranching and Native American cultures of my home state, Montana. Texture makes the successful biophilic living room living. It’s about the layers you can touch and feel, which is what gives biophilic design its richness and sometimes even its depth. A successful living room is, without a doubt, one that succeeds visually, but that’s just the first layer.
From what I have seen, drawing nature into a living room can have a big effect. However, it’s not enough just to place a plant in the corner or to pick a green color scheme. To truly design such a space to be biophilic, one must integrate nature in a way that invites interaction. This is what makes a living room come alive—the presence of living nature in a way that can be experienced on multiple levels, including that of the hands.
An unforgettable experience I had with a client involved a person who lived near the coast but hardly had the opportunity to enjoy it. We decided to bring elements of the seaside into the living room. But instead of simply adding coastal décor like shells and driftwood, we took it a step further by incorporating natural, raw materials that reflected the rugged beauty of the shoreline. We also focused on airflow and scent. By positioning the living room to catch the fresh sea breeze and using lightly scented candles with sea salt and lavender, this space felt like the seaside—even when you weren’t physically there.
The subtle smells and breezes created an immersive experience.
For anyone who wants to design a biophilic living room, the inclusion of water features can almost be neglected; yet these can have a profound effect on both the appearance and the psychological benefits of the room. I have always thought it is very important to include water in the home. You could have a large waterfall, for instance, or you could have a fountain that is as simple and the table it sits on. One thing I don’t think we think about enough is the appearance of water. … It wasn’t your typical small bubble fountain. It had a pan with still water.
On one side was a small, ascending waterfall; on the other, a small, descending fountain.
While houseplants are indeed vital, it is the flora beyond the walls of a home that calls out to me. When others might reach for the more predictable plants—ferns, for instance, or succulents—that my mind tends to link with the outdoor environments of a home, I hop over to the Mediterranean, past my former employers in Pioneertown, California, and wind up in a project I once worked on alongside a beautiful indoor olive tree. This tree was not just a pretty item with which to furnish a city apartment that tastes of the Mediterranean. It is a living sculpture that, with height and a sort of visual intrigue, way too literally for my usual taste, stakes a claim for this apartment in the heart of olive country.
I think that textures and tactile materials are crucial in creating the world that one would evoke in a given space, even more so than plant life. But I guess that depends on how one defines “plant life.” When I used to lead workshops for a design/build program at the University of Oregon, I often had students go out into the nearby woods and gather natural materials. We would then use what we had gathered to build temporary structures. I am not advocating that all design endeavors return to such primitive approaches. Still, there is something to be said for using local, natural materials and not shying away from combining them into what could be considered a “natural” palette.
In my own living room, I play with natural textures—smooth river stones I’ve collected on hikes, driftwood pieces, and even artisanal pottery made from local clay. I believe biophilic design shouldn’t just have the appearance of nature; it should invite the human touch and interaction. When people walk into a biophilic living room, they shouldn’t just see the decor and imagine what it might be like to walk through the woods. They should feel like they’ve stepped into a parallel, harmonious environment that engages all of their senses and invites them to explore the space.
I have also found that the color palette of a biophilic living room is crucial. People tend to gravitate toward greens, but the truth is that nature offers so much more. Earth tones like warm browns, soft grays, terracotta, and even the sky’s blues can be incorporated into a living room for a more balanced and less predictable environment. When I design a biophilic living room, I always take my home’s surroundings into account. For instance, if the house is situated in the desert, I might use soft yellows, sandy tones, and sunset reds. If the home is near a forest, deep greens, wood browns, and slate grays are good options.
The goal is to bring the home’s exterior environment into the biophilic living room and to create a seamless transition between indoor and outdoor spaces.
Designing a biophilic living room doesn’t hinge on adhering to specific regulations; rather, it requires intuition and a sense of what establishes a connection to the natural world. Over the years, I have stumbled upon a few strategies—some well-trodden, others less so—that I think almost anyone can apply to embed biophilia in their living room.
First and above all, think about the layout. One of the easiest ways to promote a connection to nature is by opening up the room’s flow. In many standard homes, the living room can feel constrained or overly formal. By taking out unnecessary partitions and encouraging a more organic, flowing arrangement, you allow the room’s energy to be more in tune with natural environments. Consider how, in nature, there’s no strict way—things grow and orient in organic patterns. Mimicking this natural arrangement can dramatically change how the room feels.
I had a client who wanted to maintain a large, unwieldy sectional couch in the center of their living room. Although the couch was comfortable, it completely blocked the line of sight to the picturesque garden just outside. Made with an ivory canvas, the low-profile armchair and seat cushions presented a totally different effect. With the armchair angled to the left, the modular poufs arranged in a semicircle around the coffee table, and the sectional couch now on the right, the room felt more open and connected to the garden. I swear the effect was palpable, not just visually.
Another principal suggestion is to utilize natural materials. This doesn’t just mean wood and stone. Fabrics are equally important in a living room, and it’s crucial to avoid synthetic materials. For upholstery, curtains, and rugs, choose natural fiber options like linen, cotton, or wool. Wool, for instance, is a fantastic rug material that wears well, is easy to clean, and is naturally flame retardant. With these natural materials in place, your living room will have a space that literally breathes with nature—a healthy and cozy ambiance. And that’s before we even talk about the visual warmth these natural materials create.
One of the personal projects that I hold dearest utilized handwoven wool throws from a local artisan. The throws added not just warmth but a sense of craftsmanship and connection to the region. When someone sat on the couch or picked up one of those throws, they interacted with something that had been made by human hands with natural materials. That connection is at the heart of biophilic living, which is what I was after in my personal renderings of home.
Another key element that can either enhance or detract from a biophilic space is lighting. Whenever possible, I encourage my design clients to maximize natural light by using large windows, sheer curtains, and mirrors placed especially to reflect light deeper into the room. But for evening hours, I’ve found that warm, dimmable lighting is the key to maintaining a calm, natural atmosphere. I don’t care for harsh bright lights, especially in the early evening hours, when they can mimic the look and feel of midday sunlight. My clients have often been shocked at how much of a mood transformation their living rooms underwent when I suggested (or insisted on) the use of soft lights that provide the same warm golden glow as the setting sun or firelight.
An aspect of biophilic design that I believe is frequently ignored is sound. A space can be breathtakingly beautiful, but if it’s too silent or packed with artificial sound, it can come across as quite dead. I always suggest integrating natural sounds where one can. Whether it’s the sound of a small indoor fountain or wind chimes hung near an open window, these sophisticated auditory cues can make a living room feel much more alive and much more connected to the outside world.
Finally, remember that the essence of biophilic design is all about personalization. My conception of nature may differ completely from yours or anyone else’s. Not long ago, I assisted a client in creating a design that emphasized the profound impact of hiking through a forest as a child. We used photographs and sketches to represent the client’s most loved trees and outdoor spaces. In the end, we also included a few art pieces that featured natural motifs, which helped infuse the space with a personal significance the client desired and a connection to the cherished memories of their outdoor experiences.
The most effective way to make a biophilic living room that is not only lovely but also rich with personal significance is to weave in your own personal history with the natural world. Think about what materials would help conjure the places you hold dear and the flora and fauna that inhabit them. Those plants, objects, and materials would also help make the design that of a biophilic living room. And a biophilic living room fosters a connection with the natural world and—because it helps you feel at peace—also is a living room that helps you feel grounded.
