What is really special about creating outdoor spaces is making them feel like an extension of nature instead of a break from it. To me, biophilic design is the utmost union of architecture and natural aesthetics. And few outdoor structures are more adept at this union than well-designed biophilic gazebos. Historically, gazebos have always been places of leisure and reflection. They have invited us to pause and observe. But if we work with biophilic principles to design a gazebo, we make it much more than a superficial structure in a garden; we make it a sensory experience space that beckons us to enjoy the sass and chill of our nearby natural surroundings.
Section 1: Aligning Structure with Surroundings
The very essence of a gazebo is to occupy a space that could be considered any man’s land—to exist in that sweet spot between spatial freedom and the safety of enclosure. The work of biophilic design is to make any structure—particularly, in this instance, a gazebo—seem as if it belongs, as if it would be wrong and unnatural for it not to exist where it does. It isn’t enough to scatter pretty curtains of light through the latticework, as lovely as that might be. Instead, the effort has to be made to integrate the structure with its environment.
I once encountered a gazebo built in a forest where the only reasonable choice was to construct the thing around an existing tree. The design overseer had the gumption to allow several of the branches to extend into the structure of the gazebo itself. Sure, the part of the tree that isn’t actually a part of the structure itself is dead and brown (and likely a bit moldy). But in that sunlight-dappled space, with me inside the structure and the tree on some wavering line between utility and art, it’s hard not to think that a pretty gazebo in a pretty glade offers hardly more shelter than that beautiful, leafy embrace.
When I carry out related commissions, I first take stock of the immediate environment. If it’s an oceanside community, I might opt for the use of local woods that echo the color of driftwood or for the incorporation of salt-tolerant plants in my design. For a gazebo set in a garden or forest, I tend toward the use of materials and forms that reflect the local flora. Either of these could render a structure that feels like it has naturally found its place in the landscape rather than being an imposition. If adding local water features is a possibility, I never pass it up.
Water is mesmerizing and hyper-present in our lives. The addition of a small-scale water feature, either bubbling or flowing (or even the suggestion of either), in or near my design instantly elevates it beyond. I think the sound, even with the most minimal of drums, transforms a solitary experience into something shared.
Biophilic design necessitates consideration of materiality at both the level of appearance and essence. The condition of the former is easily met. Materials may be shaped, textured, and selected to convincingly imitate the visuals of nature. But what about the latter condition—that is, meeting the essential aspect of sustainability? Building with materials that are locally available, renewable, and have a low carbon footprint is one sure method of achieving that essential quality. A case study of a structure designed for ecological sustainability in a mountainous region can offer an illustration of this principle in practice. Would the local timber used for the beams and roof of a gazebo, or the local stone that formed the base, have led to the appearance of a structure that could be described as “sustainable” in relation to that basic appearance-essence condition?
Nonetheless, it is necessary to strike a balance between aesthetic choices and sustainability. Bamboo is a material whose properties suit biophilic design. For one, it’s lightweight; for another, it’s incredibly strong. And it can grow so fast that, in the right conditions, it can renew itself within a season. I have proposed using bamboo in several pavilion-style designs—particularly for sheltered spaces in warmer climates, where its light weight and strength so readily convert to long-span structures. Another sustainable option that can elevate the appearance of a gazebo is reclaimed wood. I once worked with old barn wood for a pavilion in a rural setting.
The wood had character. Natural imperfections gave the structure so much more personality than if we had sheathed it in new timber. By choosing reclaimed materials for projects like that one, we’re not just reducing waste; we’re imbuing the appearance of the pavilion with a history.
It’s not just the looks; it’s the satisfaction of knowing that biophilia in design can have a positive environmental impact. Take, for instance, the materials of a gazebo; they need not be timber—that’s a whole other discussion. But timber is a sustainable material in and of itself, given that it is sourced responsibly from sustainably managed forests. The solar lighting that can be used in a gazebo? That’s another sustainable move. And if using these materials makes the gazebo a low-impact structure, then it becomes that much more much of “a positive force in its natural surroundings” and “not a detriment” to them.
In my opinion, a fundamental aspect of a biophilic gazebo is its interaction with the diurnal and seasonal cycles. The way a structure relates to the movement of sunlight, for instance, is crucial to its harmony. When well designed, a gazebo can use the appearance of the sun to make an ordinary moment extraordinary: Imagine the setting sun filtering through the slats of an open-sided structure that stands parallel to its path, turning the slats into a kind of lute (or barbeque) while casting warm tones over the viewer and surrounding the viewer with the magic of late afternoon light.
Part 3: Enriching the Sensory Experience with Plants and Animals A biophilic gazebo isn’t just about the building or the materials used to make it; it’s about the immersive experience that comes from the interaction between the building and the living organisms around it. For me, a species-appropriate, biophilic gazebo should be designed to enrich the sensory experience of any visitors to the shelter in every possible way. This means I must carefully consider the plants, animals, and even the sounds and smells that will tantalize the space inhabited by the gazebo.
A biophilic gazebo can become something very special if it incorporates climbing plants. I wholeheartedly endorse the use of vines—wisteria, jasmine, or even grapevines—with which to wrap such a structure. Not only do these plants obscure the hard lines of a gazebo and create a visually more commanding and organic form, but they also bring to the design seasonal life. In spring, these vines unfurl clustered, fragrant flowers. In autumn, some of the varieties produce a small harvest or show off colorful leaves that contrast well with the evergreen palmettos and pines. This is a scene that never gets old.
I have a clear memory of a gazebo that had become so entwined with vines that it was hard to tell where the wood of the structure ended and where the plant life began. On warm evenings, the scent of jasmine wafted about; in the afternoons, the thick foliage offered shade. This was not just a place to curl up with a book; it was a part of the landscape, a constant, with no imagination necessary to see it as a living, breathing part of the scene.
However, the experience does not solely emerge from the plants. When I design a project, I always give careful consideration to the local animal population and how best to incorporate them into the structure. For example, the project that I’m currently working on has a gazebo that is strategically placed right next to a small meadow. This area is abundant with wildflowers—a sure way to attract the local pollinators. It is such an obviously good idea that I imagine other people have probably done this same thing a number of times. It is quite nice to sit in the gazebo and watch all of the life humming around in that small tidy space.
Enhancing the sensory experience is greatly augmented by the presence of water. One of my favorite methods of working this elemental medium into an ecosystem is to add a small pond or water feature to the space being designed. The sound of running water not only provides a tranquil atmosphere for humanity, but it also gives wildlife—like frogs and birds—a living space that allows them to connect with a part of the ecosystem that is seemingly part of the design. A small pond beneath a gazebo is one of the most tranquil, beautiful places I have ever worked—both designing and experiencing it.
The still water reflected the structure above it, and koi fish swimming just below the surface became a part of the water’s ecosystem without which the pond would be a lifeless bastion of stillness.
When I create a biophilic gazebo, I first consider how it will feel to be in the space. The sensory engagement of natural materials is frequently ignored when discussing architecture. Yet it is what allows us to interact viscerally with buildings. I adore the smooth, cold stone underfoot or the way my hand travels along the splintered timber of an exposed beam. These contrasting textures ground us in the structure and in the moment, making us more aware of and engaged with both the stillness and the “space” of the gazebo.
The choice of seating is something I find especially important. When constructing an outdoor structure like a gazebo or pavilion, I could easily choose to outfit it with standard outdoor furniture. However, I prefer to build my seating right into the design of the structure—benches made from the same wood as the siding of the gazebo, for example, or stone seating that doubles as part of the landscape. This not only looks better; it feels better, too. I think there’s something about “sitting in nature’s living room” that connects with the viewer in a way that a flimsy plastic chair just cannot.
And yes, my friend does have a pretty amazing way with words.
We cannot overlook the significance of light in a biophilic gazebo. In terms of natural light, the movement of the sun throughout the day is a critical design consideration. I think about where the light is going to come in the early morning versus where it will be in the late afternoon, and how the shadows will play in the space. The artificial lighting can also work as a biophilic asset if done right. I lean toward low-energy LED options that ideally mimic the glow of fireflies or fall somewhere in the soft, warm lighting spectrum. I do not want a biophilic gazebo to be lit with harsh light, especially when it can be used throughout the evening.
Light, in any form, is a critical design consideration.
Finally, let us discuss auditory experience. We tend to concentrate on the visual elements of biophilic design, but sound is of equal significance. Wind chimes, for instance, are a very straightforward yet effective apparatus for augmenting the auditory experience of a gazebo. I prefer to use chimes made from natural materials such as bamboo or shell, which produce soft, melodic tones that blend with the environment and make an already spacious structure seem even more open. The wind enters the design as a collaborator, generating a kind of dynamic sculptural presence that’s noticeable only in the quietest moments.
At times, I will add to a site plan design elements that can make the natural world sound even more alluring, like placing a gazebo next to a copse of trees that sing in the wind or in a pocket where the roar of a nearby waterfall is certain to be heard. Those auditory signals can ramp up the experience of being in the gazebo to the next level. You’re not only seeing nature—you’re hearing it, feeling it, and becoming a part of it.
Conclusion: Crafting Areas for Reflection and Association
A biophilic gazebo is a structure that encourages a person to contemplate, while providing a direct connection to nature. These simple, yet elegant, structures can serve as the heart of a natural space, making a profound statement about the value of nature in the lives of all people. Gazebos historically have had a big presence and thus become a memorable model for providing access to and a view of nature, whether from the inside out or the outside in.
A biophilic gazebo is unique because it melds with the natural world, giving all the living creatures in its surrounding space a safe place to hang out, whether they’re temporary inhabitants or long-term residents. The gazebo is designed to be there for any being that might want to use it, just as the good old days of nature before we started fortifying with so many buildings. We got up to a lot of bad stuff in the biz with all that concrete and rebar, but this space is meant to be chill inside and out, both visually and acoustically, with or without the company of people.
In the end, the strength of biophilic design lies in its capability to beckon us from our bustling lives into a calm and clear space. It allows us to breathe, to listen, and to be enveloped in our surroundings.
