When you stroll through a biophilic-design university in the United States, it’s a world apart from just another university. A biophilic university eliminates “Navigated by endless corridors of sterile, concrete buildings, you find yourself almost lost in a labyrinth of illogically spaced and poorly signposted structures.” It beats a biophilic university enhances its campus and living spaces with something better: interactiveness with the environment. Both spaces and their inhabitants are better for it. “These principles transform not just the physical space, but the occupants of that space as well.”
Among the many enjoyable projects I have worked on, one really stood out: a redesign of a central academic building for a mid-sized university, the structure of which was a cold, functional, and rather personality-less mid-20th-century design. The university’s administration understood the connection between physical space and student success, with well-being and mental health being just as important as academic achievement. They wanted a new building that would be conducive to modern pedagogical methods while offering something just as vital: a nurturing human environment.
Initially, we looked closely at the current building framework and thought about ways to incorporate natural elements into the almost sepulchral interior. The nearly 300,000-square-foot structure had few, if any, places that felt pleasant to a person with sensibilities wired like mine. The answer, it turned out, was a massive central atrium spanning several stories, which we populated with what I like to think of as a “living wall” of species that constitute a diverse ecosystem, which is a nice counterpoint to the gray stone that comprises the exterior of the building.
Not long after the completion of the new building, I talked with one of the professors about how the facility was being used. He told me how, in the old building, students hustled between classes and hardly slowed down long enough to breathe, much less study or collaborate, in the building or on its doorstep. Now, in the new atrium, students were doing all of those things—in fact, almost making the space an extension of the Functions of the Classroom space that we had talked about previously.
The significance of natural light and green areas in educational settings.
The biophilic design of a university can have a significant influence on its students. One of the key components of such a design scheme is natural light—specifically, the careful placement of windows and the use of materials that permit as much light as possible into indoor spaces. The architects of biophilic buildings aim to let daylight flood interior spaces. They also try to ensure that the light the building’s occupants are exposed to for the duration of their stay in the campus topography.
The university I referred to earlier underwent a radical transformation of its learning spaces, and the change was remarkable. I remember one room that they had remodeled, and I felt like it was a completely different place. It was so open and so bright, with windows everywhere looking out onto this cool little garden right outside. They had native plants in there, which is pretty awesome—most campuses are so far removed from nature that this was a little oasis. You could tell that the garden was going to be a much louder version of nature right outside those windows in a few months when spring brought everything to life.
In another university project in which I participated, we took the idea of green spaces a step further and created outdoor classrooms. These were not simply picnic tables in a courtyard but fully conceived classroom spaces, complete with appropriate seating arrangements; chalkboards that could actually be used; and, in some cases, weather-resistant furniture that put beyond doubt the idea that this was a classroom. The administration, however, was concerned about the number of days that might be lost to inclement weather. Yet students and faculty alike quickly embraced the concept after there was a “soft opening” in the fall semester and a more prominent presence in the spring. In fact, one of the big advocates for this step forward was a professor in the philosophy department who couldn’t have said more positive things about taking his classes outside.
These green areas transcended their original purpose. They became pivotal spots for our community. Students held group projects there; clubs met there; staff basked in the beautiful biophilic settings while they took their lunch breaks. What began as somewhat of a novel idea quickly—almost immediately, in fact—became an integral part of our campus life. One student remarked that the campus’s outdoor spaces truly transformed her entire college experience. She had little access to nature growing up, yet had always lived in the urban world. Being in biophilic spaces as part of campus life was something she never expected and something she found truly awe-inspiring.
Biophilic design can improve student well-being.
The most important influence of biophilic design in universities may well be the beneficial effect it has on student well-being. There is little doubt that university life can be quite stressful. Students have a lot to manage, from their academic duties to a sometimes-mad social whirl to often holding down part-time jobs. We cannot say at this point how many spaces have been designed or reimagined in a biophilic manner; their benefits, however, seem self-evident. Can we even imagine a university that is trying to optimize mental health, retention rates, and “success” without that basic space being as stress-free as possible?
I was part of a team working on a project with a prominent public university to redesign its student center, which historically had seen lack of use and been viewed as an uninviting and drab space. The university wanted to promote use of the building, with the new design focusing on making the space more conducive to relaxation and community. Its push for a healthier built environment drove the design decisions in that direction. So, what did we do? We built a bridge between nature and the indoor environment.
Our initial move was to install enormous vertical gardens on the very walls of the primary lounge area. These living walls not only provided dramatic beauty but also improved air quality and infused the surroundings with an almost zen-like atmosphere. We replaced rigid angles with organic shapes and materials, switching to sturdier, softer, wood-based furniture as well as pieces made from natural fibers. Last but not least, the pièce de résistance: a modest-size water feature right in the center of the room that was supposed to enhance sonic tranquility, though we honestly couldn’t hear it too well from our seats just outside the lounge.
Once the renovation was finished, I was able to watch how the pupils made use of the updated space. It was evident that they had a newfound appreciation for the student center—not just as a thoroughfare on their way to other parts of the campus but as an actual destination to spend time. One of the first students I encountered in the center’s new layout, a woman named Karina, described it as “her spot.” She cited the presence of water, plants, and ample natural light as reasons the space worked for her as a retreat from the pressures of academia.
The student body accepted the biophilic features of the design almost immediately, showing how concerned they are with more than just the pretty parts of the building. The student center is where you go to really and truly be a student, and in it, you have to deal with whatever pesky part of your life—be it physical, mental, or emotional—that’s getting in the way of your academic performance. Conditions such as anxiety or depression can definitely fit in that pesky category, and biophilic design in the student center can be seen as a potential remedy.
Strategies That Work to Include Biophilic Design in University Campuses
The advantages of design that embraces biophilia are apparent; however, including biophilic elements in the current campus infrastructure can be challenging, particularly on budgets and space-restricted campuses. Still, there are ways to integrate biophilic design, and these range from large-scale, new-construction strategies to small, retrofit projects; at nearly every level of implementation, these offer significant opportunities to improve the campus environment.
An easy way to bring biophilic design into the campus structure is to form green corridors that allow for nature to be present as students move about the campus. This means not only creating more accessible nature through these paths but also making them more meditative spaces. For transitional areas on this campus, classrooms too near to the next lecture to allow a proper study break, we placed trees, which act as biofilters, along the basis of the green walls. These are just a few moments of tranquility we were able to design into the master plan of this urban campus; each of these areas is now a more peaceful and navigable space.
One student from the project feedback phase captured my attention. He described how, prior to the renovation, he always felt hurried and pressed for time in moving between his various lectures. The pathways were made of concrete with traffic consistently high. The atmosphere around campus lacked any real greenery and was perpetually crowded, daylight be damned. After the renovation, the same pathways and traffic felt utterly different. With the introduction of the green corridors, walking across campus became an experience steeped in tranquility and moments of zen. “It’s almost like going into a meditation chamber,” he might have understated.
A good strategy is to change libraries into spaces that promote well-being. While university libraries are often the intellectual centers of a campus, they can also be intense and stressful places where students feel they must perform at a high level. In an 18-month project with one university, we took on the somewhat daunting challenge of re-imagining their library—and not just as a repository of texts but as a place conducive to achieving an optimal state of well-being. We placed greenery and Earth Elements throughout, pushed for the installation of much larger windows to allow for bilaterally symmetrical lighting conditions with an adequate amount of natural sunlight, and brought in redesigned furniture that permitted students to read and study in a more relaxed and low-stakes environment.
The difference was apparent to students from the get-go. One graduate student even admitted to avoiding the library prior to the redo because of its intense and sterile atmosphere. Now, she takes refuge in spaces along the reimagined east side of the building. There, she finds natural light and views of trees that help her study like a graduate student should. Productivity has skyrocketed, and the usually anxious progenitor of that productivity — the looming deadline — now seems much more manageable.
Biophilic design doesn’t have to be on a grand scale to have a profound effect. Even potted plants can work wonders. Some of the best offices I’ve worked in have been filled with green plants. Kent State takes a brilliant approach as well. Every single classroom is filled with green, from potted plants to flowers in vases. Another office where I interacted with plants was at Indiana University, where the classrooms were filled with plants, including green walls. Well, at least that was part of the biophilic design that I interacted with. As far as I know, the plants at both universities were anthropogenically calibrated communities, which means they were designed by people for a specific purpose. Still, every single potted plant, flower, green wall, and closet monstera works as a piece of biophilic design.
Biophilic university design brings long-term payoffs.
Improving student well-being and academic performance reaps immediate rewards in the biophilic university. Yet there are long-term impacts—community formation and sustainability—that make even stronger cases for biophilic design. These impacts take biophilic design and make it something better and something more, for not just the individual students at a moment in time but for those who will occupy the “university as community” model over the long haul. Biophilic universities can also serve as models for larger institutions. If entanglement with creationist biology threatens to destabilize the university’s community, then shouldn’t something as ethically compelling as biophilic design strengthen that community?
In a university project centered on sustainability, we developed a building that had a green roof and solar panels as two principal design elements. The green roof—which is a far more complex and intricate installation than one might intuitively imagine—played a dual role, giving not only insulation to the building but also serving as a space for students to congregate for classes, take breaks, or get involved in university-organized environmental projects. It was, in short, an ideal teaching space. Indeed, these two design elements—integrating renewable energy solutions with biophilic design—were perfect opportunities to try out ideas that reduced the building’s carbon emissions while also enhancing the student experience within it.
Students who live and learn in sustainable and natural environments frequently carry these values into their future careers and personal lives. One potent example came from a student who, after being involved with the green roof project, resolved to enter a career in urban planning. The direction of her career had been uncertain until she participated in this project and made the connection between her campus and this new path toward an increased focus on sustainability in her life. The design of her campus is biophilic; thus, her choice to pursue urban planning is, in some small way, a direct result of her “living” in a biophilic environment.
In the end, university design imbued with biophilia is about much more than just form and function. It is about creating true spaces of residence where students can thrive, and it is the design and designers of biophilic places who step into this critical role. The increasingly recognized values of biophilic design principles offer opportunities for not just learning but also for ecological sensibilities to permeate next-generation campuses in ways that are somehow uncommon in this age of incessant digital connectivity. If biophilic design is indeed to be the next great frontier for campus design, then Tallman and Wang offer us visions and directions to both see and step toward that frontier.
To sum up, biophilic university design represents a fundamental shift in how we think about higher education; it focuses both on the academic and on the seldom-acknowledged emotional dimensions of education. The intention of this shift is to bring about a fundamental change in the educational experience afforded to students. Biophilic design sees not only the scientific pathway of what makes a campus good for living and learning but also the arts pathway—that is, what kinds of spaces, structures, and ways of teaching and leading can inspire students to be creative, engaged, and to thrive.
