Every day, I seem to hear more and more good talks about creating places that give our wellness a boost and make us feel like we’re connected to the great outdoors. Biophilic design, and especially biophilic furniture, is something that I’ve seen work magic not just on the eye but also on the lives of people living and working in the spaces I’ve had the pleasure to furnish. Time and again, I’ve been amazed at how a piece can literally change the mental and physical health prospects of someone inhabiting a given space.
Biophilic Furniture: A Deep-Seated Revelation
Eight years ago, I had an eye-opening moment. I was sitting in a corporate office, one of those spaces that could be anywhere or nowhere, filled with rows of unspectacular gray desks and way too much fluorescent lighting. I could feel the disconnect between the work I was doing and the space in which I was doing it. My productivity and my mood gravitated downward. I didn’t know it then, but I was working in a space devoid of biophilic design—a space intentionally cut off from any interaction with the natural world.
To alter that situation, I took a small plant and placed it on my workstation. It was an immediate upgrade to the whole situation. Not only did it give my office an air of life that it desperately lacked, but it also gave me something real to focus on in my workspace. Other staff took note of this development and introduced their own plants into the office. Within a short time, a serious conversation regarding office redesign was underway, precipitated by the unexpected introduction of some decidedly un-pared-back potted greenery.
Biophilic furniture is hard to pin down because it’s easy to mistake it for just another sustainable-design movement. At first glance, one might think it’s about using natural materials—like wood, stone, or bamboo—but really, it’s about much more than that. It’s about the goodness of craftsmanship, of forms and textures that evoke both a human hand and the ostensibly chaotic, unconfined beauty of the natural world. It’s about furniture pieces that foster a serious relationship between the indoor environment and the outdoors—an almost Sisyphean task, given how we’ve confined ourselves inside buildings—yet somehow remain functional and resonate with our senses in a way that maintains some kind of equilibrium.
Consider the design of a chair. This particular chair had been worked on for a client. When I say “worked on,” I mean that my company held a design contest wherein the winning designs were those the company worked with to realize prototypes. So, I was involved in that particular chair design contest. The chair we were designing (under the auspices of my company) was supposed to be a kind of tree branch—a tribute, an homage, a well-disguised and well-reasoned (if you knew the rationale, you might not think it so reasonable) imitation of something naturally occurring in the world.
Biophilic furniture aims to establish a sensory connection to nature and elicit an emotional response. “Evoking” is not a word one typically uses to describe furniture design. It connotes a certain druidism to which not all designers aspire. Yet, here we are at the bedrock of biophilic design—it’s not enough to use naturally derived materials or sustainably processed woods. Intent matters; for biophilic design to occur, a furniture piece must have nature in mind—make that “built nature.”
Practical Applications of Biophilic Furniture Make Urban Family Life Work Biophilic design is an emerging method for creating healthy indoor environments. On a recent trip to San Francisco, the husband and I toured an apartment for a young couple and their two kids. They had sought out an urban refuge, but the reality of their space was limited by the nature of high-rise living. Every piece of furniture they owned not only had to serve its obvious function but also had to work in tandem with other pieces to render the whole space simultaneously nurturing and functional.
I designed a coffee table that had a planter built right into the center of it—complete with an automatic watering system. So, it served as a living room centerpiece where the family might assemble to eat and lounge together, and it brought some greenery into the space in an otherwise innovative, even audacious, way. Yes, I was growing plants in my coffee table. Plus, the kids loved the whole concept. They got to help care for the little garden that sprouted from their table, and I saw how that kind of furniture could inspire even more naturalistic curiosity than a regular old tabletop could.
Using biophilic furniture of this sort moves a space from functional to emotionally enriching. Each piece incorporates natural forms, allows for natural light, or is made from natural materials. Every bit of the space is intended to be a bridge to the outside world. This makes senses when you consider both the studio and the clients. They are artists who have a very particular and intimate relationship with the materials they use to make their work—be those materials natural or synthetic.
Eliminating Nature Deficit Pasadena’s bid for the 2025 International Space Station is an opportunity to improve local STEM pathways and eliminate nature-deficit in our urban communities. At Pasadena’s Caltech, 100% of STEM students who perform undergraduate research, 96% of whom work on faculty research, are mentored. These students and their mentors are our foothold in an IPAY— = an opportunity to increase the local research economy while restarting the broadband and improving our local STEM ecosystem that serves Pasadena’s Black and Brown families.
In my furniture designs, I often employ curved lines. To me, these shapes are the very essence of what we see distilled in nature. I mean, in everyday life, we see a lot of straight lines and sharp angles, and when we encounter them, we often feel urbanized or industrialized. But when we inhabit spaces with natural shapes, we feel safe, cozy, and at ease. That’s why my cuved lines are one reason a reading nook I designed for a space in New Orleans feels like a tailor-made cocoon. It’s also why my client Deborah feels a sense of comfort when she “unwinds” and curls up in the nook after what she’s described as a day having been “totally jam-packed.”
Another aspect of biophilic design is light. The way natural light interacts with furniture can make a subtle yet important difference in how a person feels in a space. I once undertook a project making bedside tables that had stone tops reflecting morning light in a way that created very soft, delicate shadows in the room. These tables served as places to set lamps, with all the usual implications of kindling light during the night time hours. But unlike a lamp, which projects light in a pretty direct way, these tables were designed to scatter and soften the light. They were made to help in the gradual, gentle transition from night to day.
Biophilic Furniture: A Future Harmonious with Nature
The topic of biophilic furniture takes us into discussions of design futures, where the paramount goal is not just to achieve harmony between people and nature but also between people and the very different kinds of spaces they inhabit. One construction site for that future is right here at Aalto University, where a group of designers, scientists, and artists are working not just with the space between people and their furniture but with the space that furniture occupies in the world. The next chapter of their work may involve integrating technology with the natural world in ways that are not just seamless but also enriching.
In my opinion, adaptivity is a crucial part of biophilic furniture. Nature is never static, and if we can create environments that change over time, our interior spaces will only get richer and more diverse in their offerings. I’ve been playing a bit with modular biophilic furniture that can evolve based on the season or the family unit’s needs. A “shelf” that can be reconfigured in the summer to accommodate plants and then be returned to a more book-friendly mode in the winter (when you need to curl up with a book and a blanket—more on that later). All this curation isn’t just practical; it’s a “safe” way to get an ever-closer relationship with the natural world, given that biophilia is hardwired into us.
From what I’ve seen, it’s the little, deliberate details that count the most. We all want to feel connected—to the world around us, to one another, and to the places we inhabit. When carefully conceived and integrated, biophilic design gives our furniture that connection. We no longer relate to just the chairs we sit in or the tables we work at; we relate to every piece of furniture as a living, breathing part of the space we call home.
Seeing a client respond with joy to a finished biophilic design piece is what keeps me pushing biophilic design as my main design philosophy. Watching someone run their hand over the piece of wood that makes up the tabletop of a work station (or a piece of art) is a moment when I know I am accomplishing something that has, until now, existed only in my imagination. To see the pendant light “hanging” in a segmented column of wood that fits naturally (and somehow effortlessly) in the small room off the main hallway is an “aha” moment for my client and for me.
