A design trend that has caught my eye recently is the combination of Japandi and biophilic design. Japandi, which is a fusion of Japanese minimalism and Scandinavian functionality, emphasizes simplicity, natural materials, and craftsmanship. The biophilic design principles that Japandi can now fuse with emphasize something even deeper—a design that connects us to nature in profound ways. This combination creates interiors that feel truly peaceful and, I suspect, will be a go-to for people looking to refresh an interior and, in a way, their lives.
Japandi is captivating not just for its appearance but for its structure—its balance and harmony. Japanese and Scandinavian design philosophies share a foundation and great reverence for nature and the beauty of imperfection. These foundational values manifest in Japandi: clean lines, a minimalist aesthetic, an emphasis on high-quality, natural materials. Biophilic design elements, like indoor plants, sunlight, and natural textures, heighten and enhance these principles. All of that makes your home not only beautiful but also the perfect sanctuary—serene and tranquil—where you can live mindfully.
In my residence, I’ve put the principles of Japandi design to the test. I have stripped my home down to the essentials, which is what this style is all about. The furniture is chosen with care. We have only what we need and what we love: beautifully made wooden chairs (with no adornment) and plush, neutral fabrics in soft shades of white. The colors are muted, the focus on warm greys, soft browns, and calming shades of white. This is a house of earthy tones and minimalist calm. And yet, it is not a dead space. The biophilic design elements give it life.
For example, my living room’s combination of natural wood and greenery is one of my favorite parts of my home. The coffee table is a beautifully simple piece made from oak, with a matte finish that highlights the wood’s natural grain. Ma bonsai sits on the coffee table—a nod to the Japanese culture that permeates my home. Trailing plants gently spill over the table’s edges, unfurling toward the living room’s center. I reckon we’ve had the coffee table since sometime in 2007, and I still appreciate the view from the something N somethings.
The Japanese concept of wabi-sabi, which forms the base for the Japandi style, is about more than aesthetics. It is a philosophy that embraces the beauty of imperfection and is drawn from the pinnacle of Japanese art, pottery. In another life, I might have dabbled in pottery, where I would have the honor of practicing wabi-sabi in its purest form. Yet, here I am, simply embracing the philosophy of wabi-sabi in the path less taken of interior design. My forms may be imperfect and my cracks may be filled, but above all, my art in interior design remains unfired and unglazed, and therefore, unpottery.
One of the projects I worked on was for a couple intending to remodel their home into a Japandi-style retreat. They were inspired by the resplendent beauty of roofs and walls and the marginalia of warm wood tones, natural carpets, and the architectural framework of nearby trees and shrubs. They wanted to feel that warmth without cluttering their space, so we worked on achieving a kind of minimalism that was well-balanced and soft in tone. We allowed lots of natural light to flood in, used a variety of lighting options, and let ample plants—along with a striking indoor Japanese maple—rule the day as unfurled fans of calm upstage any potential for furniture to become a determinant part of a cramped room. They got their perfect oasis.
Biophilic Japandi design places an emphasis on carefully chosen materials. This is a hallmark of the design aesthetic, which is as much about mindful curation as it is about placements and proportions. For example, one dining room I worked on featured a handcrafted oak table as its centerpiece. We left the wood untreated so that it could retain as much of its natural texture and character as possible. Accompanying the table with linen-covered chairs, we placed a stone vase filled with a few branches in the center of the table. Whenever anyone entered that room, their eyes were drawn to the seeded shadows that played on the table’s surface. One of the most gracious aspects of that design was the way it, in a sense, defreighted the room—with each chosen element bearing a seemingly minimal amount of significance, but together coalescing into something quite complete and harmonious, a collective statement that invited the beholder to savor the details.
Biophilic Japandi interiors are another important element in lighting design. In my experience, natural light is one of the factors that’s most likely to create a calming and restorative environment. Whenever possible, I maximize natural light when I’m designing rooms. I do this with a combination of large windows, skylights, and open floor plans that allow light to cascade throughout the space. In one Japandi-inspired bedroom project, we installed floor-to-ceiling windows that looked onto a small, private garden. The windows let in a steady stream of morning light that created a peaceful atmosphere in the bedroom—an incredible, warm, soft-light environment that was perfect for waking up. We complemented the natural light with warm, soft artificial lighting made with natural materials, like pendant lights made of bamboo and lamp shades made of linen. Altogether, the light setup created a super-smooth, almost effortless transition from daytime to nighttime light that made the bedroom feel deeply connected to the outdoors.
One of the most charming things about collaborating on Japandi and biophilic designs is how significantly texture influences our environment. In many minimalist designs, texture may be passed over for sleek, polished surfaces that do not invite an up-close inspection. However, in Japandi design, texture is vital for the warmth and depth of the space. Incorporating the natural textures of textiles, wood grain, or stone makes a space more welcoming and touchable.
In a project to create a home office, I opted for a minimalist Japandi style but added sufficient texture to keep it interesting. The desk, simple in form, was made of pale oak, with lines so clean they could be mistaken for sharp. I partnered this with a chair that looked as though it were ‘thinged’ from a single large chunk of wool and stylized to ensure the kind of ‘bear hug’ comfort that invites the sitter to turn to work without hesitation. The walls held just a few pieces of artwork, which were really not much more than some linen stretched taut and natural wood framing that held the piece well without stealing attention.
For me, equilibrium is essential in biophilic Japandi interiors. At first glance, combining the two concepts may seem like an exercise in contradiction. Japandi is built upon a foundation of such elements as simplicity, decluttering, and understated beauty, while biophilia encourages a certain lavishness, with an abundance of life that often spills over into plant-laden interiors. And yet, both styles value hand-crafted beauty and place great importance on the mood and atmosphere of a space. When done right, biophilic Japandi interiors not only look good but feel good, too.
One lesson I have drawn from working with Japandi design is the importance of thoughtful and intentional choices—a sort of Zen modernism, if you will. Every piece in the room must serve a purpose, and nothing should feel unnecessary. I once worked on a living room loosely inspired by Japandi design, where the goal was to create a space that felt open and uncluttered but without the sterility that so often comes with minimalism. We started with a foundation of natural materials—wooden floors, linen curtains, a stone coffee table with a leather-wrapped base. Then we brought in a few biophilic elements. But instead of using a multitude of plants, we focused on just a scant few statement plants …
What I like most about Japandi interiors is how they embody the present moment, giving us a much-needed design breather in our fast-paced, modern world. There’s no rush when you step into a space with biophilic principles and its Japandi-enhanced elements. I love how the simplicity of a Japandi design might greet you with an easy “hello.” It’s as if the design wants you to sink into its form, feel, and function. You certainly can’t skip by it. You won’t find in a Japandi interior any frills or thrills that invite you to step lightly over a design concept’s various jags and swerves. Its interior experience is inviting and immediate.
In a recent project, I worked with a client who wanted to create a bedroom in the style of Japandi—a blend of Japanese and Scandinavian design—that felt like a retreat from the outside world. We selected a color palette that was neutral and calming—soft greys, whites, and warm browns—that barely registered as colors, allowing for an atmosphere that was really about the interplay of materials and shapes. The bed was made from reclaimed wood, with a simple linen duvet and wool throws layered on top for texture and warmth. My favorite feature of the room is its window treatments, which are essentially shoji screens made from wood frames and rice paper. These diffuse the natural light beautifully, casting a warm glow throughout the room that feels so much healthier than the light from an overhead fixture.
We included a small indoor garden to bring the biophilic touch to this room. In this garden, we carefully selected a few plants to feature, including a small bamboo plant and a peace lily. These plants added even more life and movement to the space. The naturally lit garden, with its soft textures, and the plants therein combined to make this an indoor location that felt both serene and eliving.
An equally significant component of biophilic Japandi design is the employment of natural colors. Earth tones, it seems, are the go-to palette for this style, and they are central for achieving a “harmonious and balanced” effect. My firm recently undertook a dining room project, where we specified a palette of soft greens, warm browns, and muted grays – colors that seem to exist in our natural landscape. The walls were painted a sage green that came straight from (the murky depths of) my imagination. Long story short, when you plop a couple of warm brown shades here and there, some neutral tones in between (which we used in our stoneware and linen napkin selections), and a whole lot of greenery, it’s impossible to achieve an unpleasant aesthetic effect.
What I adore about using these natural colors is their shift with the light throughout the day. In the early hours, the palette of greens and browns is brilliantly fresh and invigorating. By evening, those same colors have turned into something warm and glowing. Their shift throughout the day mimics the way the sun’s light affects the natural colors of things like plants and rocks—an effect that certainly gives biophilic design a greater claim to shaping a big “wow” moment in any given space.
When we create spaces, the way in which we incorporate various elements is often tied to how they will look—whether or not they will be visually pleasing. And while that is, of course, a perfectly valid wish, I think it’s also important that the spaces we inhabit feel supportive and even luxurious in a kind of soft, sustainable way. This is the idea behind biophilic Japandi design, which Wang describes as an “Earth-first approach.” The term “biophilia” refers to humanity’s inherent need to connect with nature; “Japandi” is a design aesthetic that merges the Japanese notion of “wabi-sabi” (finding beauty in imperfection) with Scandinavian minimalism.
The way our houses are constructed has a direct impact on our health and wellness. Biophilic Japandi design takes the basic building blocks of a home and turns them into a sanctuary. It uses life forms, harmonizing shapes, and patterns of light and shadow to make us feel at ease. We live better in a place that values wellness. It will be hard to avoid sincere light when it fills a room in harmonious shapes and patterns. It will be hard to ignore the life forms surrounding us—be they trees in the yard or a family pet—when the earthen tones and tactile qualities of our dwellings engage our senses and enhance our imagination. The way our houses are built affects not only our bodies but also our minds.
Creating this type of atmosphere can be achieved most effectively by positioning furniture and objects mindfully. I’ve always subscribed to the ma principle: It’s a Japanese concept that refers to the balance of space and the relationship between objects and emptiness. In a sense, it’s what you don’t see that gives effective design its power. Japandi design takes the power of ma as one of its core principles, meaning that it uses space effectively to create open, clutter-free, and minimalist homes. And in my experience, both of these principles powerfully influence how you feel in a space.
In one of my projects, I worked with a family whose home was too busy and overwhelming to foster the peacefulness they desired and was, in fact, just an over-decorated version of their cluttered past. We began decluttering the three main living spaces and were ruthless about keeping only the functional and beautiful pieces. We selected a handful of key furniture items (an oak dining table, two linen-upholstered armchairs, etc.) and had them arranged in a way that prioritized purpose and presence. The family could barely believe how much more space they had with a design that was, at first glance, less.
After reducing the space to its necessary elements, we introduced biophilic components in a carefully considered manner. One of the most admirable features of the room is a large, handmade ceramic vase filled with branches of eucalyptus. The vase was placed strategically at the back of the room, this notwithstanding the counterintuitive placement of large objects in the back of a room, protecting the “power position.” (In our defense, the vase’s placement was not braggart for either room, since we were up in the humble ceramic attic.) The vase’s appointment does, however, lead me to one of my main points: Biophilia does not rely on green, plant life alone. It can, and should, rely on mercury, molecule, and dendrite lives as well.
For Japandi-style spaces, achieving the balance of warm minimalism can be a tough nut to crack. “It’s difficult because, as so many spaces are becoming increasingly biophilic, the warm-and-cool color balance is crucial and needs to harmonize with the style’s overall quietude,” says architect and author of Minimalist Living, Catherine “Katie” Kahn. In one nook corner of the living room, Kahn designed an inviting little reading space. While using the “Japandi pallet,” she said, “what goes into the space needs to have a reasoning behind it—like the use of a beautiful, large potted fern. The fern is biophilic, and evokes the smooth, warm feel necessary in this space.”
Always, natural light plays a critical role in fashioning these tranquil, restorative spots. I once collaborated with a client who had a small, poorly lit apartment. She yearned to make the most of the limited natural light it offered. We worked together to create a design that was very much in the spirit of Japandi. This means that it was simple, somewhat minimalist, and also very open in terms of how the light and air movement flow through the space. Though I would not say that this apartment has a modern aesthetic in the strictest sense, it feels fresher and brighter than before. We used light wood, which, like the natural light itself, tends to not only be reflected but also to travel. She also insisted on using sheer linen curtains, which let light in yet also provide some semblance of privacy.
In addition to daylight, I’ve found that the inclusion of natural sounds can also amplify the biophilic experience in a Japandi home. I’ve always adored the sound of water, whether it’s a tiny fountain or the steady beat of rain on the roof. In one of the apartments I renovated, the owner wished to have something akin to a fountain in their living room. I chose to work with a H2O technology called a ‘sheet waterfall’ that, in tandem with light and the beautiful raku pieces of clay I made, would lend a Zen-like quality to the space. And don’t worry, it’s not going to flood anytime soon! The client told me that the sounds made a significant difference in how they experienced their home, especially during stressful periods when they desperately needed an escape.
Environmental friendliness is another important aspect of biophilic Japandi design. I always try to select sustainable materials and environmentally friendly products. As far as I’m concerned, creating a home that supports us in leading our best lives means considering not just the immediate biophilic impact of the home’s materials and furnishings but also their broader environmental impact. One project I worked on used sustainably harvested wood for almost all the furniture, and organic textiles for the curtains and upholstery. We painted the house with eco-friendly, non-toxic paint. On one hand, all these choices shrank the home’s environmental footprint; on the other, they promised better indoor air quality as well.
One of the most memorable projects I’ve worked on is a kitchen reno where the clients wanted a nature-connected and functional space. We selected a natural stone counter that welcomed organics and a richness of texture into the kitchen, and we paired it with simple, hand-glazed tile for the backsplash. The cabinetry was constructed of locally sourced wood, finished in a way that neither glosses nor paints to cover the beauty of the wood—and, oh, the lovely grain! To top it off—literally—we installed a large window above the sink. When the space is full of natural light, it is stunning. The clients have a little herb garden; the window is the literal access point from inside the kitchen to outside in the biophilic kitchen experience.
Throughout the years, I have come to understand that the art of biophilic Japandi design requires equilibrium. There is the natural world, with its beauties and bounties. And then there is the built environment, which can, if done correctly, enhance and elevate the natural world—think of aesthetics, health, and sustainability. The Japandi part of the equation brings in the beauty of minimalism; the biophilic aspect encourages us to make space for the life forms and natural processes that we, in the modern world, often neglect or obscure. Biophilic design, then, is fundamentally about well-being and images of a living future.
Ultimately, biophilic Japandi design encompasses more than just establishing an attractive interior—it is about forming a habitat that underpins your psychological and physiological well-being. It encourages a kind of meditation in movement; you can appreciate its essence as soon as you enter the space. This is how I’m able to grasp the biophilia and simplicity of Japandi design every time I walk into a space where it’s been implemented. I marvel at the way a little nature goes a long way, thanks to the brilliant simplicity of the design and the powerful, pervasive presences of plants and natural materials.
