Living in my tiny Chicago studio has made me hyperaware of how much our built environment affects our mental health. When I’m stuck staring at that brick wall three feet from my window, I find myself daydreaming about buildings that actually work with nature instead of blocking it out entirely. That’s what got me interested in biophilic exterior design – the idea that buildings can actually help us connect with nature instead of cutting us off from it completely.
I first learned about biophilia through those plant Instagram accounts I mentioned – you know, the ones with gorgeous apartments that probably cost more than my entire salary. But I started noticing posts about buildings that incorporated living elements into their actual structure, not just houseplants on windowsills. It turns out this isn’t some new trendy thing – humans have been trying to bring nature into architecture for literally thousands of years.
Think about it: ancient civilizations knew what they were doing. The Hanging Gardens of Babylon (assuming they actually existed and weren’t just really good ancient PR), Moorish courtyards with their fountains and gardens, Greek temples positioned to catch the perfect light throughout the day. Even Gothic cathedrals were basically trying to recreate the feeling of being in a forest, with all those tall columns reaching up like tree trunks and light filtering through stained glass like sunlight through leaves.
The ancient Chinese had Feng Shui, which was all about orienting buildings to work with natural forces instead of fighting against them. Meanwhile, I’m over here trying to figure out how to get any natural light at all into my apartment that was clearly designed by someone who thought humans were nocturnal.
What’s fascinating is how these historical examples show that connecting with nature through architecture used to be normal, not some luxury feature. But somewhere along the way – probably around the time cities got really dense and land got really expensive – we decided that buildings should just be boxes that keep the weather out, and if you wanted nature, that was your problem to solve.
Biophilic exterior design is basically about changing that mindset. Instead of buildings being these isolated objects plopped down wherever, they’re designed to actually work with their environment. We’re talking about using natural materials that age and weather in beautiful ways, organic shapes that feel less harsh than all those right angles, and actually incorporating living elements like plants and water features into the structure itself.
The materials part makes so much sense when you think about it. Wood, stone, natural fibers – these materials connect us to forests and mountains and natural processes. They also tend to age in ways that feel organic rather than just looking worn down and depressing. Compare that to the concrete and vinyl siding situation happening in most affordable housing, which just looks worse and more soul-crushing as it ages.
Then there are the shapes – biophilic design uses curves and irregular forms that mirror what you’d find in nature. Instead of everything being perfectly straight lines and right angles, you get flowing forms that feel more comfortable to be around. I notice this in my own apartment: the few things I own with organic shapes (like my hanging planters) feel so much more calming than all the rectangular furniture I had to buy because it’s what fits in small spaces.
The really exciting stuff happens when architects start thinking about how buildings can respond to their local climate and ecosystem. Instead of every building looking the same regardless of whether it’s in Phoenix or Seattle, you get architecture that works with local weather patterns, incorporates native plants, and actually improves its immediate environment.
Take Milan’s Bosco Verticale, which I discovered through a Reddit thread about innovative urban design. These two residential towers are literally vertical forests – over 900 trees, 5,000 shrubs, and 11,000 plants integrated into the building facades. It’s not just decoration; it’s a functional ecosystem that provides habitat for birds and insects, improves air quality, and helps regulate the building’s temperature naturally.
I can’t even keep twelve houseplants alive in my studio, and these people built entire forests into skyscrapers. The engineering alone must be incredible – making sure the structure can handle all that weight, designing irrigation systems, choosing plants that can thrive at different heights and exposures. It’s like the ultimate version of what I’m trying to do with my tiny apartment plant collection, except actually done by people who know what they’re doing.
The National Gallery Singapore is another example that caught my attention because of how it combines historic buildings with modern biophilic elements. They took these old colonial buildings and added these amazing leaf-shaped shading structures and overhanging roofs that work with the tropical climate. It shows how biophilic design doesn’t have to mean starting from scratch – you can integrate these principles into existing structures.
This gives me hope for all the terrible apartment buildings that already exist in cities like Chicago. Instead of tearing everything down and rebuilding (which most people can’t afford anyway), maybe there are ways to retrofit buildings to be more connected to nature. Add green walls, improve natural lighting, create shared outdoor spaces – the kinds of changes that could make places like my building actually livable instead of just barely functional.
But of course, implementing biophilic design isn’t simple, especially in dense urban areas where every square foot costs money and everything has to meet safety codes. I’ve learned this from trying to set up our rooftop garden – even small changes involving plants and outdoor spaces require dealing with structural concerns, maintenance issues, and weather challenges.
For buildings, the complications are way more intense. How do you integrate living walls with proper waterproofing? How do you maintain plants on a thirty-story building? How do you design organic shapes using construction materials that come in standard sizes? These aren’t just aesthetic choices – they’re engineering problems that require real solutions.
That’s where some really cool technology comes in. I’ve been reading about self-healing concrete that has bacteria built into it to fill cracks automatically – basically, concrete that can repair itself like living tissue. There are photoreactive coatings that actually clean the air around buildings, and smart glass that adjusts its transparency based on sunlight, naturally regulating temperature without using energy.
The plant technology is advancing too. Hydroponic systems make it possible to have extensive green walls without the weight and drainage issues of traditional soil. Advanced irrigation systems can maintain plants on building facades without human intervention. These innovations make it possible to integrate nature into buildings without creating maintenance nightmares.
What excites me most about all this is the potential for making cities more livable for people who don’t have access to private outdoor space. If buildings themselves can provide some connection to nature – through materials, forms, integrated plant life, better natural lighting – that could improve quality of life for millions of people living in dense urban areas.
Right now, access to nature is basically determined by how much money you have. Rich people get houses with yards, or apartments with good light and balconies, or they live in neighborhoods with parks and tree-lined streets. Everyone else gets whatever’s affordable, which is often buildings designed without any consideration for human wellbeing.
Biophilic design has the potential to change that equation, but only if it becomes standard practice rather than a luxury feature. We need building codes that require natural lighting, incentives for developers to include green elements, and retrofitting programs for existing housing stock.
From my tiny apartment with its one sad window, I can see how much difference small changes make – better lighting, living plants, access to outdoor space through our rooftop garden. Now imagine if those principles were built into buildings from the start, if connecting with nature was considered a basic requirement for housing rather than an optional amenity.
The buildings going up now will be around for decades. We have the opportunity to make them places that actually support human wellbeing and environmental health, or we can keep building the same depressing boxes that prioritize maximum profit over livability.
I’m obviously not an architect or urban planner, just someone trying to make a tiny urban space more livable. But I’ve seen firsthand how much our physical environment affects our mental health and quality of life. Biophilic design offers a way to create buildings that work with nature instead of against it, that support the people who live in them, and that contribute to healthier cities overall.
Whether that potential gets realized probably depends on whether we start demanding better from the people who design and build our cities. Because right now, most affordable housing is still being built like nature is something that happens to other people.
Robert is a retired engineer in Michigan who’s spent the past few years adapting his longtime home for accessibility and wellbeing. He writes about practical, DIY ways to make homes more comfortable and life-affirming as we age — from raised-bed gardens to better natural light.
