Biophilic design has arrived in the built world, integrating with architecture and design to create a world more connected to nature. Incorporating plants, natural light, and even water features has become more common in spaces like offices, schools, and hospitals. But to truly connect a space with nature, one must not only use the kinds of natural forms (think: tree-like columns) that architects like back in the day (like, say, Frank Lloyd Wright) but also provide a kind of visual “nature” that engages your eyes just as well as a beautiful sunset. I’m talking, of course, about biophilic graphics.
Section 1: The Natural World as Visual Poetry in Graphic Design
When I consider biophilic graphics, I often remember being captivated by a mural in a corporate office. It wasn’t a typical depiction of the natural world; it was an abstract design that subtly suggested forms found in nature. The interplay of natural light with the soft sensory-motor hues of greens, browns, and blues that the mural possessed instantly made the office feel more organic and calm—a bit like an office in a forest. In retrospect, I think the mural may have been a very mild fractal, leading the eye into the depths of nature’s visual poetry without being overly literal.
I frequently discuss the use of fractals in biophilic design because they epitomize the delicate intricacy of nature and because they work splendidly in graphic applications. These appearances in nature surely account for the “wow” factor that some people experience when they first encounter fractals. But my “go to” comment when discussing fractals in biophilic design is about research that shows looking at these patterns can reduce stress and even enhance mental well-being. My sense is that biophilic graphics incorporating fractal patterns really do have the kinds of health benefits being touted these days for “wellness” design, like making spaces conducive to the practice of mindfulness.
I once advised a project that placed biophilic graphics in a healthcare environment. Rather than try to install real plants in an antiseptic atmosphere (a tricky proposition), the walls were decorated with grand, sweeping representations of trees and water. Such natural imagery, our team hoped, would confer some of the mental and emotional benefits for patients that real interaction with nature would provide. And the patients seemed to feel a strong positive connection with the graphics. Of course, this isn’t exactly or even close to the same thing as bringing nature indoors, but it does speak to the immense power of visual imagery in terms of plant “sightations.”
Section 2: Finding Serenity in Natural Motifs Natural motifs—leaf patterns, water ripples, or even the texture of bark—are one of my favorite biophilic graphic techniques. What’s remarkable about these designs is that they can bring warmth and character to a lifeless, sterile environment. And because the delicate balance of light and shadow is a hallmark of these graphics, they are just about perfect for the shallow-space environments that we often find ourselves in, whether at work or at home. Consider a set of translucent screens that mimic the delicate structure of a fern leaf. When these screens are illuminated by natural light, the light casts a pattern onto the surfaces nearby that is reminiscent of the way light filters through a tree canopy.
Almost without realizing it, you might start to associate the area with the sense of calm that you feel when you’re in the woods, and the graphic goes to work fostering a neurophysiological response that you can’t quite name but that makes you feel good.
One of my most unforgettable projects involved working alongside a graphic artist to create a series of window decals for a tall office building. The decals abstractly represented the appearance of raindrops hitting a body of water—think of the gentle ripple effects that result when the sky is very distressed and you can’t see what’s going on up there. Our decals were meant to be a pretty, aural, and a not-too-distant-morphicedgeway, way to help office workers see the light and shadows of their rainy day dreams when staring through the windows. The sun and the office were supposed to be models of a crazily rocking nature.
I frequently see that biophilic graphics, when applied with care, have the potential to neutralize the sharp lines and the hard angles of contemporary architecture. This is especially necessary in structures where there’s too much concrete, steel, and glass. In these environments, I’ve noticed a prevalent chilliness—both in terms of texture and in terms of warmth. Biophilic graphics can help. By employing organic shapes and softer colors, designers can use biophilic graphics to counteract this temperature problem.
Consider, as an example, a coworking space that turned to death scenes to add life to an otherwise industrial environment. Large, blank walls were transfigured with a subtle, gradient mural depicting a relaxed human figure. It wasn’t overt or overpowering. But in an otherwise open and somewhat harsh space, it created a sense of depth and tranquility. The mural became a quiet retreat for people who needed a break from the intensity of their workday. The key was in the nuance. The mural didn’t scream “nature,” but it evoked it enough to make a difference in the atmosphere.
Biophilic graphics suit different environments. An educational environment asks for playfulness, nature-wise. While tech-infused classrooms have a certain atmosphere with their muted palettes of grey and blue, and while even a warm palette of yellows and oranges achieves a certain authority with its straight lines and curves, I can’t help but think that the brains of students in either kind of classroom would benefit from seeing nature’s shapes and colors on the walls rather than mere authoritative signs at the heads of lines. “Ecosystems” as wooden shapes on a wall. “Trees, streams, clouds…” might have a more profound effect in a place where cognition is happening than in the pads of authority figures.
Section 3: More Than Looks—The Profound Effect of Biophilic Graphics
Although biophilic graphics are beautiful, their real ability is to shape human health. We have long understood that modern humans are not designed for life in a cubicle. An insightful 1993 book by biologist and author Stephen Kellert, entitled “In the Service of Life,” examined the many benefits that exposure to natural environments can confer. Over the past few decades, nature walks have become de rigueur for those interested in enhancing their creative thinking or problem-solving skills. This is no age-old wisdom, but rather a growing body of modern evidence demonstrating that natural environments confer extraordinary benefits on brain function and human health.
A wellness center designed under biophilic principles is a project I’m particularly proud of. Although I was focused on directing the project as the lead, I feel that the artist I hired, Matthew McCaslin, deserves most of the credit for the stunning results. The images he created for the center are magnificent and anything but traditional. McCaslin simply doesn’t do standard. He kicks it up a few notches with an impressive array of art techniques. Biophilia in action, indeed!
More and more workplaces—especially in high-stress fields like finance and tech—are adopting biophilic design. I have seen this firsthand, and it has been enlightening. One of the most innovative bioshelter concepts I’ve encountered was used by a tech startup in their office. Instead of mere landscape art or business-as-usual cubicles, the “office” featured concentric layers of translucent, moving images that mimicked light play through the layers of a forest. As you passed these panels, your brain had to work a little harder, and somehow seeing that made you feel less stressed and more focused.
The profundity of these graphics establishing a connection to the natural world is hard to overstate. They are, after all, artwork, and one of the things artwork has always done is make the viewer feel something. But this isn’t just about experiencing something on an aesthetic level, which is obviously still quite important. It’s also about nature’s rhythms and patterns almost literally infiltrating urban spaces. I mean, if it weren’t for artwork depicting plants and animals, the only rhythm and pattern explored would be that of concrete and steel.
Naturally, one of the problems in designing biophilic graphics is ensuring that they fulfill the first part of their name and don’t feel too artificial. They’re trying to evoke nature, after all. If they don’t succeed at that obvious task, then … Well, it turns out that the most successful biophilic graphics don’t attempt to literally represent nature. They’re too subtle for that. They’re too abstract for that. And yet, for environments as demanding as hospitals or corporate offices, where nature graphics might otherwise look too out of place, it seems successful for these graphics to hint at nature without attempting a too-literal representation.
To sum up, biophilic graphics offer a thrilling opportunity for the further development of biophilic design. They give us a way to naturalize our spaces that is, in part, performative art. Whether in abstract format, as with a few of my own recent projects, or in more representational forms like murals, biophilic graphics can deliver the essence of nature—from simple patterns that evoke the order and serenity of a fractal to textures that approximate the subtle variations of a sand dune in a recording studio. Indeed, I think these graphics can work at a scale where they directly impact the inhabitants’ experience of a space in a manner that’s similar to but perhaps more potent than simply hanging art on the wall.
When I look forward, I am especially enthusiastic about the prospect of technology lifting biophilic design and graphics to new heights. We are on the threshold of an era where our digital tools allow us to create realms of unbelievable detail and responsiveness—environments that behave over time. Picture a room where the biophilic graphics within it aren’t static, but instead evolve to reflect the changing seasons, subtle shifts in color, light, and form almost imperceptibly mirroring what’s occurring in the natural world just outside. Wouldn’t such a room be a digital mural in a sense?
The concept was well illustrated in a project involving a digital artist, an architect, and a public library. Situated in the library’s central space was a large wall, interactive and biophilic. It projected a graphic of a forest, responding to the movement of people within the library. The scene would change, depending on the time of day or weather; for instance, at noontime, the projection would show sunlight filtering through the trees, casting shadows. Even though “shadows in the library” may sound a bit ominous, it created a space that was so well done, so engaging and inviting, you’d want to be in it.
It was, in itself, a part of the larger ecology of the space and a way to remember the larger ecosystem of which you are a part.
Another fascinating development is the marriage of augmented reality (AR) with biophilic design. One recent installation I experienced, in a corporate lobby, used AR to create something like a layered forest effect. Viewed with a smartphone or AR glasses, the graphic came alive, adding depth and movement. I don’t think the average person has any idea how close we are to being able to experience nature through graphics (not to mention actual forest spaces) in ways that surpass what we can do now with Virtual Reality (VR). That’s really what biophilic design is about: helping us connect with what’s becoming a lost natural world, in or out of the office.
For an assignment on which I once consulted, the design team used a daring palette of colors—orange, purple, and combinations thereof—that drew upon desert landscapes and sunsets. These colors are not what you would normally see in biophilic designs, but they worked beautifully in this situation because they complemented and enhanced the forms and patterns you saw throughout the studio. The palette also gave the space a stimulating and energizing quality. In short, it was a desert scene, and the graphics were not just biophilic; they were also scientific and math-filled, with Earth in the center of a solar system that showed various planets and star formations spinning around it.
4. Selections and Textures of Materials Used in Biophilic Graphics
The desired effect of biophilic graphics can greatly benefit from the choices made in materials when creating them. For example, a printed graphic on glass can cast a very different ambience than one etched into wood or embedded in fabric. Printed biophilic wall graphics are best made using natural materials like wood, stone, or bamboo. When combined with biophilic graphics that are rendered in natural inks, these materials can create a strikingly tactile and visual connection to the nature we are trying to represent.
I was involved in a project for a small hotel that required headboards in the guest rooms. Those headboards needed local flora biophilic graphics, printed onto fabric whose finish was slightly textured. That combination—of nearly three-dimensional graphics and the warmth of the gentle-to-the-touch textured fabric—made the hotel room space feel intimate. The stylized flora designs factored in a big way, too, in terms of the guest’s serenity level.
Drawing from the local natural surroundings is another potent method. Biophilic graphics that mirror the distinctive topography, plant life, and animal life of the area assist in anchoring a space to its geographic identity, allowing for a strong bond—both psychological and physiological—between the inhabitants of a space and the environment that envelops them.
For example, I helped design a community center in the Pacific Northwest. Biophilic graphics in the building come from the landscape beyond its walls—that of the local iconic beauty: towering evergreens, misty mountain peaks, and wide, rippling rivers. The graphics don’t just make the center pretty; they serve as a constant visual reminder of the natural allure just outside, helping deepen the occupants’ connection to the lovely environment that is all their own.
Finally, we must consider the increasing capacity of biophilic graphics. A design that works splendidly on a smaller surface might lose its effectiveness when increased to a larger scale, and vice versa. I’ve found that certain abstract patterns and fractals are particularly adaptable and damn near visuals that never fail to please with an ambiguous psychophysical effect. They seem to achieve each of biophilic graphics’ goals, regardless of what surface they’re applied to, when they’re applied to, when they’re scaled to fitter venues, and even when they’re not.
A large public atrium was the site of a recent project that I undertook with a big design team. We took a fractal-inspired design and made it huge. We covered a three-story wall with it. The really cool thing about this project (aside from the impressive fact that anyone would even consider using my designs on this kind of large scale) was that the pattern we created retained its organic quality at this size. And that oversized graphic imparts a major wow factor in the public space, one that might impress even those folks who have no idea what “fractal” or “organic” means.
To sum up, biophilic graphics are immensely adaptable and potent in contemporary design. They empower us to import the very nature of natural environments into our built spaces in ways that are absolutely gorgeous and exceedingly good for our health. Biophilic graphics run the range from subtle motifs to monumental displays to digital experiences, yet at all scales and through all means, they have the promise to recast nearly any locale into a healthful haven of sorts.
Still, as is the case with almost all sorts of graphics, the push within biophilic graphics should be to create ways to better foster the kinds of moods or states of mind that benefit us. Whether that’s a more meditative atmosphere or a more stimulating one, I think biophilic graphics have a real potential to accomplish that.
Section 6: Summary and Concluding Remarks
Biophilic design has evolved greatly. From its origins— biophilic graphics in architecture, for instance— it has moved toward an encompassing look-and-feel of being in nature. Research has shown that images of nature have a positive effect on human psychology and physiology. Indeed, whether it’s local nature or natural forms, the power of the graphics to help move you toward a positive state is undeniable.
During my many years of working with biophilic design, I have seen in many different situations how beneficial these graphics can be and how positively they can impact an array of environments. I’ve witnessed patients in hospitals feel calmer in handsomely decorated rooms because of the presence of biophilic graphics. I’ve experienced the energy in workplaces where the drab walls at one time have been enlivened with energy with biophilic graphics. I’ve been in public spaces where peace reigns, and I believe that the presence of biophilic graphics is definitely one reason why.
In addition, with ongoing technological progress, the opportunities for biophilic graphics are multiplying. Installations that interact with us, for instance, when we walk by or toward them, are becoming more common and sophisticated. Innovations such as augmented reality (AR) are opening up entirely new avenues for biophilic graphics—ones that could add astounding, immersive layers of interaction to biophilic installations both in and outdoors. The next stage in AR development has to do with interactivity: with imagining how the evolving narrative of the AR experience can be built into the graphic for a non-linear read.
Looking ahead, we must recall the fundamental principle of biophilic design—and by extension, biophilic graphics: their ability to reconnect people with the natural world. And in this increasingly urbanized and digitized era, that’s something we really need: the realistic hope that the daily spaces we occupy can be “more nurturing, restorative, and human-centered,” as the graphics community puts it.
An area I see expanding is the use of graphics that follow the biophilic principles in virtual and hybrid work environments. As many of us have started to work from home or in flexible spaces, there has arisen a new need for design elements that enhance well-being and focus in our remote work environments. Companies have begun experimenting with biophilic elements in their virtual workspaces. From using simulated nature to biorhythmic fractals to nature-inspired textures, the virtual workspace is becoming a canvas for art that’s intended to enhance productivity by promoting our neuroaesthetic response. While this may seem like a minor adjustment on the way to more fully developing the creative potential of the virtual workspace, I think it’s a sign of something more profound.
A graphic installation illustrated the lifecycle of a rainforest in one office space, showing the growth of various layers of leaves and the fauna since the beginning of their forms. (This led to much speculation about how those several forms of life in that particular office might be thriving, given their not-so-distant similarities to those in the forest.) These are not unusual designs for buildings or spaces. They are not bound to offices. Schools, hospitals, and even homes have employed such imagery, some quite closely resembling what many would call murals when not encased in (fireproof) glass.
Indeed, sometimes the glass that house these images can be panoramic, making the benefits of these designs (i.e., beauty, education, and perhaps a spark to imagination or consideration) even more apparent.
The contrast between these two scenes hit me hard and impressed upon me the critical part that design can play in not just heightening awareness but also inspiring people to take action. In the future, the better part of the evolution of biophilic design will be the part designers must efforts earnestly to seek out and quantify. This part’s already in progress. The graphics of biophilic design will more and more become a medium that will be “biophilic” in its effect and thereby persuasive, with today’s leading examples skirting the boundary between art and science. I feel confident saying that for future designers, biophilic graphics will have as essential a role in design as effective design concepts or aesthetic beauty.
Ultimately, biophilic graphics are more than a passing design trend. They express our innate desire to reestablish a bond with nature, particularly when many of us are living in increasingly urban environments that are seemingly divorced from the natural world. Biophilic graphics remind us of the natural world and can provide us with connective experiences, much like being in nature does.
Integrating biophilic graphics into spaces can be done in several ways, but there are a few common-sense strategies that can and should be employed to preserve the artwork’s effectiveness while ensuring that the design remains harmonious with the existing space.
Whether you are creating a large mural or a digital installation, these are some helpful tips to remember when it comes to placing biophilic graphics. The first thing to consider is the specific environment where the graphics will be located. Are you trying to inspire energy, peace, or creative problem-solving in the viewers? An office space meant for high-frequency work might benefit from invigorating elemental graphics, while a healthcare environment could call for something more subdued. One of the most succinct and vivid instances I’ve seen of this kind of selective placement came from a mural at a wellness retreat.
The spa’s design team turned to biophilic graphics for inspiration when dreaming up the look of the treatment rooms. They turned to natural elements—like stone, moss, and flowing water—for ideas about how to make the spa areas more serene and grounding. Each treatment room features its own graphic that is sort of a bespoke, serene artwork and that somehow ties into the natural surroundings of the building. The graphics are visually arresting, but they also have a palpable effect on the viewer. Clients often comment on how the visuals help them disconnect from the stress of life and really dive into the restorative experience.
Consider the smooth gradient of a sunset, or the muted tones of the texture of tree bark. What about the shadows created by the forest canopy? These graphics are a gift to the senses. They provide just enough cue to engage the visual thinking part of the brain without being so over-the-top as to make one feel like they are inside a cartoon version of nature. I’ve worked on biophilic design projects where the graphics were applied in subtle ways—on the backs of glass partitions, for instance, or where they were etched into concrete or wood.
When the graphics exist in a subtle space, they quietly assert nature’s presence in that area and affirm calm, cohesion, and context.
The colors used in biophilic graphics play a big part in biophilic design’s expression and can critically impact how an interior space feels. They can be calming greens, warm earthy tones, and the soft blues found in nature, colors that evoke relaxation and well-being. But it’s also totally feasible to use more dynamic colors in biophilic graphics, for those instances where you’re aiming for a big shot of energy, a burst of creativity, or some other promotional effect in spaces like tech offices or educational facilities.
Whether you are creating a corporate office, a healthcare center, or a residential structure, I implore you to consider biophilic graphics. These seem to be an underexplored aspect of biophilic design. To be sure, incorporating graphics definitely takes a bit of license with the concept. But think about it: When we decorate spaces, we’re often not just being vain. We’re also in the process of using visual elements to help promote the kind of fundamental harmony that we discussed with light and sound. And what is more fundamental than the patterning, coloring, and texturing of graphic elements?
