When people envision industrial buildings—factories, warehouses, massive production plants—they mainly picture the raw materials of construction: concrete, steel, and exposed plumbing. They certainly are functional spaces, and they do provide the kind of shelter that is a prerequisite for working in them. But “shelter” is all they provide. They certainly aren’t warm, inviting, or calming. Now, imagine taking that same box and putting in what nature provides to lend an atmosphere that largely guarantees an individual will feel relaxed and in a good mood. Sunlight streaming through a skylight, a green wall of climbing plants, or the sound of water gently flowing by.
This is biophilic industrial design. They don’t seem like two words that can easily go together—biophilia and industry. But it turns out that the industrial sector is a pretty big player in the biophilic design game.
One of the first projects I encountered as a biophilic industrial space was an adaptive reuse undertaking that turned a neglected factory into a dynamic community center. Retaining much of the original structure, the architects left the classic elements of the industrial aesthetic intact: the exposed brick, the steel beams. Still, it was hard to believe that this progressive undertaking shared any genes with the derelict structure I’d once surveyed with my own eyes. The atmosphere was so warm, open, and inviting. That transformation is not a one-off. Adaptive reuse promises to bring the same warm environments and biophilic benefits to similar industrial buildings across the globe.
The real enchantment was not merely in introducing nature but in the careful assembling of each component, creating an atmosphere that respects the industrial character of the building and the restorative quality of nature. This is biophilic industrial design. It offers a promise: that natural elements can be integrated into the character of a space that might feel icy or inhospitable and that the integration can happen in a way that maintains the appearance and function of the space as well as the building’s original purpose.
An essential facet of biophilic industrial design is marrying art with function. Spaces meant for industry serve very particular purposes; they are not the artful lofts found in SoHo, spaces meant for industry that do not lend themselves to much artful expression. They are highly engineered, as in the case of a manufacturing plant, a large warehouse, or a large office space: efficient, durable, and scalable. They do not exist much as “places” in the sentimental sense but rather as “spaces” in the more clinical sense. Biophilia should not detract from goals essential to serving these spaces efficiently, durably, and scalably.
Imagine a factory floor. At first glance, it may not seem like the scene for a vertical garden or an “indoor pond.” But with a little creativity, you can put those things almost anywhere without seriously disrupting the flow of operations. For example, I once worked on a project for a logistics center where we designed large overhead skylights to flood the interior with natural light. Not only did this substantially reduce the need for electric lighting (and thus energy costs), but it also seemed to improve the mood of the workers. And who can blame ’em?
The good ol’ sunshine always gets a person feelin’ better.
An even better illustration is the use of indoor gardens or plants in courtyard form in industrial settings. One of my favorite instances—though calling it “instance” seems to downplay the artistry involved—was at a car manufacturing facility. The designers of this complex chose to create a central courtyard filled with native plants, water features, and other items of interest. For the workers who are stationed in what is essentially a high-tech sweatshop, taking a break in the courtyard is a much more rejuvenating experience than sitting on a folding chair in a break room.
What I find especially interesting about this design idea is how it joins the building’s appearance—with its industrial structure—to what nature accomplishes, creating in the end a place that not only looks better but also works better. You can make a factory operate at peak efficiency by ensuring that the people who work there are engaged and less stressed. That, I imagine, is a strong motivation for creating the winning spaces that the architects of this design-assist idea have in mind.
Biophilic industrial design is distinctive because of its focus on the human experience. Whereas traditional industrial design often emphasizes machines, processes, and efficiency, with scant attention paid to how humans might actually feel in a space, biophilic design is much more concerned with the end user. And rightly so: A healthy, happy, and productive person is much more beneficial to a company than a person who is unhealthy, unhappy, or unproductive. By incorporating biophilia into the design of industrial spaces, we make those spaces more conducive to human flourishing, which should be the ultimate goal of any design.
One of the most ground-breaking and potent demonstrations of this philosophy can be found in the office spaces of large industrial complexes. These offices are often located deep within the structure, with absolutely no access to daylight or fresh air. I worked on a project for a tech manufacturer that was located in just such a situation—an office embedded in a massive warehouse. The atmosphere surrounding the office was abuzz with activity, but the ambiance of the workspace itself was dark and lifeless. We looked long and hard for a way to “activate” the office space and also create a connection to the outdoors—an operable window, for instance—but ran up against a wall of possibilities.
We devised a way to create a “virtual” natural environment. We set up large screens along one wall that played a looping series of gorgeous landscapes—luminous forests, majestic mountains, idyllic beaches. We flanked the screens with floor-to-ceiling planters filled with willow ferns and small trees. We even rigged an HVAC system to not only suck in fresh air but also to produce the kind of light and sound that might happen in a real natural setting. All of this was done with only one real goal in mind: to make the employees feel as if they were in a natural setting instead of a call center on the edge of a strip mall.
To that end, we also used LED lights to mimic the natural progression of sunlight from the morning to evening. And here, again, we only more or less succeeded.
A brilliant illustration is a steel fabrication plant that I toured a few years back. The building itself was a wonder of industrial excellence—huge machines, metal beams, concrete floor—but what captured my attention was the break area they had designed for the workers. They had created a tranquil garden space within the facility instead of a fluorescent-lit, cafeteria-style break room. They featured big windows overlooking a courtyard with native plants and a small pond. They had comfortable seating, lots of natural light, and an abundance of greenery in the interior space. It was a sanctuary in the production line’s madness.
You could tell from the photos that this environment reduced stress, recharged people, and promoted an overall improved morale.
It is precisely these kinds of deliberate interventions that elevate a space from mere function to the orientation of human-centered worth. And these interventions make the space look nice. Or, at least, that’s what I hope this series of images conveys. There’s a reason for that, with my first donor intervention—the speculative rooftop garden—serving to get us started. Parascandola’s studies have shown that psychological and physiological benefits abound for workers in environments that have biophilic elements like plants, lots of natural light, or views of nature. Those benefits happen even in spaces like industrial ones where workers don’t usually have much control over what kind of work environment they have.
From my work on these projects, I’ve gained an understanding of biophilic design. I’ve learned that it need not be complicated or costly. Sometimes, the simplest interventions deliver the most substantial payoffs. Adding plants, for instance, or optimizing natural light can yield tremendous results, and these kinds of things typically don’t cost too much. The crucial part seems to be this: getting a clear read on how people use a space and then figuring out how to make that experience more enjoyable and something closer to an ideal than a mere existence. Whether one is designing a high-end office inside a factory or creating a break space for the folks who work with their hands, biophilic design principles apply.
It’s about making spaces feel more alive and making that space more in tune with the natural environment.
Sustainability and the Future of Biophilic Industrial Design
Biophilic industrial design has much in common with industrial design. Both must have a clearly defined purpose if the goals of design are to be achieved. The industrial designer aims to produce objects that possess what might be called existential functionality. That is, they must not only work in the physical sense but also work in a sense that allows their existence to be justified. The object must have a reason for being, and it must be something that enhances life.
With the need for sustainability no longer being an opt-in choice but an absolute necessity, biophilic design is taking on an even larger role in its favored placement: industrial buildings. Improving aesthetics is only part of the design’s role; its larger function is to enhance the human experience by connecting the user more closely and intimately with nature, and thus, with the building. Indeed, much of biophilic design’s aesthetic appeal comes from the illusion—or simple reality—of nature in the built environment.
Biophilic design drives energy sustainability in a number of ways, one being through the use of natural light. In many industrial buildings, using light fixtures consumes a staggering amount of energy. By simply adding skylights or large windows, you can cut the need for artificial light during the day by half or more, and I’ve worked on projects where this change alone reduced energy costs by about 30%. Using natural ventilation systems is another way to leverage the biophilic design in the service of sustainability. Relying on the natural flow of air through a space can significantly reduce reliance on HVAC systems, which are another large energy consumer in industrial buildings that don’t use them wisely.
One distribution center I advised in the past had always depended heavily on electric light and climate control to keep the building comfortable and operable. My clients had priority tasks to address, and their most pressing issue was reducing overhead costs. Cutting the environmental impact of the building—a LEED Certified Silver facility with an outdated design—was also critical to the mission of the organization. We proposed a series of changes that addressed both problems, and the key among them was to open up the building to daylight. We specified a new system of digitally controlled electric lights that would work in concert with the daylighting system.
Then we tackled climate control. We used the center’s existing architecture to set up a system of passive ventilation that would move air through the space. We also stopped trying to use electric light and climate control to solve problems that natural daylight and natural ventilation could take care of.
An equally captivating conjunction of biophilic design and sustainability occurs when living walls and green roofs are used in large commercial buildings. These vertical and horizontal gardens do much to mediate what could otherwise be a stark industrial environment. But more important, living walls and green roofs offer a wide range of genuine environmental benefits. Figures vary, but some studies suggest that the presence of a green roof can lower the interior temperature of the building by as much as 10 degrees. When combined with the kind of sunshine-absorbing photovoltaic panels that you see on so many green roofs these days, the living roof is producing energy, helping cool the building, and taking a big bite out of the air conditioning bill.
And that’s not all. Both living walls and green roofs can play a dramatic role in managing stormwater.
Recently, I encountered a truly innovative project that brought together biophilic design and renewable energy. A firm that specialized in green packaging sought to create a new production facility in the image of its eco-friendly principles. Their solution was to use solar energy in the same outstanding manner as their previous building project. They did not stop at using solar panels on the roof but carried their use throughout the design, shading outdoor work areas and break spaces, and making the panels part of a nature-focused “biophilic connection” for the facility’s users that, oddly enough, was as much about nature as it was about the solar energy they provided.
They took biophilic design to unprecedented levels inside the building. They built an indoor forest in the middle of the factory. The main atrium was filled with trees, native plants, and even a few small birds that naturally inhabited the space. The factory’s vibe was more park than production line. Employees could wander through the atrium on their way to different parts of the building, and they could even take lunch breaks in the forest (with the wild birds, if they chose). This wasn’t a frivolous thing to do, despite how it might appear. Recent research suggests that there is a clear link between spending time in natural settings and reduced stress levels.
That link makes the indoor forest a good investment, especially in a place where highly creative work is done under pressure. For Eric, it also made sense in terms of sustainability: the trees and plants help regulate indoor air quality, and the solar panels on the roof keep the whole space significantly less energy-dependent.
When I envision the future, I see biophilic industrial design occupying a more forward role in our construction and operation of industrial spaces. Businesses that are conscious of their environmental impact will seek to incorporate natural elements into their buildings to achieve more than just pretty façades. Our Green Roofs and Living Walls are already acting as air filters. Brightwork and good ventilation make today’s warehouses energy efficient. Outdoor workspaces surrounded by trees and water features not only boost workers’ mental health but also act as an architectural hedge against the energy crises of the future.
These are not just lab visions or distant dreams; today’s building projects are living these principles.
An increasing amount of evidence suggests that biophilic design can lead to more sustainable business practices. When companies invest in making their work environments healthier and more natural, the result is usually a workforce that is happier and healthier, too. That part of the design equation seems pretty straightforward and is, not coincidentally, one of the big pushes behind the Environmental, Health and Safety sections of LEED certifications—i.e., because it’s good for your health! Another effect of biophilic design that is often overlooked is its impact on reducing energy consumption and upping the use of renewable energy sources within the built environment.
To summarize, biophilic industrial design is an emerging concept on the cutting edge of the intersection of nature, industry, and sustainability. Its application in factories and other industrial spaces is, of course, in the very early stages, and may take many forms. One possibility—zeroing in on the increasing importance of air quality in the equation for human health—would have people working in factories and similar spaces surrounded by “living walls,” made up of low-tech plants that filter the air. I can hardly wait to see what other creative forms biophilic design might take in those kinds of spaces.
