Biophilic art has been carving its own niche in the design world in recent years. Artists and designers seek to blend the natural world into their creative expressions, and as someone who has spent years exploring the intersection of biophilic design and art, I can say that biophilic art is more than just a trend. It’s a transformative aspect of creating spaces and moments that profoundly reconnect us with nature in often unexpected ways. A few years ago, I started to explore how art could play a role in biophilic design. I was working on a large corporate office redesign, and while we had incorporated a lot of traditional biophilic elements—think natural light, greenery, and organic materials—something just didn’t feel right. And for the first time in my career, I didn’t know what it was. I started to experiment with the idea of integrating biophilic art as a solution, and let me tell you: it was a revelation—not just for me, but also for the clients and the people who worked in the space. Biophilic art has since become a core part of my practice. In this post, I want to share some of my experiences and insights into this exciting new dimension of biophilic design.
Biophilic art expresses the connection with the natural world that all humans are born with. It manifests as much through the natural materials used as through the imagery that evokes the environment. But traditional nature art it is not. To the biophilic artist, the finished product is not an end in itself. Biophilic art installations become part of the viewer’s life. One of the earliest biophilic art installations I worked on was for the lobby of a hospital. Hospitals can make humans feel as if they’re in the most sterile of places; they can be an assembly of unyielding drywall, glass, and metal. This lobby, however, had the good fortune to hover at the midpoint of a healing path—that is, with a radiating light of the sun, nature, and species sense all around. We made it part of a hospital healing path.
Biophilic art becomes part of healing. Visitors to this lobby sometimes activated the mural by tapping into the interactive nature of the images. And what makes biophilic art work scientifically is not only the beautiful designs and compositions involved but also the very nature of the pieces in an installation.
Biophilic art possesses an invaluable strength that, for me, is rooted in its potential to fundamentally alter the energy of a space. Biophilic art provides connection—connection to the natural world—well beyond the capacity of traditional art forms. Biophilic art introduces elements into a space that can resonate with the viewer in a deep, nearly instinctual manner. We’re hardwired to respond to meaningful representations of nature with comfort and inspiration. My work involves making such meaningful representations that engage the viewer’s attention and spark their imagination. For me, that’s the emotional heart of biophilic art.
An unforgettable instance happened in a residential project where I was working with a family on their new home. They had a blank wall in the living room and weren’t quite certain how to fill it. Instead of proposing a typical painting or photograph, I decided to collaborate with an artist to create a custom biophilic artwork that consisted of preserved mosses, ferns, and natural wood elements. The result was remarkable—not just for its aesthetic value, but because it truly felt alive. The textures and colors shifted with the lighting, and the family told me that the installation became a communal centered in their home. Walking over to the art piece, guests would touch it and feel emboldened to discuss the artwork. And this, for me, is the biggest win. Bringing nature into a living room, and having it serve as a talking point, is a serious design achievement.
Throughout history, art has had a singular capability of allowing for the expression of emotions. That power is taken to another level when you use natural elements that we’re biologically programmed to respond to—one thinks of the costly natural dyes that were used to create the texture of bark, the mesmerizing colors of a sunset, or the stillness that a work of water has. That is what “biophilic art” does. But what is biophilic art? If one were tovisit a museum where biophilic art is on display, one would see walls covered with living plants—petri dishes filled with moss mounted on walls, for example, and “sculptural plants” with thick stems that are artistically bent or twisted to resemble forms more common to oil painting than to anatomy. Plants, healthy and thriving, are the foundation of this style of art.
I’ve been involved in several projects where living art played a central role. One project that stands out was a corporate office space where we installed a 15-foot-high green wall in the main atrium. But rather than using the standard vertical garden approach, we designed the wall to mimic the flow of a river, with different plant species creating a sense of movement and texture as they cascaded down the wall. The plants were chosen not just for their visual appeal but also for their ability to thrive indoors with minimal maintenance. The green wall became more than just an art installation—it transformed the entire atmosphere of the office. It was an immersive experience. Employees would gather in the atrium during their breaks, sitting by the wall to relax and recharge. And for good reason, too: The wall was a potent mental health boost—and a fabulous piece of art.
I have found moss art to be another incredibly impactful manifestation of biophilic living art, especially in small-scale spaces. Whenever I worked on spa projects, I would have moss art installed throughout the facility, specifically in the treatment rooms and corridors. These pieces were made of preserved moss, which needs neither watering nor sunlight—but which still retains the soft, tactile experience of live moss. In the spa I currently visit, the treatment “room” is nothing more than a small tent pitched in a stunning indoor garden dotted with trees and the soft sounds of water. The path to that space winds through a corridor set with brass bowls that burn essential oils. I could easily imagine installing moss art in either space. Moss art is also a potential alternative to wall art in almost any context.
Biophilic art and sustainability offer a close match. One of the reasons I feel so strongly about biophilic art is because I see it aligning with sustainability in a world that feels ever farther from nature. When I talk about sustainable art, what I mean is art that occurs in the way that nature would have it occur. Think about the materials of biophilic art. Much of what you find in biophilic art is sustainable. Much of what my friends and I do in biophilic art is to make the pieces even more sustainable. And because biophilic art takes its cue from the ecosystems that sustain us, it makes sense for it to be kind to those ecosystems in all the ways we know how.
I collaborated with a local artist skilled in using reclaimed materials who creates biophilic sculptures. We worked on a project for a nature center. The aim was to conceptualize and implement art installations that not only complemented the local topography but also in some way engaged visitors in understanding and committing themselves to the center’s conservation mission. The artist wound up creating not one, but a series of sculptures, all of which were made from pieces of driftwood, stones, and salvaged metal, and which together form an installation called Speaks to the Wind. Each sculpture, I would argue, is a perfect complement to the nature center’s mission. And while the artist might not have explicitly set out to tell a story of sustainability via her sculptures, the very materials she used and the wares she made tell a powerful story.
The beauty of the sculptures captivated visitors to the nature center. The material’s message was just as powerful. The art installations not only entertained but also educated. They commenced useful dialogues with families about the significance of reusing materials and respecting the natural world. This is one reason I think biophilic art is a compelling medium. It connects humans with nature in such a way that makes them think about their impact on the environment.
Biophilic Art in Urban Settings: Nature in the City One of the most gratifying tasks I have undertaken in my career is bringing biophilic art to the city. As urbanized as we have become, we still seek a connection to the natural world. Nature may seem far away when surrounded by a tough urban shell of glass, steel, and concrete, but biophilic art creates portals to nature even in the heart of the city, softening the hard edges of the built environment and providing residents with moments of nature in the urban landscape.
I participated in a public art project for a city park in a nearly populated area downtown. The aim was to make a work of art that would somehow coalesce the natural world, meaningful human interaction, and art into a single space where all of these components might coexist and even flourish. We collaborated with an artist who proposed a series of sculptural seating elements made from stone and steel, arranged to resemble a riverbed. Grasses and wildflowers native to California were planted around the sculptures. Their dynamic shapes, colors, textures, and forms make a lively, informal transition from the hardscape of the riverbed to the gathering space beyond.
The installation became cherished among the park’s visitors, who were attracted to the site not just to linger but to engage with the artwork. The stones beckoned children as climbing structures and seduced adults into stoic postures of reverie, gazing at the installation and the plants surrounding it. The common perception of the heart of a city is a tangled web of concrete. The Intertwined Project’s presence proves that even urban centers can host biophilic art and offer residents some form of engagement with the natural world.
I have observed comparable effects in corporate environments, where biophilic art is used to draw nature into the office. One unforgettable assignment involved a tech firm that sought to weave biophilic design into their very techy headquarters. We teamed up with an artist to create a long installation made of living plants, natural wood, and recycled metal that spanned a hallway. It was a very calming, yet visually stimulating piece. The tech employees were practically forced to walk through the installation at least twice a day, since it occupied such a central location in their “open” office.
The biophilic art movement excites me. It is about more than just decorating spaces with living nature (although that, too, is making a comeback). Biophilic art can involve digital interactions and even, at times, materials as unnatural as diamond dust. But just as promise and peril exist in biophilic design, we also need to talk about the fact that biophilic art can be a double-edged sword, potentially linking “nature,” however understood, with a shallow form of sustainability.
In my opinion, biophilic art is becoming ever more important to the design process as people increasingly flock to urban environments and seek opportunities to interact with nature. Biophilic art serves a purpose beyond mere aesthetics. It fosters “human health and well-being,” as me and my biophilic art buddies like to say. We are a club of sorts—increasingly large and worldwide—that sees something crucially significant about the interaction of art and nature.
