For a long time, exhibitions have been places where people come to learn and experience the things of this world. Whether in a museum or a trade show, the design of exhibition spaces is vitally important to shaping the experience of the visitor. Now, and especially in recent years, there has been a growing shift to integrate nature into exhibition spaces through biophilic design—that is, an approach to architecture that better aligns human environments with the natural world. I have always been fascinated by the interplay of natural elements and curated human environments, especially when it comes to exhibitions.
When I walk through a space that really feels like it’s connected to earth, I not only engage with the presentation, but also feel a deeper connection to the place itself.
The standout exhibition for me is “Rain Room,” an installation by Random International at the Barbican in London. It might not strike your average architect as a paragon of biophilic design, but it sure illustrates what could be thought of as biophilic engagement—using the senses to create an experience of nature, chiefly through water. The Rain Room simulates a space in which it rains incessantly without you getting wet. Talk about a controlled environment! It’s not something you can interact with safely out in the “natural” world, but it does engage the body in a way that other elements of the exhibition might not.
I feel like it’s something you’d have to experience firsthand to really get.
Exhibit design with a biophilic twist can enhance the way visitors relate to a space. Such designs can elevate the way people think about the three-dimensional world that occupies their bodies as they move through time and space. A good design doesn’t just include nature as a passive element; it treats nature as an active participant in the storytelling process. A recent exhibit I visited on the life cycle of a forest managed to transform the otherwise static images and text of a traditional presentation into a walk-through experience that had me questioning the various ways in which trees “speak” to one another as much as they “speak” to me.
As I moved through the exhibit space, the use of real, living plants as features of the presentation—a kind of enchanted forest—helped me make the leap into a more vivid imagination of what a forest can actually be.
The notion of seeing nature as an active participant—rather than a mere backdrop—forges a path that leads straight to the Eden Project. The Eden Project is a massive greenhouse, yes, but its biophilic principles extend beyond the mere display of plants. What I remember most from my walk through the Project is how much I felt like I was really involved (and not just a lazy observer passing through) with some tropical, sub-tropical, or Mediterranean kind of existence. I was engaged on all fronts: sight, sound, smell, and even the feel of the space around me.
I think I remember hearing some rainforest “music.” I know for sure that there were voices “in the mist,” which is a memorable part of the auditory experience in Eden’s Tropics. The Eden Project replicates an experience with “nature” that also teases out a recollection or fantasy of what life could be like in those often-mythologized “paradisal” regions of the Earth.
Part 2: Engaging Through More Than One Sense Centers on the Art of Biophilic Exhibition Design One principle of biophilic design that can be seen as really “game-changing” is its simultaneous engagement of multiple senses. In an art exhibition, the focus is usually on giving the viewer a great visual experience. Biophilic exhibition design understands, however, that if a viewer is only engaged visually, the experience is not as profound as it could be. Art can be experienced with more than just the sense of sight! Biophilic exhibition design engages the viewer in more of a “whole body” experience by crafting an environment that is immersive and …
multisensory.
I visited an exhibit dedicated to the Arctic tundra. The design had three layers: the walls were covered in a texture that evoked frozen water, the soft ambient sound of wind gusting by sent a shiver up my spine, and a synthetic pine scent—probably made from cheap aroma oils and sold in bulk at the local “pyro-artist” store—wafted throughout the space. But the real key to the story’s telling was in the touch: the inviting, big-league touch of a tactile exhibit done right. The combination of these elements didn’t just tell a story; it created an environment where the visitor felt physically connected to the narrative.
Exhibition design in biophilia commonly uses natural materials such as wood, stone, and water. But it’s not just their presence that’s important; it’s also how they’re integrated into the space. Too often, these materials are treated as static installations rather than as dynamic contributors to the environment. Wood should not only look natural; it should feel alive under your hand—warm, textured, and full of the subtle sounds of a breeze in the leaves. Water should not only be displayed in a glass tank; it should have a sound and flow that mirrors its natural movement. Stone should feel cool and smooth.
When did you last see a stone that made you want to touch it?
Another instance that stands out is the exhibition “Nature’s Library,” which featured innovative uses of wood. Rather than constructing typical display cases, the designers fashioned elaborate shelving systems from wood that mimicked tree limbs. A visitor could amble through the exhibit as if wandering through a woodland, with the display cases becoming part of the environment. Wood was not merely a means for holding objects; it was integral to the atmosphere, engaging not just the eyes of the visitor but also their fingertips and nostrils.
In exhibition design, scent is an element that’s seldom utilized. Still, its potential power to bring forth memory and feeling is, in my opinion, unmatched—if only matched—by sight. I will never forget the exhibit about the deserts of North Africa that I experienced a couple of years ago. As I entered, the dry, faintly sun-baked aroma of sand and clay appeared. It was grab-you-by-the-shirt subtle but instantly familiar. “Oh right, I had a moment in that kind of landscape and I’m not talking about the illusion of a shampoo commercial moment.” This is primordial. This is what the good sense of biophilic design can accomplish—albeit at its most basic level—by activating and engaging your body’s most potent memory recall system.
When it comes to exhibition design, I am often irresistibly attracted to the kinds of natural soundscapes one might encounter in an artful approximation of nature. I am, of course, a visitor who finds such spaces engaging, and it’s the kind of rigorous sound-design work that can help take such a space from mere approximation to something that feels quite real. Sound, of course, isn’t everything, but in a kind of nature theater, the way a nominee for the best sound design can immerse one halfway between the World Series experience and a kind of real-yet-fake experience that clearly isn’t natural—that’s kind of impressive.
Part 3: How Emotions Connect with People and Create a Lasting Impression
Biophilic exhibition design is not like traditional exhibition design. The emotional connection a biophilic exhibition can create with an audience is what makes it unique. While all exhibitions have the potential to generate an emotional response, biophilic exhibitions do so on a whole other level. They are also educational in nature, prompting audiences to learn more about the content within an exhibition. Biophilic design facilitates connections with the natural world through the use of natural materials, plants, and animals that form the basis of an exhibition context. Beyond simulating natural elements, biophilic design also facilitates deep and meaningful connections with the content through the way it is artistically rendered and presented.
Once, I worked on a project that entailed setting up a showcase for endangered species. Rather than create a traditional museum space replete with dry data and glossy photos, we set ourselves the challenge of constructing an emotional narrative. We used natural elements, like soft, dim lighting reminiscent of sunset, and the subtle sounds of a forest just before nightfall. Visitors ambled through a lightly scented space with the scent of moist earth in the air, encountering grounded sculptures of animals made with natural materials, like wood and stone. As they progressed through the exhibit, the avenue opened up before them; the space became darker, quieter, and more still.
By the time they reached the end, there was a palpable sense of loss, without a tear shed or a word spoken.
Biophilic exhibition design creates powerful emotional connections with nature that people and animals interpret as powerful connections with friends and family. Integrating these aspects of nature into exhibition spaces can help make humans feel cavernous connectedness. Humans feel more connected with anything that makes them feel like they are a part of something bigger. When humans walk into an exhibition and see live plants or understand that an aspect of nature is present in the exhibition, the urgency to protect that aspect of nature connects deeply with the urgency of protecting a friend.
Biophilia serves to envelop the viewer in an experience; it is an exhibition design that seeks to connect us to the essence of our being in a very direct and often personal manner. The design of the galleries in the 9/11 Memorial Museum is often mentioned as an example of the use of water in creating a contemplative space, but it is our natural connection to light and dark (the sheltering sky and the earth beneath our feet) that is even more pivotal to the Memorial experience. Both elements combined create a sacred space for remembrance, but neither does so without the simple yet powerful presence of nature.
Solace can be found here for those in distress. Indeed, “art” can even be found here.
Exhibition design that incorporates biophilia invites attendees to be in the here and now. In environments that include biophilic elements, I’ve noticed that people not only spend more time but also seem more inclined to be attentive to the myriad ways the spaces engage their senses. Sounds become sharper, scents more pronounced. Texture becomes important as people run their hands over surfaces in an almost reverent way. These spaces are not just for looking; they are for genuinely experiencing in a manner that people might say has become a lost art in our world of immediate gratification.
To sum up, biophilic design in exhibition contexts allows for the enhancement of both guest experiences and emotional and sensory connections to the messages contained within exhibitions. It can allow for a near-perfect symbiosis between the “artistry” of the layout, the content presented within, the senses of the visitors, and Nature herself. The content of an exhibition should resonate with the visitors; so too should the very design of the exhibition space itself.
