Every building has a “hello” moment. It’s where the outside intersects with the inside, where the first glimmers of personal experience can be found. A moment can be well-designed or poorly designed, inviting or not. I think it’s fair to say that a biophilic entrance is moment well-designed. Nature connection is the intent here, and in terms of the neuroscience of the built environment, there’s ample justification for this intent. Brain and body benefits accrue from nature immersion at the start of any experience, and in terms of the establishment of a personal mental space, the precondition of a “biophilic” mindset also goes a long way to ensuring that good entrance moment set tone for the space beyond it.
Walking into a place that instantly presents you with the natural world is a commanding experience. For me, this gateway happens at my own house—through my garden. Quietly and without fanfare, I step from one world to the next, and I feel my whole being shift to a different state. The plants are close enough to smell; they let off sweet, chlorophyll-laden air. In that space between my home and the unfettered outdoors, I pause for a breath. My next inhalation is deep and full, as if the air were also electrically charged. Nature is in the process of welcoming me home.
One of the most unforgettable entrances I created was for a wellness center, where the aim was to forge a sense of retreat that enveloped visitors the moment they set foot on the property. Abandoning the typical hardscape of concrete steps and a solid front door, we prescribed an approach that wound through a diminutive native plant garden. Stone pathways, edged by ferns and wild grasses, guided visitors to the front door, while the sound of a nearby water feature provided a gentle backdrop. By the time they reached “the sound of the door”—an elegant wooden structure framed by climbing vines—visitors had already started to unwind, even before stepping inside.
Creating an entrance that employs biophilic design means more than simply placing aesthetically appealing natural elements in and around the entryway. It requires an intentionality about materials, textures, and sensory experiences. In my home, I have a slab of beautiful stone that serves as a doormat. It is undeniably rough in certain places, and it would be that’s just a tad bit ridiculous to call this doormat smooth. But there is a sensation of ease, a welcome, here in what is technically the biophilic experience you’re having with what might traditionally have been called a doormat.
Creating a biophilic experience at the entrance of a building can be as simple and effective as the use of greenery. Not only is it an obviously attractive feature, but plants also allow for something many of us city-dwellers lack—immediate access to nature! For one high-rise apartment building we worked on, we installed a vertical garden at the entrance. While certainly an attention-getter, it is also a wall of plants the residents can brush past as they come or go—a living wall that literally engenders a connection to the outdoors. And the plant selections for that “outdoor room” were made with the city’s environment in mind.
Biophilic entrances benefit enormously from good lighting. Our natural preference is for natural light, and we should go after it as much as possible; I do, and I even work toward it at times when you might not usually think of going after it (such as with skylights). In one project, we created an entrance with a large pivot door and made the surrounding entrance structure one in which natural light would pour in. Then we used the light in ways that would make the very act of passing through the entrance structure a kind of transcendent experience. I especially prize using light in ways that gives the entrance a kind of “living quality.” The experience of passing through the entrance should carry the walker along to whatever is beyond in a sort of rhythm that prepares them, both mentally and physically, for the next thing that lies ahead.
In places where there is little to no natural light, I find myself looking for lighting solutions that are reminiscent of natural daylight in both quality and quantity. In a corporate lobby void of any windows, for example, we used warm, ambient lighting in concert with sleek, organic materials like bamboo and reclaimed wood to create a biophilic entrance that hugged visitors rather than shouted at them. And though we certainly weren’t trying to replicate the sun at high noon, we did devise a subtle, soft glow for the planters at the base of two trees that felt likely and practically like the kind of warmth one might experience in a space adjacent to a sun-drenched window.
The biophilic entrance isn’t just a visual experience; it’s a sonic one as well. Water features—like the small fountain we installed in a client’s entryway—offer tranquil sounds that can set an even more welcoming tone than the entrance itself. I didn’t really believe it until we tested it a few times in different environments, but the sonic space around an entrance can really make a difference. The best sound to experience, for either a resident or a visitor, is the sound of a trickling natural water feature or a low cascade. Brief residences or a quick greeting at any entrance are also made more pleasant by what your ears encounter.
Your entryway doesn’t have to be large or ostentatious to be biophilic. Even in limited space, there are ways to connect with nature that can create a welcoming atmosphere and give a sense of the outdoors. One example that I really love is a townhouse where I worked that has a very narrow front stoop. The homeowners cherished the way their entryway felt like an urban retreat, a chance to get a little something-something connecting with nature and to get away from the urban hustle. I think that what they loved probably stems from a pretty basic human desire: to be in an outdoor space that feels private, yet accessible.
The Influence of Elements and Perception in Entrances Biophilic Design
When biophilic entrances are purposed, and while they are useful, the entrance design is a somewhat common aspect of architecture in that it tends to focus on materials as somewhat visual. What is often not considered in biophilic entrances is that while materials might have a common sensory effect, what is generally found in nature is biophilically persuasive. That is, entrances constructed in common forms with common materials generally have a much less biophilic effect.
When designing biophilic entrances, wood is one of my preferred materials—not only because it’s a natural, renewable material. There’s something grounding about wood, especially when it’s in a more natural, unfinished state. It feels great underfoot. It’s not too smooth, yet it’s warm to the touch. It’s almost as if the raw wood entrance is alive in some way. I worked with some clients who were passionate about sustainability and wanted the entrance to their home to reflect that ethos. We used barn wood to create a front door to their house. The wood was beautiful, with an amazing, oh-so-natural character. The entrance felt somehow grounded, even within the airy, open design of the house itself.
Stone is another material I often use in biophilic entrances—one project that incorporated stone I found particularly memorable. When designing a mountain cabin, we crafted the entrance using large, irregular stone pavers that climbed upward toward the door. Seemingly at home within the lovely landscape of the surrounding area, the pavers felt much more solid and secure than you’d expect an “entrance” to feel. They had real heft, presence, and an unmistakable tactile quality. And as we ascended toward the door on this rather audacious stone staircase, we felt the strong, soothing connection between the built environment and the wild, natural landscape around us. There’s something about stone that, when used in such a way, seems to make the perfect entrance—slow yet steady, with a lovely rhythm and sure footedness that somehow facilitates the transition between inside and out.
However, a biophilic entrance employs much more than just tactile materials. Smell is another key component of biophilia. A design for a biophilic entrance that I really loved used cedar for the exterior cladding. Nothing says “welcome” quite like the enticing scent of a freshly hewn forest material. While cedar is a softwood, and therefore not as ideal for certain structural members as some hardwoods, it’s still a fantastic choice for excessive amounts of timber framing and the cladding itself. It truly smells amazing and adds a ton of sensory detail to the entrance.
Biophilic entrances need more than just visual beauty to create the immersive experience humans have evolved to appreciate. Mere eyesight is not the limit of our human experience; we also rely on touch, taste, smell, and sound to inform our perceptions. I often find that relying on just one or two senses makes for a poor experience that feels incomplete. On the flip side, when we engage multiple senses, particularly in contrasting ways, we achieve heightened perception and a feeling of presence that isn’t possible with just sight alone. Texture, in that way, is like an entrance’s secret weapon. In wall surfaces, texture can be used one way; in floor surfaces, it can partner with wall surfaces for contrast. Biophilic design makes the best possible use of texture for all of that.
In a different design for an urban retreat center, we came up with a novel entrance feature for the center. The ceiling was bedecked with beautiful natural fibers woven in an intricate pattern. The designers of the entrance intended to create a canopy effect—like a tree, a place where the natural and built worlds intersect. The act of entering is an important one in any architectural work, and here it is made almost ceremonial. One passes under a woven “canopy” to enter into the tranquil world inside, away from the frantic pace of urban life.
As I noted earlier, biophilic design can draw inspiration from the incomparable power of nature, offering a restorative experience for individuals through the incorporation of natural elements. Water, light, plants, and animals can be part of this experience. In fact, biophilic design can use these elements to create a magnificent immersive experience for each individual. Of these elements, water is possibly the most powerful one that can change the atmosphere in a space. I have incorporated it into entranceways, and I have seen (and heard) the profound effect it can have. It can function as a sound portal. Move past a small water feature, and you have no choice but to hear it. The “water you” in front of the entrance seems like a perfect threshold.
In biophilic entrance design, an aspect I am always careful to include is the creation of refuge. Nature tends to create comforting and protective spaces, and I think that this is an important part of any entrance that aspires to welcome. For instance, I remember designing the entrance to a small country home where the roof of the porch extended far out, creating an effect as though you were walking under a tree. As you progressed into the house along this path, your brain was reassuringly lit up with refuge signals. The homeowners loved it. They said that the porch entrance was particularly nice in the summer when the deep shade of the roof and the lush greenery all around it made for a cool and peaceful space.
Biophilic entrances composed of natural materials—like wood, stone, and metal—not only can be aesthetically pleasing but also can develop a kind of beauty that increases with age.
I’ve even found that some of these materials might tell our entrances’ stories. A piece of wood used in my biophilic entrance has developed variations in color that seem to be telling me that this part of my home is somehow close to a tree. (Coughing up the “story” of your wood: secret part 1.) The bit of wood also seems to be increasingly close to a living part of the natural world since it has started to develop quite a bit of fuzz. (Secret part 2: divulging this mycelium opal with an abiding wood story.)
The latest trend in eco-friendly entrance design has to do with something subtle but really quite important: the use of sustainable materials. It was recently brought to my attention that even the materials we are using in biophilic design should be sustainably sourced and should ideally have some sort of positive attribute besides just being, you know, “good” or “better” for the environment. So, I’ve been thinking about what kind of beautiful and sustainable “eco-friend” materials I might use in the design of a recent project of mine. Among these materials are hempcrete—a bio-composite made with hemp fibers, which are really quite amazing in both strength and lightness—and cork insulation, which has the very surprising characteristic of 50% more soundproofing capability when compared to other insulation options.
Designing a biophilic entryway is somewhat akin to composing music. It takes an ensemble of materials, textures, and elements to produce the harmonious salutations of a biophilic entryway. As with music composition, one must balance beauty with function and find arrangements that allow the “appearance” of a space to lead seamlessly into its “reality.” These are thresholds that not only look inviting but feel alive—a path toward intrigue and exploration.
It is more than mere beauty that a biophilic entrance possesses. When we design an entrance with biophilic principles, we consider much more than aesthetic qualities. ZGF (the architecture firm where I work) prioritizes biophilia in all our designs, and this principle applies to entrances as well. With biophilia, we create spaces that allow individuals and communities to flourish. This is not just the first impression; it is also the last and only opportunity architects have to really set the tone of a building for those who enter it.
I often ponder the idea of wellness in design being something that isn’t just experienced once you’ve entered a space. Take, for example, a residential project I worked on for a client who was exceptionally passionate about the idea of wellness. Their home was to be a sanctuary—a respite from the cares of the day. They desired something that would feel totally private and also something that would kind of wow visitors as they approached. We ended up designing a very wide, natural stone pathway that flanked bordering native plants. The entrance was to be a moment. There was orientation; there were large wooden doors. But maybe the special part was the experience of the entrance—this wide path that didn’t just go straight and level but had a gentle curve. The client told me later that they always felt a sense of calm every time they came home.
For as long as I can remember, I’ve been captivated by how biophilic design can affect our mental state. To me, it seems even more critical in a high-traffic area like an entrance. I once worked on a commercial project for a wellness center, where we wanted to make such a shift in atmosphere even more dramatic. Obviously, an urban environment can be pretty chaotic, and the entrance seems like **the** first line of defense against such an atmosphere for a wellness center. So, it was all about design intent and making sure we had a focal point that would draw visitors toward the door in much the same way a moth is drawn to a flame—with promise and with light.
Such purposeful design accentuates the power of entryways as not merely the threshold to a space but as the very point at which one begins to transition into a different, perhaps even restorative, state of being. What the architects of these very special entrances understand—consciously or not—is that one’s environment can profoundly affect one’s mood and even one’s mental or emotional health.
Biophilic designs are essential in public and shared spaces, such as offices, for enhancing employee wellness. Recently, we’ve seen a corporate trend: more and more companies are creating biophilic entrances for their workspaces. This means that the first space a person experiences when entering the workplace is infused with natural elements that foster a deep human connection with nature—an effect that has been scientifically shown to enhance mood, reduce stress, and improve overall wellness. In one of our corporate projects, we designed a biophilic entrance that led visitors through an indoor garden to the main reception area. The garden featured tropical plants, natural stone walkways, and elements that invited people to move through the space. Before reaching the reception area, visitors would often pause in the indoor garden. The feedback we received was astonishing. People reported feeling much calmer and less anxious after experiencing the indoor garden.
Biophilic entrances are not only about personal well-being; they also enhance community. One of the aspects of biophilic design I appreciate is its ability to unite people. Spaces designed biophilically promote the types of gatherings and interactions we might all hope for in public places, not just entrances. I have witnessed this innumerable times with entrances that incorporate some biophilic feature, whether seating areas, community gardens, or even just courtyards that lead into a building. These elements design the space as shared, as a transition zone where relaxation and conversation take place.
In a recent project for a neighborhood community center, the entrance was designed to be a place where residents could gather. Our plan for the courtyard at the entrance featured a series of long benches under a pergola covered in climbing plants. We included some kind of unusual herb garden that local residents were invited to tend—by unusual, I mean the plants were not arranged in the way that you might expect a typical herb garden to be arranged. For example, normally, herbs associated with cooking would be grouped together—basil, parsley, chives, and so on—whereas these plants, likely to be used mostly in the kitchen, were at the entrance. Still, it’s great to see “herb gardens” popping up all over the place.
I have also observed that biophilic design at entrances contributes to the inclusivity and overall welcoming feel of a space. In a residential complex where I worked, we designed the entrance to be fully accessible to all people, no matter their level of mobility. Ramps blend seamlessly into our natural landscape, making them easy to navigate and hard to detect as “accessible.” We chose materials like wood and stone (courtesy of the naturalists among my family) to soften the lines of our architecture. And we made sure that our entrance wasn’t a place of scarcity. Huge planters, flanking the entrance like friendly sentries, are filled to the brim with an incredible variety of the native plants that I can only wish I could grow in my unfriendly backyard.
When I consider the future, I see biophilic entries continuing to evolve in a manner that integrates them even more intimately with technological and sustainable modern practices. For this reason, I am particularly intrigued by the prospects of biophilic design envelopes that utilize energy-efficient lighting; smart, low-water use irrigation for living walls; and even the incorporation of solar panels into wall or roof “green” spaces—allowing biophilic design to move well beyond mere aesthetic concerns and directly contribute to the reduction of energy and water consumption in our overall built environments.
A trend I’ve been watching is the merging of biophilic elements with digital tech. Picture an entry, for instance, where sensors know you’re there and adjust the lights and sounds to enhance your natural experience. The sound of birdsong or the gentle breeze that ripple-shifts as you walk past might take you several steps into a kind of immersive, responsive design that makes a biophilic entrance even more serene and stunning.
In the final analysis, a biophilic entrance offers a kind of poetics of place. It does more than just usher one into a building; it designs an experience of arrival, aiming to cultivate within the entrant a sense of intimate connection with the natural world that is both profound and easy, a feeling that anyone can understand. Whether through the use of natural materials, careful and clever lighting, or designs that emphasize the presence of the nature and community, biophilic entrances are transformative. They have the power to make one feel different—better, even—right after crossing the threshold.
