Photograph by Alecio Ferrari / Connected Archives
Words by Bridget Reed Morawski
Humans were never meant to spend this much time indoors. That’s the first thing that Michal Matlon, an architectural psychologist, reminds people when talking about the relevance of biophilic design—the curious-sounding but straightforward concept of tapping into our intrinsic desire to be in nature by incorporating elements of it in architectural or interior designs.
Historically speaking, human beings were “shaped by nature, like a statue out of a block of stone,” to be physically and mentally adept at thriving in nature, Matlon says. “Ignoring the fact that most people probably wouldn’t have the cultural knowledge to survive in nature right now, nature is [inherently] something that our brain is very familiar with.”
Although our instincts may be familiar with the outdoors, our minds and bodies no longer are. Now, almost every moment in the average American life—about 90%—is spent indoors, no matter if socializing or sleeping or working in an office or wondering if we’ll see the sun before our commute home. Meanwhile, an epidemic of mental illness is so commonly felt that it has become the punchline for easy laughs between strangers online and in intimate group chats alike. Chronic stress can be debilitating and lead to a bevy of physical ailments, including musculoskeletal pain, exacerbated breathing problems, and decreased libido. A 2022 report issued by the American Psychological Association found that 27% of adults report being so stressed they cannot function most days.
As one can imagine, the COVID-19 pandemic didn’t alleviate the pain. Mental health problems, like depression and sleeplessness, increased significantly among the majority of the nearly 2,400 Chinese survey takers who stayed inside during lockdown, according to another survey. To this end, more attention within design-focused circles is being drawn to how these indoor spaces that we inhabit can help improve the public’s mental health, engaging our senses with real or convincing facsimiles of nature.
Designers wanting to implement biophilia in built environments can reference 14 principles to build a space biophilically, according to Terrapin Bright Green, whose research is often cited by those in the biophilic design space. Browning explains that there are three umbrella categories—natural analogues, nature in the space, and nature of the space—for those patterns, each of which “triggers a different portion of the brain.” Taken together, the principles aim to tweak the amount of literal nature found in a given space, like running water features, lush landscaping or natural, minimally refined materials. But biophilic design also should heighten the instinctual sense of nature of a space, such as having an expansive, uninterrupted view or having places to shelter.
Even a sense of peril can be used to tap into the instinctual biophilicality of a space. That might sound counterintuitive and unpleasant, but Austin Trautman, who is the founder of a sustainable housing development company in Phoenix, says a deck with an opaque railing near an overhang is an excellent example of how peril and prospect—the design-world term for a broad, unobstructed view—add to the vibe. “[It gives] you this kind of closed in, cozy feeling, but you can stand by the edge and have more of a risk-peril feel,” he says. “So you’re switching between different biophilic principles based on where you are and moving more in that space.”
Humans were never meant to spend this much time indoors.
A prominent example of the risk-peril principle can be found at Taliesen, the former property of renowned American architect Frank Lloyd Wright. An elevated walkway juts out from the main house, leading visitors along a long, narrow path into the sky surrounded by hilly Wisconsin pasture.
A day’s flight away, the entire city of Singapore has become famous for its vast application of biophilic design, with skyline walking paths weaving through jungleland, expansive green roofs and walls, and towering buildings covered in branches positioned in a fractal pattern, another biophilic design principle. But innumerable other urban centers also have less-extensive examples of the style, like the tropical garden installed within Madrid’s Atocha train station, which features the biophilic principles of dynamic and diffuse lights and the concept of mystery, allowing visitors to wander through unguided.
While dramatic examples of vine-covered buildings or handsome wooden structures tend to get attention, even incorporating a few simple, affordable biophilic elements are beneficial to mental health. “Bringing in plants is usually, I would say, the easiest thing to do,” explains Matlon, who alongside his work as an architectural psychologist also co-founded the Venetian Letter, a newsletter that analyzes human-focused architecture and urban design. Selecting natural materials, like bamboo or solid wood over plasticized products or metals, can help, as can choosing furniture with more natural, free-flowing shapes. “One of the most established facts right now [in design] is that people have a preference for curved shapes,” he adds.
Surviving and thriving within nature isn’t a new concept—a non-industrial landscape is the planet’s default state, afterall. Design molded by the Earth’s materials is inherent to centuries-old Indigenous practices. Yet biophilic design has experienced a resurgence since the mid-1980s, when a landmark paper published by Roger Ulrich revealed a startling health correlation. After 46 patients had their gallbladders surgically removed, half were sent to recover in rooms at a suburban Pennsylvania hospital that had windows facing natural scenes. The other half went to rooms where they only saw a literal brick wall out the window.
Those with the nicer view, in short, were easier patients who were nicer to nurses, asked for fewer pain killers, and went home sooner. Ulrich’s paper became a watershed moment for biophilic design as one of the first rigorous, empirical studies on the matter. “Not a big surprise maybe, but to have the evidence was pretty remarkable,” says Tim Beatley, a professor of sustainable communities, urban and environmental planning at the University of Virginia’s School of Architecture.
Indeed, having that evidence and other research conducted in “the early 1980s helped launch the whole ‘healing gardens’ movement that we see in hospitals around the world,” explains sustainable design advocate Bill Browning, who is also a partner at sustainability consulting firm Terrapin Bright Green. Examples include the Bunny Mellon Healing Garden at Children’s National Hospital in Washington, D.C. and Chase Farm hospital rehabilitation gardens in London.
But even as recently as a decade ago, talking about biophilic design was still the realm of crunchy granola hippies, says Trautman. Then, “all of a sudden, everybody wants wool clothing and plants again, and they care about their mental health, and they’re connected with nature,” he explains. “Right now, I think it’s just so much easier to get people into these concepts.”
Even incorporating a few simple, affordable biophilic elements are beneficial to mental health.
It’s in part because the connection between exposure to nature and health —mental health, in particular—has become increasingly accepted as more research is published. For already ardent nature lovers, some of the conclusions may seem obvious. Two older studies published in the Journal of Environmental Psychology respectively found that being in nature improves our moods and vitality, or zest for life, and reduces feelings of depression and stress.
Beatley says that a panoply of newer studies in the past decade, “especially in the last five years,” provide a “remarkable body of research” to further bolster the case for biophilic design. A 2021 literature review examined 149 studies and concluded “the collective results … suggest that nearby nature is associated with quantifiable mental health benefits, with the potential for lowering the physical and financial costs related to poor mental health.”
Beatley is quick to acknowledge the limitations of such studies. “Some would argue that it’s still not causal, but it’s highly correlational,” he says. “To me, it’s pretty compelling.”
That continued criticism—that the touted health benefits are difficult to tie exclusively to the impact of biophilic design—was repeated by advocates and experts in the field, although those interviewed for this article struggled to name many people who actually shared this complaint. However, even the researchers behind the study pointing to improved vitality acknowledged that “outdoor contexts often involve higher social contact and physical activity” that muddle our ability to measure in a vacuum the exact benefit of being in nature.
There are also limits as to whom the current research applies. “Most of the work has been done in the developed world, so we don’t know so much about its benefits in low- to middle-income countries,” explains Jenny Roe, an environmental psychologist and professor at the University of Virginia’s School of Architecture, noting a lack of funding and differing cultural attitudes toward acknowledging mental health struggles. “That work is beginning to be done, but there are often gaps.”
Closer to home, access to green spaces is frequently limited to wealthy, white Americans. Although experts said that even little dashes of biophilic design are helpful, more extensive, high-quality green urban spaces could help improve equity in disadvantaged communities, which might require more public engagement in city planning processes.
And then there’s another obstacle that may be outside of designers’ and architects’ hands entirely: no matter how much we bring the natural world into our high-stress, indoor ecosystems, biophilic design still can’t compete with being literally out in nature. But, Beatley says, the next best option is to integrate actual ecosystems with convincingly natural spaces whenever possible. “There’s a continuum of nature experiences and I want you to have as many of them as you can over the course of a day, although some of them will be more impactful and more natural than others,” explains Beatley. “But all of it is probably good.”
Join our membership community. Support our work, receive a complimentary subscription to Atmos Magazine, and more.
Reimagining Care Through Nature: The Case for Biophilic Design
