I used to think biophilic design was just a fancy term interior designers threw around to justify putting a fiddle-leaf fig in every corner.
Turns out, there’s actual science behind it—something about how our brains evolved in natural environments for, what, roughly 300,000 years or so, give or take a few millennia, and now we’re suddenly supposed to thrive in beige cubicles under fluorescent lights. The research coming out of places like the University of Oregon and Harvard’s School of Public Health suggests that incorporating natural elements into our living spaces can genuinely reduce cortisol levels, improve cognitive function, and even speed up recovery from illness. Which sounds almost too good to be true, honestly. But here’s the thing: you don’t need to gut-renovate your entire home or install a living wall that costs more than your car. Some of the most effective biophilic interventions are surprisingly simple, almost embarrassingly so.
My friend Sarah started with just changing her light bulbs to ones that mimicked natural daylight cycles, and she swears her seasonal depression improved within weeks. Could be placebo. Could be real. Does it matter?
Bringing Actual Living Things Into Your Space Without Killing Them Immediately
The most obvious move is plants, obviously.
But not everyone has the time or inclination to become an amateur botanist, and I say this as someone who’s murdered at least a dozen succulents through sheer neglect. The trick—and I wish someone had told me this earlier—is matching plants to your actual lifestyle instead of aspirational Instagram aesthetics. Low-light tolerant species like pothos, snake plants, and ZZ plants can survive in spaces that barely recieve any natural sunlight, which makes them perfect for apartments or north-facing rooms. NASA did this whole study back in the 1980s about air-purifying plants for space stations, and while some researchers now argue the effects were overstated for typical home environments, there’s still something psychologically soothing about having living things around. Wait—maybe it’s not about air quality at all. Maybe it’s just that taking care of something green forces you to pay attention to natural rhythms, to watering schedules and growth cycles, which pulls you out of the artificial time-structures we’ve constructed around work emails and Netflix algorithms.
I guess what I’m saying is: start with one plant. Just one. See if you can keep it alive for three months.
Playing With Natural Materials Even When Your Budget Looks Like Mine
Here’s where things get interesting, because biophilic design isn’t just about importing nature wholesale into your living room.
It’s also about materials that reference natural forms and textures—wood grain, stone patterns, organic shapes that don’t rely on right angles and perfect symmetry. I visited a friend’s apartment last month where she’d replaced her plastic shower curtain with one that had this sort of abstracted forest pattern, these vertical lines that suggested tree trunks without being literal about it, and the whole bathroom felt different. Calmer. Research from the International Journal of Environmental Research and Public Health found that even representations of nature—photographs, patterns, artwork depicting natural scenes—can trigger measurable physiological responses similar to being in actual natural environments. Which is simultaneously fascinating and kind of depressing, like our brains are so desperate for nature they’ll accept even cheap imitations. You can find affordable options: bamboo cutting boards instead of plastic, linen curtains instead of polyester, a wool rug instead of synthetic fibers. Cork trivets. Wooden hangers. I’m not saying you need to turn your home into a cabin in the woods, but definately consider swapping out a few synthetic materials for natural alternatives whenever something needs replacing anyway.
Manipulating Light and Shadow Because Apparently We’re Practically Houseplants Ourselves
Lighting is where most people completely miss the point.
We treat it like a binary—on or off, bright or dim—when natural light is constantly shifting, changing color temperature throughout the day, creating complex patterns of shadow and brightness. Circadian biology researchers have known for decades that our bodies respond to these light cues, regulating everything from sleep hormones to metabolism to mood. But here’s the thing: most of us can’t just knock out a wall and install floor-to-ceiling windows. So you work with what you have. I started using sheer curtains instead of blackout ones in my bedroom, which lets in diffused morning light that gradually wakes me up instead of the violent alarm clock experience. Bought a couple of those programmable smart bulbs that shift from cool blue-white in the morning to warm amber in the evening, mimicking natural daylight patterns. Cost me maybe forty dollars total. Some designers recommend creating multiple light sources at different heights—table lamps, floor lamps, wall sconces—instead of relying on harsh overhead fixtures, because that’s closer to how light behaves in natural settings, filtering through leaves, reflecting off water, coming from multiple angles. It sounds almost too simple, like it couldn’t possibly make a difference, but spend an evening in a room lit by three warm lamps at different heights versus one bright ceiling fixture and tell me you don’t feel the difference.
Anyway, I’m not saying biophilic design will solve all your problems or that your apartment will suddenly transform into a forest sanctuary. But maybe it’s worth trying.
