The built environment reflects our values and reveals what we often overlook. As cities grow denser and life becomes increasingly digital, it’s easy to treat physical space as a backdrop - static, interchangeable, and secondary to the work or life that happens within it. But space is never neutral. The environments we move through shape our mood, focus, and sense of connection, often in ways we don’t consciously register. Subtle design choices, such as lighting, acoustics, or the presence of natural elements, can alter our perception or mood within seconds. As we spend more time indoors, in spaces often designed for efficiency rather than human experience, it’s worth asking whether they simply serve their purpose or genuinely support the people within them.

Evolution in Context

Human cognition did not evolve in the built environments we now inhabit. Long before modern cities and office complexes, our ancestors lived in ecosystems defined by natural complexity - canopies of trees, shifting light, flowing water, and uneven terrain. These landscapes weren’t incidental to survival; they shaped how perception, attention, and emotion developed over time. Evolutionary psychologists argue that the brain’s core functions, such as spatial reasoning, pattern recognition, and stress regulation, were finely tuned by the adaptive demands of these settings (Tooby & Cosmides, 1990; Barrett, 2010). Today’s environments often bear little resemblance to those formative conditions. Standard office interiors, with uniform lighting, hard surfaces, and limited sensory variation, can disrupt the neural systems that once thrived in dynamic and multisensory surroundings. The tension between the brain’s evolutionary design and its contemporary context has measurable effects: exposure to artificial and monotonous environments is associated with increased stress, cognitive fatigue, and diminished emotional regulation (Joye & van den Berg, 2011; Evans & Johnson, 2000).

Design and the Brain

The emerging field of neuroaesthetics offers insight into how the structure and atmosphere of physical spaces interact with brain function. Drawing on neuroscience, psychology, and architecture findings, this research suggests that design isn’t just about visual appeal. It is a form of environmental conditioning that can either support or impair mental health andperformance. When thoughtfully aligned with the mind’s inherited preferences, built environments can do more than look good. They can feel intuitively right, neurologically efficient, and emotionally restorative.

Biophilic Design - The Evolutionary Reconnection

This evolutionary mismatch is where biophilic design enters as both remedy and reconnection. Biophilia, the innate human affinity for nature, isn’t a sentimental preference. It reflects the adaptive advantages of environments that once signalled safety, resources, and social cohesion (Kellert & Calabrese, 2015). Spaces that echo natural forms through fractal patterns, diffused daylight, water features, or organic materials engage neural pathways associated with reward, attention restoration, and emotional regulation. In fMRI studies, for instance, participants exposed to images of nature or curvilinear architecture show greater activation in the anterior cingulate cortex and insula, regions implicated in empathy and stress reduction (Biederman & Vessel, 2006; Coburn et al., 2017).

From a neurological standpoint, views of nature activate the brain’s default mode network (DMN), associated with introspection, relaxation, and creative thinking (Söderlund et al., 2021). Activation of the DMN allows for the restoration of cognitive resources, fostering more reflective and integrative modes of thought essential to complex decision-making. In stark contrast, sterile, monotonous, or overly chaotic environments can trigger heightened activity in the amygdala, the brain’s threat detection centre, intensifying stress responses that impair rationality, emotional regulation, and social cooperation (Lederbogen et al., 2011;

Norwood et al., 2019). How ironic then that many environments designed explicitly for healing, learning, or productivity, such as hospitals, offices, and schools, often replicate exactly the kind of sensory deprivation most likely to undermine these very goals. Sound also plays a central role. The rhythmic presence of water, birdsong, or wind rustling through leaves has been shown to lower cortisol levels and heart rate variability, anchoring the nervous system in a parasympathetic state (Alvarsson, Wiens, & Nilsson, 2010). These auditory cues, processed through evolution as non-threatening or resource-rich, contrast sharply with the unpredictable beeping, mechanical hums, and conversational noise typical of many work environments, often imperceptible yet chronically agitating.However, it is important to acknowledge that claims about biophilia and neuroaesthetic responses are not without critique. Some researchers caution against overgeneralizing findings from small-scale neuroimaging studies or assuming uniformity in human preferences for natural stimuli. Cultural differences, personal experiences, and neurodivergent processing styles can all mediate how individuals respond to space—what is calming for one person might be overstimulating or unfamiliar for another (Joye, 2007; Kahn et al., 2012). Thus, while biophilic design holds great potential, it must be applied with nuance, contextual sensitivity, and adaptability.

Credit: Barceló Experiences: https://www.barcelo.com/guia-turismo/en/italy/milan/things-to-do/bosco-verticale/

Designing for Equity

Equally crucial is how design accommodates variability across brains. Not all people process space in the same way. Individuals with ADHD, autism spectrum conditions, or sensory sensitivities often experience traditional office environments not just as uncomfortable but as cognitively disabling (Robertson & Baron-Cohen, 2017). Neuroaesthetic design that offers options for movement, quiet, and sensory modulation is essential, not simply as accommodation, but as an ethical imperative. In this sense, the goal is not universal environments but responsive ones. Spaces that recognise cognitive diversity as a baseline, not a deviation.

Architecture as Psychological Infrastructure

Design also communicates. Architectural elements like lighting, texture, and spatial openness signal norms, values, and hierarchies in subtle but powerful ways. A sterile, enclosed office with harsh lighting may unintentionally reinforce hierarchy, surveillance, or utilitarianism. In contrast, environments with natural light, visual permeability, and tactile warmth can cultivate psychological safety and collaborative culture (Sailer & Thomas, 2019). The affective tone of a space becomes part of its social architecture, conveying whether people are seen as replaceable inputs or as full, feeling beings. As work becomes more hybrid and space becomes more intentional, these design principles are no longer niche but necessary. With fewer people coming into the office by default, physical environments must earn their relevance. That means not just functionality, but meaning: providing something psychologically valuable that home environments often can’t. Environments that reduce cognitive load, foster creativity, or restore depleted attention shouldn’t be considered luxuries. Instead, it should stand as a new foundation for sustainable knowledge work.

Toward Environments That Work with Us

The implications extend beyond offices. Schools, hospitals, transit hubs, and public housing are all environments where neuroaesthetic insight could reshape outcomes, from reducing anxiety in waiting rooms to improving concentration in classrooms. If we accept that space is not neutral but neurologically active, architecture and design become scalable, persistent, and profoundly influential public health tools. Ultimately, the built world should not fight the brain’s ancient architecture. It should reflect it. In reconnecting with the sensory logic of our evolutionary past, we can begin to create environments that are not just smart, but wise - spaces that remember where we came from, and help us flourish in where we are going.

The Evolutionary Brain in Modern Space: Designing for Human Nature.