Design as a Tool for Restoration
- simone3612
- Aug 22
- 3 min read
We’re surrounded by spaces that look good on the surface but leave us strangely empty. Lobbies gleam, workspaces function, restaurants hum along, but the human pulse is faint. The research backs up what many of us feel: commercial environments often drain more than they restore.
In fact, Harvard Business Review reported last year that 60% of employees describe their workplaces as overstimulating or fatiguing, while JLL’s 2025 Global Design Outlook notes that three out of four organizations now measure design success by human experience rather than cost.
The demand is shifting. People need both efficient interiors and restorative ones. That requires a rethink of how we approach finishes as methods of creating connection, rhythm, and resonance.
Method One: Texture as a Counter to Fatigue
Minimalism gave us efficiency: surfaces that are clean, smooth, and uniform. But sensory research shows that our brains crave variation. Multisensory environments reduce stress and improve cognitive performance (University of Exeter, 2023).
In other words, flatness isn’t neutral. It’s exhausting.
So the question isn’t “should we use wood, stone, or terrazzo,” but how can texture act as an antidote to fatigue? When a surface carries depth, such as grain, roughness, or variation, it slows perception. It demands touch. It restores focus. And because there is no single answer, this method opens up breadth: matte ceramics in a lobby, tactile wall cladding in a café, even fabric or acoustic finishes that layer softness into a hard shell.
The point is circular: texture grounds overstimulated minds, but it also creates moments of pause, which in turn create stronger memories of place.
Method Two: Surfaces That Track Time
We spend 90% of our lives indoors (EPA), yet we are biological creatures of daylight and shadow.
When interiors stay the same from morning to night, they sever us from rhythm. This disconnection is subtle but powerful.
It makes spaces feel timeless in the wrong sense, suspended and flat.
Here, the method is not about choosing one “right” finish, but about designing surfaces that change. Iridescent tile that shifts with the sun. Screens that throw patterned shadows across the floor. Polished stone that brightens under midday light and softens at dusk.
The research is clear: exposure to natural light increases alertness, improves sleep quality, and elevates mood (ASID, 2022). But beyond biology, there’s cultural resonance.
For centuries, architecture has used materials to mark time.
Think stained glass changing with daylight or courtyards alive with shifting shade. Commercial interiors can reclaim that heritage by making finishes responsive, cyclical, and alive.
Method Three: Resonance Beyond Efficiency
In the race for efficiency, we’ve leaned heavily on materials that are durable but emotionally thin, like laminates, composites, and industrial surfaces. They last, but they don’t live. Anthropology tells us that people form deeper attachments to objects that age with them.
Patina, wear, and imperfection become records of use, creating a sense of continuity and belonging.
Resonant finishes embody this principle. Brass that darkens where it’s touched most. Stone that holds the memory of footsteps. Terrazzo flecked like confetti, playful and impossible to standardize. The method here is about choosing finishes that evolve alongside the people who move through them.
Resonance makes a space unforgettable because it reveals traces of life.
Method Four: Anchoring the Human in an Automated Age
As AI and automation standardize more of daily work, the human element becomes the differentiator. Workday’s 2024 survey found that while 75% of employees view AI as a useful teammate, only 30% are comfortable being “managed” by it. The tension is obvious: we welcome efficiency, but we resist losing our humanness.
Finishes can act as anchors of connection by using life and culture as materials. Oversized planters with sun-loving greenery. Local art that reflects the community, not a corporate palette. A prism hung in a lobby that throws light across the floor, reminding us of the day outside.
These interventions are methods of grounding people in something unpredictable, personal, and alive. In an automated world, unpredictability becomes precious.
The final layer is most powerful, especially in today’s world, when applying methods to them: using texture to counter fatigue, finishes to track time, materials to resonate with life, and atmospheres to anchor humanness. Each method opens up a breadth of many possible materials and infinite expressions, and they all point toward human and circular needs.
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