The Neuroscience of Beauty
There’s a lake in France, called Lake Annecy, and on it sits a 13th century, medieval chateau. From within its vaulted spaces, the Alps are visible, and even in summer they are snow-capped. I am 17 years old and sitting in this remarkable place, having my first European lunch. Paced to be savored, it will go on for five hours and contain eight courses, each paired with a special wine.
Everything is quiet, calm, and ordered, and for the first time, in such a long time, I am breathing again. Back home, I had been in survival mode, but not here, and not now. Not inside this ancient architecture with history embedded in its walls. Not with this lake so close to my table I’m able to see deep into its cerulean blue water.
Not with this waiter in his starched white apron, handing me a crisp white napkin. And not seated on this chair, which is unlike any chair I’ve ever seen or experienced. Hand-carved and weighty, its upholstery is a gorgeous green floral tapestry. And while it is magnificent, it is not grandiose, overly embellished, or pretentious. Actually, it is the exact opposite—humble, honest, and authentic, not trying to be more of itself than what it is meant to be. I don’t feel overpowered, nor that I am sitting on a king’s throne; I feel comfortably, and completely, myself.
I am enveloped, embraced, secure, and nurtured in this chair, allowing me to connect to my truest, deepest self, to the core of who I am. It seems as though the soul of this old chair, which has held and supported so many before me, is touching my soul.
At this moment, I feel like I am part of something so much more than myself, and more than that, I feel really happy. It isn’t until years later that I will know why one chair can make me, and my world, feel right. But right now, I only know that something in me is different, and I sense that my path forward will somehow lead me to discover the answer behind the “why” of this moment.
Back then, I didn’t know our surroundings have the ability to impact us. I also didn’t know there is an entire science that supports exactly what I was feeling, which I call “the neuroscience of beauty.” Today, having devoted myself to researching and studying it, and having had opportunities to talk to leaders in the field, I’ve begun to understand why I felt settled and soothed that day on Lake Annecy.
And why the opposite had been true for me, too, that in my “normal” life at home, my environment had agitated and troubled me so.
The neuroscience of beauty is a beautifully complex science dealing with the way places and objects spark our brain’s neurotransmitters, which are, essentially, messengers… from our brain to our body. Their messages are not long, intellectual treatises.
They are instantaneous bursts; there are five of them, and in a split second they prompt our emotions and feelings. It’s a split second that has the capacity to change our lives—as my unaffected carved chair, set amid its incredible surroundings—did to me.
To a fairly large extent, I think my work comes down to me trying to give my clients their own, “French chair moment.” In every project, I apply what I know about the principles of design, then add what I understand about the principles of the
neuroscience of beauty. Its fundamental truth has been expressed here in a remarkably oversimplified way: When we walk in any space, our brain instantaneously responds to it through cues we’re receiving by our neurotransmitters. Should we be
calm? Should we run away? Should we be stressed, asleep, in love? Our neurotransmitters will determine the answer and let us know. And while all of this is happening, we won’t even be consciously aware of any of it.
Every environment has the potential to be a vessel in our good health and wellbeing when the decisions we make, regarding what to bring into it, are informed and intentional.
The five neurotransmitters aiding us achieving our vessels of environmental harmony, are:
Dopamine Known as the “feel good” neurotransmitter, dopamine’s work is dedicated to cueing our feelings of pleasure and satisfaction.
Serotonin Regulating our moods and social behaviors, as well as our memories and desires. If this wasn’t enough, serotonin is even involved in helping us sleep.
Oxytocin This is our “love hormone,” and the role it plays in bonding and well-being cannot be underestimated, or overestimated.
Endorphins Our busy “stress fighters,” endorphins reduce our stress, increase our pleasure, and result in a boost to our immune system. It never fails to amaze me that an environment can make us healthier, something I experienced first-hand when I was undergoing my cancer treatments.
Cortisol The famed “fight or flight “mechanism,” cortisol activates our reactions in the world. It has the capacity to drive us to action, give us energy, and also to evoke feelings that anything is possible. But Cortisol can also cause great stress in our bodies and in our brains. I believe that by balancing the neurotransmitters through our reactions to beauty, we can create more of a balanced mix of neurotransmitters and create less stress.
Our experiences shape us. They imprint on us. If they brought us joy, calm, or comfort, we will spend out days seeking them out; if they caused us fear, pain, or danger, we will avoid them. I think about this every day when I sit down and focus my attention on creating environments that will complement, amplify, and/or support my clients’ positive health neurotransmitters. These environments become their personal time travel capsules, instantaneously transporting them back to an experience that made them feel peaceful, or perhaps revitalized, or joyful, essentially, any that contributed to them feeling what it means to be happily human. One way I do this is by celebrating my clients through their personal stories.
The more I get to know them, the more they trust me, which leads to them opening up and sharing stories that reveal the best of who they are. I use those stories to bring out the best in their brain-body connection, and use objects (as well as furnishings, colors, and art to serve as the bridge from their brain to their body. Every time they encounter something selected with careful consideration in this present moment, it will connect them to all those same positive feelings they felt in the past. If I have done my work the way I always hope to, their bodies will release more of the neurotransmitters that let them feel good and right, and less that make them feel ill-at-ease.
It’s the same kind of messengering system as a ripple in the water. Just as that first drop causes the first ripple, our neurotransmitters represent the first drop and first ripple outward, and outward, eliciting a response that will become their own version of my chateau lunch experience. Their neurotransmitters will have a direct impact on their body’s physical wellbeing, their pulse and heartrate, the feelings in their gut, the tingle along the spine and down to their toes. This is what one object, any object and all the objects, in a space have the ability to do.
One little chair did it for me, and has gone on to become a metaphor for how I view my work—to create spaces that hold, envelope, and nurture my clients, and, to use design to curate an experience in their home where they will find the truest, deepest part of themselves, their soul. For what is a home really, but our soul’s residence in the outer world?
