Scale sets the stage for emotion.

Sociologist Erving Goffman wrote about “framing” social encounters — how our setting signals how to behave. Narrow, compressed spaces cue us to move quickly, quietly, efficiently. Expansive spaces invite pause, awe, or gathering.

scale has always been used to guide behaviour

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Think of walking through a tight corridor before emerging into a soaring hall. The body instinctively tightens, then expands. This is compression and release — one of architecture’s most ancient tools. From Egyptian tombs to Japanese tea houses, scale has always been used to guide behaviour.

In our practice, we shape thresholds this way: a low entry that opens into a sunlit kitchen, a stairwell that unfolds into a lofty landing. These moments don’t just organise space; they shift how people feel within it.

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Psychologist Roger Ulrich demonstrated in his landmark 1984 study that hospital patients recovered more quickly when their windows overlooked trees rather than blank walls. More recent research has linked natural light to improved mood, focus, and sleep quality.

Colour matters, too: warm hues calm heart rates, while stark fluorescent light increases stress. Texture is equally powerful — rough stone grounding us, smooth timber softening us. The field of biophilic design has gathered evidence that natural textures and patterns measurably reduce anxiety.

At Alki, we select materials not only for their durability or carbon footprint, but also for their atmosphere. Clay plasters that breathe with the seasons, timber linings that bring warmth, stone that holds stillness. These aren’t aesthetic choices alone; they are psychological ones, creating spaces that help people feel safe, connected, and alive.

The field of biophilic design has gathered evidence that natural textures and patterns measurably reduce anxiety.

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Not all emotional cues are dramatic. Many are subtle — and sociologists call them “behavioural scripts”. A bench in the sun signals rest. A sheltered alcove suggests intimacy. Even the angle of a window seat can nudge you to turn toward the garden.

Retail designers have studied this for decades: store layouts and circulation paths that lead you past displays, ceiling heights that quicken or slow your step. But in everyday life, these nudges matter most. They quietly script how we use homes, cafés, and even city streets.

Not all emotional cues are dramatic. Many are subtle behavioural scripts.

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We see them not as tricks, but as invitations. Small cues that say: linger here, gather here, breathe here.

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Too often, buildings are reduced to numbers: R-values, budgets, square metres. These matter. But architecture that moves us goes further. It designs for experience.

Cognitive scientists like Andy Clark argue that space is part of our “extended mind” — shaping memory, mood, and even decision-making. Sociologists remind us that space reflects and reinforces our values, becoming what philosopher Henri Lefebvre called a “social product”.

Cognitive scientists like Andy Clark argue that space is part of our “extended mind” — shaping memory, mood, and even decision-making.

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For us at Alki, this means listening not just to climate data or codes, but to atmosphere. How do you want to feel when you step inside? What emotions should this place hold for you over decades?

When we design, we imagine not just the structure of the building, but the psychology of living within it.

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