Sensory Landscapes in Everyday Spaces

Imagine this: You enter a small pocket park nestled within the urban bustle of city blocks. As you step inside, you're enveloped by subtle sensory cues. A small water feature winds through the center, its surface sparkling as sunlight filters through the tree canopy, casting dancing patterns of light. Gentle greens, soft browns, and muted flowers create a soothing palette, blending nature seamlessly with the urban landscape.

The park’s quiet hum fills your ears as you settle onto a swinging bench. The soft trickle of water combines with the rustling of leaves in the breeze. Birds chirp intermittently, adding a delicate, natural layer to the soundscape.

The textures around you invite exploration. You run your hand along the smooth bark of a nearby tree, brush the soft petals of flowers, and feel the warmth of the stone paths beneath your feet, still holding the day’s heat. As you close your eyes, the air feels gentle on your face, carrying earthy scents. You inhale the smell of damp soil mixed with the faint fragrance of wildflowers. In the distance, you catch the faintest whiff of coffee from a nearby café, blending with the freshness of the park’s greenery—reminding you that, though this space offers a break from the urban rush, the city is still close by.

Every sense is engaged, yet it’s not overwhelming. The park is thoughtfully designed, offering a peaceful moment of respite within the pulse of the city.

Now imagine this: You're at an outdoor shopping district, surrounded by a whirlwind of activity. The air is thick with chatter, footsteps, and the mechanical hum of air conditioners and delivery trucks blending with traffic. Stores line both sides of the street, each one bursting with color and movement. You're on a mission—books and new clothes for your child. The air already feels tight.

You make it through the first store to the checkout, gripping the items you need, when suddenly—bang! A loud crash echoes as the cashier drops something onto the counter. The noise cuts through you like a sharp blade, but for your child, it's more than startling—it’s overwhelming. The harsh overhead lights seem to strobe, flickering painfully in their eyes. As the sensory overload builds, each step feels heavier, like the world is closing in. Every sound is louder, every flash of light brighter. There’s movement everywhere—people, bags, carts—and the tension in your child’s body tells you they’re starting to break under the weight of it all.

So, you both rush outside, hoping for relief, to be greeted by the relentless noise of traffic bouncing off hard surfaces and the glare of the sun reflecting off the concrete sidewalk. No refuge here. Every corner you turn feels just as chaotic… Desperation sets in as you scan for a sliver of calm. Then you spot it—a Starbucks. You know there's a bathroom inside, and it’s your best option. You dart in, lock the door behind you, and finally, a moment to breathe. It’s not ideal, but it provides a brief respite, however short-lived.

This isn’t an isolated incident. Many people, perhaps someone you know, or even yourself, have experienced something similar. Susan (pseudonym), a participant in a qualitative thesis study I conducted, "Neuro-Inclusive Spaces: Sensory-Responsive Environments," shared her struggles with many public indoor spaces, which she described as "sensory nightmares." Overwhelmed by bright lights and loud sounds, she recalled a similar experience to the one described earlier, where she sought solace for her and her autistic son in the only accessible space nearby —a Starbucks bathroom. She explained, “So many indoor spaces are sensory nightmares, with bright lights and loud sounds... For instance, when I go to Safeway, the temperature feels like 40 degrees, and the music is way too loud and awful... The whole experience is a sensory nightmare.”

Susan is not alone. Others have shared stories of abandoning grocery carts, walking out of social events, or even avoiding leaving their homes altogether to escape the overwhelming sensory overload of everyday environments. The scenario at the store is just one example of what people with sensory sensitivities face in the environments shaped by designers, planners, and architects.

However, it's not always negative. In my study, several participants with lived experience in neurodivergence and sensory sensitivities described a deep connection with nature as a source of sensory relief. For instance, DeeJay (pseudonym), discussed how time in nature positively impacts their well-being: “I have intense sensory encounters with nature, particularly through visuals. I feel a synesthetic connection with my vestibular system, where I almost feel suspended in a moment that can last for what seems like a long time. It’s not all bad [in reference to sensory sensitivities]... I love going outside in nature and moving around, whether it’s dancing or engaging in free-form movement.”

Sensory sensitivities and challenges are common experiences for many neurodivergent individuals. In my neurodiverse family, sensory sensitivities—whether hyposensitivity, hypersensitivity, or synesthesia—have been a constant part of our daily lives. These sensitivities are deeply personal and complex, with each person’s experience being unique. For example, different senses can be affected in various ways, and these sensitivities can even change over time.

To better understand this, here are a few key concepts: Hypo-sensitivities refer to a reduced response to sensory input, where individuals may seek out more intense stimulation. In contrast, hyper-sensitivities involve an amplified reaction to stimuli—things that might seem mildly irritating to some, like bright lights or background noise, can be unbearable or even painful to others. Synesthesia is another fascinating phenomenon, where the stimulation of one sense involuntarily triggers another—such as seeing colors when hearing music or tasting flavors when reading words.

As we deepen our understanding of sensory experiences, an exciting challenge arises: how can we design environments that are not only manageable for individuals with sensory processing challenges but also sensory-responsive and user-friendly? While progress has been made, much remains unexplored—especially in the realm of landscapes—offering ample opportunities for growth and innovation.

As this journey continues, I encourage you to explore your own sensory landscape. Step into a space like the pocket park described earlier, paying close attention to the ambient environmental factors around you: the lighting—whether natural or artificial, the sounds in the background, the temperature and air movement, and the scents, whether from nature or the city. Notice how these elements interact and influence your experience. What aspects of this environment feel grounding or calming to you?

Next, reflect on your experience in a more bustling, human-made environment, like the shopping district. Pay attention to the different ambient factors there—sounds, lighting, air quality, and temperature. How do these factors shape your mood, perception, and overall experience? How do these two environments compare?

As you reflect, I hope you're inspired to rethink the spaces around you—not just as objects of beauty or utility, but as landscapes that engage with our most fundamental way of experiencing the world: through our senses.

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This article series builds on prior research, including the Sensory Responsive Environments Framework©—a working hypothesis centered on four key principles: co-design with the community, sensory zoning, designing from the sensory margins, and incorporating nature-based solutions. It will also feature fresh perspectives from the NeuroScapes Design Collective and the neurodiverse community. Stay connected through the NeuroScapes Design Collective LinkedIn group for updates on when input is being gathered for articles—I’d love to hear from you!

As the new year approaches, I’ll be starting the next round of conversations and would love to hear about your experiences. If you’ve faced similar challenges or have insights to share, I warmly invite you to join this design dialogue. Your confidentiality will always be respected if you choose to remain anonymous—I’m committed to maintaining ethical standards. Share as much or as little as you feel comfortable with—the choice is entirely yours.