Imagine my disbelief when, my client visibly stressed and head in hands, gazed through the detailed proposal and what he described as a “blood-curdling” estimate I put together. His firm was going through a massive rebranding and to ignite prideful feelings for their space, I envisioned transforming the entire Portland headquarters into a nature infused sanctuary, with living walls and an intricately designed water feature resembling a mountain stream. Purely zen. Everything I envisioned, I was going to make a reality. So, what was the problem? Apparently, I had far too boldly claimed within the estimation that the project would earn a WELL Platinum certification without breaking a sweat options and had prepared the financials with that false belief in mind. Adrenaline pumping, I took my bets and lost brutally.
WELL Platinum always comes at a cost. A cross glance would tell you that multiple HVAC and building system overhauls are a must, including ripping apart the entire existing building and swapping any lights with modern, energy efficient fittings, but in my books, heavy rebranding projects are alright. There are no ceilings in my world, or so I thought until this situation proved me otherwise.
Before staring me down in disbelief, could your light calculations confirm to me that brand new, up to speed, high-efficiency compliant air quality control including fixtures needs to be tested and certified quarterly air quality testing purged to the need of executing over a dozen draconian terms for the next three modules of three years framed under a legal document?
I thought it was too much nonsense jargon given I was simply narrating the design and its framework for the space and bringing claim versus claim, mixing adept solutions with the set standards will grant all said benchmark targets unrestricted allowance at no extra cost in my world.
I could practically feel my blood pressure spiking as Jeff, the quietly observant sustainability director in the corner, spoke up. “Your design is beautiful,” he began, “however, just the certification process would cost upwards of $47,000. That’s not including the actual implementation costs.”
And this, my friends, is how I found out the biophilic design certifications weren’t just trophies clients put on showcase projects to impress stakeholders. Trophies clients hand over after above-and-beyond work wishing to be impressed are complex, demanding systems that require unparalleled expertise, planning, and ruthless amounts of capital. Capital I, for some absurd reason, thought I possessed because my website so proudly stated I “specialized in certified biophilic design solutions.”
What I would give to forget about that meeting. The wearisome part was not the humiliation (though it was pretty horrible), but realizing I had mismanaged everyone’s time and very well thrown the entire project into chaos because I didn’t rationally analyze the certification standards I was so readily suggesting.
That was the moment I decided my life was going to have an actual lesson on the subject of certifications in ‘biophilic design’ rather than the patchwork education gleaned from magazines and TikTok, diving headfirst into the convoluted reality of standards.
What I learned reshaped my understanding of biophilic design and, frankly, rescued my career. So, let me tell you how to avoid my self-inflicted $47,000 mistake, but first grab a coffee (or something stronger).
Let’s begin with the WELL Building Standard — the certification that I so proudly butchered in that boardroom. It is developed by the International WELL Building Institute and it is perhaps the most comprehensive approach to human health in the built environment. When I say “comprehensive,” it’s like the encyclopedia of wellness-focused design and construction.
What I didn’t grasp, and what most designers who carelessly use the term biophilia do not understand, is that WELL incorporates ten concepts: Air, Water, Nourishment, Light, Movement, Thermal Comfort, Sound, Materials, Mind, and Community. Biophilic components are primarily addressed in the “Mind” concept, but they are only a part of a larger whole.
A month after my boardroom blunder, a friend of mine, Sophia, who is an actual WELL Accredited Professional, broke it down for me over drinks.
“The issue with WELL,” she said, stirring her wine, “is that it is very detailed but also very tedious. You don’t simply put flowers around the space and expect it to be WELL certified. You have to have a mechanical engineer with specialized knowledge in lighting, acoustics, materials, and all of them have to be thinking together in concert at the very start of the project.”
When I brought up the figure of $47,000 that Jeff had quoted for just the certification, she seemed to agree. “Yes, that seems correct for a project that size. There’s the registration fee, the performance verification fee, consultant costs, and then all the actual tests conducted to validate the claims, from air to water to lighting quality.”
But this is the issue – assuming you actually follow through and put in the effort, the certification could be transformational, regardless of the price and complexity. Sophia showed me pictures of a project she did, the headquarter of a tech firm in Seattle that went for WELL Gold certification. Employees reported a 31% reduction in sick leaves and a 22% increase in self-assessed productivity after relocating to the new space.
“It’s not only about looking natural,” she explained to me. “It’s about building things that environmentally aid human health on a biological level.”
After receiving my WELL wake up call, I made sure to educate myself on all primary biophilic certification systems for self study. I attended workshops, perused technical manuals (SO MANY MANUALS), and went with professionals who actually made sense.
Living Building Challenge was next on my educational journey, which makes WELL look like a casual suggestion rather than a standard. The LBC, created by the International Living Future Institute, is the most rigorous sustainability certifying system in the world. No joke, it makes LEED Platinum look like a participation trophy.
I went to check the Bullitt Center in Seattle, often dubbed “the greenest commercial building in the world,” and one of the few projects to achieve full Living Building certification. The biophilic aspects and zero toxic elements of the structure include: the six story building fully self sustaining through collecting and treating all its water on site, generating all its energy via solar panels, and preserving off all wastewater. These are woven through the abundant natural light, exposed mass timber structure, and native plant landscaping.
During my walkthrough of the building, I came across an architect on the project named Marcus. When I inquired what he considered was the most difficult part in getting LBC certification, he spent a good thirty seconds laughing before replying.
“Everything was a challenge,” he said finally. “The water system alone took three years to get approved by local authorities because nothing like it had ever been permitted. We had to vet over 600 building materials to ensure there were no red-listed chemicals within them. Not to mention, we spent months perfecting the natural ventilation system to suit Seattle’s climate.”
It took over five years from concept to completion. The Bullitt Center’s construction cost approximately $32.5 million or $555 per square foot, nearly double that of conventional office buildings in the region.
“Did he find the pursuit worthwhile?” Marcus.
“Absolutely,” he told me off the bat. “Though, that’s not the correct strategy for every project and every client. An owner who truly and deeply cares about the mission and not the money or time would be absolutely critical.”
On the other hand, let’s not forget simpler approaches like LEED (Leadership in Energy and Environmental Design), which is perhaps the best-known green building certificate internationally. It was put together by the U.S. Green Building Council. LEED is used based on a points system that is classified into: Location and Transportation, Sustainable Sites, Water Efficiency, Energy and Atmosphere, Materials and Resources, Indoor Environmental Quality, and Innovation.
Biophilic elements can earn credits in several of these areas especially Indoor Environmental Quality and Innovation. However, unlike WELL or LBC, LEED has no mandatory stipulations for biophilic design features.
I had actually worked on a few certified ones before my certification meltdown. Still, I realized that the more I learned about biophilic design features and their contribution to (or lack thereof) the certification, the more perplexed I became. It was clear to me that plants and natural light were “good for LEED points,” but that was about it.
For answers, I turned to an old classmate of mine, Devon, who is now a LEED consultant. We met at Coffee Heart on East Burnside, where I proceeded to question him non-stop.
“Devon explained, “Most designers miss out on the fact that LEED is not fundamentally about people; it is about the environment. Biophilic features may certainly help in getting LEED credits, but they are not the major priority.””
While explaining this, he opened his computer and displayed the LEED v4 scorecard, highlighting the biophilic design points he found particularly interesting: daylighting, quality views, the airflow or air quality indoors, and perhaps even some innovation credits provided that the implementation of the biophilic design was truly holistic or research-driven.
“I think the most common mistake,” he said, “is that people slap on some plants and natural elements to meet the aesthetic intention, but they do not address the performance goals. Like, a green wall is gorgeous, but from an air quality control, thermal regulation, or stormwater management standpoint, it doesn’t advance certification.””
Hearing this was a revelation. It was clear to me now that I had focused solely on the appearance of biophilic features and forgot about how they fitted within the systems of these certifications.
My education was next supplemented with SITES (Sustainable SITES Initiative). SITES looks at landscapes instead of buildings. This is run by The Green Business Certification, Inc. – also responsible for the LEED certification – and SITES also includes services of an ecosystem, its water, soil, vegetation, materials, human health, and more.
The outdoor spaces aimed at SITES certification fascinated me particularly because these biophilic designs consider the space’s natural systems and people’s meaningful interactions with nature.
I participated in the SITES certification workshop that Amara, a landscape architect who worked on a number of certified projects, taught. She presented case studies, one of which was the Navy Yard Central Green in Philadelphia that got SITES Gold.
“There is a major point that I want you guys to take with you. With SITES,” Amara said. “It’s not only about putting some native plants as a design feature and pretty gardens. It is far deeper than that. It is about creating functional ecosystems that do serve the ‘building’s’ stormwater needs, habitat space, climate moderation, and at the same time drenches the humans with improved mental health or educational opportunities.”
One of the participants posed a question to Amara about the expense of obtaining SITES certification, and she was refreshingly open in her response.
“For a project like Navy Yard Central Green, which was roughly one acre, the certification process alone cost approximately $30,000,” she said. “Additionally, there are other specialists you need, like for soil evaluation, hydrology, plant selection, etc. And the documentation is excessive.”
I was beginning to notice a pattern with all these certification systems: they’re costly, they are deep and they are thorough. Which posed a critical question: are they even worth it?
To investigate this, I contacted a few clients who had chased different certifications for their properties. The feedback was not the same.
I still remember Lisa saying this when I spoke with her: “The mark of certification is always helpful in marketing and leasing. In this case, we were able to charge approximately 8% more in rent relative to other buildings within the same market that were not certified, and we experienced faster leasing. Also, the building’s operational cost savings from energy and water were real.”
James, on the other hand, has a somewhat different view. As the owner of a small wellness center that examined WELL certification options before opting out, he commented, “At this scale, the cost and the complexity did not make sense. Instead, we worked hand-in-hand with our designer to incorporate the principles without going for the actual certification. Our clients still enjoy the benefits of biophilic design and healthy materials, and we cut about $50,000 in certification expenses.”
Hearing these perspectives provided, to me, what I now consider one of the most valuable lessons around biophilic design certifications: While these certifications are great and can serve as compelling frameworks, they do not offer the only opportunity to foster a meaningful connection with nature in the built environment.
Feeling liberated was my greatest relief. I no longer had to feign being a specialist in every certification systtem, or worse, coax clients into unnecessarily expensive processes that were completely misaligned with their projects. I just had to pay attention to the principles and could collaborate with specialists when clients actually wanted to go for certification.
Last month, over dinner, a friend, Miguel, who works on high-end residential projects, made a point that resonated deeply with me while I was venting about my certification mix-up.
“Miguel, what do you have to say about all my certificates? To me, they feel like a lot of important documents that I am supposed to cherish.” “Those certificates are like expensive kitchen tools,” he offered while elegantly sipping on his mezcal. “They can be fantastic if they’re in the right hands and are wielded bend a budget. Knowing the fundamental cooking principals paired alongside sound ingredients allow one to whip up a delightful meal devoid of a complex toolkit.”
And that is what I strive towards. When learning about specific biophilic design concepts, such as the inherent connection to nature, the importance of varied and dynamic natural elements and prospect and refuge spaces, seems a lot more meaningful than checklist-style memorization required for the certs.
Roughly 6 months after my boardroom shame, I got a second go with that architecture firm. One of the executives who experienced my certification debacle, Tom, reached out about a smaller project, which was to renovate their staff lounge and the outdoor terrace next to it.
“We still want to add biophilic features,” he said carefully, “but we’re not seeking certification on this one. Just good design that allows our team to connect with nature during their workday.”
I was honest with him. “I’ve spent the last several months actually learning about these concepts,” I said. “And I’ve come to understand that while certifications can be useful, in some cases, they may not be needed to provide meaningful natural interactions.”
We designed a great space that provided access to natural light, ventilation, regional materials, indigenous flora, and a small body of water—all without the stress of meeting strict certification guidelines. They also claimed the project was completed under budget and it has turned into the most frequented area in their office.
Tom emailed me several months after the work was done saying, “Just thought I’d share that the rest of the team is enjoying the newly renovated space to the fullest. One unexpected outcome is that people are taking lunch breaks which means they’ve stopped desk dining. Even the terrace is being used for casual meetings. It just goes to show that sometimes you don’t need to overthink things.”
That was when I realized biophilic design is not so much about checkpoints and trophies, but the ability to heal and nurture our relationship with the earth.
Allow me to clarify that I hold these certification systems in high regard alongside the discipline they enforce in sustainable and healthy design. Properly implemented, WELL, Living Building Challenge, LEED and SITES do not have the potential to only change individual buildings, but entire industries. They define new states of the possible and offer useful scaffolding to sophisticated problems.
Yet, I have come to appreciate that biophilic design can be meaningfully implemented at any scale, certified or uncderfied. The most important thing is to grasp the basic tenets, know what you know (and don’t), and engage the right experts when necessary.
Now, when I am called to advise clients on biophilic design certifications, I do not walk them through every option without relevant timelines, budget considerations, and plausible timelines. Together we occasionally decide to pursue it, and at other times we set it aside. However, we have never failed to prioritize designing deep connections to nature that improve wellbeing and quality of the environment.
And, I have never, ever claimed mastery of certification systems outside my in-depth, direct working knowledge. That $47,000 blunder taught me the importance of walking in humility, a valuable lesson that has cost me every dollar of the contract I never won.
As for that sustainability director, Jeff, who gave me a hard time for not knowing about my certification? We actually ended up becoming friends. He’s been so great to me as a mentor, answering my questions and helping me with materials to expand my knowledge on sustainable design standards.
“Everyone makes mistakes,” he told me recently over coffee. “What matters is what you learn from them.”
What I have learned is that biophilic design certifications are, like the natural world they seek to honor, complex interrelating systems that structure build. They are not accessories meant to be casually attached to impending works, devoid of genuine effort and skill, but rather comprehensive strategies that demand unwavering dedication, expertise, and collaboration.
To all designers out there thinking of adding a certification for a project, building owners contemplating the expenses versus the rewards, or just anyone keen on fostering natural environments, I sincerely hope my embarrassing mistake of spending $47,000 guides you to approach these systems with the respect they truly warrant. Nature itself doesn’t concern itself with certificates and plaques—it simply exists in beautiful, functional harmony. Perhaps that is the most important lesson of all.
