Even now, I can’t help but both laugh and cry imagining how my neighbors must have perceived me on that Tuesday morning back in February. Imagine this scenario, here I am shouting sowing apologies to Mrs. Finley, who had the unfortunate luck of receiving a ZZ plant face mask courtesy of my wall garden’s untimely gory demise on the second floor, rushing in confusion because I spilled potting soil and succulents are running away because I was marketed as the top gun of gardening in pajama bottoms and a coffee stained Portland Trail Blazers tee. How pathetic! And the reality? It could’ve been avoided.
The self-induced catastrophe started when I stumbled upon the magnetic planter brackets on clearance at Portland Nursery. Of course, I am now facing a small red flag declaring, “Attention, buy me, your tiny rental could conquer me!” I lied to myself and thought adding succulents to my 410 square foot apartment in Sellwood would look stunning. The red flag already located on Portland Nursery wasn’t enough as the brackets convinced me my north facing wall could sustain 27 pounds of plants, soil, and water. After 6 years of working with clients who actually take up space in designing biophilic spaces, I started believing that with a little gusto, vertical gardening can indeed save me room. Spoiler banner to the story, I was wrong. My narrative voice with doomed harsh ledges is not an absolute.
My customer Marissa still continues to talk about it in every call. “Do you recall the time that you walked into our meeting with a strange bruise on your forehead and your hair looking unkempt?” Yes. That was the day disaster struck with plants. I had to cancel three client meetings and spend $240 at the nursery in an attempt to replace everything that had been decimated. Let’s also not forget the $75 bottle of whiskey I bought Mrs. Finley as a way of saying sorry. She’s 82, but surprisingly handled it all quite well. “Better plants than your drum set,” she said, which…valid critique.
Anyway, This is the exact reason why I am writing this today. Because it is possible to bring biophilic design elements into small spaces without incurring damages or pesky glares from neighbors. I mean, I’ve spent the last nine years figuring this out through painstaking trial and error, so maybe I can save you some embarrassment. I want to talk about how to incorporate biophilic design elements into a space given the constraints of roughly two square feet of floor space and a landlord who will undeniably hold your security deposit for any drywall damage.
As it is everywhere in the world, light is extremely important in small spaces. Unlike my first apartment in Portland, a studio on Division with a single window facing north, my first apartment in Portland coupled with what my mom lovingly dubbed as, ‘cave-like charm’ was exceedingly small. After spending three months trying to figure out the cause of my ever-growing depression, my mentor Elaine paid me a visit which led to quite the panic attack for her. ‘You’re a biophilic designer living in a sensory deprivation chamber,’ she exclaimed in horror. ‘What the hell, Nina?’
That weekend with her help, I completely rearranged the studio. Removed the bed by a full 17 inches to the left just so it wasn’t blocking the window entirely. Replaced the heavy curtains with semi-sheer linen which was way better at allowing light filtration but still maintained privacy. Additionally, I added three mirrors, one large one directly across from the window, two smaller ones on the adjacent walls.
The difference was… well, I cried. It wasn’t even a performance. I literally sat on my bed that Sunday afternoon while watching how light danced around the apartment, and cried because it felt like someone had lifted a weight off of me. My mind was finally receiving the illumination it had needed. My sleep was back to normal within a week. I’m being serious. Same crummy IKEA mattress, totally different sleep experience.
“Elaine taught me that in tiny spaces, you have to prioritize. If you only have one chance, make sure it’s to maximize natural light,” was her suggestion. “Plants can be substituted for preserved moss or botanical prints. Materials can be simulated. But nothing replaces what light does to your neurochemistry.” There’s actual research out of the University of Washington that proves the reduction of stress and enhancement of cognitive performance that exposure to natural light patterns provides. I keep the study saved in my phone to show to skeptical clients, lol.
But let’s get back to plants for a bit because you might be reading this for that reason. After experiencing The Great Plant Avalanche of 2023, I’ve become more intelligent with plant spacing in tighter areas. One thing I’ve found super effective is what I call the “golden zone”: that space between three to six feet above floor level that’s typically… wall space. Most people prefer decorating the eye level or lower, but there is an entire section of vertical space that is simply ignored.
My client, Jamie, has this lovely 525 square foot condo in the Pearl District that felt extremely stuffy before we optimized it. To help, we added in a custom shelf that is 8” deep and runs along the wall at around 5’6’’ height (she’s 5’2’’ so it does not hinder her movement). This shelf now holds her collection of pothos varieties, trailing philodendrons, and string of pearls that are now cascading down at different lengths. The eye-catching vertical elements create the illusion of taller 8-foot ceilings, and amazing living textures are created without using up floor space.
“They are like roommates, but they do not touch my food” was Jamie’s words to me last month. Now I get why she said that, plants have definitely taken on the role of my roommates at this stage.
Here is something I learned the hard way – not all plants work in all spaces. Like, at all. I killed three fiddle leaf figs before admitting defeat. Three! At $75 a pop! I kept telling myself it would work in my bathroom because it looked like it would work in a magazine. Miguel, my work partner, finally staged a full intervention. “Nina,” he said with that patient voice he uses when I’m being silly, “Your bathroom has no windows. It’s like plant jail in there. You are a glorified plant serial killer at this point.”
So I gave up. I began accepting my reality in terms of light. Now, instead of dying while I’m in a state of denial, I have a collection of low-light tolerant plants like ZZ plants, snake plants, and pothos that thrive with me. And honestly? They look better than the struggling fiddle leaf ever did.
I find that small space considerations, especially regarding the materials used to design the interiors, are incredibly important. In my case, I’m currently living in an apartment with this strange vinyl flooring that literally gives me “hospital waiting room” vibes. While I may not be able to outright change the floors due to lease constraints, I do make it a point to add a little personal touch to my apartment. For example, I added three IKEA interlocking teak floor tile sections measuring 2×3 foot. These sections added some warmth to the area visually and shifted the look of the spaces I placed them in. They now reside under my desk, in front of my kitchen sink, and by my entry. The best part about these is that I can move them if I so desire. Not only do they allow me to fragment my ergonomic working posture throughout the day, the tiles also give me some connection to nature. Also, they do feel fantastic underfoot after being encased in shoes all day.
We often forget sound when thinking about biophilic design features. This is even more critical in apartments where you’re essentially sharing air molecules with strangers who may or may not be learning the trombone at midnight, like the former upstairs neighbor I had named Tyler. A local artist at the Saturday Market sells these fountains and after a stressful project deadline last spring, I decided to treat myself to a tabletop fountain. This sculpture comprised of stacked river stones is only six inches in diameter, yet the difference its makes is incredible. The gentle splashing produces white noise that helps cover conversations from the hallway and traffic sounds from the street.
Prisha, my neighbor, borrowed it when she got a migraine and texted me a few hours later saying she wouldn’t give it back and is now naming her firstborn after me. While I did eventually get it back, I did send her the Etsy link so she could get her own.
Allow me to share my greatest achievement in the realm of small-space biophilic design. Last year, I worked with this couple, Derekand Li, who live in a one-bedroom 640-square-foot unit in Ladd’s Addition. They both worked from home, which utterly drove them crazy without any separation of space. Their apartment has these amazing 10-foot ceiling height but horrendous flow in the floorplan. We couldn’t build permanent walls because, yet again, rental life.
This is when I came up with what I now call a “living partition” — a custom shelving unit that is 7 feet tall and 4 feet wide. It is mounted with tension rods that don’t damage ceilings or floors, as they are bound to living rental spaces. We designed it specifically for plants and functional storage. The bottom has closed office supply storage, the middle has open shelving for books and decorative objects, while the top third has a collection of plants that are well-situated to receive light due to the open design.
It separates their living area from a clearly defined office area while allowing flow through living elements. Through the greenery, you can see people moving about, but not clearly enough to be distracted as the plants act as a visual filter. Derek messaged me a week ago that in their productivity has increased by about 40% since the installation. It amazes me how much impact it has had on their daily lives even with the total material cost of $320. Li says her Zoom colleagues keep asking about her ‘green background’ on the calls.
I attempted to replicate something similar to the way it is done in other places, but, uh, made a mistake on the weight shifting (is there a recurring motif for me throughout several of my endeavors?) and experienced a smaller incident with the plants. Nothing beats the Avalanche but still, it was something. My cat has yet to forgive me for the unexpected shower of soil. I promise, I’m doing it for other people so I must be somewhat competent.
And from blunders to any level of care type of work associated with this — can we touch upon those? Because in my opinion these are the areas where most designs propelled by nature integration for compact spaces tend to fail. This specific time I recall working with this one particular client named Tasha who had a stunning apartment in Irvington and the light coming in was superb. We designed this wonderful structure of plants around her work from home station using plants that with proper conditions, should have grown excellently. Two months down the road, she sent me this shocking picture of plants with dried out leaves and, crumbling away alongside a note that read: “I have turned into a plant graveyard. Someone, help me.”
It would appear she had to travel over 15 days in a month for work and didn’t have any watering setup. We went for a mix of high quality imitation plants, and I must emphasize that the ones from Plant Shop Seattle are worth it, along with some succulents and a watering system. For the few plants she actually wanted to keep alive, we put in a self-watering system.
At times, it is wise to accept defeat, knowing that doing so may free up more resources for something more useful.
Thinking about a wall plan I’ve assembled a soldier-esque snake plant into the wall that is a few ticks away from the floor mirror made out of ze studs, I’m feeling quite proud of the self-imposed journey I’ve come to undergo while sane reality constructs working in residing in smaller of three places. I’ve longed imagined I lived in such scant square footage of space mortared to 785 ft. Biophilic design and imaginational screamer truly is a sight to behold, however, blended in with the sighting of during work, requires the person to be working 12 hours during the workday.
I self classify muster my energon endurance gauge to 75% to still breathe life into a snake plant tending to it like a wounded necron mummy, while my personal guerilla wars seconded on restoring the overly derived wall of moss didn’t need more than twinsem to fix the humidity issues Ed Set up. My “Moss wall,” as I proudly refer to it, stands testament to my DIY fortitude and self mutilation of plants.
Progress over perfection, right? That’s what I reason with myself over the water stain on my ceiling, a remnant of my overly ambitious plant arrangement shower hanging brackets attempt. Oh well, some lessons you just have to learn the hard way. But fingers crossed, you won’t.
