We Didn't Call It Biophilic Design

I'm a Gold Coast girl.

I grew up on the Gold Coast in the 1980s, and we were rarely inside. If I wasn't riding my bike, I was at the beach. We swam in the ocean, walked barefoot and spent entire days outdoors without giving it a second thought.

We didn't have to chase nature back then.

It surrounded us.

I realise those early years shaped the way I see the world. I instinctively understood how good it felt to be connected to the outdoors.

Years later, as I began working on homes and places, I noticed I was repeatedly drawn to the same ideas.

More natural light. Better views. Gardens that became part of the experience rather than something to glimpse through a window. Natural materials like timber and stone. Soft, restrained colour palettes inspired by the landscape. Spaces that blurred the boundary between inside and outside.

At first, I thought these were simply personal preferences.

Then I discovered biophilic design.

I was fascinated by the thinking and research behind it.

There is a growing body of research exploring the relationship between nature, the built environment and human wellbeing. Studies have associated access to natural light, vegetation, fresh air and views of nature with outcomes including reduced stress, improved mood and greater wellbeing.

Suddenly, many of the decisions I had been making instinctively made sense. There was research exploring something I had always felt.

Today, our connection to nature feels even more important because we live very differently to how I grew up.

Children spend more time indoors. Many adults work in front of screens all day before returning home to more technology in the evening. Nature no longer forms such an automatic part of everyday life for many of us.

For me, it has become an antidote to the demands of modern living.

As technology occupies more of our daily lives, the places we create have an opportunity to reconnect us with the natural world.

Natural materials, abundant daylight, fresh air, gardens, views and a seamless relationship between indoors and outdoors aren't simply aesthetic choices.

They change how we experience a place.

Once I understood that, biophilic thinking became an increasingly conscious part of my work.

Beautiful places are easy to admire. Places that genuinely contribute something to the lives of the people using them are far more interesting.

Today, I can see that philosophy woven through each of my projects.

At the East Village Hotel, it wasn't just about creating a beautiful beer garden.

Layered planting, natural timber, open air and the shade of a magnificent mature tree helped transform the courtyard into the heart of the hotel.

At Kalista, the project relocated the garage to create space for a private courtyard and pool, allowing light and landscape to become part of the home's everyday experience from the moment you arrive.

Working with the architecture and landscape, the relationship between inside and outside became fundamental to the way the home was experienced.

At Lotus in Byron Bay, that philosophy finds perhaps its most natural expression.

Rather than imposing something onto the landscape, the intention has always been to strengthen our connection to the very best of what is already there.

Following this winter's renewal, every internal space will open to grass, stone, gardens and fresh air. The magnesium pool and full-spectrum infrared sauna encourage guests outdoors, while natural materials have been chosen for their warmth, texture and authenticity.

These decisions for Lotus have been influenced by the question:

How can this place help people experience the very essence of Byron Bay?

To slow down. Breathe more deeply. Spend more time outdoors. Feel the sun, the sea breeze and the gardens.

Leave feeling calmer than when they arrived—and perhaps have a little more fun along the way.

Guests may even rediscover the simple joy of living outdoors—a feeling I was fortunate enough to experience growing up on the Gold Coast.

That's why Byron Bay has always felt like the right place for this next chapter.

Because it reminds me of something I understood long before I knew what biophilic design was called.

We were never meant to feel separate from nature.

The best places simply help us find our way back there.