Part 2
Designing with touch: The Feeling of Space
Touch is a sense that never switches off.
We are always in contact with something-our clothes against our skin, the chair we sit on, the floor we walk across. Even in stillness, we are feeling. In this way, touch is one of the most constant and intimate forms of sensing, and in design, it becomes a silent yet powerful communicator.
What we feel in a space shapes how we behave, how we rest, and even how we connect with the world around us.
Designing for touch requires subtlety. Unlike sight or sound, which can be directed and curated from a distance, touch happens up close. It creates a physical relationship between the body and the space. That’s why it is not just about choosing textures that feel "nice." It’s about choosing materials that are appropriate for the emotional tone of the space. It’s about aligning sensory experience with purpose.
Touch is not a one-way experience-it gives back. Every time we make contact with a surface, it responds in some way. A sofa holds the weight of our body and softens it; a wall supports us when we lean into it; a dining table feels different depending on whether we’re eating, working, or resting against it absentmindedly. The surface isn’t just there, it’s in conversation with us.
Designing with this awareness means recognising that every material has a kind of energetic feedback. The texture of a wooden bench might ground you, while a plush seat might hold you gently. A metal surface may sharpen your posture, while a soft headboard invites you to melt into it. These reactions shape how we behave, how long we stay, how we sit and how we breathe.
Touch, in this way, becomes a form of dialogue between the body and the built environment. It’s not just about comfort, though that matters-it’s about how a surface reflects or absorbs what we bring to it. When you slump onto a cushioned seat, it softens your exhaustion. When you sit upright at a marble table, it reflects a certain formality or focus. These materials hold space for our actions and influence them in return. This exchange is quiet, almost invisible. But it is constant. And when a space is designed with intention toward this feedback loop, it becomes more than functional, it becomes attuned to the people moving through it.
It also impacts how we move through space. Flooring plays a huge role here-not just in texture, but in how it responds to pressure and how it sounds underfoot. A wooden floor might creak softly and feel warm, adding a sense of intimacy or nostalgia. Marble might feel smooth and cool, giving a sense of luxury or precision. Carpet quiets the room and cushions your body, encouraging stillness and calm. These aren’t just functional choices-they are emotional ones.
What’s beautiful about touch is that it can anchor us in a space. It draws us into the present moment. When a surface surprises us with softness, or when we brush our fingers across a wall and feel a texture that resonates—these small, almost invisible moments are what make a space memorable.
In my design process, I think about touch as a way to connect energy with form. It’s how feeling becomes physical. Whether I’m designing a chair, a wall, or an entire room, I ask: what should this feel like to the body? Should it invite pause? Should it create clarity? Should it awaken or comfort?
Touch gives us the opportunity to translate emotion into material. And when done with intention, it has the power to make people not just occupy a space, but to truly feel it.
Let me know what you notice about touching a surface. If you closed your eyes, would your space still feel like yours?
Comments