Tag: senses

  • Can aletheic environments enrich sensory experiences for older people?

    Can aletheic environments enrich sensory experiences for older people?

    The post discusses how ageing affects our perception of our bodies and surroundings. It highlights a study on care home design, revealing older residents prefer bold decor to counter declining sensory acuity. Additionally, the author reflects on personal sensory experiences and suggests creating enriched, natural spaces for older individuals to enhance their well-being.

    Note: This post explores the psychological and wellbeing benefits of naturism within biophilic environments. It contains illustrations depicting nudity and the human form.

    In a recent post on the truth about bodies, I wrote about how, as our bodies continue to support us as we age, we can appreciate them more honestly and truthfully. We accept that although we might not perceive ourselves to be as attractive as we were in our youth, we can wear the signs of ageing as a visible record of the remarkable abilities of a collection of ever changing cells, tissues and organs to keep us alive.

    Many changes that come with older age happen relatively quickly, or at least noticeably. We become more susceptible to the effects of injury, recovery may take longer than when we were younger, aches and pains feel more severe and our movements become slower.

    Gradual decline – we rarely notice it

    However, the decline in our sensory acuity is much more gradual, and often isn’t noticeable until the decline reaches a point when you realise that world seems different.

    About 20 years ago, I was involved in some research that included a re-design of the interior of a care home for older adults. The aim of the project was to see whether giving the residents the final say in the design of the communal areas, more people would use them, instead of retreating into their own private spaces.

    The project, which was part of a wider academic study into identity realization carried out by the University of Exeter, was very simple. The residents were asked to choose a selection of plants, planters and art that would decorate the communal lounge. There would be no changes to wall colours, carpets or furnishings – these were typical of many care homes and featured a lot of chintz, muted tones and floral patterns.

    The choice of plants, planters and art was pretty diverse, ranging from popular houseplants through to more exotic and ‘architectural’ specimens. The planters came in a wide range of colours and shapes and the art included botanical prints, nature scenes, local landmarks and a selection of more abstract subjects.

    The final selections came as a surprise to the researchers. We had all expected the residents to choose items that would fit in with the existing decor and ‘play it safe’.

    They didn’t.

    Care home dining room with abstract art, bold plants and colourful planters
    Care home dining room with abstract art, bold plants and colourful planters

    The plants had bold, architectural foliage and were planted in bright, colourful planters in contemporary geometric shapes. The artwork was heavily biased towards abstract patterns. Even the botanical subjects were composed in a bold style.

    What was going on?

    Simply put, the residents wanted something that stood out against the background. Colour vision and acuity diminish with age, and the conventional care home style – which looked fine to the young interior designers, even if a little cliched – was just a sea of beige swirls and dull shapes. Bright colours and bold shapes made the space more interesting and, also, their own.

    After thinking about this for a while, it all made sense. As a youngster, I used to visit my grandparents and was always a little shocked by how they had set up the pictures on their televisions – the colour balance always looked terrible to my young eyes, but for them, this was just a way of overcoming the natural ageing of the cornea.

    It’s not just vision that changes as we age. Our senses of smell, taste and hearing change as well.

    Image of a hearing aid over an ear

    I am 60 years old and I have noticed that things have changed. Sometimes, it is as a result of my young adult children hearing things that I can’t or detecting smells at much lower concentrations. The differences aren’t huge – yet – but I am sure that the gaps in our sensory acuity will widen over time.

    A deliberate effort to notice

    I also make a conscious effort to notice the sensory stimuli that I experience and get a great deal of pleasure in that. I like to spend time in enriched environments and, as a naturist, my whole body experiences sensory stimuli. I am able to interpret what is going on effortlessly as those sensory stimuli enable me to build a coherent mental picture of the space that I am in.

    A nude male, facing away from the camera, in a woodland setting experiencing the sensory benefits of being naked in nature

    Interestingly, the largest demographic group amongst naturists is the over-50s. Is this because we have more time on our hands, or grew up in a more permissive society? Some of us have reached a stage in our lives where it matters less what other people might think of us than it used to. After all, we become a lot more aware of our mortality as we age, so we might want to pack in as many new experiences as we can before it becomes too difficult.

    Or is it because nudity just helps us to feel more alive and connected to our environment?

    The Aletheic overlay

    An aletheic environment is one where we can shed artifice and the social armour that society deems to be normal and proper. They are spaces where we can discover more about the truth of our own experiences and our surroundings.

    We can’t always be in nature. Sometimes, the weather is against us (at the time of writing, we are in yet another heatwave in Southern England). Sometimes, we have to travel to get to a natural space. In those cases, we have to use our domestic spaces.

    So how can we create an aletheic space that is especially suitable for older people?

    Biophilic design is one crucial element – the connections with nature and the coherent sensory environment facilitate an unencumbered experience when we can really notice how we feel.

    a.i.-generated image showing the head and shoulders of a grey-haired woman in a garden

    Biophilic design is, however, often quite ‘gentle’ as a design aesthetic, so the sensory elements need to be amplified. So, as well as considering the classic patterns of biophilic design – discussed many times on this web site – think about:

    • Choosing a colour palette that includes greater contrast
    • Use bolder patterns, stronger outlines and shapes that don’t blend in to the background too much
    • Plants could be more ‘architectural’ in style. Plants with large leaves and well-defined shapes will stand out against its backdrop
    • Textures – especially on the floor – could be more varied and interesting
    • Scents and sounds may need to be strengthened and made slightly less subtle

    All of these are possible whilst maintaining a naturalistic, biophilic feel – they just need the designer to think beyond their preconceptions about ageing.

    My previous posts on Radical comfort, meditation and even home working give some useful design tips on creating an aletheic environment in the home. I have also written about how to make the garden an aletheic space and how to use water as a sensory experience as well as for hygiene. All of these articles will provide some inspiration. For older people, it may be a case of amplifying the sensory elements, or maybe just experiencing environments differently.

    Need some advice on creating an aletheic environment?

    Get in touch

    ← Back

    Thank you for your response. ✨

  • A symphony for our senses

    A symphony for our senses

    Introducing the sense orchestra

    Consider vision. What do we actually sense with our eyes?

    a.i. generated image of a pair of eyes on a human face

    We use our eyes to see shapes, estimate distances, perceive colour, determine brightness, work out which way is up, detect movement, tell us about the direction we are facing, or moving towards, and estimate speed. Changes in brightness and daylength tell us about passing of time and the change of the seasons.

    Our eyes are very much our primary sense, but what we see makes more sense if it is confirmed by what we hear, smell, touch and taste.

    Our stereophonic hearing helps us to know where we are in relation to the source of the noise. Is it to our left or right, or even behind us? Is it moving towards us or away? And other tiny organs in our ears work in harmony with our eyes to tell us which way is up and how fast we are moving and turning.

    Our eyes, nose and mouth working together are critical for telling us whether something is safe to eat, and our tongue is more than just a collection of taste buds – it is full of sensors that inform us about textures and temperatures.

    We have sense organs inside our body. They tell us if we have indigestion or when we have an infection, or have sustained damage. Understanding and interpreting our internal senses is called interoception – a new word for me.

    Close-up of the forearm showing the skin and the hairs

    Our biggest sense organ is, of course, our skin. It tells us so much about our environment. We detect temperature, texture, hardness, malleability, size, shape and the quality of materials. The hairs on our skin can respond to changes in static electricity and there is no doubt that touch can generate the most intense pleasure.

    Composing the piece

    Human senses work together to help us to understand our environment, or rather the environment that we spent well over 90% of our existence (maybe as much 99% if you include our immediate hominid ancestors).

    A picture of African savannah landscape (Kruger Park, South Africa, image by the author)

    Our senses evolved to allow us to survive in a particular environment: open savannah. This environment is characterized by open vistas, undulating terrain, scattered and clustered vegetation and plenty of water. It was quite warm, although there were some seasonal variations. In our ancestral, natural environment, our senses told us about opportunities and threats. However, they need to work in harmony to give us the full picture.

    The modern, urban environment is quite a long way from those open plains. Buildings mean that sounds echo around so the direction we hear from is not the same as where we see the source. We bombard some of our senses whilst simultaneously dull others. After all, we cover most of our largest sense organ, most of the time, and deprive ourselves of gaining vital information about our environment.

    These confusing, discordant inputs cause stress. We have to make a lot of mental effort to understand what is going on.

    Melody and harmony

    The practice of biophilic design – bringing a sense of nature into our built environment – is a step towards correcting this sensory discord. It often focuses on the visual sense by incorporating natural views, plants, and natural light, and it is becoming increasingly commonplace in modern design.

    However, an aletheic environment brings a new level of comfort and restoration by going even further. The idea is to provide complete, harmonious sensory stimulation that restores the connection our ancestors once had. While it may not be possible in every space (office naturism is probably a step too far for most), we can create restorative environments in our places of leisure and living that allow us to experience this deep reconnection.

    The orchestral score

    The metaphor with music is a good one. By thoughtfully designing spaces that appeal to all of our senses in an unfiltered way, we can go beyond simply adding plants. We can compose a full symphony, where every input works together to create an experience that is far more than the sum of its parts.