Natasha Reid is founder of MATTER SPACE SOUL, a progressive spatial design lab working at the intersection of architecture, urban design, art and the human sciences, such as environmental psychology and neuroscience. Prioritising human experience, emotion, empathy and equity, her “Compassionate Places” design method focuses on holistically addressing the human dimension of the built environment to better support people’s wellbeing. She often speaks at academic and industry conferences on innovation towards more human places and addressing pressing societal needs. She is an advocate for the power of design to create change that matters for people.
Natalia Olszewska: I’m really intrigued by the name of your studio, and that’s actually where I’d like to begin. Your studio’s name includes the word soul, which suggests an interest in the mind and deeper human experience. I’d love to explore that. How does an architect come to focus on the concept of soul? What do you mean by emphasizing this aspect in your work as an architect and designer?
Natasha Reid: Yes, it took me a while to come up with the name of my practice—Matter Space Soul.
One of the reasons I left traditional architectural practice and started working independently was to explore different disciplines and perspectives on space. About twelve years ago, I felt that the industry lacked a deep consideration of the human dimension in design. Even though I was working for an amazing, award-winning firm, I felt constrained by the wider industry’s approach.
At that time, I was a little disillusioned with architecture, so I began researching how places affect us in various ways, not just psychologically, but also in terms of how they bring communities together. I suppose I’ve always been fascinated by the human condition—what makes us human, and I started integrating those insights into my design work.
The name Matter Space Soul reflects what I see as the three key ingredients in creating spaces that truly serve human needs:
- Matter—the physical materials and structures
- Space—how we shape and configure our environment
- Soul—the missing element in much of contemporary architecture and urban design
It actually took me several years to settle on the name. I went through many different ideas, trying to capture what I wanted to express. It’s always interesting to see how other people define or label their own practice as well.
Natalia: Could you tell us what instruments you use to better understand the needs of the users, the people you design spaces for? Your work started with an interest in people, and you see architectural design as deeply humanistic, always tied to user needs. But how do you actually practice this as an architect? How do you make that connection between people and space? What tools are available, and which ones do you use in your daily practice?
Natasha: I’ve developed a design methodology that I’ve applied in various ways, including in policy, though I’ll talk about that a bit later. The design method I use is called Compassionate Places.
It has evolved through research in fields like neuroscience and environmental psychology, and I’ve worked to implement those insights into actual design practice. Essentially, I ask: If you’re considering someone’s psychological needs or stress levels, how would you physically design a space differently?
I’ve refined and tested this approach through a series of pilot projects—some for clients like workspaces, hotel interiors, housing and coliving or public space projects, and some more radical concept designs as research.
Over time, it has developed into a structured design framework. It also incorporates aspects of social connection, which is crucial for both mental and physical health, especially in addressing issues like loneliness.
At its core, this method ensures that a designer systematically considers a wide range of factors, including inclusivity and, ideally, user participation. The challenge today is that designing for people in a truly meaningful way is complex.
Traditional architectural planning doesn’t always reflect that complexity. In reality, it requires specialist knowledge and structured methods. From my perspective, there needs to be a dedicated field of design that focuses on this approach.
Natalia: So this framework you’ve developed—this is where your design process really starts, right? It helps you navigate the design process, but first and foremost, you begin by understanding the users and their needs. It serves as a foundation for each of your projects, doesn’t it?
Natasha: Yes, exactly. It starts with defining the core principles—what you want the space or place to do for the people using it. From there, you shape the design to align with those intended outcomes. That’s quite different from how architecture is often practiced. Many designs are intuitive—you might get a beautifully thoughtful space, but the process is not always intentional or systematically tied to human-centered objectives.
So for me, this is about shifting how we think about what architecture and urban design can do—adapting our design approach to actively create specific outcomes.
Michal Matlon: I wanted to ask about Compassionate Places. Even the name itself is interesting, right? As you mentioned, we often don’t think of spaces or architecture as active—as something that can do something, show compassion, or help achieve a certain goal.
We tend to see spaces as passive—just the environment around us, rather than something that interacts with us. What are your thoughts on this idea of spaces playing an active role in our lives, and how is that paradigm shifting?
Natasha: Yes, I think one of the biggest challenges is that people often don’t recognize how much their environment affects them—when in reality, it impacts us on a deep level, even influencing life expectancy in the long term.
Because there isn’t a broader public understanding of this, change has been slow. If we can start to clearly demonstrate these effects, it could really help the industry move forward. Showcasing the outcomes of built projects and mapping their impact is crucial.
But yes, I think the shift needs to focus on the human experience. It’s about understanding places through the lens of how people experience them. That perspective sets the foundation for the kind of design we’re all advocating for.
Natalia: Exactly! It’s interesting because this is also where my own thinking starts to shift. We need to build awareness about how space affects people.
If there were a stronger public expectation around designing healthier, human-centered spaces, it would be much easier to influence investors and encourage more architects to design that way. Right now, I think people have very low expectations for their environments.
Of course, how and where we live is tied to social class and income, but we often associate that more with status or prestige rather than with health outcomes. And as you mentioned, space literally impacts life expectancy. This lack of awareness spans across all of society—regardless of background, people just don’t fundamentally recognize how much space affects their well-being.
What’s fascinating is that we’re only now, in the 21st century, developing the tools to truly measure the impact of space on human beings. Experimental and environmental psychology started in the 1960s. I believe Kevin Lynch began some of his first emotional mapping experiments in cities back in the mid-20th century.
But for a long time, there was no hard science to prove that spaces influence our brains and even life expectancy. Only now do we have the tools to collect this data, which might make it easier to convince decision-makers.
Natasha: I completely agree. The science is so important because it provides hard evidence—something that’s difficult to dispute.
If a space simply feels uplifting, people can recognize that instinctively. But when you can scientifically demonstrate that a design affects cognitive function, reduces stress, or improves well-being, it speaks to different audiences—especially those in the industry who may be more commercially driven or less attuned to spatial sensitivity.
That’s what I’ve been focusing on in my work—bringing this research into the industry, particularly on large commercial projects with traditional design teams. I’ve been collaborating with a neuroscience researcher at UCL, and having her back up these principles with scientific data has been incredibly valuable.
Michal: You mentioned that in your projects, you try to demonstrate how the spaces you’ve designed meet their goals. How do you go about that? Once a project is built and in use, how do you ensure that you can prove it has achieved the intended outcomes?
Natasha: That’s something I’m developing. With the projects I’ve completed so far, we haven’t necessarily gone back to measure their impact—mainly because conducting a proper evaluation requires the client’s support and, ideally, funding.
However, the project I’m currently working on is fairly large-scale, and there’s interest in conducting a baseline evaluation using neuroscience research. The plan is to follow up after completion, perhaps in five to seven years, with a post-occupancy evaluation. I think it’s only now that there’s genuine interest in this kind of long-term assessment, which is encouraging.
Natalia: That’s an interesting point. You might assume that the only way to understand the impact of design on people is through post-occupancy evaluation. But throughout our conversations, we’ve asked architects how often they conduct post-occupancy evaluations and why the industry isn’t more interested in them.
It seems there are both cultural and economic barriers. Despite how much we discuss the importance of evaluation, it’s not a widely embraced method in architecture. Are there alternative ways to assess whether a design truly works for people, beyond measurements, questionnaires, and observations?
Natasha: I think the situations where post-occupancy evaluation is happening usually involve forward-thinking clients who see the value in demonstrating the success of their developments. Hopefully, as more people embrace this approach, it will create a ripple effect across the industry.
Once we can show, for example, that an office space significantly enhances employee creativity and productivity, or that a cultural space fosters a sense of belonging, it becomes a compelling argument—even from a commercial perspective.
Of course, the challenge is ensuring that the design truly delivers on those outcomes. But I think this kind of accountability could motivate teams to be more intentional about how spaces achieve their goals, rather than just stating what a space is supposed to do.
Natalia: That brings us back to a point we discussed earlier: the higher the public’s expectations for well-designed spaces, and the greater the awareness of how deeply space impacts us, the more likely it is that people will start measuring these effects.
If architects and developers see that there’s real demand for evidence-based design, they’ll be more inclined to demonstrate that their projects actually benefit people. Hopefully, as science-backed design becomes more widespread, we’ll see this mentality shift happening more often.
Natasha: Absolutely. Ideally, we’ll reach a point where the public demands better spaces for themselves—once they truly understand how much their surroundings affect their daily lives.
That kind of awareness could drive change, not just through policy, but also from the users themselves. If people start expecting more from their environments, it creates a consumer-led shift in the industry, making high-quality, human-centered design a key differentiator for new developments.
Michal: That connects to the policy level you mentioned earlier. You helped develop a framework for place quality—can you tell us more about that? What was it, and what did it aim to achieve?
Natasha: Yes! It was a piece of design guidance and policy that I developed for Brent Council, a local authority in London. Brent is quite a large borough—the fifth largest in London, with around 340,000 residents.
The Place Quality framework applies specifically to residential developments, as that’s the main type of construction happening there. Essentially, I adapted my design methodology for human impact—the Compassionate Places model—and translated it into something more accessible for planners, public sector officials, and people who may not be familiar with concepts like healthy placemaking or human-centered design.
The goal was to establish a new standard for human-centered and health-focused design, in a way that could be easily understood and implemented. Now, residential developments in Brent are required to demonstrate their impact in three key areas:
- Health and well-being – How does the design promote physical and mental well-being?
- Sense of community and belonging – Does the space foster social connections and inclusivity?
- Vibrant, inclusive places – How does the development create an engaging and welcoming environment?
The framework provides guidance on how to achieve these goals and requires developers to submit a Statement of Quality as part of their planning applications. This document includes detailed criteria, such as: How is this space restorative and visually appealing? Are there design elements that encourage social interaction, like places where people can casually bump into each other?
Initially, the guidance alone didn’t change much in terms of what was being submitted for planning permission. But now that the Statement of Quality is mandatory—and must be supported with design evidence—I think this will be the real driver of change.
Michal: That’s great! Is this framework publicly available? Could other policymakers use it as a reference or source of inspiration?
Natasha: Yes, it’s publicly available. I think a lot of local authorities here in the UK tend to wait and see when something new is introduced—they want to see the results before adopting it themselves. So I suspect that once we have a formal evaluation showing that this approach has improved the quality of developments, it will start to gain traction. It’s exciting, but I’m learning that change takes time.
Natalia: It’s a long process. But I think engaging different disciplines—like you mentioned—along with incorporating public health authorities and experts, is a great approach. That’s one of the ways to measure impact, involve diverse professionals, and spread the message.
In the past, you worked with The Loneliness Lab. Could we talk about loneliness and how it relates to the built environment? To start with—how does the built environment impact loneliness? Why is loneliness such a concern? And what are some initiatives or projects in the UK that are addressing this issue?
Natasha: The built environment can influence loneliness in several ways, particularly in how it enables—or hinders—social interaction.
For example, the way housing is designed can determine whether you’re likely to bump into your neighbors. If you live in a tower block, do you ever actually see other people? Or do you just go straight into your apartment without crossing paths with anyone?
Workspaces can also be designed to encourage social interaction between colleagues. And then there are public spaces—something as simple as placing benches to face each other can create opportunities for casual interactions.
On a larger scale, we can design spaces specifically for communal gathering, not just to facilitate chance encounters but to help people build long-term relationships.
Interest in this topic is growing in the UK. The Loneliness Lab was an initiative that brought together architects, developers, and nonprofit organizations to explore ways to design for social connection. However, that project only ran for a year or two, and since then, I’m not sure if anyone has fully taken up that work.
Similar to the neuroscience side of design, there’s still a general lack of awareness about how our environments shape our relationships and sense of community. So I see all of this as part of the broader challenge—raising awareness about how the spaces we create influence the way we connect with one another.
Natalia: Absolutely. And loneliness has serious consequences, right? Research in recent years has shown how damaging it can be to our health. Some studies even compare its effects to smoking cigarettes. It’s a major public health issue. But how much awareness is there about this in the UK? Do people generally recognize the importance of social connection as a key factor in overall health?
Natasha: I don’t think there’s widespread awareness. Most people probably understand that loneliness impacts mental health, but they might not realize that the stress it creates also has physiological effects.
There’s definitely room for more education on this issue, so we can develop better solutions and integrate them into broader health and wellness initiatives. It seems like a recurring theme—there’s often a lack of awareness about these connections, and that gap in understanding slows progress.
Natalia: And public health authorities have a big role to play here. In many cases, it’s up to them to inform the public about these issues and their impact on well-being. But across the world, we tend to spend very little on prevention and public health initiatives.
The focus is usually on treating diseases once they’ve already developed—whether mental or physical—rather than on preventing them in the first place. That’s a major challenge: shifting our mindset toward prevention rather than just treatment.
Natasha: Exactly. There’s a former NHS chief, Lord Nigel Crisp, who speaks a lot about the need for health creation through housing—not just healthcare. It’s about designing environments that support well-being from the start, rather than just responding to illness.
I think that shift in thinking is key to what you’re talking about—moving toward prevention and integrating health-focused design into everyday spaces.
Michal: You also made a film about loneliness and spaces. Can you tell us more about that?
Natasha: Yes, that was a collaboration with my friend and filmmaker, Lawrence Barraclough. I was talking about loneliness in the built environment, and he said, oh, hang on. I didn’t know about that—I didn’t realize it affected us. We should make a short film.
So we did it as a purely creative collaboration, but it had a much stronger impact than we expected. It was shared widely, and even the chief of one of the municipalities in Melbourne, Australia, used it to highlight the need for human-centered design.
I think film is a really powerful medium for advocating change—it connects with people on an emotional level. I’d love to explore this more because while you can present information in a scientific way, through studies and research, you can also use film and the arts to communicate ideas in a way that really resonates.
Have you had any experience incorporating the arts into your work?
Natalia: There was a period in my life, back when I was studying and working in the UK, when I was really into the arts. Just for myself, I took courses in photography, I drew a lot, painted—I was fully immersed in it.
That experience made me realize how powerful art is as a form of expression and even as therapy. And interestingly, since the beginning of this year, I’ve been thinking more and more about collaborating with artists to promote messages about science, neuroscience, health, and design.
I believe art is incredibly potent—it allows you to communicate ideas in a way that really sticks with people. It’s been on my mind a lot, but I haven’t yet attracted those kinds of collaborations in my professional life.
Michal: I recently discussed with a friend how architectural education is shifting. I met a researcher who uses tools like EEG and eye tracking to study people’s reactions to different spaces.
For one of her studies, she showed participants six different building designs for the same plot, all created by students. Initially, many students designed spaces they felt would be pleasant and human-centered—small houses, good street layouts, neighborhoods built on a human scale.
But then they received feedback from their professors, who told them their designs were too banal—or even kitsch. The expectation was to create something more avant-garde. There’s a strong push for minimalism in Slovak architecture schools, so students had to rework their designs. But ironically, their final versions were probably less human-friendly than their original ideas.
This made me think about how architectural education needs to change. It should center around people—the users of buildings—rather than abstract design concepts that don’t necessarily translate into better human well-being.
Natasha: Yes, architectural education varies so much. When I went through university, there was a strong focus on phenomenology, which probably helped shape my path. But other schools are much more focused on formalism or pure aesthetics.
I really believe architecture programs should at least introduce students to the basics of how the built environment impacts health. That concept was never taught when I was in school—I had to learn it much later on my own. It would be so helpful if this knowledge were integrated from the beginning.
Natalia: One of the things I admire about your work, Natasha, is how open you are to interdisciplinary collaboration. You actively work with neuroscientists to support elements of your framework with scientific evidence.
That’s still quite rare in architecture. Many architects are interested in blending neuroscience with design, but often, instead of collaborating with experts, they just declare themselves neuroarchitects without a deep understanding of the field.
Interdisciplinary collaboration requires both openness and a certain level of humility—you have to be willing to invite others in, to listen and learn. What motivated you to take that approach, rather than simply developing your own ideas in isolation?
Natasha: I think it’s just in my nature. I was the type of person in school who enjoyed both sciences, math, and art, and I never wanted to let any of them go. If I hadn’t studied architecture, I would have studied a science.
I’m really interested in solving problems, and I’ve found that bringing together different perspectives is one of the best ways to generate new solutions, especially for ongoing challenges. So for me, it’s more of a problem-solving mindset—finding the right pieces to address an issue—rather than saying, I trained as an architect, and that’s the only thing I do.
I think it’s about asking yourself, What do I care about? For me, it’s about making change and hopefully creating places that are better for people. And whatever path gets me there—that’s the one I’ll take.
Michal: Could you give us some positive examples—places or projects that could inspire others who read this interview?
Natasha: Oh, there are so many! I love looking at different countries and traditions to learn from them. Lately, I’ve been thinking about Japanese Zen gardens—how they create a sensory, tranquil experience and the way people incorporate rituals around those spaces. I went to Japan last year, and it really stuck with me.
I’ve also been looking at biophilic architecture—some of the work by Geoffrey Bawa in Sri Lanka is just stunning. There are so many places to draw inspiration from. I think a lot of the principles we’re trying to achieve in modern design already exist in traditions and buildings around the world. We just need to learn from them.
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