In recent years, the city has gained appeal and communicative strength: the urban space has itself become a brand, conveying an idea of active and culturally stimulating living. Proximity and efficiency support a model of dynamic, high-performing life. At the same time, several studies have recently revealed stress conditions directly associated with city life. With growing attention to sensitive topics such as psychological well-being and self-care, the question for designers is inevitable today: What does it mean to conceive a space in relation to mental health?
The second episode, titled “Social Prescribing,” of Cantiere Scandurra, the podcast by Scandurra Studio for Collater.al, narrated by architect Alessandro Scandurra, starts exactly from here: the urgency to reconcile urban appeal with spatial quality.
For a long time, architects and urban planners operated within relatively stable coordinates: aesthetics, function, cost, regulations. But in a world where stress has become systemic, loneliness is widespread, and well-being spans across health, work, and culture, the impact of spatial quality on the psychophysical condition of individuals and communities is an integral part of the design process.
Space is never neutral
Scandurra’s premise is essential: according to the WHO, we spend 90% of our lives inside built environments. A staggering proportion that often escapes our notice because it is so ubiquitous. This affects how we live the domestic sphere as individuals and, on a broader scale, our relationship with the city. A space can no longer be fixed in its functional definition but must open up to multiple uses. We live immersed in volumes designed by others, influencing our mood, relationships, and sense of identity. It would be interesting, instead, to keep more possibilities open, so that space becomes a place of expression.
Today, disciplines like neuroarchitecture, environmental psychology, and behavioral biology are increasingly highlighting the deep connection between mind and environment.
A study by University College London, for instance, showed that certain architectural elements — like lighting orientation, ceiling height, and spatial complexity — directly influence brain activity, affecting areas linked to emotion, memory, and attention: the shape of a space can stimulate or fatigue, reassure or disorient. It can make us feel included — or left out.
According to Sarah Robinson, environmental psychologist and author of Nesting: Body, Dwelling, Mind, architecture is a form of storytelling. Scandurra adds that every space tells a story about those who designed it, inhabit it, and evokes sensations. Like any story, it shapes our perception of the world. The home, the workplace, the urban environment are not neutral containers. They are emotional extensions of our bodies — and vice versa, they influence our posture within them. Therefore, design is not just about functional shapes: it’s about building emotional conditions. In one word, it means to care. And this function of care, says the architect, is more literal than one might think.
Sociality, safety, calm: living as therapy
Looking at a broader community scale, the relationship between space and well-being becomes stronger — and in some countries, it’s already moved beyond academic conferences into public health protocols. In the UK, for example, social prescribing practices are increasingly common: therapeutic paths that include activities in public places — parks, museums, urban gardens, libraries — as part of treating mild conditions related to stress, anxiety, and depression.
In recent years, it has been observed that one in five medical appointments in the UK are not for strictly medical issues, but for concerns related to psychological well-being, loneliness, isolation, and economic hardship. The phenomenon caught the attention of the National Health Service (NHS), which implemented a network of link workers — professionals trained to share information about local community services. In Italy, a similar initiative is the Case di Comunità (Community Clinics), supporting local healthcare. Research into the effectiveness of these approaches is still limited, and of course, they complement — not replace — traditional care.
Space, therefore, can assume a therapeutic function. But for that to happen, the project must be born from a clear awareness: well-being must not be a side effect but an explicit goal of design. This perspective also guides the work of Scandurra Studio, where the internal research department, called Backstage, explores solutions that address emerging needs of the contemporary city. In particular, spaces of care offer fertile ground for transcending traditional design boundaries: hospitals, clinics, parks, gardens, and other public spaces blend together, creating a network of more open, inclusive, and community-connected environments. In this context, designing means imagining places that embrace the complexity of human experience. Spaces not just to inhabit, but that can inhabit us — adapting to our rhythms, engaging with our emotions, supporting our vulnerabilities.
