Designing the experience
- Shiri Shubbar
- Jun 27
- 2 min read
An article I recently read about exhibition design at the U.S. Holocaust Memorial Museum brought me back to the idea of architectural determinism, the belief that the built environment can shape, or even determine, human behavior and experience.
As architects and designers, we already choreograph the physical journey through space: circulation, sequence, compression, openness, scale, light, material, sound, and sightlines.
But we are also, intentionally or not, shaping an emotional journey.
When should a visitor encounter an intense or dramatic moment?
How long should they remain with it?
And when should the architecture allow them to pause, breathe, sit, and process what they have experienced?
The article examines exhibition design through the nervous system, identifying moments of heightened emotional response followed by the body’s natural need to regulate and recover.
This suggests that spatial sequencing is not simply an arrangement of rooms. It can become a rhythm of emotional intensity, release, and reflection.
A narrow, dark, enclosed passage may create tension or focus attention. A dramatic object revealed at the end of that passage may become more emotionally powerful because of the journey preceding it. The space that follows may then need openness, softer light, silence, a distant view, or simply a bench.
These moments of rest are not empty spaces between the “important” exhibits.
They are part of the narrative.
However, this is also where architectural determinism must be questioned. Architecture can influence emotion, attention, movement, and memory, but it cannot fully determine them. Each visitor enters with a different history, culture, sensitivity, and nervous system.
The architect does not control the emotional response.
The architect designs the conditions in which a response may occur.
Perhaps our responsibility is therefore not to ask only:
What do we want people to see and understand?
But also:
What emotional experience are we inviting, and have we created enough space for people to absorb it?
The most thoughtful architecture may not be the architecture that tells people exactly what to feel, but the architecture that knows when to intensify the experience, when to become quiet, and when to let the visitor simply be.





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