An essay on the human practice of separation and the role of design in shaping the relationship between humans and their environment
Introduction
Humanity, born from the Earth, seems no longer at home in it. We seek control, separation, and shaping — smooth surfaces, perfectly air-conditioned interiors, artificially constructed comfort zones. Behind these preferences lies a profound cultural practice: the alienation from natural environment. And in this context, design is not just a tool — it plays an active, shaping role.
A seemingly mundane moment captures this perfectly: a man sits in his car at an intersection. It’s hot. The air shimmers. He rolls up the window and turns on the air conditioning — a small but telling act of separation from his surroundings. This moment illustrates a fundamental pattern in how we relate to the world: we divide, isolate, and create our own spaces because the natural world might no longer feel like "ours." Through design, technology, and progress, we draw these boundaries — freeing ourselves from nature not by adapting to it, but by subjecting it to our control.
This practice comes at a cost. Transforming the world to fit human needs, exploiting resources, and externalizing waste has led to a growing ecological crisis. Despite — or perhaps because of — our efforts to distance ourselves, we are intrinsically connected to the environment. The contradiction is clear: we are nature, even as we systematically separate ourselves from it.
Design as a Tool of Separation
Design isn’t just about aesthetics; it’s a powerful instrument of cultural shaping. Through design, the world becomes inhabitable, accessible — or distant and abstracted. One striking example is THE LINE, a planned linear city in Saudi Arabia. Designed as a 170-kilometer-long megastructure in the desert, it both mirrors and erases the surrounding landscape. Promising technological autonomy and sustainability, it represents an extreme form of human enclosure: nature is kept outside, while humanity organizes itself within a seamless, controlled interior.
But this is not an isolated vision. It sits atop countless everyday decisions: water piped in from the wall, houseplants as tamed nature, air conditioners, rock gardens, bonsais — these are all micro-forms of the same practice. We invite nature in only when it is controlled, aestheticized, and integrated into our systems.
Design, then, becomes a method of selection: What counts as “nature”? What must be excluded? And perhaps more importantly: What do we even mean by "nature"?
The Crisis of Defining Nature
The concept of nature has become deeply ambiguous. What once seemed self-evident is now a vague construct, oscillating between romanticism, utility, and total estrangement. Forests often turn out to be plantations. Highway greenbelts mimic natural environments while being entirely artificial. We live with a concept of "quasi-nature" — a familiar yet manufactured version that avoids the wild, the chaotic, the uncontrollable.
This "artificially selected nature" — a central thesis of this essay — reflects a cultural process by which we decide which parts of nature are worth preserving, cultivating, or destroying. This is not merely an ecological issue but a deeply cultural one. Design mediates this selection: it shapes the thresholds between people and their environment, between interior and exterior, between the natural and the artificial.
Design Between Utopia and Estrangement
As a cultural practice, design can either foster separation or reconnect us. Projects like THE LINE reveal just how far our desire for insulation can go. But they also raise important questions: Can we really create livable spaces this way? Or are we just reenacting dystopian science fiction, where humans retreat into technological cocoons?
Looking back, we find many precedents: Le Corbusier’s "machines for living," Buckminster Fuller’s "Spaceship Earth," and countless functionalist urban visions. All share the core belief that design can remake the world. But without anchoring in the living environment, this remaking risks deepening the alienation it seeks to resolve.
Everyday Objects as Cultural Hinges
To understand these broader dynamics, it's worth looking at the small things. Everyday objects aren’t trivial — they carry deep cultural patterns. A toilet flush, a decorative plant, a minimalist stone garden — they all reflect how separation from nature is embedded in daily life. They are the cultural groundwork upon which larger projects like THE LINE become conceivable.
Here lies the real potential of this exploration: connecting architectural theory with material culture. By examining how we live with things — how we design, use, value, or ignore them — we uncover patterns in our relationship with the world. And perhaps, in these seemingly unremarkable objects, we might find a path back: a way for design to become a bridge rather than a barrier between humanity and nature.
Design as a Response to Crisis
The consequences of alienation are visible: psychological stress, ecological collapse, a sense of disconnection. At the same time, the longing for reconnection is palpable. Trends like forest bathing, alpaca walks, and the rise of urban gardening all point to a collective desire to re-engage with something original and organic.
Design has the potential to open new paths here — as a medium of reconciliation. Not by turning nature into decorative props, but by integrating it as a living co-actor in our daily spaces. We might begin to see a new category of "back-to-nature objects" — not as a nostalgic retreat but as a cultural innovation.
Design that doesn’t enclose but opens. That doesn’t simulate, but connects. That doesn’t alienate, but offers belonging.
Conclusion
Humans shape the world — and in doing so, they shape themselves. Yet within this creative cultural practice lies the risk of alienation. When design focuses solely on control, function, and separation, it loses its connective power.
This analysis reveals that design always makes a statement about our culture. It defines our relationship to the environment — and ultimately, to ourselves. The challenge for future design is not just technological advancement, but the cultivation of a renewed environmental awareness.
Only when we understand that we are not outside of nature, but part of it, can design fulfill its true potential: creating spaces for human life that truly live up to that name.
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Image by Jose Antonio Gallego Vázquez | Unsplash
