WA:IT Within > Form Follows Feeling, a conversation with Suchi Reddy
What if architecture could change the way we feel before we even understood why? This question has shaped the work of Suchi Reddy, architect and founder of Reddymade, the New York–based studio working across architecture, interiors, objects and immersive installations. For more than twenty years, her practice has followed one guiding idea: “form follows feeling”, the belief that design should begin with our emotional and sensory response to space, rather than with a visual signature.
Suchi Reddy’s ethos resonates deeply with many of the ideas at the heart of WA:IT.
For the September edition of WA:IT Within, that connection becomes the starting point for our conversation. How sensory experience shapes emotion, how the body responds to space, and how light, sound and scent can shift our state of mind. For Reddy, fragrance can become part of the architecture of a space, creating atmosphere, marking a transition, triggering memory or subtly changing the way we experience a room. In our dialogue, she reflects on the scent of jasmine and parijat flowers from her childhood, the rituals she creates within her own studio, and the surprising affinities between composing a fragrance and composing architecture.
Interview by Olivia Fincato, a New York–based journalist contributing to Vogue Italia, Living Corriere, AD Italia, and La Repubblica, with a focus on design, culture, and meaningful storytelling.
“Form follows feeling” has been at the heart of your work for more than twenty years. What does that idea mean to you today?
«“Form follows feeling” began as an intuition, shaped by my childhood in Chennai, India. Growing up, I understood very early that architecture could affect not only how I felt, but also who I was becoming. That stayed with me. As my practice evolved, I became increasingly interested in understanding why spaces have that kind of power over us. A pivotal moment was discovering the connection between neuroscience and architecture. Over the past twenty years, I’ve watched neuroaesthetics emerge as a field. It’s still young, but there is now a much greater awareness of how deeply our environments shape our emotional and physical experience.The pandemic made that impossible to ignore. Suddenly, we were all much more aware of our surroundings, light, sound, texture, comfort, even the absence of stimulation. I don’t think that sensitivity ever really went away. If anything, it made us more conscious of how much space can support us, unsettle us, energize us or calm us. What fascinates me now is that science is beginning to explain what we have always sensed instinctively. Feeling isn’t abstract. It is information. It is a real marker of experience».
How does neuroaesthetics actually change the way you design?
«My practice is very trans-typological. We move across architecture, interiors, retail, residential and cultural spaces, as well as objects and even textiles. But at the heart of it all is the same question: how does this space, object or environment make someone feel? That means looking beyond function or circulation. I’m interested in how proportion, curves, texture, sound or smell register in the body, often before we are even conscious of it. It is a neuroscience-informed practice, but for me the science is there to deepen something very human, understanding why certain environments make us feel».
How does that translate into design? Can you think of a project where the feeling you wanted to create really shaped the space?
«The Google Store in New York is a good example. It was Google’s first physical store, and we wanted technology to feel inviting rather than intimidating, more about curiosity and discovery. So we used softer surfaces, warmer walls and a very different atmosphere from the bright, stark spaces we often associate with tech. It’s the same with the Humanscale showrooms we’ve designed around the world. Light, texture, color and movement all help translate the brand’s values into an experience. Residential work takes this even further because it’s so personal. You see very quickly what makes someone feel comfortable, connected, at ease. I value that direct response enormously».
I remember visiting your studio and noticing the sense of calm you had created there.
«In our New York studio, where every inch of space matters, I wanted a long, almost empty hallway, lit from above. It creates a quiet pause between the outside world and the more inward, creative space of the studio. I think thresholds can become a kind of ritual. Even a few seconds can shift your state of mind. We often tell ourselves to stop, to breathe. Architecture can create that same pause. Making space for that breath».
I loved the small meditation space you had created within the studio, almost like a little sanctuary.
«When I need to take a breath while I work, I do. We’ve even talked about starting meetings with a breathing ritual. I want entering the studio to feel different from walking into a conventional office. You’re met by art, warmth and a moment of transition before moving into a more textured, welcoming space. Even the smallest details can change the way you feel. At the back of the studio, an anamorphic graphic makes the space seem to continue beyond the wall rather than simply stop. Some of these choices come from instinct, others are very deliberate. But they all come back to the same idea: space can shift your state of mind».
What role does the olfactory sense play in the way we experience a space emotionally?
«Scent is one of the most fascinating, but also one of the most challenging, materials to work with in architecture. Paradoxically, it is also one of the most direct sensory stimuli we have. Olfactory information has such a direct relationship with the nervous system, scent can create an immediate pathway into an experience. Powerful, but also very complex. A scent that feels wonderful to one person might give someone else a headache. So the question is: how do you design for a shared experience while still allowing the power of scent to reveal itself?»
Are there specific projects where you’ve explored scent as part of the design experience?
«RARE, an object I designed for Mortlach whisky. I created an incense paper to be burned while drinking, so that scent and smoke became part of the ritual. What interested me was how scent could amplify an experience that already has such an established ritual around it, making it more multisensory without overwhelming it.. Architecture doesn’t always take scent into account, and I think it should. Smell is like light, it has intensity, direction and duration. The real question is how you modulate all of those elements».
What is your earliest memory of scent? Is there a smell from childhood that still shapes the way you experience a place?
«There is one flower in particular called parijat, a small white flower with an orange stem that falls from the tree. My mother used to collect them every morning and make garlands. Growing up in South India was an incredibly olfactory experience, we had jasmine plants all around the house. When I came to America, I remember seeing a carnation for the first time. I couldn’t understand a flower that didn’t have a scent. One of my favorite things about being in Milan during Salone is that the whole city smells a little like wisteria. There’s something beautiful about that perfume in the air, you immediately know what season it is, what moment of the year you’re in».
How would you choose a scent for different parts of a home?
«I think scent can really become part of the architecture of a home. At the entrance, I would want something very grounding and subtle, maybe frankincense, so mild that you’re almost not aware of smelling it. It’s just there in the air, helping you arrive into space. Then, as you move into the living areas, I might introduce something a little more lively, with citrus notes. Those are spaces for conversation, movement, interaction. Bedrooms are much more personal. I love scents that are slightly smoky and floral. I actually spray my sheets before I go to sleep, and I find it helps bring my nervous system down at the end of the day. I don’t really think about having one signature scent for an entire home. Different areas can have their own olfactory atmosphere. Scent can help create these small, almost sacred spaces within the home».
Is there a designer, artist or scientist you would dream of collaborating with?
«I would love to collaborate with Brian Eno, the British musician, producer and visual artist known for his work in ambient music and experimentation. I’ve always been fascinated by the way he moves between music, art and different forms of creative thinking. I think it would be amazing to make something together. I’d also love to do something with my friend Stephon Alexander, the physicist and cosmologist who wrote The Jazz of Physics. His work brings together music, physics and the universe, and I find that incredibly fascinating. Lately I’ve also been reading An Immense World by Ed Yong, about the way animals perceive the world through their senses. It really makes you realize how limited our own perception is. Smell, especially, carries so much information that other species can pick up and understand in ways we simply can’t. It has made me think a lot about perception beyond the human experience».
Do scent and architecture share the same sense of journey for you?
«I think there are many similarities between creating a scent and creating architecture. There is a sequence you move through, an experience that unfolds over time. With scent, you have top notes, heart notes and base notes, all working together at different intensities. Architecture can be understood in much the same way. You have to think about the “base notes” and the “top notes” of a spatial experience, and how each one reveals itself as you move through a building. At a certain point, you become part of the space, and the space becomes part of you. In that sense, composing a scent and composing architecture are very closely related».
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