When it comes to finding our way in the world, gone are the days of struggling to unfold and refold unwieldy paper maps against a car dashboard, and squinting at oncoming street signs. Now, we grab a smartphone, tap an app, and the fastest route is chosen and narrated for us, right down to avoiding construction or other traffic backups.

Getting lost can be a good thing

“Wayfinding is a human activity, that in contemporary terms, is about navigating environments in an effort to locate or meet a need,” says Clay Lowe, a sessional instructor in the Department of Design. “Much of the mental and emotional process of navigating is supported or affected by culture, language and symbols in the design, accessibility and communication of architecture, environments and experiences.”

Landmarks are important features, says Lowe, whose academic and creative practice explores intersections in graphic, architecture and experience design. Whether manufactured, like Edmonton’s Walterdale Bridge, or natural, like the North Saskatchewan River that flows beneath, landmarks are important cultural and navigational references from which we can effectively orient ourselves or experience. But they aren’t always massive, city-scale objects. The distinctive staircases in MacEwan University’s Allard Hall, for example, are noticed instantly and show students and visitors how they might get where they need to go in the building.

When it comes to wayfinding, helping us find our way isn’t necessarily the goal. Sometimes it’s the opposite, according to Wayne Williams, assistant professor in the Department of Design. His research into design and material culture in public spaces found instances where the design ideal is confusing, with labyrinth-like layouts to keep users from leaving – like in department stores. “Some stores are much easier to get into than out of – exits aren’t easy to see, there are no clear sight lines and checkout counters are tough to find. These conditions require more movement and potentially more purchases,” he says. 

Our need for navigation also extends to the virtual spaces we inhabit, from accessing websites to immersing ourselves in virtual and augmented reality. Designers play a pivotal role in orchestrating the mechanics, dynamics and esthetics to construct a virtual space, says Assistant Professor Dr. Farzan Baradaran Rahimi, who researches the design of actual, virtual and hybrid spaces. 

“To craft unique experiences, designers can establish new laws of physics or modify mechanics, such as gravitational forces, within virtual space,” he says. Not only can the laws of physics change in virtual spaces, but they can be adapted to respond to body movement, voice commands and even eye tracking to ensure that they’re inclusive to every user’s needs.

Designing spaces for everyone

The need for inclusion and accessibility is something that both physical and virtual spaces share. Experiential graphic designers like Lowe work alongside architects to support accessibility and clarity of space through information design, signage and directional cues, Braille, and installations of public art and design.

In the virtual places that Dr. Baradaran Rahimi studies, accessibility can include making user interfaces clearer and providing defined navigation paths and tools for use such as screen readers. They can also be more subtle. “Attention to colour contrast and readability is essential for individuals with visual impairments. Moreover, designers need to consider cognitive accessibility, simplifying information and providing clear instructions.”

Cultural inclusion is important too, says Williams. He points to Fort Edmonton Park’s Indigenous Experience as an example of holistic co-design done right. Designers collaborated with more than 50 Indigenous Elders, historians, educators and community members to create an experiential design that provides both a powerful experience and education about Indigenous culture and history for visitors.

What does the future of place design look like?

Those experimental designs are becoming more commonplace as technology advances. Interconnecting both the physical and the virtual in augmented reality (AR) allows for an entirely new experience that users otherwise wouldn’t have with just one type of place. 

“Interaction design in virtual spaces and AR centres around user interfaces that are often three-dimensional and immersive,” says Williams. That means designers need to consider how gestures, controllers and headsets can help users navigate, interact with objects and receive feedback in mixed-reality environments.

“The way we interact with places has shifted with new technology, and the actual and virtual are more interconnected than ever,” says Dr. Baradaran Rahimi. Planning a simple trip to a museum, he says, involves overlapping types of spaces, from accessing websites to check hours or purchase tickets before visiting, to actually being in the museum itself, to posting photos of the trip on social media afterward. “This will take new turns in the upcoming years embedding artificial intelligence into our surroundings, creating responsive and adaptive places.”

Designing those types of places requires research, time, effort and money. And yet, they often go unnoticed by users. Design features that increase usability are generally taken for granted – unless they don’t work.

Invisibility: a sign of good design

When spaces are well-designed, we rarely notice them at all. Williams uses the example of public bathrooms, where users know exactly what to expect, and tend to pay attention only when something is out of the ordinary. “Something as simple as the lack of a mirror behind a sink can be frustrating. Even if you do not happen to need a mirror, the unfulfilled expectation of a mirror leaves a negative impression of the space or experience.”

Sometimes a designer’s assumptions or biases in their design process can negatively affect usability. In the case of smart technology – automatic taps, hand dryers and soap dispensers – different skin tones aren’t easily registered, creating a space that can only be effectively used by a select group of people.

“This kind of inherent bias is now a critical issue for AI-assisted technologies of all kinds. As they say, outputs are only as good as the inputs,” says Williams. 

What will those inputs be? How will our current design era be remembered? Williams says that when it comes to the psychology of spaces, he particularly enjoys looking at the Gothic Revival.

“The goals of the movement included cultural and esthetic revival, the preservation of craftsmanship, the promotion of moral and spiritual values while addressing needs, and the dehumanizing effects of industrialization,” says Williams. Architects of the era, such as John Ruskin and William Morris, believed that the spaces we inhabit can uplift and inspire us. “This belief tapped into the romantic sensibilities of the time, offering visually appealing and emotionally resonant architectural forms that contrasted with the utilitarianism of industrial structures.”

That belief has persisted, and the spaces we inhabit are generally judged and remembered for their aesthetics and the emotions they evoke, not only for how we might use them. For the designers of spaces, that’s ultimately the goal. A successfully designed space is one that users can pass through easily, but where they may actually want to stay awhile.