Krisia Estes

It starts in the waiting room. The chair’s too firm. The light hums. Somewhere a clock ticks in a way that feels cruel. You check your phone, thinking it’s been at least twenty minutes. It’s been four. Time, in this space, does not pass, it stretches, warps, mocks. But then, later that same day, you walk into a library. Hours slide by like minutes. You forget to eat. You miss a call. You’re fully, deliciously immersed. Same brain. Same clock. Different space. This is chronoception: your sense...

Walk into almost any design conference, and you’ll hear the words biophilia  and fractals  sprinkled across presentations like garnish....

I firmly believe that architecture doesn’t just house the body. It shapes the body’s chemistry. Lately, I’ve become obsessed with mapping...