How I Harness The Power of Design To Shape How We Feel

large bedroom with white arm chair and black bed and three windows framed by cream curtains — (Image credit: Jess Cooney)

Have you ever walked into a home and felt an immediate sense of calm – even if you couldn’t quite explain why? The ceilings aren’t dramatically higher, the furniture isn’t obviously extravagant, and the color palette isn’t shouting for attention. And yet, something shifts. Your shoulders drop. Your breathing steadies. You feel comfortable almost instantly. That’s emotional architecture at work.

At its best, interior design principles go far beyond surface beauty. It quietly shapes how we live, how we unwind, how we connect – and how we recover from the outside world. A well-considered home works subtly in the background, influencing mood and behavior in ways we often register before we consciously understand them.

We respond to a space emotionally first. Clear sightlines instead of visual clutter allow both the eye and the mind to rest. Proportion, light, texture – they all play their part in creating that almost imperceptible sense of ease.

a chaise lounge in the corner of a white living room next to a doorway looking into a dining area

Rooms should move easily from one to the next. When the flow feels intuitive, daily life feels smoother too – there’s less friction, less visual noise. Proportion plays a huge part in that. Furniture that’s properly scaled to a room creates balance; pieces that are too large can overwhelm, while undersized ones leave a space feeling oddly adrift. It’s one of the most common mistakes I see.

I also spend a lot of time teaching clients the value of negative space. Just as silence gives music its rhythm, visual pauses give a home clarity. Not every wall needs styling. Not every corner needs a chair. A well-designed interior doesn’t clamor for attention at every turn; it allows the eye to rest. Those quieter moments – the unfilled surfaces, the considered gaps – are often what make a room feel composed rather than chaotic.

Design, at its most powerful, also acts as a form of emotional regulation. Light, texture, and materiality all influence how we feel, often instantly. Soft, layered lighting ideas can calm the nervous system, while harsh overhead glare has the opposite effect. I instinctively adjust lighting wherever I am – lowering sconces, softening overheads, creating pockets of warmth. The shift is immediate. When I can control the light, the entire room feels gentler, and I feel calmer within it.

wood dining table and chairs in the corner of a room surrounded by large windows looking onto a forest

Natural materials – linen, wool, reclaimed wood, limewashed plaster – ground a room in something tactile and honest. They offer comfort without excess. What I love most is the way they age. A soft patina develops over time, edges wear in gently, and surfaces gain character. That quiet evolution lends a space grace and depth, allowing you to truly relax into it. Nothing feels too precious; it simply feels lived in.

As designers, we think carefully about transitions within a home. The shift from public rooms to private ones. From energetic, sociable spaces to those intended for rest. Materials help carry that journey – perhaps a change in texture underfoot, softer fabrics in a bedroom, warmer lighting in a sitting room. These choices aren’t merely decorative; they shape how you move, how you feel, how you unwind. They’re emotional decisions as much as aesthetic ones.

Interestingly, homes that are overly designed can feel subtly unsettling. When every corner demands attention, the eye never gets to rest. Too many focal points compete. Trend-heavy selections might look impressive in isolation, but layered together, they can lack cohesion and emotional longevity. I often see this happen when each individual material is chosen to be the “most interesting” piece in the room. The result isn’t harmony – it’s visual noise. Real comfort comes from restraint, from allowing elements to speak softly rather than all at once.

hanging chair in the window of a living room

Emotional ease so often comes down to editing. To restraint. Knowing what to leave out matters just as much as what you choose to bring in. When a space isn’t overfilled, it has room to breathe – and so do we. Restraint gives a home the freedom to evolve slowly, to gather meaning over time through pieces that are collected rather than crammed in. It gives the eye a place to pause as it moves around the room, and that visual pause is what creates a genuine sense of calm.

In a world that feels increasingly loud, fast, and visually relentless, the role of the home has shifted. It’s no longer just a backdrop to our lives; it’s a refuge from them. A place to recalibrate.

Emotional architecture understands that shift. It prioritises feeling, longevity, and intention over excess or instant impact. The most beautiful homes aren’t always the ones that dazzle with drama or polish. They’re the ones that invite you to exhale. To put your feet up. To stay awhile. They evolve thoughtfully, shaped by decisions that are as considered in what’s omitted as in what’s included – and that quiet discernment is what makes them truly lasting.

Jess Cooney is the founder and principal designer of Jess Cooney Interiors, a full-service interior design studio based in Massachusetts, known for crafting warm, modern spaces with timeless soul. With a background in fine arts and over a decade of experience in interior architecture, Jess has developed a design language that merges classic New England sensibilities with clean lines, natural materials, and deeply personal storytelling.

Jess’s work has been widely featured in top design publications, including Architectural Digest, House Beautiful, Elle Decor, The Wall Street Journal, Domino, and LUXE Interiors + Design. She was named one of House Beautiful’s Next Wave Designers and her studio continues to be recognised for its ability to blend tradition with innovation.