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How physical environment can support care

To be a relative of a patient in intensive care is to live in a state of suspension. It is defined by uncertainty and by conversations that can alter life irrevocably. Maj Kær knows this reality intimately. As a mother and founder of Foreningen Værdig—an association supporting relatives in critical hospital situations—she brings a perspective shaped by the loss of her 14-year-old son to meningitis and by firsthand experience of being a relative within the hospital system.

Through this experience, Maj became acutely aware of how physical surroundings shape people’s ability to cope in moments of crisis. The lack of spaces designed with dignity, privacy, and care for relatives became a central concern—and a motivation to challenge how such environments are conceived within intensive care settings.

Building on this realisation, Maj founded Foreningen Værdig to advocate for more dignified conditions for relatives. So, when plans for the New Aalborg University Hospital were announced, an opportunity arose to rethink the role of Relatives’ Rooms. In dialogue with head nurse Tina Seidelin Rasmussen and together with Maj Kær, a collaboration took shape.

A neuroaesthetic approach to three relatives’ rooms

Alongside other partners, Muuto supported the project through furniture donations and by bringing neuroaesthetic insights into the development of the interior design, working closely with Aalborg University Hospital. Through this partnership, the goal was to create new spaces that would uphold dignity, comfort, and privacy, and to shape a more supportive environment for families in times of need, while challenging the way hospitals are designed.

The result is a series of relatives’ rooms shaped by shared experience and a careful understanding of how physical surroundings can support people in vulnerable moments. At NAU, this is reflected in a clear spatial strategy, where relatives’ facilities are no longer expected to meet every need within a single room.

Instead, three purpose-built spaces allow the setting to match the situation: a Conversation room for privacy and difficult conversations, a Layover room for rest and short stays, and a Common room for moments of shared calm. Together, creating more supportive, dignified conditions during emotionally demanding moments.

“The project represents an ambition to make a real difference, not only through the physical environment, but by recognising relatives and their needs within the care setting.”— Maj Kær

Intentional design for well-being

In intensive care, people arrive in the middle of something they didn’t plan for. It’s a situation that can be loud, bright, and relentless. When the body is under pressure, surroundings matter in a different way.

This project is grounded in a simple understanding: sensory impressions make a difference. Color, light, and materiality can either add to overload or help restore balance. The rooms are therefore shaped by deliberate choices, including calming light, soft materials, and contact with nature, allowing the environment to quietly support relatives when they’re already carrying enough.

Research in environmental psychology shows that natural light, plants, and natural materials can reduce stress and support well-being. Color and light also play a central role, influencing how at ease we feel and how the body responds, with cooler light supporting alertness and warmer tones associated with calm.

Seen through the lens of neuroaesthetics, these elements shape whether a space feels demanding or supportive. When surroundings offer familiarity, balance, and a sense of home, they foster a sense of belonging rooted in how our minds and bodies respond to the world around us—helping us feel present, grounded, and at ease rather than requiring additional energy to cope.

Applying experience and knowledge

For Maj, the starting point was personal. As a relative, she experienced how difficult it can be to find calm and a sense of safety amid a chaotic hospital course. The practical conditions only reinforced this, as a single small room was used simultaneously as a relatives’ room, staff room, and space for conversations. Her strongest memory was the emotional impact of having nowhere to go. She described a sense of invisibility in that moment:

Maj Kær “Of course, the focus is on the patient, and that is completely natural, but as a relative, you carry a responsibility and a heavy grief that often has nowhere to go.”

From the hospital’s perspective, head nurse Tina Seidelin Rasmussen was involved in a process shaped by dialogue and shared reflection on Maj’s experiences when her son was admitted to intensive care. For her, the project also addressed a long-standing structural challenge: for years, private conversations, rest, short stays, and practical needs were combined in a single room. A setup that is difficult in everyday practice, and particularly in moments of crisis.

Supporting those who provide the care

When the first interior proposals came together, they resonated with both parties. Not because they promised to solve the unfixable, but because lived experience had been translated into something tangible. “The care behind the proposal was clear, and it balanced the professional and the human. I could sense it would make a real difference for relatives who arrive in intensive care suddenly, in situations marked by worry and crisis,” says Tina.

For intensive care staff, the rooms meet a clear need for supporting relatives in difficult moments. Moving conversations away from the bedside and into calm, private rooms makes it easier to communicate clearly, listen attentively, and meet families with presence, even in a busy ICU. “Having a calm, private space changes how we communicate,” Tina reflects. “Especially when families are overwhelmed or in shock.”

The rooms support conversations about complications, prognosis, and end-of-life care, as well as quieter moments when relatives need time or privacy. Through lighting, layout, and material choices, the spaces help lower stress and create a sense of safety for both families and staff. As Tina puts it,

Tina Seidelin Rasmussen “A well-designed room becomes a quiet support in the conversation, helping carry its emotional weight.”

In this way, the new rooms support not only better experiences for relatives but also an improved working environment for those providing care, making it easier to deliver not just medical care but also human care.

Conversation room

Tina describes the Conversation Room as the one she would use most often. It is designed for difficult and sensitive conversations, for clarifying information, and for creating a shared understanding with families. Soft, welcoming furniture and a round table invite closeness and dialogue, while a muted, dusty green palette creates a calm atmosphere without overwhelming the senses.

Natural materials, green plants, and nature-inspired artwork bring a sense of ease into the room. Daylight is given space, and additional lighting supports a warm, calm mood. The room is also shaped by clear functional needs: conversations should take place on equal terms. The round table encourages open dialogue, extra chairs can be pulled in when needed, and a small workstation allows staff to share images, review medical records, or present information in a calm and structured way.

Layover room

The Layover Room is about rest. Designed as a place where relatives can stay close, wait for updates, or take a moment to decompress, offering proximity without the intensity of being on the unit. Integration of neuroaesthetic principles to foster a home-like environment can increase patient and family comfort.

That feeling is built deliberately: calm, balanced colors, natural materials, and artwork with nature-inspired motifs. Functionally, the Layover Room is straightforward; it accommodates overnight stays with a narrower bed chosen to be space-saving and visually considered. A lounge chair for added comfort, a bedside table, and storage with doors for personal belongings complete the essentials.

Common room

The Common Room meets a different need: a shared space where several families can stay, relax, eat together, and take part in activities, while still experiencing privacy and calm. The room is organised into smaller zones with different functions, creating a sense of separation without closing the space off. Tina believes this approach helps foster connection and reduce isolation.

Designed to feel home-like, the space features soft forms, natural materials, and calm colors. A kitchenette sits alongside artwork, plants, and children’s books and toys, supporting familiar routines and gentle distractions. Tables and flexible seating accommodate shared meals, activities, and moments of rest, while a lounge area and a softly defined play zone add to a balanced, welcoming atmosphere.

What it means in practice

For Maj, the measure is simple and human: “I hope the biggest difference will be that no relative will have to be left without a place to be in the hardest moments. That they can enter a room, close the door, and for a while feel a bit of calm in the middle of the chaos.” For Tina, it also changes what staff are able to offer day to day: “Personally, I look forward to being able to offer something that feels meaningful and dignified,” she says. She hopes the rooms will send a clear message to relatives as they arrive:

Tina Seidelin Rasmussen “Here is a place where you can be together, breathe, and find a little calm in the middle of it all.”

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