The Art of Not Noticing- When Wayfinding and Placemaking Just Work

I keep having this dream.

I’m in a building that feels oddly familiar…part hotel, part memory. It reminds me of a place. The carpets are patterned, the walls hum with fluorescent nostalgia, and there’s a smell I can’t quite place. I move between floors, but nothing’s quite clear. Corridors loop, staircases twist like something out of an M. C. Escher drawing, always leading somewhere, but never quite arriving.

It’s not scary. Just endless. Like I’m navigating a space with no beginning or end.

I think about that dream often. Especially when working through a project where wayfinding and placemaking intersect. Because what that dream really reveals is how deeply we rely on space to make sense. And how unsettling it is when it doesn’t.

There’s a curious thing that happens when wayfinding is done well…you don’t notice it. You simply move without second guessing, without hesitation. You flow. And in that flow, there’s comfort. Clarity. Even beauty.

As a designer, I’ve always been fascinated by this idea of the “unseen hand”, the invisible cues that guide us through space. Signs, materials, light, texture, contrast, flow. All of these working together to tell you where you are, where to go next, and how to feel while doing so. You may never stop to admire them, but they shape your entire experience. That’s the art of it.

Placemaking, on the other hand, is not just about direction…it’s about definition. As a designers I personally don’t see placemaking as adding signs to a finished space. It starts earlier. Much earlier. It's about embedding meaning into the bones of a place. Listening to the site, the story, the people, the architects, the interior designers. Finding what’s already there, then building upon it with intent.

A designers role often feels more like storytelling than design. Not just crafting aesthetics; creating experiences that people instinctively connect with. When it’s done right, it just feels right…as if it was always meant to be that way.

What people often take for granted “I just found my way” or “I love how this space feels” is actually the result of hundreds of decisions. Fonts chosen for legibility at distance. Materials that catch light at the right hour. Hierarchies that whisper, not shout. Details that teams agonise over, so that others don’t have to.

“There’s a curious thing that happens when wayfinding is done well…you don’t notice it.”

The new world order is defined by richer human interaction, and a greater focus on wellness, sustainability, and community. Our environments must do more than function; they must feel. As cities evolve, so should the way we think about navigating them. Wayfinding becomes an invitation, not an instruction. And placemaking? A cultural contribution, not just a backdrop.

So much of what I do is about creating the conditions for connection, between people, places, and stories. Sometimes that’s a bold gesture. Sometimes it’s just the right texture underfoot.

And when we get it right, you’ll never think about it.

You’ll just arrive.