Can You Design a Feeling?
On perception, spatial design, and brand installations
For Haus of Luna, an interactive installation I built inside a house, I worked with a floor plan that could be walked in a loop. Visitors could explore freely, though the entrance suggested a direction. In the second version, I used that route to change the intensity as they moved. A white room offered a visual pause. Farther along, a narrow passage crowded with colored fur and hanging plants led toward a larger room of reflective surfaces and black light. I thought of that room, the Neon Room, as the peak.
I have always been interested in altering perception. A familiar house gave me a structure people could recognize, while light, reflections and unexpected objects changed what they found inside it. Some visitors tried ChromaDepth glasses as they walked, taking them on and off to see the colors differently. I also thought about where someone might stand to take a photograph. The camera, the lenses and the movement through the house each offered another way to see it. [1]
After visiting, people could tell me which room had been their favorite. In the responses I collected, about 33 percent named the Neon Room. The red kitchen drew about 21 percent, and a quiet white room near the end drew almost as many. I had planned one peak, and people attached themselves to different places along the route.
A favorite room tells me something about a preference expressed at that moment. It leaves other questions open. What did someone do there? What did they notice? What did that room bring to mind? Even a longer answer would be one person's account of an experience that unfolded through their body, memory and attention. Research into architectural perception can help us examine how spatial form and enclosure affect people's responses; it gives me more precise questions to bring back to the work. [2]
I think of designing a spatial experience as arranging an orchestra. A passage changes the pace. Light directs attention. An object gives someone a reason to stop or act. Each part has a moment and an intensity. Looking back at Haus, I can see places where that arrangement worked as I hoped and others, like the narrow hallway, where many elements competed at once.
A brand installation adds a particular challenge. The brand arrives with something it wants people to know about it, while visitors arrive with their own reasons for being there. The site has its own conditions, too. At a crowded outdoor event, someone might want shade and a few minutes to rest. A sun-care brand, for example, could make that pause a chance to use its product. The need that brings someone closer and what the brand offers can become parts of the same experience.
That relationship deserves as much thought as the visual hook. A structure might be visible from across a convention hall; an interaction gives someone a reason to remain. The choice of what comes forward, and when, affects the attention a brand receives. I want to know whether people can connect what happened to the particular brand that made it possible.
The experiential industry already measures participation, brand perception and purchase intent. Practitioners are also asking what an activation leaves behind once an event ends. [3] Those questions interest me at the scale of one visitor moving through a space. Attendance tells me who arrived. Watching what people use and hearing how they describe the experience can tell me where the design carried its intended idea.
That is how I would work with the perception gap, the distance between what a brand hopes to communicate and what people take away. Before building, I would ask what the brand genuinely offers and what a visitor might be able to do with that idea. I would test a simple version of the route with people unfamiliar with the project. Where do they stop? What do they try? How do they describe the brand afterward? Their responses could change the design while there is still time to change it.
To me, designing a feeling means preparing the conditions for it. I can shape a route and offer someone a way to participate. Their experience gives me something to listen to, and a reason to keep adjusting the composition. //SC
Sources and References
[1] Haus of Luna
Tanner Todd, “Exploring the surreal and strange Haus of Luna,” PSU Vanguard, 2021.
Macie Harreld, “The Haus of Luna returns better than ever,” PSU Vanguard, 2022.
[2] Architectural perception
Banaei et al., “Walking through Architectural Spaces: The Impact of Interior Forms on Human Brain Dynamics,” Frontiers in Human Neuroscience, 2017.
Vartanian et al., “Architectural design and the brain: Effects of ceiling height and perceived enclosure on beauty judgments and approach-avoidance decisions,” Journal of Environmental Psychology, 2015.
[3] Experiential marketing
Matt Sincaglia, “Measuring the Total Value of Sponsorship Activations,” Event Marketer / Experiential Marketing Measurement Coalition, 2025.
“What makes an experiential activation feel strategic instead of disposable?,” discussion in r/experientialmarketing, 2026.
Author’s data: Room-preference percentages come from visitor responses Sol Cejas collected during the second version of Haus of Luna. The data is unpublished.