Designing with, not for: When communities become co-authors of space
Forbes India presents Interface Design Guild


As cities expand upward and outward, complexity follows. Density increases. Demographics shift. Cultural layers overlap. And in the middle of this acceleration sits a deceptively simple question: who is design really accountable to?
For years, public spaces were conceived through top-down systems; policy shaped intention, architects shaped form, communities arrived at the end. Participation, when invited, often felt ceremonial.
For Chinmayee Ananth, Creative Director at Adrianse, inclusion is not an add-on feature. It is a philosophical starting point.
“It’s easy to say we are inclusive,” she observes. “But universal design is about creating an environment where anyone can be themselves, in their purest form, without depending on someone else.”
This distinction is crucial. Accessibility is compliance. Inclusion is belonging. Universal design, as Ananth frames it, is emotional infrastructure.
It allows a person to enter a space and feel autonomy; not accommodation.
“As architects, we are catalysts,” she says. “We bring to the table what could work for everybody. But eventually, it is the emotive field within people that forms an inclusive community.”
Design can provide a platform. It cannot manufacture acceptance.
And that platform cannot be generic.
Even within a single city, spaces function differently based on age groups, professional cultures, social hierarchies, and shared histories. What works for one community may alienate another. Uniformity, in this context, becomes exclusionary.
This is not new knowledge. Traditional Indian courtyard homes were climate-responsive, socially layered, and spatially democratic long before sustainability became a certification category. Harsh light was buffered. Shared zones mediated private ones. Architecture responded to both environment and emotion.
“We had the fundamentals right,” Ananth reflects. “Somewhere along the way, we lost them.”
What is emerging now is not reinvention, but re-sensitisation.
“You don’t start designing if voices aren’t included.”
In practice, that means structured listening. Wish lists are gathered. Teams are heard across hierarchies. Then comes filtration; not to silence voices, but to reconcile them.
“We hear you. Now let us tell you what you actually need.”
It is a delicate negotiation between desire and collective viability.
One of Adrianse’s early pandemic-era projects in Singapore offers insight into how this plays out. A global client was relocating to a landmark building at a time when uncertainty defined workplace culture. Teams were culturally diverse, operationally fragmented, and unsure whether they would even return to offices.
The response was layered.
Green circulation zones reflected Singapore’s urban ecology. Work hubs adapted to varied cultural expectations around privacy and collaboration. Beyond individual (“me”) and collective (“we”) zones, the studio introduced what Ananth calls an “Our space” - a return space designed to ease emotional re-entry into shared environments.
But the most powerful intervention was participatory.
Over several weekends, employees were invited to paint large murals inspired by Singapore’s bird heritage. Designers provided the framework. Communities completed the work.
“When four people stand together, they don’t say I did the wall,” Ananth smiles. “They say we did the wall.”
Ownership replaced observation.
“Somebody’s music is somebody else’s noise. Somebody’s light is somebody else’s darkness.”
Inclusive environments, therefore, cannot be built on singular comfort metrics. They require adjustable ranges, spatial choices, and layered sensory experiences.
Ananth describes this as creating a “sensory odyssey” - an environment where each individual finds at least one point of resonance, even if not every element aligns with personal preference.
Design, she suggests, operates on three registers:
It also demands contextual intelligence. Local culture cannot be reduced to decorative symbolism. It must emerge from climate, craft traditions, behavioural norms, and brand identity; especially when working with global organisations.
The industry cliché of “80% global, 20% local,” Ananth admits, rarely holds up in practice. Authentic localisation is less about ratio and more about relevance.
“Cost is the biggest showstopper,” Ananth acknowledges.
Yet she frames the issue differently. If an organisation claims to value emotional accessibility but refuses to invest in it, the contradiction becomes cultural, not financial.
“If we can’t do 100 percent, can we at least achieve 60 or 65?”
Progress, in her view, is incremental but directional. A space that reduces discrimination partially is still better than one that postpones change entirely.
Encouragingly, the composition of decision-making tables is evolving. Conversations are no longer dominated solely by financial metrics. Chief Human Resources Officers now sit alongside CEOs and CFOs. Behavioural design is influencing strategic direction.
“You don’t give people the right experience,” Ananth notes, “they leave.”
Experience, therefore, becomes economic logic.
“Following traditions is sustainable.”
Positioning non-habitable zones along harsher facades. Maximising daylight before turning on artificial lighting. Creating shaded buffers. Designing for ventilation before depending on air conditioning.
These are not innovations. They are inherited intelligence.
Technology now provides stronger data, sharper simulation tools, and measurable benchmarks. But technology, she insists, is an enabler; not the origin of solutions.
“Three years from now, today’s solution will evolve.”
Sustainability, like inclusion, is iterative.
Leaders are asking different questions. Employees are articulating emotional needs more clearly. Generational expectations are shifting workplace definitions.
And sometimes, the most honest cultural indicator is simple.
“When I visit a new city,” she says, “I look at children’s graffiti. It tells you everything about what’s happening in that place.”
Design inspiration, in that sense, begins at eye level.
When communities become clients in the truest sense, public space becomes more than functional. It becomes relational.
The pages slugged ‘Brand Connect’ are equivalent to advertisements and are not written and produced by Forbes India journalists.
First Published: Mar 30, 2026, 18:51
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