Stelios Stefanos Drousiotis – Interior Architect, BA, MA, MRes, (PhD) – Lecturer/Researcher, BDes Interior Design, Alexander College, Cyprus / Canterbury Christ Church University, UK – s.drousiotis@alexander.ac.cy
Abstract
In the age of climate emergency, designers are increasingly turning to biology for inspiration and collaboration. Mycelium, the root-like network of fungi has emerged as one of the most promising bio-materials in sustainable design, architecture and landscape practice. Beyond its biodegradable and carbon-negative qualities, mycelium embodies a systemic intelligence that challenges anthropocentric models of design and production. This article critically explores the role of mycelium in shaping sustainable environmental landscapes, examining its biological behaviour, architectural applications and ethical implications. Drawing on recent research in biomaterial science, regenerative design and ecological philosophy, it argues that mycelium represents more than a new material: it is a paradigm shift toward living systems thinking. Yet the integration of mycelium into design practice also raises profound questions about scalability, control and the commodification of life. The article concludes that mycelium’s greatest value lies not merely in what it builds, but in what it teaches the possibility of designing with, rather than against, the living world.
Keywords: Mycelium, Biomaterials, Regenerative Design, Environmental Sustainability, Circular Economy, Landscape Architecture, Interior Design, Biofabrication, Living Systems, Ecological Ethics

Living Matter and Design Ethics
The global environmental crisis has redefined the role of design. No longer can the built environment be understood as a neutral or inert backdrop to human life, it is an active participant in ecological processes. Within this shifting paradigm, living materials such as mycelium challenge the very boundaries between the natural and the artificial. Mycelium, the vegetative root network of fungi, grows as an interlaced web of microscopic filaments (hyphae) that form dense, self-organising structures capable of decomposing organic matter and binding substrates into cohesive masses (Jones et al., 2018). When harnessed under controlled conditions, this biological behaviour can be directed toward the creation of bricks, panels, acoustic absorbers, furniture and even structural composites that are entirely biodegradable.
The fascination with mycelium is not new. Artists, architects and ecologists have long studied fungi as agents of decomposition and renewal. What is new, however, is the convergence of biotechnology, digital fabrication and environmental design, which enables the cultivation of fungal materials as part of regenerative building systems. In an era of synthetic plastics, fossil-based adhesives and global waste streams, the prospect of a living, self-healing and carbon-negative material represents a radical alternative. Yet the promise of mycelium goes beyond sustainability metrics, it symbolises a philosophical realignment toward co-existence and interdependence.
As the philosopher Timothy Morton (2019) argues, ecological thinking demands that we see ourselves as part of “symbiotic realisms,” webs of mutual dependency that blur the line between maker and material. Mycelium exemplifies this reality. It resists mechanistic control and invites designers to cultivate rather than manufacture to collaborate with life instead of extracting from it. The ethical and aesthetic consequences of this shift are profound: design becomes an act of stewardship rather than domination.
The Biological Intelligence of Mycelium
To understand mycelium as a design medium, one must first appreciate its ecological intelligence. Mycelium networks operate as distributed organisms that sense, process and respond to environmental stimuli. They regulate moisture, temperature and nutrient flows across vast territories, functioning like biological infrastructures that connect plants, soils and microbial communities (Sheldrake, 2020). Often referred to as the “wood wide web,” these fungal systems exchange information and resources, supporting forest resilience and carbon sequestration (Simard, 2021). In material terms, this biological capacity translates into extraordinary adaptability. When combined with agricultural by-products such as straw, sawdust or hemp hurds, mycelium acts as a natural adhesive, colonising and binding the substrate into lightweight, durable composites. The growth process is energy-efficient, requiring no fossil-fuel inputs and operating at room temperature. Once dried or heat-treated, the resulting material is inert, fire-resistant and fully compostable (Holt et al., 2012).
Designers and researchers have leveraged these qualities to produce an expanding range of applications. Companies such as Ecovative and MycoWorks have pioneered large-scale cultivation of fungal composites for packaging, interior panels and leather alternatives. Architectural prototypes, including The Hy-Fi Tower by The Living (MoMA PS1, 2014) and MycoTree by KIT and Block Research Group (Seoul Biennale, 2017), demonstrate how mycelium can replace concrete or polystyrene in structural or form-work contexts. These projects reveal the material’s dual identity: at once technological and ecological, engineered yet alive. However, mycelium’s true significance lies not only in its technical performance but in its conceptual implications. It invites a reframing of sustainability from static efficiency to dynamic symbiosis. As philosopher Jane Bennett (2010) observes, vitality is not limited to human intention; matter itself has agency. Designing with mycelium, therefore, becomes an exercise in attunement, an attempt to co-evolve with the metabolic processes of the biosphere.
From Material to Medium: Mycelium in Architecture, Interiors, and Landscape
Mycelium’s porous, lightweight and insulating properties make it particularly suited to interior applications, where acoustic control, air quality and material health are critical. Mycelium panels can replace synthetic foams or gypsum boards, providing natural humidity regulation and non-toxic finishes. Their tactile, organic textures also reintroduce sensory and biophilic qualities often lost in industrial interiors. When integrated into lighting or furniture, mycelium products communicate a narrative of decay and renewal, inviting users to see impermanence as an aesthetic value rather than a defect.
In landscape architecture, mycelium extends beyond the role of a building material to act as an ecological agent. It can stabilise soils, remediate pollutants and support vegetation growth through symbiotic relationships. Mycoremediation, the use of fungi to detoxify contaminated soils and water has proven effective in absorbing heavy metals, petroleum residues and agricultural chemicals (Stamets, 2005). By introducing mycelium inoculants into degraded landscapes, designers can initiate processes of ecological healing that operate autonomously long after human intervention has ceased.
This fusion of design and biology challenges the traditional boundaries between the built and the natural environment. It suggests that architecture and landscape are not separate disciplines but interconnected layers of the same living system. Projects like BioTallinn (2017) and The Growing Pavilion (2020) exemplify this convergence by integrating fungal growth with plant systems, forming adaptive, biodegradable environments that evolve over time. Such projects mark a shift from sustainability as mitigation to sustainability as regeneration, a move from minimising harm to actively restoring ecological health.

In interior education and practice, the inclusion of mycelium fabrication workshops fosters experiential learning around circularity and material life cycles. Students who cultivate mycelium bricks or panels witness decomposition, growth and transformation firsthand concepts, often abstracted in theoretical sustainability courses. This pedagogical approach echoes the experiential learning cycle (Kolb, 2014), embedding environmental ethics not as an ideology but as a lived, tactile experience.
Challenges, Contradictions, and Ethical Dimensions
Despite its promise, mycelium design is not without contradictions. Its scalability remains limited by growth rates, contamination risks and climate sensitivity. Unlike industrial materials, fungal composites are living systems that demand time, care and unpredictability, qualities that conflict with capitalist production cycles. The transition from laboratory prototypes to marketable products often results in the sterilisation of mycelium’s living agency, reducing it to a branded “eco-material” stripped of ecological meaning (Karana et al., 2018). This commodification raises ethical concerns. When living organisms become industrial commodities, sustainability risks collapsing into biocapitalism, the exploitation of life itself for profit. As Fry (2020) cautions, design must move beyond the pursuit of technical fixes to confront the moral and existential dimensions of the Anthropocene. The question is not merely how to use mycelium efficiently, but how to engage with it respectfully.
The sensory aesthetics of fungal materials also challenge cultural biases. In many societies, fungi are associated with decay and contamination rather than beauty or value. This stigma can hinder public acceptance of mycelium-based products in domestic or commercial contexts. Overcoming it requires a cultural shift in how we define cleanliness, permanence and comfort, an aesthetic of living impermanence rather than sterile perfection. Moreover, mycelium’s ecological role extends beyond design utility. In nature, fungi act as recyclers and mediators, breaking down organic waste into fertile soil. When harnessed industrially, their regenerative potential must not be exploited to justify continued overconsumption. A truly sustainable approach recognises that mycelium is not a resource to be extracted but a collaborator to be nurtured. This recognition demands humility and patience, values often marginalised in the speed-driven culture of contemporary design.
Reframing Mycelium through Sustainability Ethics
If parametric design represents a data-driven logic of optimisation, mycelium design embodies a logic of care. Its integration into environmental design reintroduces questions of temporality, mortality, and reciprocity. Designers are no longer shaping inert matter but cultivating relationships with living systems. This paradigm shift calls for a new ethics of co-creation, what biodesigner Rachel Armstrong (2019) terms “living architecture,” where buildings behave as metabolic systems that exchange energy and matter with their surroundings. In this ethical framework, sustainability is not an outcome but a practice, a continuous negotiation between technological precision and ecological empathy. For interior and landscape designers, this means developing hybrid methodologies that blend digital fabrication with biological cultivation. Advanced modelling tools such as Rhino and Grasshopper can be used to simulate fungal growth patterns, optimising structural form while respecting biological constraints. When coupled with low-tech cultivation processes, these methods create a new material ecology that bridges computation and biology (Haeusler and Schnabel, 2020).
However, the integration of mycelium into mainstream design education remains limited. Curricula often privilege digital innovation over biological literacy. Embedding biomaterial studies into design programmes could cultivate a new generation of practitioners who understand growth as a design parameter and decomposition as a design virtue. Such pedagogical reform aligns with UNESCO’s Education for Sustainable Development (ESD 2030) framework, which emphasises systems thinking, interdisciplinary learning, and ecological responsibility. Ethical sustainability also requires transparency across production chains. Designers must document the origins of fungal cultures, substrates and energy inputs to ensure that biofabrication aligns with circular economy principles. Collaboration with mycologists, ecologists and local communities can prevent the monopolisation of biological knowledge and maintain respect for indigenous fungal practices. In this sense, designing with mycelium becomes an act of environmental diplomacy, bridging science, craft and culture.

Towards Regenerative Design Futures
Mycelium offers a glimpse into a post-industrial design future where the boundaries between ecology, technology and aesthetics dissolve. It exemplifies what regenerative theorists call co-evolutionary design, a process where human interventions contribute to, rather than deplete, the health of ecosystems (Mang and Reed, 2012). In such futures, buildings are not static monuments but temporal organisms that grow, breathe and decay in harmony with natural cycles. In the context of sustainable environmental landscapes, this approach transforms the designer’s role from creator to curator of ecological relationships. A mycelium pavilion might decompose into fertile soil after its life cycle; a fungal biocomposite façade could seed mosses and lichens, enriching urban biodiversity. These scenarios redefine success not as longevity or stability but as graceful transformation. At a deeper level, mycelium challenges anthropocentric assumptions about authorship and control. Its unpredictable growth patterns resist complete automation, reminding us that sustainability cannot be engineered through certainty alone. True ecological resilience emerges from diversity, flexibility and co-agency. In this sense, mycelium teaches a form of design humility, a willingness to collaborate with nonhuman intelligence.
Designing with Life
The emergence of mycelium as a design material signals more than a technological breakthrough; it marks a cultural and ethical evolution. As designers confront the limitations of industrial sustainability, mycelium offers a model for relational practice grounded in regeneration rather than extraction. Its ecological intelligence, material adaptability and aesthetic expressiveness point toward new forms of environmental design that are both functional and philosophical. Yet mycelium also warns against superficial eco-fetishism. To cultivate living materials responsibly, designers must embrace patience, uncertainty and care. The future of sustainable environmental landscapes will depend not on mastering nature but on learning to collaborate with it. Designing with mycelium thus becomes an act of symbiosis, a partnership between human creativity and fungal intelligence. In its woven networks lie the blueprint for a new design ethics: one that harmonises growth with decay, innovation with humility and human ambition with planetary stewardship.
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