How Office Workers Feel About the Art Around Them
If the art in your office disappeared overnight — would anyone notice?
Art in offices is often treated as a finishing touch — something chosen late in a project, installed quietly, and rarely discussed again. It’s expected to sit politely in the background, complement the furniture, and cause no disruption.
Yet when you take the time to speak with the people who actually work in these spaces, a very different picture emerges.
As part of my postgraduate research, I visited an office building early one morning, just as people were arriving for work and stopping to get their first coffee of the day. Rather than asking what the art was meant to represent or how it aligned with brand values, I asked something simpler: how it made them feel.
One question in particular stayed with me:
How would you feel if you arrived one morning and the art was gone?
The responses were immediate — and surprisingly emotional.
People described the artworks as landmarks: something they passed each day without consciously noticing, yet would deeply miss if they disappeared. Some spoke about the art making the building feel less corporate and more human. Others described it as a pause in the day — a quiet moment between meetings. A few admitted they had rarely thought about the art at all, until they were asked to imagine its absence.
That absence mattered.
What became clear is that office art does not need to shout to be meaningful. In fact, its power often lies in its ability to work quietly in the background, shaping atmosphere rather than demanding attention. Over time, it becomes part of the emotional fabric of the workplace.
In environments defined by screens, deadlines, and constant cognitive load, art plays a different role than it does in galleries. It softens the space. It introduces rhythm, texture, and visual rest. It offers a form of non-verbal companionship — something to look at when thought stalls or stress builds.
Interestingly, many people spoke about feeling a sense of ownership over the artworks, even though they did not own them. The art became ours — part of the shared experience of the building. This sense of attachment suggests that art in offices is not simply decorative, but relational.
It connects people to place.
This has implications for how office art is chosen. When work is selected purely for brand alignment or surface aesthetics, it can feel distant or generic. But when art is chosen with sensitivity to scale, tone, and emotional impact, it becomes something people live with rather than pass by.
The conversations I had that morning changed how I think about art in professional spaces. Office art is not about impressing visitors. It’s about supporting the people who spend their days there — often without realising how much they rely on the visual environment around them.
Art in offices may not be consciously noticed every day, but it is felt.
And when it’s gone, that feeling leaves with it.
