In the hospitality industry, the culinary arts almost always take center stage. The food, the chef, the menu; these are what get written about. Spatial design, by contrast, tends to disappear into the background. Yet, it is doing some of the most consequential work in the room
Far from being a backdrop to the dining experience, the thoughtful orchestration of a dining environment, from lighting and acoustics to flow and materiality, plays an instrumental role in shaping human behavior, impact, and ultimately, a restaurant’s enduring success.
Shivani Pinapotu, a Brooklyn-based spatial designer with a multidisciplinary practice spanning interior design, exhibition environments, and scenography, explains that good design in dining is not just about what guests see, but deeply about what they feel and how they connect with the food and their surroundings.
Pinapotu, whose expertise is rooted in a Master of Design from the Rhode Island School of Design and a rich portfolio of high-profile hospitality projects, emphasizes that “eating is never just about food, it is about how you feel, who you are with, how the room holds you, or whether you feel at ease or on edge. Spatial design shapes all of that before the food arrives. It sets the pace and the mood. It gives you permission to linger.”
Whether it is the tactile warmth of a material, the soaring height of a ceiling, or the nuanced way sound travels through a room, these design choices quietly shape appetite and conversation. It underscores that a restaurant’s ambiance is a potent ingredient as influential as the menu itself in crafting a memorable experience.
The importance of spatial design extends far beyond individual perception to touch upon deeply embedded human behaviors. From ancient communal hearths to medieval banquets, the shared meal has been central to social cohesion. Pinapotu speaks to this directly: “Underneath the individual experience is something more primal: the need to eat together. Commensality, the act of eating together, is one of the oldest social practices we have. It predates restaurants, predates dining rooms, predates the very concept of design. People have always gathered around food as a way of belonging to each other, of affirming that they are part of something larger than themselves.”
In this context, spatial design, at its most effective, honors this ancient imperative. It meticulously crafts environments that foster belonging not by engineering it, but by subtly removing the obstacles to it. “The right light, the right acoustic environment, the right distance between bodies, the right threshold between the street and the table, all these factors make a difference,” she said. “A well-designed dining space gives it meaning, and when it does that well, eating together stops being a logistical act and becomes something closer to what it has always been: a way of being alive in the presence of other people.” For businesses, this translates directly into enhanced customer satisfaction, longer stays, and invaluable word-of-mouth referrals.
Dining spaces, unlike residential or office interiors, bear a unique set of demands, operating as dynamic stages for daily social rituals. Pinapotu highlights this distinction: “It needs to hold a live performance, night after night, without showing the effort,” she said. “A dining space asks to be lived in, rather than just be witnessed; by strangers, repeatedly, across many hours and many moods. It needs to feel considered, to establish an atmosphere without imposing it, and to make everyone at the table feel as though they belong.”
This living, breathing quality necessitates a choreographic understanding that goes beyond aesthetics. The movement of staff, the careful calibration of sightlines between tables, the creation of distinct acoustic zones; all must be thought through. “It’s closer to stage design than interior design, in that sense; everything is in the service of something that happens differently every night,” Pinapotu notes.
Pinapotu’s background in theatre design, encompassing scenography and exhibition environments, has influenced her approach to restaurant design. Theatre, she explains, taught her that a space is never really finished, “it only comes alive when people are inside it.”
A stage set is designed to be inhabited by actors, to hold a narrative, and to accommodate both planned and spontaneous occurrences. “A restaurant works the same way. You design the bones: the kitchen, the light, the materials, the flow, the atmosphere. But the space only becomes itself when the people arrive. Every service is a performance; rehearsed enough to feel effortless, but alive enough to feel unrepeatable.
For Pinapotu, the goal is not a beautiful room. “The goal is to create the conditions for something human to happen inside it,” she said. This perspective, marrying aesthetic rigor with a narrative-driven design sensibility, is a hallmark of her work, which has earned her accolades such as the prestigious Dorner Prize in 2023 for her project “(un)heard voices” at the RISD Museum.
Ultimately, both food and theatre at their very core are languages of empathy. They are “ways of saying: come, sit, you belong here,” Pinapotu explains. This inviting philosophy underscores the transformative power of design. “We are most ourselves when we are together, and good design, whether for a stage or a dining room, is simply the art of making that community feel inevitable,” she explains.
This commitment to creating environments that resonate with the stories and experiences of their inhabitants is central to her spatial practice, which expertly combines interior design with curation and scenography.
What then does a successful dining design truly need? It shares the same ambition as good food. “It makes you forget where you are and feel entirely where you are, at the same time,” she explains.
The most effective restaurant spaces are unobtrusive and enhance everything that unfolds within them, making every interaction feel “more alive.” They rely on empathy, imagining the experience of the person walking through the door. This extends beyond what they merely see, encompassing what they sense, what they need, and even what they didn’t consciously know they needed. “A truly hospitable environment,” she said, “makes you feel, without quite knowing why, that someone thought of you before you arrived.”
Memorable spaces, Pinapotu explains, also derive from specificity. They possess a distinct point of view, a material logic, and an atmosphere that is clearly intentional and couldn’t have arisen by chance. “You remember them the way you remember a person, because of their peculiarities” This blend of empathy and specificity, underpinned by “care as the animating intention behind every decision,” is what truly defines a successful dining experience and fosters customer loyalty crucial for business growth.
Looking ahead to 2027 hospitality design trends, Pinapotu observes a significant shift in restaurant and dining design. “I think there’s a growing hunger, so to speak, for spaces that feel genuinely rooted in a culture or a point of view,” she said. “The era of the globally interchangeable restaurant aesthetic is exhausting itself.” Patrons are increasingly drawn to spaces that feel authentic and specific, that could exist nowhere else.
Visit spinapot.com for more information.
