The UX that Alvar Aalto built
What one 1930s library building taught me about UX design
I’m a fan of modernist architecture and a devotee of functionalism — that seemingly dry, geometric movement that hides a deep, almost obsessive empathy for the people who will live in or regularly visit these buildings. Few embodied this better than Alvar Aalto.
The Vyborg Library, built in the 1930s in what was then Finland, is a place I’ve admired not just for its soft Nordic minimalism, but for its quietly radical attention to how people live, move, and behave inside its walls.
Aalto didn’t just design a library. He built an experience.
Why learn UX from architecture?
Before diving into the main part of this article, a quick note on why it makes sense to learn UX from architecture, which seems the opposite of digital interfaces.
After visiting the library, I began thinking about writing this piece on the connection between UX and architecture. I naively thought I was the first to notice this link, but then I saw Alexandra Carson’s presentation, “Trauma-informed Content Design,” at the 2024 “Growing in Content” conference. In it, she gave an example of the Deschutes Stabilization Center, featuring warm, calming colors, lots of natural light, calming water features, personal lighting controls, and uncluttered spaces with soft, adjustable chairs. Since the center supports individuals in crisis, these architectural and furniture elements show a trauma-informed approach: nothing disturbing or anxiety-provoking, everything clear and visible, creating a sense of security and calm.
It got me thinking: Why address architecture when talking about UX/UI?
I concluded that architecture was probably the first to consider how people exist and behave in a space, the ergonomics. And what is UX/UI if not ergonomics too?
With that in mind, let’s dive in.
Not just “what the user wants to do,” but how they’re doing it
We often reduce UX to goals, journeys, and needs. We write job stories, design flows, and ask, “What does the user want to do?”
But Aalto’s work reminds me of a deeper, more physical question.
How are they doing it? What’s around them? What do they need to perform their tasks? What are the minimal requirements and ideal conditions? What personal quirks help them or hinder them? What are the tiny details that make up the user experience, but which they only notice when something goes wrong? What small things can we adjust to make their experience a little more pleasant?
It’s an architecture of empathy — not just user-centered, but environment-aware. Aalto observed real, small, analog moments and designed for them.
UX lessons from the Vyborg Library
1. Think not only about the “job,” but also about the environment
As a user of the library, one of your jobs-to-be-done is to read a book. What do you need to read a book (apart from the book itself and the ability to read, obviously)? Light. But what kind of light? Not too sharp, not too dim, and definitely no dark patches or glare. How do you create that? Aalto designed 57 circular skylights in the ceiling. The skylights are conical, and the depth of the cone ensures only diffused light enters the room, avoiding shadows and glare.
You also need a quiet place to read. So, in the reading rooms, Aalto installed linoleum on wood chips to dampen the sound of footsteps.
All these features work together to create the perfect environment for a reader (user) to read a book (to get their job done).
2. Guide users smoothly
In the 1930s, there was no Google or ChatGPT to answer your questions — people went to the library. With so many visitors, it was important to avoid disturbing one another. How did Aalto ensure that? He strategically placed handrails to divide the flow of people: one along the inner contour, the other along the outer edge, allowing visitors to move to exit without bumping into those entering.
3. Think ahead and secure what users haven’t thought of
As a reader, you want your book to be neat and pleasant to touch. But it’s a library book, and it’s 1930s Finland, where rain and snow are frequent. How do you keep the book clean, especially if you forget your bag? Aalto had the answer. Between the librarian’s desk and the handrails, he placed a roll of wrapping paper and a bin. When you receive your book, you wrap it in the paper to keep it clean. If you’re returning the book, you can throw the wrapping in the bin.
4. Accommodate every specific category of users…
Library visitors are diverse, including children. For kids, Aalto designed a specific section with bookcases proportionate to their height, no higher than 160 cm, so the shelves wouldn’t overwhelm them.
5. …and don’t cross their paths unless necessary
Children had a separate entrance to their section, ensuring they wouldn’t disturb adults and also preventing them from feeling intimidated by them. This made everyone feel comfortable.
Librarians are also users of the library. The librarian’s desks on the first and second floors are connected by a small elevator for books, so they don’t have to carry heavy books themselves. This elevator is for librarians only, and regular visitors may never even see it, as they don’t need to.
6. Think about real-life scenarios beyond the app
In the 1930s, newspapers were one of the very few sources of information. How do you usually read a newspaper? Quickly, flipping through the pages (which can be loud), probably in the morning once the paper is out, and likely on your way to work. This is different from how people read books, either for leisure or research.
So, Aalto designed a separate hall for reading newspapers.
One more thing to make reading a newspaper comfortable is a large desk. Aalto designed these desks to be inclined and high, accommodating this reading style — fast and on the go.
UX is not just digital, or From Vyborg Library to your app
UX isn’t just digital. A user exists in an environment, and while we can’t always create a perfect environment, we can certainly adjust the product to accommodate imperfections.
Let’s say you’re designing an e-commerce app for selling shoes. The user needs to know their foot size. Don’t just present a size chart — let the phone’s camera measure the user’s foot with a built-in ruler and recommend the perfect size.
Or, when booking a hairdresser appointment, the user needs to check their schedule. Why should they switch apps? Embed a calendar right there.
Sometimes it’s hard to accommodate all users. So why not let them do it themselves, especially now that we have all those fancy AI features allowing us to build interfaces in the blink of an eye? Allow users to adjust homepages with drag-and-drop blocks. Or, at the very least, hide unnecessary elements, like advanced settings, to avoid overwhelming them.
These are the UX equivalents of placing a skylight at just the right angle. Not flashy. Just right.
It’s not just JTBD. It’s living in their skin, with naked nerves
Great UX isn’t just about “understanding user needs.” It’s stepping out of the app, out of the screen, and observing how users move, squint, sigh, fidget, browse, and struggle.
Aalto didn’t rely on abstract personas. He went a mile — well, many, many miles — in his users’ shoes. He even rented a flat in nearby Terijoki to calculate the angle at which light falls at this particular latitude (52°). This knowledge informed the design of the skylights and the inclined windowsills in the hall, ensuring the light diffused comfortably for reading.
I guess this is what defines a good UX specialist. You don’t just put yourself in your users’ shoes (while trying to dissociate yourself from yourself as we all remember Nielsen’s “you’re not a user”), but also observe the external factors that affect UX and understand what needs to be done, including engineering and tech aspects.
You have to recognize that you’re not the user — but at the same time, you’re a superuser and the all-seeing tech eye beside them.
It’s like being your user, but with a heightened sense of awareness, stepping outside their body and observing from a broader perspective.
What the Vyborg Library taught me
Good UX isn’t carved in stone. It’s built of concrete, wood, meticulous attention to detail, and love.
Of course, in today’s world, building something like this is a luxury. Most likely, you’ll be designing something more like a mall — a unified box with simple navigation and habitual patterns. When you enter a mall, you know where the food court and the restroom are, and you can probably find what you want without getting lost.
That’s nice in some ways, but UX isn’t only about understanding what your user wants to do. It’s about understanding how, where, and why they do it — and designing not just for the task but for the moment.
It’s the tiny things that make a great experience. Aalto knew that. Do we?
