I just finished season two of Severance, a visually stunning series directed by Ben Stiller and created by Dan Erickson, available on Apple TV. I won’t go into the storyline (no spoilers, I promise), though it’s absolutely worth watching. What I want to talk about is something else: the impact of design on narrative. Specifically, how architecture and industrial design act as emotional and psychological tools that shape the world and tone of the series.
Severance constructs a universe that blends mid-century modernism, brutalist corporate aesthetics, and retro-futuristic tech elements. The result is an environment that feels both familiar and unsettling. Everything is carefully curated—architecture, furniture, objects, materials. Each element reinforces the identity of Lumon Industries, the fictional company where much of the story takes place. It feels retro, minimalist, alien, and deeply corporate at the same time.
This scenographic design isn’t just visual styling. It’s narrative fuel. Minimalism creates a sense of control. The lack of windows, the artificial lighting, the endless hallways—all evoke claustrophobia, disorientation, and the eerie sense that time doesn’t pass. The precise, calculated aesthetics produce paranoia, surveillance, and submission. It’s emotional design at its finest.
Brutalist Architecture as a Narrative Language
Let’s start with the architecture of Lumon Industries. The series used the Bell Labs Holmdel Complex in New Jersey, a research and development center active for 44 years. Designed in 1962 by Finnish architect Eero Saarinen, the building is a modernist icon. Its symmetry, smooth controlled curves, and cold uniformity perfectly reflect an environment that suppresses more than it reveals.
Throughout the series, we also see homes emblematic of this architectural style, such as the Gerald Luss House (1955) and the Bier House (1949). While some incorporate wood and organic materials, they still evoke more of a corporate atmosphere than a residential one.
Here, scenographic design doesn’t just decorate—it emotes. Space isn’t neutral. It’s a narrative agent
Objects with Meaning: Industrial Design as Symbolism
Beyond architecture, what truly fascinated me was the industrial design of the objects inside Lumon. Led by production designer Jeremy Hindle, the team incorporated pieces by Dieter Rams, a key figure in 1950s–60s design. Rams is known for his clean, functional style, and in Severance, his legacy enhances the retro, calculated, and rational aesthetic embedded throughout the space.
Highlighted objects include the 620 chair, Braun FS-80 television, Braun Wandalage sound system, HUV 1 Cosmolux lamp, and RZ-57 desk. Other pieces, like the Fardos armchair by Ricardo Fasanello and the Universale Chaise by Joe Colombo, contribute to the meticulously crafted atmosphere.
Each object carries emotional weight and narrative intent. They communicate control, surveillance, and order. It’s emotional design, applied scenographically.
Design as an Emotional Trigger
I could go on about color, typography, wardrobe, or the use of art as propaganda in the series. But what matters most is this: Severance reminds us that design is not only functional it’s experiential. It builds moods, supports storytelling, and evokes deep emotional responses.
And this doesn’t apply just to film or television. It extends to our daily lives. In workplaces, stores, services, or digital platform design influences how we feel, behave, and remember.
What Story Do Your Spaces and Services Tell?
Severance reminds us that design isn’t just about solving a problem. It creates environments, communicates values, and stirs emotions. That power is just as relevant in real life as it is on screen.
So what emotions and experiences do you want to generate through your spaces and products? Scenographic and emotional design isn’t just for cinema. It’s a powerful tool to truly connect with people.
At Blaster, we work from that same belief: we design for emotion and experience. If you want your spaces or services to tell a story, let’s talk.
