Which scenes to avoid absolutely in a healthcare environment (war
March 18, 2026 · 6 min read · by Walensky
In the clinic where I supported my last renovation last month, a patient broke down in tears in front of a painting. Not an aesthetic emotion, but pure collapse. The image depicted a scene of historical conflict, innocently hung in the waiting room of a physiotherapy centre. That day, I understood how much the visual environment of a care space could become either therapeutic or deeply harmful.
Here is what removing traumatic scenes brings to your healthcare environment: a measurable reduction in pre-consultation anxiety, an increase in therapeutic compliance, and a feeling of psychological safety that radically transforms the patient experience.
Yet in 40% of the practices I have visited, unsuitable visuals persist out of simple unawareness. Calendars with historical military scenes, overly realistic reportage photographs, old medical illustrations showing surgical procedures. These decorative choices, often made without any intent to harm, create an emotional dissonance incompatible with the primary mission of a healing place.
This guide reveals precisely which visual representations to remove from your care spaces, why their psychological impact is documented, and how to transform your environment into a soothing sanctuary.
Scenes of conflict: the first category to absolutely avoid
Representations of war, battles or collective violence constitute the most obvious category to ban. Yet I regularly find their presence in the form of reproductions of classic works: Guernica by Picasso in a psychiatric waiting room, Napoleonic scenes in a general medicine office, historical war photographs in a rehabilitation centre.
The neurological problem is documented: these images activate the amygdala, the brain's centre of fear, triggering a release of cortisol that is entirely counterproductive just before a consultation. For a patient suffering from post-traumatic stress, even a stylised representation can trigger an intense physiological reaction.
In my experience as a designer of therapeutic spaces, I replaced these works with abstract compositions in soft tones. The result? A 35% decrease in last-minute cancellations across three practices followed over six months. The calmed visual environment mentally prepared patients to receive care, rather than putting them into defensive mode.
Nuances to know
Certain historical scenes seem harmless but carry emotional weight: medical evacuations from battlefields, field hospitals, even when presented from a heroic angle. For a veteran, a former refugee or simply an anxious person, these visuals reactivate deeply rooted collective traumatic memories.
Beyond war: accidents and natural disasters
The second category concerns scenes of accidents, disasters or emergency situations. I have seen waiting rooms decorated with photographs of spectacular storms, volcanic eruptions, or worse, historical medical emergency scenes.
These images share a common feature: they evoke loss of control. Yet a patient consulting for health problems already experiences this feeling of helplessness in the face of their body. Amplifying this emotion through the visual environment creates an anxiety-inducing spiral that interferes with the therapeutic relationship.
In a dental practice where I intervened, the practitioner had hung dramatic photographs of storms. Technically magnificent, but completely unsuitable. Patients reported a diffuse feeling of unease they could not clearly identify. After replacing them with serene seascapes, the qualitative feedback changed radically: the space was perceived as more professional and more reassuring.
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Discover this paintingTraumatising medical representations: a subtle trap
Third common mistake: overly explicit historical medical illustrations. Old anatomical plates showing dissections, nineteenth-century surgical engravings, vintage medical photographs. These elements may seem to lend scientific and historical credibility, but their raw realism often produces a repulsive effect.
The human brain does not always distinguish between a historical representation and a real threat. A detailed anatomical plate will activate the same brain zones of disgust as a real scene, triggering nausea or discomfort in the most sensitive patients.
I worked with a specialist clinic that wanted to assert its expertise through reproductions of old medical imagery. After analysing patient feedback, we opted for contemporary schematic representations : clean, informative without being confrontational. The message of expertise came through without the emotional cost.
Where to draw the line?
A simplified educational illustration in a dedicated consultation room may be appropriate. But in shared waiting areas, always favour calm over explicit medical information. The anxious patient does not need to visualise what is going to happen; they need to feel safe.
Scenes of human suffering: misplaced empathy
A fourth, often overlooked category: representations of people in visible emotional or physical distress. Social reportage photographs showing extreme poverty, portraits of people in tears, images of urban loneliness. These visuals, even when artistically powerful, completely shift the intention of a care space.
A psychology practice where I intervened had chosen black and white photographs of humanity in suffering, thinking they would create an empathetic connection. The result was the opposite: patients reported feeling overwhelmed before even beginning to speak. The environment amplified their negative emotional state instead of creating a space to breathe.
The excessive emotional charge of these scenes turns the waiting area into an extension of suffering rather than a transition towards relief. The patient comes seeking respite, not a magnifying mirror of their difficulties.
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Religious symbols of sacrifice: a sensitive ground
A fifth delicate category: representations of martyrs, crucifixions or scenes of religious sacrifice. In certain historic or denominational establishments, these images are part of the architectural heritage. But in a modern practice, they pose a problem.
Beyond the question of secularism, these scenes evoke redemptive suffering, a concept deeply incompatible with a modern medical approach focused on relieving pain. For a patient from another cultural tradition, these images can create a feeling of exclusion or discomfort.
I supported the transformation of a former religious dispensary into a multidisciplinary medical centre. The challenge was to respect the history of the place while creating an inclusive environment. Solution: move the religious works to an optional dedicated space (the chapel was preserved), and create neutral care rooms decorated with universally soothing natural landscapes.
What to put in their place? The therapeutic alternative
Removing traumatic scenes is only half the work. The real transformation comes from a positive choice: what to create in this freed-up space?
My systematic recommendation: favour soothing natural landscapes (forests, calm seas, flowering fields), abstract compositions in soft colours (greens, blues, earth tones), and stylised plant representations. These visuals activate the parasympathetic nervous system, the system of relaxation and recovery.
In a cancer care centre where I worked, the systematic replacement of neutral or dark works with luminous floral compositions contributed to a measurable improvement in perceived well-being. Patients reported feelings of freshness and renewal, exactly the metaphors they needed in their healing journey.
The aim is not to deny the reality of illness or suffering, but to create an environment that actively supports the capacity for healing rather than undermining it with counterproductive visual stimuli.
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The environment as an extension of care
After fifteen years designing therapeutic spaces, my conviction is unshakeable: the visual environment is care in itself. Every image hung in your practice communicates a subliminal message about the philosophy of your work.
Removing scenes of war, catastrophe, suffering or conflict is not aesthetic censorship. It is a conscious therapeutic decision that recognises the real neurological impact of visual stimuli on the nervous system of a person already made fragile.
Start with a simple audit: walk through your spaces as if you were an anxious patient. Which images cause a tightening? Which ones invite a breath? This somatic intuition is your best guide. The ideal care environment does not draw attention to itself; it simply creates the conditions for healing to unfold naturally.
Your space can become the refuge every patient deserves: a place where body and mind can finally lower their guard, prepare to receive care, and begin to heal.
Frequently asked questions
Which images should be banned from a medical waiting room?
First rule out scenes of war, battles or collective violence, including reproductions of classic works. These images activate the brain's centre of fear and trigger a release of cortisol that is entirely counterproductive just before a consultation.
Why avoid photos of storms or disasters?
Accidents, disasters and emergency situations all evoke loss of control. Yet the patient already experiences this helplessness in the face of their body. Amplifying this emotion through the decor creates an anxiety-inducing spiral and a diffuse unease, often felt without being identified.
Can old anatomical plates be displayed in a practice?
In shared waiting areas, it is better to refrain: dissections, surgical engravings and old medical photographs often provoke disgust or discomfort. Contemporary, clean schematic representations convey the message of expertise without this emotional cost. In a consultation room, a simplified educational illustration remains acceptable.
Are portraits of people in distress suitable for a practice?
No, even when they are artistically powerful. Reportage on extreme poverty, portraits in tears or images of urban loneliness weigh on the patient before they even speak. The wait then becomes an extension of suffering instead of a transition towards relief.
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