Why Children Deserve Sophisticated Design

By Spencer Luckey
President

When I design play structures, I don’t start with a theme. I don’t imagine a pirate ship or a jungle adventure. I don’t ask what’s trending in children’s entertainment. I begin with the child—and I assume they are capable of engaging with something complex, abstract, and architecturally ambitious. Because they are.

Children deserve sophisticated design. They are intuitive users of space and movement, and they don’t need flashing lights or characters to tell them how to play. In fact, the more abstract a space is, the more imaginative they become. A child doesn’t see a staircase—they see a mountain to scale. They don’t see a net—they see the sea between islands. And they don’t need us to define the experience for them.

This is why I’ve always championed the concept of “free play.” Unlike structured environments with clear goals or narratives, free play allows children to invent the rules. It invites experimentation, negotiation, and risk. These are not just recreational benefits—they are developmental necessities. When kids climb, crawl, and explore freely, they are not only engaging physically, but also spatially, socially, and cognitively. They are learning how to assess challenges, solve problems, and collaborate with peers. No app can replicate that.

I believe architecture is the most immersive art form. Children sense that instinctively. They feel the scale, rhythm, and texture of a space in a way adults sometimes forget. When a child climbs one of our Luckey Climbers, they are not only playing—they are engaging with structure. They are becoming co-authors of the environment. The curving planes and suspended pathways aren’t just beautiful—they are invitations to move, to imagine, to grow.

This approach to play often resonates strongly with museum and science center clients. Increasingly, I hear from institutions that want a Luckey Climber specifically to counteract digital screen time. Parents and educators are expressing concern about how much of a child’s day is mediated through a screen. They want tactile, embodied experiences—places where kids can be kids, away from devices. A climber becomes a kind of sanctuary for that. It's hands-on, full-body, real-time interaction. There’s no start or finish, no score to beat, no character to unlock—just pure engagement with form and movement.

It’s not anti-technology; it’s pro-balance. Museums know that part of their role is to spark curiosity and awe. Screens can do that in some ways—but climbing does it in others, just as powerfully. When a child reaches the top of a climber, heart pounding, legs shaking, beaming with pride—that’s a moment of authentic discovery. That’s the kind of memory that sticks.

And it matters that the climber looks like something you might find in a modern art museum. Because when we invest in sophisticated, sculptural design for children, we’re telling them: your experience matters. Your aesthetic environment matters. You don’t need to wait until adulthood to appreciate quality. You deserve it now.

Too often, children's environments are designed with simplicity, even condescension. Bright colors, cartoon themes, primary shapes. But children are incredibly receptive to nuance and beauty. I’ve seen toddlers pause to run their hands along the smooth edge of a cantilevered platform or marvel at how light filters through acrylic panels. They get it. They may not have the vocabulary, but they have the perception.

That’s why every Luckey Climber is site-specific. It’s not just a play unit—it’s a sculptural centerpiece, designed in conversation with the architecture around it. We work with museums that want to make a statement, to show that play can be thoughtful and artistic. And when children interact with these environments, they rise to the occasion.

I don’t believe in dumbing things down for kids. I believe in elevating their experiences. I believe in giving them spaces that are worthy of their creativity, their courage, and their intelligence.

That’s the promise of good design—and children deserve nothing less.