I often feel that I should rename the course "Looking Around" because my hope is that students will pay greater attention to their surroundings during and after the course. I want them to think about the place of beauty (yes, that old philosophical chestnut) in their lives. Should aesthetics matter? Yes! But if so, why do we--all of us--tolerate so much clutter, mediocrity, or downright ugliness in many of our public spaces (think about the ubiquity of strip malls, for instance)? Or consider an increasingly common experience in suburban housing developments: What are the psychological consequences of living in such neighborhoods when they routinely lack sidewalks? Although it's true that people who live in such developments drive everywhere of necessity (many commute great distances to work), shouldn't they be able to encounter and to speak to one another on those rare occasions where they do walk around? Are you thinking about the public space where you reside about now? You should. Take a mental walk (or better yet, an actual one!)--do you encounter beauty regularly or have you developed a decided tolerance for what you see?

The class moves very quickly, as we meet for only three weeks. I discuss some theories of perception, both the classical approaches and James J. Gibson's ecological approach. We then discuss a few books, including Paul Goldberger's fine new book Why Architecture Matters (run, don't walk) and Alain de Boton's reflective work, The Architecture of Happiness. We also discuss a clever, recent book on our all-but-unquenchable thirst for desirable and beautifully objects, The Language of Things by Deyan Sudjic. Our final reading is a small but rich book describing the commonalities and conundrums of the American home, Akiko Busch's Geography of Home. (So, if you are looking for intellectual but escapist summer reading-a topic we will take up in a future blog-I heartily recommend any of these books.)

Besides reading, I take my students on a field trip. We take a leisurely walk through two local cemeteries-Bethlehem's original Moravian burial ground (referred to as "God's Acre") and Nisky Hill cemetery, a mid-19th century park like space filled with interesting tombstones, obelisks, and the occasional pall-covered urn. Our tour of both allows my students the chance to consider how tombstones, monuments, mausoleums, and memorial design in general have changed over the last couple of hundred years. Once upon a time not so long ago, cemeteries were considered to be parks where people would stroll, sometimes picnic (yes, really--the visits to Grandma need not end), and reflect on natural beauty. Compare that past with the banal present found in most cemeteries, places where beauty has given way to drab order (i.e., plots aplenty, all efficiently aligned) and all too few trees so that mowing (e.g., all those flat markers) and maintenance are easier. No wonder so few young people ever visit such places unless that are compelled to do so (or so my informal polls the last few years suggest).

We also watch a variety of documentary films on architecture and architects, including Wright, Kahn, and Lin, as well as Mies van der Rohe, Richard Neutra, Antonio Gaudi, Philip Johnson, and Thomas Jefferson, among others. We watch these films because you really cannot learn about the psychology of space without looking at exciting buildings that play with form, function, and perspective. Like it or not (and I do feel great guilt showing films during class), DVDs are the next best thing to an actual visit-and they are terrific prompts for discussion.

Well, while I admit my course is a bit unusual (let's be honest, it's odd), it offers the students and me the opportunity to think about how the psychology of space informs our daily lives. So, what about you? Why don't you look around at the houses and buildings you encounter with a more critical eye? Try it.