Okay, let me just say this upfront: most college campuses feel like depressing concrete bunkers where happiness goes to die. I know because I spent four years on one, and now living in my tiny apartment in Chicago, I can look back and realize just how much the physical environment affected my mental health without me even realizing it.
But some schools are actually doing something about this, and it’s pretty fascinating. There’s this whole concept called biophilic design – basically bringing nature into spaces where people spend their time. And when universities get it right, the difference is incredible.
I recently came across Singapore’s School of the Arts (SOTA) on Instagram, and honestly, my jaw dropped. Walking into this building must feel like entering some kind of urban forest. They’ve got vertical gardens covering the walls, plants everywhere, and these gorgeous corridors filled with natural light. It’s the complete opposite of those soul-crushing academic buildings we’re all familiar with – you know, the ones with fluorescent lighting and no windows that make you feel like you’re trapped in an office building from 1975.
What gets me is that this isn’t just about making things look pretty. Students at SOTA apparently perform better academically because the environment actually supports their wellbeing. When you’re surrounded by nature instead of sterile concrete, your brain works differently. You’re more focused, more creative, less stressed out. It makes total sense when you think about it.
Stanford University is another example that really stuck with me. Their campus has these open courtyards, tree-lined walkways, and Spanish Revival buildings that work with the California landscape instead of fighting against it. When I was researching this, I kept thinking about how different my college experience might have been if I’d been studying somewhere that didn’t feel like an institutional prison.
The thing is, you don’t need a massive budget or complete architectural overhaul to make these changes. I read about one university that was dealing with a mental health crisis among students – anxiety, depression, burnout, all the usual suspects we’re seeing everywhere now. Instead of just throwing more counselors at the problem, they made some strategic changes to the physical environment. They lined walkways with native trees, added indoor plants to common areas, and started holding some classes outside in garden spaces.
The results were almost immediate. Students reported feeling more connected to their campus, less isolated, more energized. It reinforced something I’ve learned from my own experience with plants in my tiny apartment – these small changes to your environment can have a huge impact on how you feel day to day.
University of British Columbia gets this. They’ve figured out how to integrate their gorgeous natural surroundings into daily campus life instead of just having nature be this thing you look at from inside buildings. It’s about creating opportunities for students to actually interact with green spaces as part of their routine, not just as an occasional treat.
And here’s what I love about biophilic campus design – it naturally creates community. When you design outdoor spaces that are actually pleasant to spend time in, people use them. You end up with students studying under trees, having conversations on benches near water features, eating lunch in courtyards. These casual interactions that happen in well-designed green spaces are so important for mental health, especially when so many students are feeling isolated and disconnected.
I keep thinking about University of Edinburgh and how they’ve used their natural setting – they’re literally built into a valley with incredible landscape views. But they’ve also created these smaller-scale gathering spaces throughout campus that encourage people to spend time outside. A strategically placed bench facing a garden, a courtyard designed around a water feature – these details matter so much more than people realize.
From a sustainability perspective, biophilic design makes total sense too. University of Melbourne is doing some really cool stuff with green roofs, living walls, and native landscaping that reduces their environmental impact while making the campus more beautiful and livable. It’s addressing multiple problems at once – mental health, sustainability, community building.
What really interests me is how this could extend to virtual learning, especially after everything we’ve been through with remote education. I’ve been following some accounts that talk about incorporating biophilic principles into digital spaces – using nature sounds, visuals that simulate outdoor environments, even apps designed around natural patterns and rhythms.
There’s this university in the Netherlands, Wageningen, that’s experimenting with “nature pods” – basically small spaces that use sound and visual projection to simulate being in a forest. For students who don’t have access to actual green spaces (which, let’s be honest, is a lot of us in urban areas), this could be huge for mental health.
University of Washington is another campus that gets brought up a lot in these discussions, and for good reason. They’re right next to this incredible arboretum, and the cherry blossoms in spring are apparently unreal. Plus mountain views when the weather cooperates. But what I think is most interesting is how they’ve figured out ways to integrate seasonal changes into campus design – spaces that respond to different times of year, connecting students to natural rhythms instead of just keeping everything artificially climate-controlled and static.
Seasonal design is something I find really compelling. Living in Chicago, I’m very aware of how much the changing seasons affect my mood and energy levels. The idea of designing spaces that embrace and work with these natural cycles instead of ignoring them seems like such an obvious way to support student wellbeing.
I keep coming back to the mental health angle because it’s such a huge issue right now. So many students are struggling with anxiety, depression, feeling disconnected from their communities. And while biophilic design isn’t going to solve systemic problems or replace proper mental health resources, it can be one piece of creating environments that actually support human wellbeing instead of actively working against it.
What gives me hope is that these changes don’t require unlimited budgets or connections to fancy architecture firms. A lot of the most effective interventions are relatively simple – better lighting, more plants in common areas, outdoor seating that’s actually comfortable and well-placed, study spaces that incorporate views of nature.
Universities have this opportunity to model what healthy, sustainable communities can look like. They’re these concentrated environments where thousands of young people are living, learning, and forming habits that will influence how they think about design and community for the rest of their lives. If we can create campus environments that demonstrate the connection between physical space and human wellbeing, that knowledge gets carried forward into all the other spaces these students will influence throughout their careers.
I think about my own college experience and how much better it could have been with some of these principles in place. And I think about current students dealing with unprecedented levels of stress, isolation, and anxiety in environments that often feel more like institutional facilities than vibrant communities.
The future of biophilic campus design isn’t just about making universities prettier – it’s about recognizing that the spaces we inhabit have profound effects on our mental health, our ability to learn and connect with others, and our relationship with the natural world. And right now, when we’re facing climate change, urbanization, and mental health crises, creating spaces that address all of these challenges simultaneously isn’t just nice to have – it’s essential.
Robert is a retired engineer in Michigan who’s spent the past few years adapting his longtime home for accessibility and wellbeing. He writes about practical, DIY ways to make homes more comfortable and life-affirming as we age — from raised-bed gardens to better natural light.
