The Serenity of Water

I spent a little time mulling over the question of why aquariums - on a large scale and a small one - seem so prevalent.  As attractions, your average fish ranks much lower than your average bird or reptile, certainly less than your average mammal.  I doubt most visitors could name more than a handful of species (not vague types, but actual species) of marine life.  Apart from touch tanks, which are not applicable to all species, it's a lot harder for most visitors to directly interact with aquatic life.

Sure, aquariums have the advantage of (usually) being all-indoors, which makes them more reliable year-round attractions, and their keeping isn't as tightly regulated as it is for many other groups of animals, but all of that applies to amphibians and reptiles as well.  So why don't more cities build serpentariums to spearhead urban renewal?  (Yes, many visitors are scared of snakes, but people are also scared of roller coasters, and tend to be drawn towards what they fear).  Why doesn't your dentist keep geckos instead of clownfish?

I think it comes down to a simple fact.  Aquariums are peaceful.

I'm not particularly a fish person, but there is something incredibly calming about watching fish swim.  Many people find being near the water calming - the popularity of oceanside resorts predates the popularity of ocean swimming - so imagine the bonus of being safely, comfortable, under the water, or surrounded by water.  Unlike reptiles and amphibians, or birds and mammals, for that matter, fish in an aquarium tend to always be in motion, always visible.  Many possess fantastic colors and gorgeous patterns that can't be matched by terrestrial animals, and they come in shapes and forms that are very unfamiliar to us.

I often feel that being immersed in an underwater world is as close as we'll likely come to experiencing extraterrestrial life - an unlike diving or snorkeling, you're doing it from the comfort of a safe space where you can easily talk with and share thoughts and feelings with your friends and companions.  When people see fish in an aquarium tank, they are seldom also really seeing and noting the individual species, except for a few larger, stranger forms.  It's more like seeing the plants in a garden, or the individual colors on a painting, that all come together to form an impression on the viewer, with that impression usually being targeted as calmness, beauty, and wonder.  (Except for a few species, such as the larger sharks, where the exhibit designers tend to go for a different impression...)

I love zoos and aquariums and have chalked up well over 150 facilities so far, but there's only a tiny number of exhibits that have literally taken my breath away.  Probably the most recent of those was the main tank, Ocean Voyager, at the Georgia Aquarium.  Walking through the tunnels, or sitting in the theater-like viewing gallery and watching fish of all shapes and sizes cruise by, I felt like I was slipping into a meditative trance.  It was simultaneously so imposing, and yet so... serene.

So that's why dentist office waiting rooms - environments that are known to be fraught with tension and anxiety - have fish tanks.  Many visitors don't find fish to be particularly exciting - but they do find them calming, whether the experience is on a large scale or a small one.