"Glittering, beautiful and tomorrow," said David Attenborough, describing the £4.3m redevelopment of the University Museum of Zoology, Cambridge, which was unveiled in June after five years of closure.
Home to more than three million natural history objects, including specimens from Charles Darwin's HMS Beagle voyage, the museum now boasts remodelled permanent galleries, new learning spaces, collections stores, a gallery for temporary exhibitions, cafe and imposing glass entrance hall, complete with a 21m-long fin whale skeleton that appears to swim above the heads of visitors.
The entrance hall has obvious appeal. The whale, which was washed up on Pevensey Beach in 1865, is captivating in its lofty resting place. The double-height extension creates a welcoming reception and shop, with a spiral stairway up to the plastic-free cafe. The artist partnership Ackroyd & Harvey has created a huge reclaimed-slate artwork that spans the building's exterior end wall and is designed to be a habitat for bats, bees and insects.
At ground level, a large "zoological airship" automaton greets visitors. It is billed as a "roving global centre of ecological education … a mirror of the building you stand within". It is made from recycled material and is a charmingly bonkers nod to the mid-Victorian era of scientific enquiry that generated the museum itself.
Museum of few words
There is a thrilling lack of introductory text. As you walk towards the galleries, cheerful montages of wildlife imagery flank the route, emblazoned with the words "Exploring animal life". TripAdvisor is full of endorsements for the lack of upfront verbosity.
The permanent galleries display a dramatically lit selection of life on earth and create a moment of awe at first sight. Set over two floors around a rectangular atrium, they are connected by a mezzanine corridor whose rainbow graphics send a shot of colour across the monochrome space. Lion's mane jellyfish and manta rays are projected across the ceiling as a luminous lid to this ark of the dead, and two crowd-pleasing "icons of extinction" greet you at the start - the dodo skeleton and the great auk.
The central lower floor space is dominated by tabletop displays that raise huge specimens up into the void. The tables hold two elephants, the giant bones of the extinct flightless moa, and a three-tonne fossil of the extinct diprotodon - a 40,000-year-old giant version of a wombat - among other impressive beasts, and are correspondingly robust.
Eye-catching colour-coded graphics on each object label let you know the specimen's official ranking with the International Union for Conservation of Nature: extinct, critically endangered, near threatened or of least concern. Conservation stories are woven through the cases and fossils, including a case study on the New Zealand kakapo - an endangered flightless parrot. Real taxidermy specimens are displayed throughout the museum alongside skeletons, all within their genetic families.
The Darwin collections are among many star exhibits, but, surprisingly, just as memorable as the line-up of sea creatures, barnacles and finches Darwin studied on his five-year voyage is a box of common English beetles he collected as an undergraduate in Cambridge - many are now non-existent in the region.
Low-tech displays
Perhaps most surprising is that the galleries are low on built-in interactivity and digital interpretation. Those that are present, such as screens beside a handful of exhibits, are well done - one memorably shows a komodo dragon's ambling gait alongside its skeletal self.
There are also listening posts of bird calls. This approach certainly concentrates attention on the specimens in front of you and, given the museum's stated vision to "encourage young people to develop a passion for science and discovery", it makes sense. The new Learning Lab and Discovery Room are clearly intended as primary spaces for further engagement with these groups, and are designed to open directly into the lower permanent gallery.
The museum is also using event programming for its family audience, with storytelling sessions at weekends. There is an explorer bag for eight-year-olds, with trails and ingenious origami animals to be created, but what about one to engage the grown-up paper-folding enthusiast? Expanding the explorer bag to an all-ages kit of low-tech creative activities would add an element that is missing.
The refit is not quite complete - text is variable, at times a model of clarity, at others weighed down by scientific terminology. Pullout drawers around the gallery are still to be filled and the museum's new manager, Jack Ashby, confirmed that these and other displays were a work in progress, with planned text changes to follow and formal visitor evaluation under way. The ability to update text is built-in, as the labels are printed on self-adhesive magnetic vinyl for swift replacement.
The 40,000 people who came to view the beached fin whale in Sussex in 1865 have been exceeded by the more than 55,000 visitors who have already seen its new home - easily surpassing projected targets. On his first visit, Attenborough identified the value of museums as "places of the real thing - the shell, the feather, the skin, the bones".
One of the joys of university museums is that they are typically packed with real stuff. The University Museum of Zoology has not lost that joy in showcasing thousands of its world-class objects - from a tiny pink fairy armadillo to the 40,000-year-old giant ground sloth - with visual drama, underpinned by an urgent ecological mission.
The museum shares the David Attenborough building with nine internationally focused biodiversity conservation organisations, as well as the university's zoology department. This has influenced the way we want visitors to see the museum - as an active repository of biodiversity information and as a research institution - as well as the way we interpret our collections.
This isn't necessarily what natural history museum fans are looking for when they visit. Therefore, a balance has been struck between providing the kind of experience most visitors might want - awe-inspiring objects - and encouraging engagement with globally important challenges, such as climate change and the loss of our biodiversity.
Our interpretation does this both subtly and explicitly. One of the organisations in the building is the International Union for the Conservation of Nature (IUCN), which comes up with the assessments and criteria for an animal's status as vulnerable, endangered, critically endangered and so on. Every modern species on display has its status highlighted using the relevant IUCN symbol. In addition, conservation stories are prominent in longer text panels and across the central "exploration stations" in the middle of the museum.
For example, one display explores the story of the more than 50 species of Hawaiian honeycreepers that evolved from a single bird species that colonised the islands. They each evolved to fulfil a different biological niche on different islands. But, with the arrival of humans, and the pigs and mosquitoes they brought with them, less than half the species now remain.
Home to more than three million natural history objects, including specimens from Charles Darwin's HMS Beagle voyage, the museum now boasts remodelled permanent galleries, new learning spaces, collections stores, a gallery for temporary exhibitions, cafe and imposing glass entrance hall, complete with a 21m-long fin whale skeleton that appears to swim above the heads of visitors.
The museum's makeover from a tired university collection display in an ageing concrete courtyard to a vibrant visitor attraction was enabled by the wider redevelopment of its home - a 1974 brutalist masterpiece by the architect Philip Dowson.
It was renamed the David Attenborough building and has been restored to an excellent standard. As home to the Cambridge Conservation Initiative and the university's zoology department, it forms a national hub for biodiversity conservation, with the museum as a reinvigorated public face.
The entrance hall has obvious appeal. The whale, which was washed up on Pevensey Beach in 1865, is captivating in its lofty resting place. The double-height extension creates a welcoming reception and shop, with a spiral stairway up to the plastic-free cafe. The artist partnership Ackroyd & Harvey has created a huge reclaimed-slate artwork that spans the building's exterior end wall and is designed to be a habitat for bats, bees and insects.
At ground level, a large "zoological airship" automaton greets visitors. It is billed as a "roving global centre of ecological education … a mirror of the building you stand within". It is made from recycled material and is a charmingly bonkers nod to the mid-Victorian era of scientific enquiry that generated the museum itself.
Museum of few words
There is a thrilling lack of introductory text. As you walk towards the galleries, cheerful montages of wildlife imagery flank the route, emblazoned with the words "Exploring animal life". TripAdvisor is full of endorsements for the lack of upfront verbosity.
The permanent galleries display a dramatically lit selection of life on earth and create a moment of awe at first sight. Set over two floors around a rectangular atrium, they are connected by a mezzanine corridor whose rainbow graphics send a shot of colour across the monochrome space. Lion's mane jellyfish and manta rays are projected across the ceiling as a luminous lid to this ark of the dead, and two crowd-pleasing "icons of extinction" greet you at the start - the dodo skeleton and the great auk.
The central lower floor space is dominated by tabletop displays that raise huge specimens up into the void. The tables hold two elephants, the giant bones of the extinct flightless moa, and a three-tonne fossil of the extinct diprotodon - a 40,000-year-old giant version of a wombat - among other impressive beasts, and are correspondingly robust.
Eye-catching colour-coded graphics on each object label let you know the specimen's official ranking with the International Union for Conservation of Nature: extinct, critically endangered, near threatened or of least concern. Conservation stories are woven through the cases and fossils, including a case study on the New Zealand kakapo - an endangered flightless parrot. Real taxidermy specimens are displayed throughout the museum alongside skeletons, all within their genetic families.
The Darwin collections are among many star exhibits, but, surprisingly, just as memorable as the line-up of sea creatures, barnacles and finches Darwin studied on his five-year voyage is a box of common English beetles he collected as an undergraduate in Cambridge - many are now non-existent in the region.
Low-tech displays
The museum promises "stories of extinction, survival, evolution and exploration", and delivers these in narratives woven through the galleries. All the displays start with a neat evolutionary tree graphic to illustrate the relatedness of specimens.
Clear definitions of key scientific terms are provided, the museum's active research programme and storage systems are featured, and big themes are explored everywhere. From genetics and declining fish stocks to DNA and the impact of climate change, there is no hectoring tone - just a repeated sense of fragility and endangerment that creates the necessary impact.
Perhaps most surprising is that the galleries are low on built-in interactivity and digital interpretation. Those that are present, such as screens beside a handful of exhibits, are well done - one memorably shows a komodo dragon's ambling gait alongside its skeletal self.
There are also listening posts of bird calls. This approach certainly concentrates attention on the specimens in front of you and, given the museum's stated vision to "encourage young people to develop a passion for science and discovery", it makes sense. The new Learning Lab and Discovery Room are clearly intended as primary spaces for further engagement with these groups, and are designed to open directly into the lower permanent gallery.
The museum is also using event programming for its family audience, with storytelling sessions at weekends. There is an explorer bag for eight-year-olds, with trails and ingenious origami animals to be created, but what about one to engage the grown-up paper-folding enthusiast? Expanding the explorer bag to an all-ages kit of low-tech creative activities would add an element that is missing.
The refit is not quite complete - text is variable, at times a model of clarity, at others weighed down by scientific terminology. Pullout drawers around the gallery are still to be filled and the museum's new manager, Jack Ashby, confirmed that these and other displays were a work in progress, with planned text changes to follow and formal visitor evaluation under way. The ability to update text is built-in, as the labels are printed on self-adhesive magnetic vinyl for swift replacement.
The 40,000 people who came to view the beached fin whale in Sussex in 1865 have been exceeded by the more than 55,000 visitors who have already seen its new home - easily surpassing projected targets. On his first visit, Attenborough identified the value of museums as "places of the real thing - the shell, the feather, the skin, the bones".
One of the joys of university museums is that they are typically packed with real stuff. The University Museum of Zoology has not lost that joy in showcasing thousands of its world-class objects - from a tiny pink fairy armadillo to the 40,000-year-old giant ground sloth - with visual drama, underpinned by an urgent ecological mission.
Emma Shepley is a freelance curator
Focus on: Conservation
The interpretation in the University Museum of Zoology doesn't necessarily follow the traditional pattern for a lot of natural history venues. Museum labels often focus on answering the question of what an animal is, where it lives and how it survives. There is a spattering of this in the Cambridge museum, but a key message across the site is environmental conservation and research.
The museum shares the David Attenborough building with nine internationally focused biodiversity conservation organisations, as well as the university's zoology department. This has influenced the way we want visitors to see the museum - as an active repository of biodiversity information and as a research institution - as well as the way we interpret our collections.
This isn't necessarily what natural history museum fans are looking for when they visit. Therefore, a balance has been struck between providing the kind of experience most visitors might want - awe-inspiring objects - and encouraging engagement with globally important challenges, such as climate change and the loss of our biodiversity.
Our interpretation does this both subtly and explicitly. One of the organisations in the building is the International Union for the Conservation of Nature (IUCN), which comes up with the assessments and criteria for an animal's status as vulnerable, endangered, critically endangered and so on. Every modern species on display has its status highlighted using the relevant IUCN symbol. In addition, conservation stories are prominent in longer text panels and across the central "exploration stations" in the middle of the museum.
For example, one display explores the story of the more than 50 species of Hawaiian honeycreepers that evolved from a single bird species that colonised the islands. They each evolved to fulfil a different biological niche on different islands. But, with the arrival of humans, and the pigs and mosquitoes they brought with them, less than half the species now remain.
Jack Ashby is the manager of the University Museum of Zoology, Cambridge
Project data
- Cost £4.1m
- Main funders Heritage Lottery Fund; University of Cambridge; DCMS Wolfson; Arts Council England; Pilgrim Trust; Wellcome Trust
- Architect Nicholas Hare Architects
- Construction Kier
- Exhibition design Blue; University Museum of Zoology
- Graphic design University Museum of Zoology
- Interpretation University Museum of Zoology
- Lighting Fusion
- Display cases The Workhaus
- Admission Free