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Studio Gang Architects
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FROM the outside, the Gilder Center beckons. Its curved windows resemble the entrance to a cave, and suddenly I need to know what is inside. That is probably why Jeanne Gang, whose firm designed the centre, calls it an “innie” building – it invites you in.
Inside, I feel an itch to move and explore. The cavernous atrium feels like a canyon that has been weathered over millennia, with water and wind carving windows and passageways through the rock. The windows tease with glimpses of new exhibits – like the insectarium to my left – and the floors above.
The Richard Gilder Center for Science, Education, and Innovation is an addition to the American Museum of Natural History in New York. It is all about connections. In the literal sense, by linking to 10 buildings on the museum campus at 33 different points, eliminating dead ends and improving visitor circulation. But it also aspires to show how all life is connected.
My first stop is the Collections Core. The floor-to-ceiling glass cases house more than 3000 items, from fish made transparent for easier study to Maya bricks and an impressive collection of megalodon teeth. The cases provide a sense of the sheer size of the Collections Core, which has about 4 million items in total. They also allow visitors to see real scientists at work, as they retrieve and study the samples. It is an important reminder that museums are active environments, not collections of long-forgotten artefacts.
Another good example of how the Gilder Center makes the natural world come alive is in the insectarium, the museum’s first area devoted to insects in more than 50 years. The displays were vying for my attention until I saw the real show stealers: half a million leafcutter ants diligently ferrying bits of leaves and flowers, oblivious to my existence. Transfixed, I watched them traverse a maze of planks and a skybridge to reach a wall of glass orbs where they farm fungus – before I realised that I had lost my tour group.
The vivarium was similarly arresting. Aside from the heat and humidity – the space is kept at a balmy 25°C (77°F) and 75 per cent humidity – I could have stayed there for hours after discovering that it is impossible to feel stressed when dozens of butterflies are silently flapping around your head.
The facility is home to almost 1000 butterflies from 130 species, of which about 80 species are on view each day. When you exit, you first enter a mirrored vestibule so you can check that no butterflies are hitching a ride. I will admit I was a little disappointed that none of them considered me a good perch.
Venturing upstairs and across a bridge, I reached Invisible Worlds, an immersive and interactive digital display. Here, images are projected onto the walls and floor of an oval-shaped room. A looped, 12-minute video, with no discernible beginning or end, sets out to expose the connections between life at all scales.
A jungle canopy gives way to flocks of birds in migration, which morph into a visual representation of all the text messages being sent in New York and a map of the subway lines shuttling people around the city. Then we are off on a journey inside the human brain, with its dense forest of billions of neurons. When I step on a grey neuron projected onto the floor, it illuminates neon green and fires off messages. At this point, many of us in the room (all adults representing media outlets) are hopping around in a neural disco.
And that, in the end, is why the Gilder Center is such a triumph. From its exhibits to its architecture, it taps into our innate curiosity and childlike sense of wonder about the world, reminding us that we are just one small part of it.
