Sir Robin Darwin had the place built as an integral part of the college, consider[ing] it important as a reminder of the natural world beyond the city limits.
The plants and animal life are now well established with mature trees up to the roof, many sub-tropical birds, fish and some reptiles. The large amount of leaf canopy and vegetation enable the birds to co-exist together, forming their own territories and social pecking orders.’
The light filters through the leaves with a glow of colour and dappled tones.
After watering, the humid air is heavily scented like a downpour on a summer’s day.
The rich warbling, musical notes of the canaries fill the air with song, accompanied by the continual ze-ze-zeee-zeee of the zebra finches.
In the background, a loud abrupt whistle interrupts the flowing cascade of the canaries. Looking down from the foliage, a large gleaming yellow eye stares like a sulphurous sun against the darkest of skies. The glossy starling watches and then with remarkable agility and quick angular wing strokes, flies off; a blaze of topaz blue and emerald green.”
The Greenhouse was closed in the early 1990s following the end of the Environmental course a few years prior. It had been built in 1961 according to the intention of then Rector Robin Darwin, whose studio sat at the back of the ‘house amongst the canopies.
John Norris Wood had been appointed tutor of Natural History and Ecological Studies in 1971, caring for the plants and animals and holding specialist drawing classes up ‘til it was shut in order to make space for new developments in the Darwin Building. As described in Boys’s book: ‘On looking further out beyond the glass is a back-drop of irregular sharp-angled buildings. The artificially created world outside is enveloping all around.’
At this point the only comparable space would be the enveloped Fern Garden, a gift from the USA Olympic Team – a thank you for ‘our’ hospitality and the lending of the College as a Conference Centre and hangout for the sporting elite.
The Fern Garden is off limits. Described as the Rector’s ‘private project’ they are protected by bolts, balconies and the backs of bureaucrats as they type faceless emails concerning the protection of the ground against artistic endeavor. Reported to have cost millions to ship from Australia, the Ferns drain further thousands on each specialist hydraulic act, momentarily flooding their canopies in this false climate.
All text originally published in Head, Heart & Hand by the Royal College of Art. All images courtesy of magazine and artist. All text copyright Billie Muraben.