Casson Mann cleverly designed the interior of the Wellcome Wing, a recent addition to London’s Science Museum, to appeal to both technophobes and technophiles. London’s Science Museum – a testimony to human perseverance and curiosity – explores man’s desire to get farther, go faster, soar higher and delve deeper, while probing the relationship between such aspirations and the physical laws that regulate natural phenomena, including life itself. For centuries, scientific and technological discoveries have shaped and guided the concept of progress. Most of the museum’s permanent exhibits continue to reflect the widespread 19th-century philosophy of positivism, which proclaims that science and technology are synonymous with progress, and that progress is a good thing. Nowadays, this theory is not embraced by one and all. An opposing voice carries an authoritative note of anxiety. Push science and technology too far, it seems to say, and be prepared to face catastrophe, as we ordinary beings can neither control such developments nor prevent their unwanted consequences.

In its focus on contemporary and future science and technology, a new addition to the museum addresses this fear. Head of design Tim Molloy, who believes that a 21st-century museum should be inspiring and relevant, says he and his colleagues ‘decided we couldn’t develop another gallery that didn’t revolve around the question: How does this threatening aspect of technology affect you?’

He explains that the design of the Wellcome Wing represents a deliberate attempt to give the public a voice. ‘We’ve presented what we think is correct in view of the current situation, but of course we cannot guarantee a flawless assessment in every case. We want the public to understand what they see, and we want our exhibits to comment on potential consequences. It’s an approach that differs completely from the conventional one. ’

In architectural terms, the contrast he mentions is highlighted by the passage from a calm, sculptural and equally new gallery space – The Making of the Modern World, designed by Wilkinson Eyre – into the surreal and animated environment of McCormac Jamieson Pritchard’s Wellcome Wing. A terraced, open area immersed in deep blue light, the latter pulsates with sound, light and a complex array of mesmerising activities. Eradicated are any preconceived ideas of what a museum space should look like. Indeed, a typically museum-like atmosphere was exactly what Molloy and his team were determined to avoid. He says that promoting the idea of a building devoted to current and future scientific developments meant that ‘we actually wanted it to feel busy – very lively and contemporary. We can’t pretend that the future, particularly the future of science, is a quiet thing.’

Wilkinson Eyre envisioned his design of the ground floor in an urban-planning context, since the space regulates circulation throughout various areas and lends access to the cantilevered IMAX cinema, the Simulator and the new wing’s three upper galleries, designed by Casson Mann. Each gallery occupies a separate floor and deals with either biomedical science (first level above ground floor), digital technology (second level) or future developments (third level).

The unconventional design of the building, in which exhibition galleries are effectively open-sided bridges, gave the interior designers no control of light or architecture. Thus the main challenge was, in the words of Roger Mann, ‘to create a series of exhibitions within this predetermined and predominantly blue envelope – admittedly a welcome change from the customary black box – each with a strong sense of place and a unique holistic identity’.

Unlike previous exhibition designs, those for the Wellcome Wing ‘started with stories rather than collections’, Mann points out. ‘Objects for display were collected in support of the exhibition themes during the course of the project.’ A visitor-feedback installation 25 metres high and 9 metres wide, aptly dubbed ’...comment’, functions as a link between both stories and levels. No fewer than 27,000 white LEDs suspended in a void in front of one blue wall bear visitors’ names, ages and remarks in a display that’s updated daily. Casson Mann programmed the randomly moving tracks of this feature with behavioural characteristics that allow the separate components to bounce off one another like colliding snooker balls. The concept is a reflection of the duo’s approach to the overall design of the three exhibition levels and of their emphasis on transforming the entire itinerary into an ongoing conversation with the public.

At the level directly above ground floor, for example, visitors to Who Am I? listen as a projected, Cheshire cat-style mouth – a device used to ‘make things a little friendlier’ – asks them to contemplate ‘logical ideas in your head about what we are’. Although rows of glass showcases provide this level with a seemingly traditional setting, the layout and displays, as well as the way in which each subject has been interpreted, are highly contemporary. Sinuously divided by freestanding translucent partitions that have been silk-screened with patterns of coded genetic information, the biomedical-science gallery can be described as a diagram on the theme of genetics and human identity. Showcases positioned to form a ‘bar-coded’ DNA fingerprint are connected by a colourful, illuminated dotted line to traditional textbooks and to interactive areas on both sides of the gallery. Interactives are found in structures called Bloids (Biomedical & Life Science Organic Interactive Display Structures), which are composed of modular aluminium sections put together in various ways. Each Bloid, similar but never identical to its brothers, echoes the essence of the human being.

Casson Mann’s subtle use of individual elements as references to a wider context – theme, museum, public – extends to the interpretation of the subject. On its own, for instance, each inquiry refers to the greater issue of ‘questioning in general’. Two additional examples of this strategy are the display of a leaping seven-toed cat and that of an albino peacock, both used to illustrate aspects of human development. In the section called Identify Yourself, the same type of clamp that Crick and Watson applied to their 1953 model of DNA, which appears elsewhere in the museum, provides a visual link to the subject at hand, as well as to the museum.

The creation of integrated environments continues on the next level with a gallery dedicated to digital technology: Digitopolis. Because each floor has two entrances, Mann points out the infeasibility of ‘designing a gallery with a linear narrative. We had to come up with a different way of doing it, so we designed this gallery more like CD-ROM than a book.’

Their solution was a matrix composed of five undulating, ribbon-like structures of steel and glass, which run the length of the gallery. Each one accommodates a different theme. These structures, or Warps, are interwoven with colour-coded light panels in the floor, appropriately called Wefts. The resulting pattern implies the presence of interconnected subjects.

Pale green lighting provides the gallery with a glowing, pulsating landscape that remains friendly and accessible despite all the technology. The variety of display-related possibilities offered by the Warps relates to the general theme of this exhibition level: Everything in the world can be represented by a simple digital code. Aware that the problem with most digital galleries lies in using them exclusively as showcases for the latest tricks, an approach that often leads to prematurely outdated exhibits, Casson Mann reduced ultra-advanced technology to ‘something simple and capable of grabbing the visitor’s attention almost immediately.’

As a consequence, structures here are as transparent as possible, while most of the interactives react to movement or simple commands. The dominant presence of technology radiated by the contents of these structures forms absolutely no barrier to user-friendly interaction. The inclusion of digital art works adds another perspective to the subject, and a small weaving loom that operates with a punched card – another link to the main Science Museum – represents what is reputedly the first authentic technological device.

Conversation leads to debate at the uppermost level, where the In Future gallery deals with the consequences of science and technology. A future without objects is portrayed by a virtually bare space partially capped by a winglike structure that delineates, by means of light and shadow, the cross-gallery circulation route leading to and from the IMAX. Conceived as a room for debate, the gallery houses three round tables with interactive games designed for up to eight players projected on the tabletops. Participants select subjects for discussion, which include male pregnancy and the genetic selection of babies, and vote on the moral implications of each issue.

Immersed in the deep blue light of the Wellcome Wing, the environment of In Future simultaneously counterbalances the buzzing activity of the ground floor and shares its sense of the surreal. A look at what experts are predicting for tomorrow, next week and a faraway future concludes an exhibition designed to appeal to the technophobe as well as the technophile.

Both are invited to pause here and reflect on the inquiring mind that fuels man’s ongoing quest for all that is new and different.