The building of the house
Berkeley Bat House

After winning the 2004 prize, Deller announced his intention to build what he called, "a large bat house somewhere in the UK." Deller suggested, "This would be a piece of architecture, a sculpture and a living, working object.” For the RSA Arts and Ecology Centre, this was a potential collaboration made in heaven.Working in partnership with the London Wetlands Centre and several other organisations, we helped set up a design competition to fulfill Deller's vision.The winners were announced almost two years ago. Caleb Klaces visited it as it was being built.

The London Wetland Centre was established almost ten years ago as the result of a remarkable partnership between Thames Water, Berkeley Homes and the Wildfowl and Wetlands Trust. The Victorian reservoir site was partially flooded and planted with native species to create 42 hectares of rich wetland habitat. The competition to design a bat house also came out of a partnership, between artist Jeremey Deller and several other organisations, including the RSA. Almost two years ago, Jorgen Tandberg and Yo Murata’s design was chosen, from over 200 entries, to be developed and built, with a budget of £250,000 from Berkeley Homes. At the time Tandberg and Murata were fourth year undergraduate students at the Architectural Association. 

Read about Jeremy Deller's original idea for the Bat House, and the RSA Arts & Ecology Centre's part in the project

The spirit of collaboration has continued. Tanberg says that it was a surprise to be working with such a large team of people – from sustainable materials and bat experts to planners – and difficult at first to let go of complete control of the design. From the outside, the design has changed little as a result, but “it’s a design of two parts – the areas facing the world, and those inside; they’re quite different”.

When I visited, the two areas were not so sharply defined as the white cube was still in scaffolding and the ply roosting panels, computer-cut into ragged forms, had not yet arrived. The irregularly patterned panels will aggregate like a stage set to enclose the inner chamber from the observer, while also providing precise bat-sized gaps in which to roost.

Without this distinctive face, I could easily climb in and see the habitat the bats will also be able to enter inside. Here, there are several wooden rectangles which look and act like tower blocks, upside down. Bats can enter from the side, above and below, and cling on between slats at whatever height provides a comfortable temperature (it is designed to be warmer with height). Each block has a hinged bottom panel which allows for easy cleanout. The original design has been developed so that every possible area is a hollow for bats to crawl into snugly. There is even a space built into the maintenance floor above the water, which it is hoped will attract Daubentons.

Inspecting the outer wall (inside is Hempcrete, a less carbon-intensive form of concrete), Tanberg says that he hopes the final coating will give it a sharper, angular finish. The bat house is conspicuous, built in an alternative spirit from the well-concealed hide over the water. The sheer white box frames stylised natural forms as a camera, or, indeed, a twitcher’s binoculars do. It has an unnatural beauty, looking like something only humans could ever have created, while performing an almost hidden ecological function. The animals are assisted and at the same time packaged. It elegantly gets at the paradoxes in the human struggle to assist ecological systems in their survival.

As we walked to get another perspective on the structure, Stasa Veroukis of the Wildfowl and Wetlands Trust pointed out that the natural landscape outside the frame is also meticulously arranged by people, each species of plant chosen, placed and managed in order to attract an extraordinary biodiversity. So the effect of the bat box in its environment is like an endlessly repeating picture of a frame inside a frame inside a frame...which cannot resolve the opposition between natural and human, genuine and artificial, but leads outside to the choice between pleasure and loss.

“The bat box exemplifies everything the Centre’s about”, says Veroukis, “conservation, engaging visitors and design for sustainability. It’s also a pilot which hopefully others will be inspired by”. But just as the public doesn’t have to stop and consider most public artworks, the bats which fly over the Centre every night to catch flies might simply ignore the new deluxe crevices. The bat experts tell Tanberg that if the bats don’t start roosting in two years, they never will. That would be a great loss. Not only would species endangered in Britain be safe in the house, but the Trust could monitor them, providing data valuable for further conservation efforts.

An empty bat box would also mean something very different as an artwork. It would no longer be knowing and bold, but sad and out of place. Without a teeming, wild interior the coolness of the design would be cold. The Centre has a history of introduced habitats being well taken-up, with a recent sand martin bank now almost at full occupation, and the bat house is meticulously designed for purpose, so it is a calculated risk. Just as likely will be reservations from visitors about the design. What little dissent there has been so far, Veroukis says, has been about its colour, with members wondering if it could be green, to blend in. “But it makes no difference to the bats, does it?”, says Tanberg.

Jorgen Tanberg keeps a very informative blog on the Bat House website, on which you can see detailed updates on the design and construction

Visit the London Wetlands Trust

Caleb Klaces is a poet,and founder and Editor-in-chief of www.likestarlings.com, a website which pairs up established and new poets to create new poetic conversations. Read his blog

Michaela Crimmin of the RSA Arts & Ecology Centre blogs about Jeremy Deller

Bat House Project