Tucked within the leafy grounds of the Jardin des Plantes in Paris, the Grande Galerie de l’Évolution is a monument of natural history, architecture and museography. It is operated by the Muséum national d’Histoire naturelle (MNHN), and was the final stop on my tour of the Jardin des Plantes this summer. There are some other attractions within that I am glossing over for the moment, however, I will come back to them over the winter months. So what is the Grande Galerie de l’Évolution? As its name suggests, this gallery is where the story of life, its evolution, diversity and fragility is told through a range of taxidermy specimens, immersive spaces and a striking 19ᵗʰ‑century iron‑and‑glass structure. On my recent-ish visit in late July, I spent an hour or so absorbing the space, exhibits and experience. I wish I had more time but I foolishly packed too much into one day. What follows below is a detailed review of this museum, a look at the building and its history, the layout and major exhibits, my impressions of strengths and weaknesses, practicalities for visitors, and a final summary for whom this gallery is worth the time.
The Grande Galerie originally opened in 1889 as the Galerie de Zoologie, part of the expanding museum complex at the Jardin des Plantes. This is quite obvious when you look at the outside of the building as it still has this name plastered across its masonry. Its monumental hall ( a vast iron‑and‑glass nave reaching around 30 metres high under a glass roof) was certainly designed to impress. By the mid 20ᵗʰ century the building had deteriorated (especially after damage during wartime) and closed in 1965. In 1991 a major restoration and redesign project commenced, with the gallery reopening in 1994 in its current form. This included new scenography emphasising biodiversity and our place within it, something that has only become more important since. The transformation gives the space dual significance: as a historic architectural monument and as a modern museum experience. On entering, you immediately notice the grandeur of the hall: the high glass roof overhead, the balconies rising three levels above the ground floor, and long sight‑lines across the floor. The architecture itself evokes a sense of walking into a cathedral of nature, appropriate for a place devoted to the wonders of life. It certainly gives the Natural History Museum in London a run for its money in that regard.
Now comes the interesting bit. To me, the Grande Galerie de l’Évolution is built backwards. There are four levels of amazing and informative displays, however, arguably that start which focusses on the evolution of life is on the top floor. There are stairs for those that are able, or handy lifts for added accessibility, so you start your journey and work your way down. Thinking back now, this is a great concept but nowhere was it stated that you should start here, which is the most logical place (depending on the reason for your visit). This upper floor creates a more reflective and conceptual exploration of life’s origins and transformations. Here, the emphasis moves from spectacle to story, the story of evolution itself. The displays trace how scientists gradually uncovered the mechanisms that explain the diversity of species, beginning with early naturalists who classified and compared living forms, through to Charles Darwin’s revolutionary theory of natural selection in On the Origin of Species (1859). Historical instruments, illustrations, and models situate this scientific breakthrough within its 19th-century context, reminding visitors that evolution was not a sudden revelation but the result of centuries of careful observation, debate, and discovery.
Moving through the floor, visitors encounter exhibits that reconstruct the history of life from its earliest microbial beginnings to the rise of complex multicellular organisms, vertebrates, mammals, and finally humans. The scenography uses a combination of fossil replicas, dioramas, and multimedia projections to evoke deep time, with billions of years condensed into an accessible narrative. Each section highlights pivotal evolutionary transitions: the emergence of life in the oceans, the conquest of land, the flowering of biodiversity after mass extinctions. Through these reconstructions, the gallery invites reflection on contingency and adaptation, the delicate balance between chance mutations and environmental pressures that has shaped every living thing on Earth. Finally, this upper level acts as both a scientific and philosophical space, introducing visitors to evolution not merely as a biological process but as a unifying idea linking all forms of life. Displays on genetics and molecular biology illustrate how DNA evidence confirms the shared ancestry of species, while interactive panels explain how evolutionary principles continue to guide modern research in ecology, medicine, and conservation. From this vantage point, looking down into the lower floors where the diversity of life is physically displayed, visitors grasp the gallery’s central message: that evolution is the thread connecting all living beings, past and present, and that understanding this history deepens our sense of responsibility toward the fragile web of life we inhabit.
Moving on in your journey, the second floor confronts visitors with a crucial truth: that humanity has become one of the most powerful forces shaping evolution itself. While the lower levels celebrate the diversity of life and the mechanisms that generated it, this floor examines how human activity has now become an evolutionary driver. The exhibits explore how, through agriculture, selective breeding, and technological innovation, humans have altered the course of countless species. This includes the domestication of dogs, cattle, and crops to the genetic transformations of modern agriculture. Models, displays, and historic artefacts show how these processes, though often beneficial for human societies, have profoundly reshaped the natural order, creating species that depend entirely on human stewardship and altering ecosystems that had evolved over millennia. Moving deeper into the gallery, the visitor encounters the darker side of this influence: the unintended consequences of industrialisation and globalisation. Displays on pollution, habitat loss, and the introduction of invasive species illustrate how human actions disrupt natural evolutionary processes.
Other exhibits explain how species introductions, such as rats on island ecosystems, have triggered ecological collapses and new evolutionary pressures. The narrative is not purely accusatory but explanatory, revealing that evolution is not static: when humans modify environments, species respond, adapting, migrating, or disappearing altogether. This perspective reframes humanity as both a participant in and a disruptor of nature’s ongoing story. The emotional climax of this floor is the Room of Endangered and Extinct Species, a dimly lit, solemn space that contrasts sharply with the vibrancy of the floors below. Here, the preserved forms of vanished animals (the dodo, the thylacine, and the great auk) stand as haunting reminders of what is lost when adaptation cannot keep pace with human change. Nearby, displays of endangered species underline the fragile line between survival and extinction. The lighting, soundscape, and sparse arrangement encourage quiet reflection; the viewer moves from curiosity to conscience. In this room, evolution becomes not an abstract concept but a moral question: how will future generations judge the evolutionary legacy we leave behind? The second floor thus transforms the gallery from a museum of natural history into a meditation on human responsibility, a space where science and ethics meet under the gaze of vanished lives.
The first floor celebrates the extraordinary diversity of terrestrial habitats, immersing visitors in the variety of life that thrives across the planet’s landscapes. This level brings us into the forests, deserts, and grasslands where evolution has produced an astonishing array of adaptations. Each zone is designed as a miniature ecosystem, with lighting, sound, and arrangement working together to evoke a sense of place. The African Savannah display, for instance, is dominated by the famous ‘animal parade’, a dynamic procession of giraffes, zebras, lions, and antelopes striding across the floor as if frozen mid-migration. The composition conveys both movement and interdependence: predator and prey, herd and individual, all part of a delicate ecological balance sculpted by evolution. From there, visitors move into environments of deeper contrast, the dense, humid Amazonian Rainforest, bursting with colour and complexity, and the stark expanses of the Sahara Desert, where life endures against the odds. In the rainforest section, birds, reptiles, and insects appear in layered arrangements, reflecting the multi-tiered canopy and undergrowth of the tropics. Audio effects of dripping water and distant calls enhance the sense of immersion.
The desert zone, by contrast, is stripped back, its pale tones and spare arrangements drawing attention to species whose forms and behaviours are masterpieces of adaptation: fennec foxes with oversized ears, camels built for endurance, and plants that store every precious drop of water. Together, these habitats demonstrate evolution’s inventiveness, how species diverge and specialise to survive under radically different conditions. Alongside these ecological tableaux, the first floor also explores the scientific practices that make such displays possible, offering insight into how naturalists classify and preserve life. Exhibits explain the principles of taxonomy, how species are grouped according to shared characteristics and evolutionary relationships, and the methods by which specimens are collected, studied, and conserved. Interactive panels and behind-the-scenes displays reveal the meticulous art of taxidermy, showing how scientists and artisans collaborate to recreate lifelike poses that both educate and inspire. Far from being a mere technical craft, taxidermy here is presented as an act of interpretation: a way of giving form to knowledge, of bridging observation and imagination. In combining these scientific and aesthetic dimensions, the first floor reminds visitors that understanding biodiversity requires not only studying life but also finding creative ways to represent it. After all, it is an intersection of art, science, and storytelling that lies at the heart of the Grande Galerie de l’Évolution.
The ground floor (which is where you enter) serves as an awe-inspiring introduction to the world’s marine environments, immersing visitors in the vast, fluid realm that covers more than two-thirds of the planet. Here, the story of life begins in the oceans (the cradle of evolution) where the earliest organisms emerged and where biodiversity continues to flourish in astonishing forms. The space is dominated by monumental whale skeletons suspended from above, their immense frames evoking the grandeur and mystery of the deep. Beneath and around them, the exhibits flow like currents, guiding visitors from shallow waters to the open sea. The lighting shifts subtly from the soft blues of coastal shallows to the darker tones of the abyss, creating a sense of descending through layers of the ocean while tracing how life adapts to light, pressure, and motion. One of the most vivid sections focuses on coral reefs and coastal habitats, presented as hubs of colour and activity. Displays of vibrant corals, fish, crustaceans, and molluscs highlight the intricate web of interdependence within these ecosystems. Panels and models explain the symbiotic relationships that make reefs both fragile and vital, the partnership between coral polyps and algae, the territorial dances of reef fish, and the constant struggle for space and light.
Moving toward the polar regions, the atmosphere changes dramatically: cold blue light, models of seals and penguins, and icy backdrops evoke the stark beauty of the Arctic and Antarctic seas. Here, the emphasis is on endurance. The thick fur, blubber, and behavioural adaptations that allow species to survive in extreme cold. These contrasting environments underline evolution’s boundless creativity, illustrating how life shapes itself to every imaginable condition. The deepest part of the ground floor is devoted to the pelagic and abyssal zones, where sunlight fades and strange, luminous creatures drift through the darkness. Specimens of giant squids, anglerfish, and other deep-sea species (some real, others modelled) introduce visitors to a world still largely unexplored by science. Multimedia screens simulate the pressures and temperatures of the ocean depths, while soundscapes evoke the eerie stillness of the abyss. Together, these displays convey both the richness and the mystery of marine life, reminding us that our understanding of the oceans remains incomplete. The ground floor, therefore, functions as both the foundation and the metaphorical beginning of the museum’s evolutionary journey: it roots the visitor in the origins of life and establishes the key theme of the Grande Galerie de l’Évolution, that the diversity we see today was born in the waters that still sustain our planet.
Despite the fact that most of the signage is in French, there are panels in English that also allow visitors to understand what each specimen is. Where there are multiple in one place, these are numbered and an information panel is somewhere nearby – very handy! The museum succeeds in producing “wow” moments: high ceilings, massive skeletons, dramatic lighting, immersive displays. These don’t just inform, they inspire. I liked how the historic building is treated with respect, while contemporary museographic techniques (lighting, sound, interactive zones) bring the displays alive. Being within a major botanical garden means you can combine the visit with a stroll around the grounds, making for a richer half‑day outing. However, I am surprised there was not more plant material on display (although there was some).
Now we get to the practicalities. Make sure you buy your tickets in advance and get that discount if you squeeze as much of the Jardin des Plantes into one day as possible like I did. This means your visit will cost €10. Plan for at least 1.5 to 2 hours for the permanent collection. If you want to linger, explore the balconies, enjoy the multimedia zones or take breaks, allow 3 hours. Visit in the morning soon after opening if you prefer more space and fewer crowds. Afternoon visits may be busier. Unfortunately, the gift shop was closed during my visit because of a cyber attack, so fingers crossed that is open again. It looked like the sort of place I could quite easily empty my bank account in, hopefully you get the chance to do so! There is a café inside (though options may be limited), depending on how busy it is as the season of your visit. For a quieter experience, head to the upper balconies where fewer people cluster; you may find seats or vantage points to linger.
Walking into the main nave for the first time, I felt a rush of wonder. The architecture alone is impressive, and as my eyes adjusted to the dimmed lighting beneath the glass roof I started to appreciate the space as more than just a museum hall. The skeletons of whales loomed, the animal parade stretched ahead, and the ambient lighting and sound (subtle though it was) made the building feel alive. I particularly enjoyed the marine zone: the sense of entering an underwater realm via large glass tanks, models, and the skeletal giants above made for a memorable beginning. The transition to the land animals, with the arranged taxidermy and dramatic lighting, shifted tone but retained interest. The upper floors, where the human role and extinction themes are explored, gave the visit depth, reminding me that this isn’t just about marvelling at nature, but about our responsibility. The space where extinct species are displayed is quietly sobering. However, I did feel the language issue. Some of the most interesting panels were only in French, I had to lean in and translate with Google Lens. During a particularly busy moment I found myself sidestepping other visitors to get a clear view of an exhibit, which slightly disrupted my pace. If I had to pick one thing I’d improve: clearer visitor flow signage and more multilingual interactive content. But these are relatively minor in a visit I very much enjoyed.
In my opinion, this museum is ideal for visitors interested in natural history, biodiversity and the story of life on Earth; families with children (especially around 9‑12 yrs) who will appreciate the large specimens and interactive zones; architecture and heritage enthusiasts: the building itself is a highlight; and those who have some time in Paris and want a museum that is less overwhelming than the big art‑museums but still substantial and unique. This was far more peaceful than the Lourve or Musée d’Orsay in comparison. It may be less suited for those with limited time in Paris who are planning only one museum visit. Depending on your interests, you may prefer a museum with more interactive features or English‑language content, or those expecting highly detailed scientific displays on evolution. While the gallery does present evolution as a theme, it leans more toward spectacle and emotions rather than exhaustive scientific detail.
It’s worth reflecting on how the Grande Galerie de l’Évolution has evolved from the older Galerie de Zoologie to its present incarnation. The original institution (late 19ᵗʰ century) celebrated zoology in a more static way: exotic specimens, colonial animal collections, taxidermy as wonder. The renovation and re‑opening in 1994 re‑conceptualised the space: not simply to display animals, but to tell the story of life, change, biodiversity, human impact. The museum’s own wording puts it thus: “They don’t speak, but they tell you everything about life. They are the 7,000 specimens in the Grande Galerie de l’Évolution.” This shift is crucial: the gallery is as much about conservation and awareness as it is about spectacle. The extinct species room, the panels about our role, the scenography that moves between habitats, all combine into an educational message: we share this planet with myriad forms of life, and our actions matter. The Grande Galerie de l’Évolution is a compelling, visually rich museum experience in Paris. If you have the time, I would recommend it.
References
Roussel-Versini, A. & Van Praët, M. (2024). Grand Gallery of Evolution: The Guide. Muséum national d’Histoire naturelle: Paris, France.
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