Born January 24th, 1928
Died April19th, 2026
Desmond Morris’s mother lived to the great age of 98 and was never ill. As a child he asked her why and she replied, “I don’t have time, dear.” The same maxim could be applied to the zoologist, ethologist, artist and author, who died last weekend in Naas hospital, also at the age of 98.
Famous for his work ethic, he worked at a frantic pace. In 1966, with a rare four weeks free of other commitments, he set to writing the book that would make his fortune and cement his reputation, The Naked Ape.
READ MORE
Typing furiously on his father’s old typewriter, he wrote 80,000 words in 30 days, and handed the package to his publisher, Tom Maschler, at a Christmas party, who nonchalantly threw it on to a shelf, to be read later. Published with no second drafts or revisions, it went on to sell millions of copies and is one of the top 100 bestselling books of all time.
A find in the family attic in Wiltshire was the catalyst for a lifetime devoted to inquiry, in science, art and writing. Digging around in old trunks as a child, he found his great-grandfather’s Victorian microscope. Using it changed his life; the microscopic shapes he encountered and found set him on a lifelong career as a zoologist, and would appear as biomorphs in his surrealist art.
It wasn’t always obvious to the young Morris what career he would follow. His family pushed him towards a medical degree after school, but he did his best to fail the entrance exams, as he had a passion for art and wanted to paint. But in the aftermath of the second World War, nobody wanted paintings like his, so he embarked on a degree in zoology at the University of Birmingham.
No matter where he lived, or what else he was doing, he always maintained a studio, and in 1950, still a student, shared an exhibition with Joan Miró in London. While studying for his finals, he went to Bristol to hear Konrad Lorenz speak about ethology and added another passion to the ever-growing list. Lorenz, along with Nico Tinbergen, was spearheading a new, naturalistic approach to research in animal behaviour, and the young Morris was enthralled by this approach.
Once he had got his first, he set off to do a doctorate at Oxford under Tinbergen, on the 10-spined stickleback. He also moved to be closer to his fiancee, Ramona Baulch, who he had met at a house party during his time in the army after the war. They married in 1952, and Ramona, with a degree in history from Oxford, went on to work with Morris as researcher throughout his career, both on his TV programmes and his books.
After turning his research lab and department into a quasi-zoo with an aviary on the roof, Tinbergen suggested a move to London Zoo, where a research opportunity in animal behaviour had opened up. A new television channel, ITV established a TV unit to make natural history programmes in opposition to the BBC and its young man in the field, David Attenborough. ITV were in search of a zoologist to present and in February 1956, Morris had his first screen test; by March he was appointed head of the Zoo TV unit.
He went on to make 500 programmes, was involved in a whale rescue on the Thames, developed a close relationship with a chimp named Congo, who went with him to London restaurants and also painted. Zootime, filmed live, became quite starry with special guests, and the “ham” in Morris often took over, playing for the cameras. But the academic in him was not satisfied, nor was the artist, and his passion for ethology always gnawed at him.
In 1966 he completed the first draft of The Naked Ape and landed a position as director of the Institute of Contemporary Arts. It was a short-lived appointment as The Naked Ape swiftly became an international bestseller and changed his life forever. He fulfilled a long-held dream, of living in the Mediterranean, moving to Malta, and living there for the next six years, painting, exploring the island, hosting long visits from friends such as Attenborough and their son Jason was born there.
[ Desmond Morris on the Irish: ‘There’s a humour there and a love of the eccentric'Opens in new window ]
Morris began his ethogram, or dictionary of human behaviour, in his Maltese villa. He spent years watching people, classifying them as a zoologist would an animal, and from this work, his book Manwatching eventually emerged. Tom Maschler called to assess his progress. “I’m as far as the eyebrows,” Morris announced. “Going up or down?” said the poor publisher. “Down!” was the reply.
The family returned to Oxford in 1974, living in the house that had belonged to James Murray, writer of the Oxford English Dictionary. He loved that every word in the English language had passed through his doors, and while he collected dictionaries among many other things, he always wrote with great humour, simplicity and grace. His golden rule was “simplification without distortion”. Through the following decades, he continued to make programmes with the BBC, research, write books and also paint.
He was, while alive, the only person to have a painting hanging in the Tate (Arena) and a top 100 bestselling book. A lifelong surrealist, he corresponded with many artists through his career, meeting Miro, and was friends with Conroy Maddox, Gerald Durrell, John Banting and Scottie Wilson. He was not averse to the lure of celebrity. After defending Stanley Kubrick’s film A Clockwork Orange during a TV debate, he was invited to the famously reclusive director’s home for dinner. He loved to reminisce about meeting John Lennon, Yoko Ono and Marlon Brando.
His greatest friend, along with his son, Jason, was undoubtedly David Attenborough; Morris attributed his eternal youthfulness, energy and drive to having a mental age of 15. He and Attenborough shared the same mischievous sense of humour, often subjecting the other to elaborate pranks. They shared a keen disregard for the rigours of healthy living, Morris once asking him on a phone call, when they were both in their 80s, whether he had ever been to a gym, exercised or eaten healthily. Attenborough replied no to all three and Morris concurred, arriving at the conclusion that it was their youthful, undimmed curiosity that kept them going.
In 2018 Ramona died, and Morris described her death not as a bereavement but as “an amputation”. He left Oxford and moved to live near Jason, Annie and his grandchildren in a village on the edge of the Curragh, where Jason works as director of Horse Racing Ireland. Morris loved the slow pace of village life, which reminded him of his childhood in Wiltshire. He adored spending time with his family, making many new friends.
Never one to rest on his laurels, the first thing to be set up in the new house was his studio, then his library. He carried on a prodigious output of work, writing a book every year, and painting dozens of new works, enough for an annual exhibition. To achieve this, he stayed up till 4am, preferring the dark, quiet hours when he would not be interrupted.
He opened DIVA, a visual arts institute in Dún Laoghaire in 2022, hosting exhibitions and teaching art. The first floor houses the Surrealist Gallery, designed by his daughter-in-law, Annie. His paintings hang together with his collection of fellow surrealists, including Miró, Banting, Carrasco and Leonora Fini, and of course, his beloved Congo.
As well as the art, display cases hold a selection of his letters, from Henry Moore, Kate Bush, Paul McCartney, Spike Milligan and his friend, conservationist Jane Goodall. His almost 100 books are displayed, many academic works about his art, and there are large display cases showcasing a selection of objects, many of them surrealist, collected during his lifetime of exploration and travel, including his great-grandfather’s microscope.
His son Jason said, after his death, “his was a lifetime of exploration, curiosity and creativity. A zoologist, manwatcher, author and artist, he was still writing and painting right until his death. He was a great man and an even better father and grandfather.”
Morris lived just short of a century. He left as he wanted to, quietly, without any fuss or attention. He abhorred the idea of a large funeral and eschewed it, opting for a cremation attended solely by his family. They, along with his work, his words, his art, his insight and his warmth and kindness will be his legacy. He is survived by his son Jason, daughter-in-law Annie, grandchildren Tilly, Maddie, Belle and Evan.
