Before I arrived in Oxford, I had a long list of things to do and places to visit in the city of wisdom and history. First on the list was a big name, highlighted and annotated: ‘MUST DO: Radcliffe Camera’, Oxford’s best-known Bodleian library. 

The Radcliffe Camera (or the Rad Cam) is famous not only as the geographic centre of the University of Oxford, but also for its unique architecture. Constructed in the early 18th century, the Rad Cam is a prime example of Palladian design, an European architectural style derived from the work of the Venetian architect Andrea Palladio. It is well known for its proportional and mathematical beauty, emphasising symmetry and harmony. It now stands at the crossroads of two identities: a space of serious scholarship and a spectacle for tourists with cameras.

Part of the Radcliffe Camera’s appeal is its exclusivity. Unless you’re a student at the University, the only way to enter this high-profile building is by booking a limited, two-hour tour that costs at least £30. Fortunately, as a visiting student, I did not need to pay to access the library and was granted a daily pass during my time here. 

And the time had come when I finally took my first steps into my dream library. I vividly recall that my first date with Radcliffe Camera was on a cheerful mid-January day. I moved through the crowd, swiped my card into the students-only area, and entered the building. Then I was in awe. What struck me was the massive size and intricate design, with books lining the walls and sunlight streaming through the circular windows. At the heart of the building, amidst rows of chairs and tables, students sat engrossed in their studies, headphones on. Sitting there, I couldn’t imagine a more perfect set for a dark academia moodboard.

Undoubtedly, the University’s marketing strategies have contributed to the glory of Rad Cam. Flanked by the Old Bodleian Library and University Church, it is a place where one can capture the best Oxford photograph. Thus, it becomes a ‘checkpoint’ for Oxford students to show off their studying experience, and tourists eager to take a photo to share on social media.

I’m not exempt. As a visiting student, I have often found myself wandering in and out of the Radcliffe Camera, not to study, but to take aesthetic pictures to be edited and later posted to Instagram.

But wait. Why did I come to Radcliffe Camera and spend the whole afternoon taking pictures, editing them, showing them to my friends, and posting them on Instagram? Didn’t I initially come here to…study?

Somewhere between the tourist groups and the study sessions, I felt like the Radcliffe Camera was losing what it was built for: not just to be admired but to be used.

Tourists can’t just walk into the Radcliffe Camera, of course. It’s not like they hover over your shoulder as you annotate Aristotle. But they’re there. When you walk up, swipe your Bod card, and slip inside, you leave behind a crowd with phones out, flashes on, craning over the locked gate for a glimpse. It’s a quiet library, yes. But you never quite forget that you’re being watched.

And then there’s the performance we undertake for ourselves. Walking in and out of the Rad Cam felt like we were catwalking on the red carpet of academic excellence, under the tourists’ secret glance and amidst the group taking photos. Inside the building, there was an urge to show such exclusivity to the world. I’ve wandered in with a Medieval Art History book without even studying History, with no intention of reading it. All that just to capture a photo bathed in window light. Sometimes I think we all come here hoping to become the person the Rad Cam would want to be seen with. The right boots. The Moleskine notebook. The coffee cup was placed just so. Studying here becomes less about getting work done and more about becoming a Pinterest board called “academic girl autumn.”

But when we spend more time looking like we’re studying than actually studying, doesn’t something get lost? The Rad Cam promises intellectual transformation, but how much of that is real, and how much is just the image we craft to feel like we belong?

This raises the question: Is this still a library, or is it a stage for the performance of intellectualism? What is the Radcliffe Camera? Is it a tourist attraction or a student library?