Written by Pauline Rutter – Independent Archival Artist, Community and Organisation Poet.
These words look out from the page with eyes I have borrowed. Eyes not shaped for vision through the specific disciplinary scientific lens. Eyes that strain to see beyond past centuries of debate on what, of all origins, is knowable and what is not. With these original eyes, would ways of seeing allow the light to travel outwards resisting funnelled perspectives and interpretations descended from imperialistic systems of Enlightenment science, colonial ideologies and narratives? In this context my eyes had opened up unevolved or re-evolved with lepidopteran vision, though not removed from all that had been taught to be seen. New eyes with sight of intensified colour that amplified nature’s interconnecting patterns, only visible outside the spectrum of the everyday, the expected, the predetermined.
What use is butterfly sight that transforms configured objects and living matter with or without full binominal species names, into fragments like those of the intertwined and metamorphosed elements in ritualistic rapture spreading out across a Wangechi Mutu collage?
This blog post details a temporary exhibition at the Herbert, how it was presented, how decolonisation and feedback were integrated into the show. This is an overview, please get in touch if you would like more information on any aspect of the exhibition.
In May 2024 the Herbert launched its latest major temporary exhibition, Collecting Coventry. The display focuses on the history of collecting in Coventry museums and showcasing the breadth of the collections.
The main aims were to
Present the Herbert’s collections after several years of external or predominately loan-based temporary exhibitions.
Get out visitor favourites like the Lowry and display stored objects for the first time.
Look like a museum store.
Give visitors the opportunity to comment on aspects of museum work and ask questions relating to collections and displays. For example, Collections Development policy, display of human remains, use of technology, future exhibitions, representation.
Editors note: This is the second of two concurrent blogs about the new diorama at the Booth Museum. Click here to read the first and find out more about how the diorama was created.
In the autumn of 2022, we started our ‘Discover our Dioramas’ project at the Booth Museum of Natural History, part of Brighton & Hove Museums. Funded by an Esmée Fairbairn Collections Fund of £50,000 we set about building the first natural history diorama at the museum in 92 years. This was a significant project for a museum whose Victorian creator Edward Booth had lined every wall with dioramas of birds. Dioramas are an ideal way of storytelling. They are visual and can get a lot of key information to audiences without the need for words.
Alongside this we were also given £3000 from Rampion Windfarms to research and display more information about people especially women involved in the museum’s history.
These projects gave us the time and space to be playful and to make friends. To impact on our audiences, our staff, our collections, and our future practices. It has brought joy to the museum, visitor and staff alike.
Written by Su Liu, BA English Language and Literature student at the University of Sheffield, formerly summer intern (2023) at Amgueddfa Genedlaethol Caerdydd – National Museum Cardiff.
Thomas Drummond, a Scottish naturalist, witnessed the tragedy of his accompanying Native American family – the Iroquois hunters had just lost their beloved and a newborn in the severe winter of Saskatchewan, Canada. Yet their journey had to be continued to collect the 286 specimens in Drummond’s Musci Americani, one of the richest collections of North American mosses.
‘…the whole of the continent of North America has not been known to possess so many Mosses as Mr. Drummond has detected in this single journey.’ – Sir William J. Hooker (1830)
Above is a real event in Drummond’s Sketch of a Journey to the Rocky Mountains and to the Columbia River in North America, which records his excursions during Franklin’s second land expedition. It has been adapted into an interactive digital narrative, Snow, Bonfires and Mosses, in which the reader engages with a combination of novel, visualisations, sound effects and choice-making. Choice-making allows the reader to experience different narratives and explore possibilities amid ambiguities in history.
This browser game is accessible on most devices and comes with an ‘encyclopaedia’ that includes a selection of Drummond’s moss specimens and external links to the biographies of all historical characters.
Lost stories of a distant adventure and forgotten collectors
The story of Drummond’s adventure began in Saskatchewan, 1825, where he parted ways with Franklin’s party and was joined by Iroquois hunters employed by Hudson’s Bay Company, a dominant fur trading company at the time. Their journey near the Rocky Mountains was an underdeveloped version of Man vs. Wild, surrounded by hunger, blizzards, wildlife, and humans – conflict between different tribes continued regardless of the Europeans’ intrusion.
Drummond made excursions whenever he had the opportunity, followed by sleepless nights when he had to treat his specimens before the fur brigade departed. At times, he failed to follow the fur brigade’s pace and consequently much of his work was lost or destroyed. By the time he was brought back to reality from work, he realised that he had been left ‘alone with the Indians’.
In contrast with Drummond’s objectives, the emphasis of the expeditions had been more on the exploitation of new trading routes. The capitalist powers were eager to establish colonial influence in North America and appeared to have taken local labour for granted, so the natives were not having a great time either. Drummond sometimes found the ‘fickleness’ in them hard to deal with but nevertheless depended on their work.
My colleague and BA history student Harry Pointon has pointed out the conventionalised indifference towards local hunters in the early 19th century, whose contributions are acknowledged in Drummond’s Sketch due to the complexity of his journey, as the natives play essential roles in the naturalist’s survival and are experienced guides to the flora in their natural habitat. With that in mind, my digitalisation of the exsiccatae (numbered collections of dried herbarium specimens with a common theme or title) goes in tandem with decolonising the history of the participants, especially the Native Americans.
Behind the scenes of Snow, Bonfires and Mosses
I had a blast writing, drawing and programming to make historical science approachable without being a bore, especially for slightly older children. It was hard to imagine myself working on two-hundred-year-old mosses as an English student, but I was beyond excited to see moss specimens in a great variety of sizes and colours. With the help of the Biodiversity Heritage Library (BHL) and my supervisors, I was able to put together a full timeline of events without much barrier to scientific knowledge.
The historical accounts were quite a fun read. Early modern science writing (approximately from the 17th century onwards) consisting of all sorts of information, from each step of the experiments (even if it results in failure) to personal remarks from the researchers. Unlike contemporary science writing which aims to be brief and impersonal, these accounts are vividly descriptive, and they highlight the presence of all participants: naturalists, hunters and fur traders. Drummond’s Sketch is an excellent resource that conveys his passion for botany and has proven itself practical in helping me construct my storytelling of the specimens. It is also proof of Native American involvement in naturalist excursions.
Apart from the emphasis on Drummond’s excursions and specimens, the narrative also presents parts of Native American culture throughout the characters’ dialogues. Iroquois people, for example, tend to have a strong belief in astrology and female leadership. This will hopefully create a fuller image of the Indigenous collectors, their lives, and the ways they were treated by the Europeans.
As a literature student, my understanding of decolonising history is the liberation of artefacts from hidden archives and unravelling the stories of neglected participants in the most accurate detail as possible. Drummond’s Sketch is perhaps a fortunate case for decolonising the archive, considering the common lack of credit for Native Americans. It is encouraging to see readers entertained and captivated by the story, and hopefully this has been an inspiring attempt at digitalising and decolonising museum archives for educational purposes.
Subhadra Das and Miranda Lowe’s paper, Nature Read in Black and White: Decolonial Approaches to Natural History Collections (2018) acted as a wake-up call to our sector, effectively founding a discipline in natural history museums. In the five years since, a lot of work has begun to address the colonial legacies underpinning collections of animals, plants, fungi and rocks.[i] The principal aims of this work include telling more honest stories about the different kinds of injustice involved in the acquisition of collections; and addressing the fact that our museums have long been prioritising narratives elevating white individuals over everyone else. In doing so, it is hoped that a greater diversity of people will feel represented by our museums, thereby enhancing the relevance of the collections.
Natural history collections dwarf those of any other museum discipline, and unlike sectors which have been thinking about this for decades, the practices underpinning their creation have not traditionally prioritised recording associated cultural or social histories. Like others who felt inspired by Subhadra and Miranda’s call to action, faced with contemplating how to begin to unpick the stories hidden behind literally millions of ‘scientific’ specimens, it was fundamental to consider the question, where do you start with decolonial research in natural history museums? Obviously, there is no one answer, but I thought it could be helpful to list a few possible approaches. One underlying element is to recognise how colonialism and its framings have shaped the way that events took place – from major historical moments to minute individual acts – and how the stories about these events have been told.
Below is a list of possible starting points for research, with examples of what that could look like in practice (in reality most of these overlap). For me, each has something to say about the entwined human and environmental costs of the colonial project – questions that natural history museums are uniquely placed to address.
NatSCA 