Taking risks at the Wellcome's Making Nature

What is Wellcome’s Making Nature about? Usually with museum exhibitions the answer is either a famous artist or individual (Bowie, Lockwood Kipling, Rauschenberg) or a theme which can typically be summed up in one word (underwear, Modernism, maps, mental health). Making Nature is about, well, exactly that. The idea that nature is a construct manufactured by human action and, more specifically, museums. Pretty conceptual for an exhibition right? This perhaps why the Wellcome hasn’t received universally glowing reviews for this one (see for example this Guardian think piece). When you build a show on a concept, people can disagree. It’s probably why most museum’s don’t do it. But it’s also why ALL MUSEUMS SHOULD. Making Nature is the thought-provoking, risk-taking exhibition you’ve been waiting for from the Wellcome. And we love it.

Richard Ross, Muséum National D'Histoire Naturelle, Paris, France 1982 © the artist

If Making Nature had only been one room, it still would have been the best thing I’ve seen a museum do in ages. The first gallery had everything you could want from a gallery of art and science. Entitled ‘ Ordering’, the opening to the exhibition does a fantastic job of demonstrating how a museum can communicate a complex idea. The concept is just that, how humans have ordered the world. From the Bible to Linneaus to Bonnet’s ladder of natural being, humans have been trying to rationalize and categorize the world around them from day one. Archival documents are used to great effect – providing a sense of history and context, but without being too ‘this is a history lesson’. A poster of Juliana Pastrana, the Bearded Lady, asks us to consider what happens when something defies categorization. If you weren’t scared by the hidden taxidermy fox, you are lying. I genuinely jumped.

Roger Fenton, Skeleton of Man and of the Male Gorilla (Troglodytes Gorilla) II, c.1855 © Victoria and Albert Museum,

Making Nature is full of unusual display techniques, but they are all for a purpose. The idea that a curator has suggested this off the wall exhibition, conceptual design and someone said – yes we will support you in that, heartens me. We are not an industry that has to put out cookie cutter exhibitions. The Wellcome knew full well that putting taxidermy animals in unusual places (ie dead on the floor) would upset some people. But that’s kind of the point. The animals serve a dual purpose: to push you to think about conservation (there’s a reason why they’ve picked the examples they have cough badger) and to mix up the way we are used to viewing animals. Animals go in nice dioramas where they look like they are alive, right? Yeah but we made that. And that’s the point.

Richard Ross, British Museum, Natural History, London, England 1985 © the artist

I don’t want to go into every single detail and spoil the visit for you. Let’s just say, you’ll never look at Richard Owen’s ‘cathedral to science’ (aka the Natural History Museum) the same way again. Or the ZSL Zoo for that matter. But I did just want to say a few words about the last room about Postnatural History. It’s clear from the get-go that this room has been curated by someone different. The reliance on speakers to tell the narrative is a little jarring, and not all of the displays seem to fit in exactly with the theme as it explained in the room label. And while this was a bit off-putting for me at first, I’ll forgive it because its just so damn interesting. The Centre for Postnatural History is interested in how we are making new animals and purposefully modifying the natural world. From multi-coloured budgies to radioactive rodents to bacteria which has learned to say hello, are we looking at a nature which is no longer natural? The stories in this room are bizarre and somewhat frightening.

Transgenic mosquito (Aedes agypti), 2009, Pinned specimen © Center for PostNatural History

Making Nature is without a doubt challenging. It’s challenging to audiences who think they know about nature and how it works. Challenging to traditional exhibition design. And to be honest, morally challenging. Importantly, its self-reflective on the part of the museum community. How as we as institutions profoundly changed the way people understand nature, and in consequence, the way people use natural resources. It’s not going to be everyone’s cup of tea. Nature is about love not manipulation (oh please). As the parrots say, all nature ever did was love us, and how have we repaid them? Making Nature is what I hope museums are moving towards. Exhibitions that are complex, challenging, and invite comment. Something that moves beyond that one word catchy theme or celebrity subject. I can’t wait for Part 2!

Mauro Perucchetti's Jelly Babies Occupy The Halcyon Gallery and The Wellcome Collection

Mauro Perucchetti's 'UNICUM' at the Halcyon Gallery is an example of typical commercialized art... But I love it!

 Currently on display in their showroom on New Bond Street 'UNICUM' is a selection of works for sale by Perucchetti  focusing around the ideas of art as disposable in contemporary consumer society. 

You might know of his work from The Wellcome Collection,  that Giant Jelly Baby that occupies Medicine Now. Perhaps his best selling piece, these resin Jelly Babies feature in a range of sizes at this exhibition. As a commercial gallery the Halcyon is meant for selling, so turning up looking like a scruff in my work clothes I was not surprised that none of the incredibly preened 'art dealers' approached me to discuss  transportation costs. 

Wellcome's Jelly Baby 3. 

I found it disconcerting however how easily I fell in love with his work.Yes, they are bits of resin in  bright colours and recognisable shapes so immediately they're appealing, but I'm a sucker for Pop Art, besides my immediate desire I found I needed some sort of context to his work. Maybe it was because of a few skulls, some sparkly pills and that jelly baby that I was convinced  that there would be some medical background to his work. 

As the space lacked in information or approachable staff I checked out his website to find like all  (what he calls) 'Hip Pop Art' his work is a 'symbolism of the disposalbility that permeates all aspects of contemporary consumer society.'
Great, the same old artist line on social comment and consumerism. 

So hold on, why is Mauro Perucchetti's  Giant Jelly baby occupying a space in Medicine Now? I'm well aware that the interesting objects in their stores, of roughly the same size are plentiful. So what does the Jelly Baby have to do with medicine?

Of course The Wellcome Collection's website gave me the desired answer:

'Perucchetti works in polyurethane, a notoriously difficult resin made of many small, unstable urethane molecules in long chains. He creates works which are water-clear, strong and last forever. On one level, this work uses the jelly baby as a metaphor for cloned humans, which are identical to one another yet potentially not like other humans. On another level, it speaks to our increasing tendency to see human beings as chemical assemblages that temporarily stabilise the bases of DNA into long durable and comprehensible chains for the duration of our lives'

The Ministry salutes the Current Wellcome Curators, you have followed dutifully in the footsteps of Henry Wellcome and your mind acts as his. He would have bought it and contextualised it later, never failing to link it back to medicine. 

And that is is exactly why we love you. 

Find out more about...

 Mauro Perucchetti's work:  http://www.mauroperucchetti.com/about.html

The Jelly Baby at Wellcome Collection http://www.wellcomecollection.org/explore/life-genes--you/topics/genetics/images.aspx?view=jelly-baby-3

'UNCUM' Mauro Peruchetti is on at Halcyon Gallery until 12th May 2013
http://www.halcyongallery.com/exhibitions/mauro-perucchetti-unicum

A letter from the Ministry to the Cuming Museum

The Ministry would like to express our condolences to the Cuming Museum in Southwark, which caught fire yesterday afternoon. Almost everyone who works in a museum can tell you emotively about a time their building caught fire, was bombed or suffered flood damage. Sometimes I think we don’t consider a fire something that could happen to our museums in modern times, if only that was true.

Over the last 24 hours on twitter there has been an outpouring of sentiment from museum professionals who, like me, only have one question on their mind: ‘Why the hell didn’t I visit while I had the chance?’ Although the Cuming Museum is well known in the London museum community for its interesting exhibits, its Monday-Friday opening hours have made it something of an enigma for most of us. I couldn’t count the number of times I’ve been to Borough Market on a Saturday morning and thought, ‘Oh isn’t the Cuming Museum around here? I’d love to visit some time.’

There are lots of reasons to love the Cuming Museum and its collections which are as eccentric as Southwark itself. Let’s not forget that Southwark, situated in medieval times just outside the city gates, has been a crystallising point for everything marginal in London’s history. Bear-bating, stew-houses, theatres, markets, hospitals and body snatchers have all mingled in this part of the city. The Museum is particularly well known for the original collection of the Cuming family including ancient Egyptian objects and imports from across the Empire, as well as an interesting group of objects made by 19^th century forgers William Smith and Charles Eaton.

I was particularly keen to visit the Museum because it holds a large part of the collections of Edward Lovett, an early twentieth century anthropologist famously interested in the charms and magical practices of his contemporary London. There has been a resurgence in interest in Lovett as a collector of late, partially due to his strong ties with Henry Wellcome. Some academics have argued that Wellcome’s propensity to collect magical-medical charms from all over the world was directly influenced by Lovett and his interests. Wellcome did succeed in getting Lovett to sell some of his collection to him, but not all. Much of it came to rest in the Cuming Museum. Interestingly, the Wellcome Trust have recently come out with an app called ‘Magic London’ which draws on Lovett’s collection of London folklore from his book ‘Magic in Modern London’. Many of Lovett’s objects, particularly his blue bead necklaces believed to ward off bronchitis, were included in the Wellcome Collection’s Miracles and Charms exhibition in 2011.

The good news is that from initial reports it seems that the museum’s stores have not been particularly damaged. And as most museum professionals know, only a small proportion of objects are on display at a given time. Unfortunately for us, they tend to be our favourite ones. I am sure that the fire brigade did admirably in evacuating as many artefacts as possible, but I fear my wonderful bead necklaces may not have been a top priority.

When museums (and archives and libraries) suffer a disaster, our museum-loving hearts break. This is partially because we think of our collections as our children, but also because each museum represents many individual’s life work. Not only the people who made the objects or cared for them, but those who collected them, catalogued them, conserved them and displayed them. Museums are nothing if not a labour of love.

Hopefully the Southwark Council will be feeling giving when it comes to re-building the infrastructure of the museum, but no matter what the Cuming Museum has a long road ahead of it. Just the task of trying to re-identify salvaged objects will be Herculean, and I shudder to think what archival materials may have been lost. I’m not sure what assistance we could possibly offer, but maybe it’s enough to say this:

Dear Cuming Museum staff, supporters and friends, London’s museum community is with you. We are sorry for the terrible loss you have suffered, and we would help in any way we could. You are a valued member of our community and we look forward to when you can open your doors again. We are really going to be better at visiting the next time around. 

My Modern Valentine: To Katy Perry from Sir Henry Wellcome (1853-1936)

Love struck Wellcome

In order to diversify our #historyvalentine blog series, we thought we would ask recently re-animated historic figure Sir Henry Wellcome (early 20th century collector and pharmaceutical entrepreneur) to write in about a modern woman he fancies. This is what we received:

Dear Katy, 

I wonder if I might trouble you to be my Valentine? I am not a man to waste time, nor to prevaricate, and I therefore expect you to arrive on the next Aeroplane to arrive at the London Heathrow Airport. I will send a car for you, emblazoned with the manly Wellcome Unicorn.  

For your reference, very manly

I realise this must feel like an incredible honour to you: To be selected as the new wife of a reanimated pharmaceutical philanthropist is a dream of many young women, and you have probably never dared to hope that it might become a reality. I would ask you not to dwell on the fact for too long, as I can't bear a woman with an inflated sense of her own importance. 

The moment I saw you I knew that you were right for me. Like you I had a strongly conservative Christian upbringing, and eventually escaped it into a world where I am surrounded by pharmaceuticals. Like you I initially worked with a number of business partners who did not make my vision sufficiently central to the shared endeavour, but who I later shedded as I moved into the most successful stage of my career. The mangy cur Silas Burroughs was in many ways my Columbia Records - short-sighted, wrong-headed and unable to appreciate genius. 

The object of Henry's
(fairly sexist) affections

I have also selected you because unlike my first wife Syrie you appreciate the value of international travel, in my case to find artefacts and in yours to practice your art. I very much look forward to accompanying you on ventures such as VH1 Divas Support the Troops, where I hope to acquire many objects from the fascinating cultures within which the USA currently wages war. I regret the decision of the Trustees of my Foundation to surrender so much Mid-Eastern material to the British Museum, but will soon replenish it from Iraq, Afghanistan, Libya and the like. 

Unlike Syrie you already appreciate the folly of shacking-up with an "artistic" man (how I curse the usurper Maugham!) and are clearly now looking for someone more traditional, more conservative and more manly than the man/woman/orang-utan hybrid known as Russell Brand. 

I look forward to your telegraphed acceptance, and to us arranging a swift marriage. We will not remain Engagement Fellows (http://www.wellcome.ac.uk/Funding/Public-engagement/Funding-schemes/Engagement-Fellowships/index.htm) for long! 

Yours etc,

Sir Henry S. Wellcome FRS FRCS MCRP*

*=Member of the Council of Re-animated Pharmacists

Follow Henry on Twitter @Henry_Wellcome

Review: Death- A (Critical) Self-portrait

It is important to bear in mind when reading any review written by a member of the Collective that we are museum professionals, and as such view exhibitions in a very different way to the general public. When we walk into a gallery, our eye is immediately drawn by an exposed socket, a poorly hung label, or a badly conserved object. I hope with that in mind my thoughts on the Wellcome Collection's current exhibition 'Death- A Self-portrait' will be a bit more in perspective.

It seems that these days the Wellcome had made quite a name for itself with it's blockbuster exhibitions. Medical history is in vogue, and the Wellcome with its resources, vast historic collections and penchant for merging medicine and cutting-edge art is well placed to be a hot spot in the museum world. After their Miracles & Charms exhibition in the autumn, I was expecting to be blown away by Death. And well, I was not.

The thematic rooms by room organisation of the exhibition seemed stilted, and every inch of surface was covered in frames. I was in information overload after the first room. Visiting as I was with other museum professionals, we were all slightly irked by the low height of the labels, and the interpretation of some of the art works (but using interpretive labels with art is in itself very contentious). On an aesthetic level, the art works exploring death throughout time and across cultures is very beautiful. Yet everything seems a bit less chic, a bit less 'Wellcome' with fake furniture and fire places.

Just when I was getting ready to right off the exhibition, I came to the last themed section of the exhibition called 'Commemoration". Here, contemporary art exploring death and ancestor worship in South America was contrasted with stunning objects from Tibet including gilded skull bowls. Now here is what the Wellcome is known for: bringing together fascinating material culture with innovative art from around the world. I had forgotten for a moment I was in the Wellcome at all.

Then again, every object in the exhibition is from an external collector, Richard Harris. And while I'm sure Mr. Harris and the (external) exhibition designers had a very fun time putting it all together, it just doesn't feel very much like the Wellcome team was involved. Maybe it's because everyone is busy now preparing for the Wellcome Collection's very exciting development project (http://www.wired.co.uk/news/archive/2012-10/24/wellcome-collection-extension) but Death feels imported.

This is looking at the exhibition from a very critical and museum-biaised perspective. I can guarantee if you come by to visit, you will be amazed by beautiful Goya sketches, gruesome pictures of turn of the century dissections, and some ambitious art. I only wish Death had that off-beat and chic energy the Wellcome is known for, that special something that could help it compete with the Museum of London's enormously successful Doctors, Dissection and Resurrection Men. Worth a visit, but this exhibition feels more like the Richard Harris show.

Death: A Self-Portrait is on at the Wellcome Collection from the 15th of November 2012 to the 24th February 2013. Free Admission. http://www.wellcomecollection.org/whats-on/exhibitions/death-a-self-portrait.aspx

A plea from the collective

Please please if you know and love us, feel free to gift to us any and all items on sale at the Wellcome Collection shop. Books, jewellery, plush versions of viruses, pens that look like syringes...Christmas is just around the corner!

Love, the Collective xxx

(PS for more Christmas shopping ideas see our Ultimate Christmas List!)

Irony at the Wellcome

Only the most committed of museum lovers come to exhibitions in ironic t-shirts