I Spy a Thistle

I spy a thistle, a moth, eight shells of blue, a pea, a ptarmigan, a recipe too; 
a pair drinking nectar, young with fur quite a mess, a slipper, lily, an antler to impress. 

The Museum's collection includes a number
of local flowers preserved in acrylic by Lois Nestel.

The Museum holds a variety of wondrous, bizarre, and sometimes unsettling elements of our natural world. Even though we work to organize each object in both a physical and theoretical sense, there remains some novelty in experiencing a collection which is not grouped by object type. Seemingly random assortments can be just as intriguing as scientific categories, too. 

Before joining the Museum as Curator, a college lecture left me fascinated by the history of "cabinets of curiosities." Prior to museums becoming established institutions in any sense, the practice of creating these cabinets was rather popular among the wealthy in Renaissance Europe. Collectors showcased large assemblages of intriguing objects in literal cabinets or even entire rooms. Some collections brought together scientific instruments, some included exotic flora and fauna, others fabricated creatures. This practice continued through time and extended into other parts of the world, joining such objects as interesting horns and fetal animals. 

The horn of an American bison actually functions as
a hollow sheath which fits over a bone-like core. A fetal
beaver does not have horns, but both specimens will
be on display together in a cabinet of curiosities.

So, what do a bison horn and fetal beaver have in common? Perhaps only their relationship to the collector. A cabinet of curiosities tells us more about the interests of the collector than it does of each object. Although no specimens at the Museum may ever be regarded as "my" collection, I have naturally come to think of many of the specimens as pieces that I would appreciate in a personal cabinet of curiosities. This has inspired two of the Museum's most recent displays. 

Beyond a bison horn and fetal beaver in a jar, study skins and preserved fungi now occupy a first cabinet. This cabinet has been imagined as a collection of unnerving objects. Some visitors may be off put by the sight of fluid preserved mammals, while others may see a crow and think back to their ominous call during a gray autumn evening. Each individual object has fascinated me in some way, and as a collection they take on a whole new effect. 

"An unnerving museum for the imagination."

The next cabinet is an attempt to delight visitors--with antique boxes harboring beautiful egg shells collected between the 1920's and 1930's. Shelves are further lined with preserved plants with flowers as vibrant as the day they were picked, and sparkling amethyst crystals. The cabinet includes various other delights, from a thistle to a recipe, or a hummingbird to an antler. 

"A delightful Museum for the imagination."

Through these new displays, I hope to pay homage to a practice which metamorphosed into our modern understanding of a museum. Sure, I find it rewarding to simply expose visitors to an "unorganized" collection of my favorite specimens too, but I imagine anyone will appreciate each individual object nonetheless.