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With so many blockbuster shows at the Museum of Natural History, it's easy to lose sight of the museum's permanent exhibits, some of which clearly have not been changed since before the Berlin Wall fell and the Soviet Union disappeared. While reading a review on Saturday of Stephen Quinn's Windows on Nature: The Great Habitat Dioramas of the American Museum of Natural History, I decided it was time to revisit and rethink these exhibits, classic examples of approaches to depicting habitats in museums from the early- to mid-20th century.
My thoughts on dioramas were tempered by visits throughout the 1990s to museums of ethnology throughout Europe, Russia (including Siberia) and China, where fascinating yet sometimes crude and downright ethnocentric exhibits and forced guided tours still underscored how a dominant culture looks askance at minorities within its own borders as well as natives of other countries. To be sure, one of history's (and certainly the 20th century's) most frequently-rendered museum lessons from a didactic perspective can be reduced to: the mighty conquer the weak. Most lilely my rose-colored museum glasses were additionally tinted by John Berger's classic 1980 essay "Why Look at Animals?" as well as Catherine Lutz's 1983 book Reading National Geographic. Because it's not just that these dioramas have monumental and historical qualities that endlessly fascinate, but they also tell us much about who we were.
And in this age of globalization and global warming, the lack of visitors to these parts of the museum tell us about who we are now. As wild turkeys and a coyote have encroached on Manhattan in recent weeks, I wonder if the call of the wild beckons more—or less. Based on the crowds I observed at the museum—granted, it was a holiday weekend—it seems the dioramas, gems and minerals attract and fascinate less than ever. Granted, it is tough for a stuffed bear—several decades old at that—to compete with multimedia exhibits, IMAX, and large-scale depictions of the solar system. But perhaps it underscores our weird relationship with nature these days, both as tamer and master, how we are increasingly divorced from nature as we continue to modify it. The mountain goat and Alaska brown bear in particular are two exhibits worth studying, for the average American is unlikely to ever see these two animals except in captivity. But the surroundings depicted in these dioramas are equally enchanting, stilted and charming in a way that children of the digital age doubtless have trouble understanding. Stated differently, they look quite dated, even despite a virtual refreshing on the museum's website.
On to the Halls of Minerals and Gems, where a number of specimens are from "West Germany," "East Germany," and the "U.S.S.R." (For reference, next week's World Cup takes place in a Germany that's been united for over 15 years.) In my 30 minutes spent gazing at substantial chunks of minerals and spectacular gems, I encountered only a handful of other visitors. Granted, access to these Halls is complicated at present, requiring you to pass through exhibits on Central America, then to take an elevator (not terribly well-marked) that opens on to the Hall of Meteorites. The video presentation appears to hail from the golden age of filmstrips, and it did not seem clear to some visitors from the Deep South exactly why the Hall is kept so dark. Despite some dazzling items in the collection, clearly revamping the earth science and geology sections have been on the back burner for some time. Given those curious radioactive as well as fluorescing minerals in addition to those stunning gems, crystals and beautifully-carded jade, surely something more could be done to bring all these dioramas and exhibits into the 21st century?
Merely standing in the endless line awaiting an entrance ticket, confounded and confronted by several add-on choices for the special exhibits, underscores how moneymaking and actually turning a profit are foremost on a museum director's mind these days. I could not help but tell some visiting naval officers standing in front of me that general admission is only suggested, and one need not pay the full $15. I also told them the line was far shorter than the previous Sunday, when three of the automated ticket kiosks were out of order. Technology brings us so many wonders, and with us the necessary crowds to pay a high price to keep a world-class museum open. Yet looking at the natural world of the past century, I would hope we won't let classic exhibits wither and perish along with the filmstrip.
photo credit: American Museum of Natural History
Tags:
alaskan brown bear, halls of gems and minerals, museum of natural history, stephen quinn
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Posted on 5/30/2006
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