Wednesday 25 November 2009

The Hunterian Museum at the Royal College of Surgeons

The Hunterian Museum, named after the 18th century anatomist and surgeon John Hunter, is perhaps one of the most disconcerting places to visit in London, and as such is not recommended for the squeamish. It lies inside the grand Royal College of Surgeons which takes up most of the south side of Lincoln's Inn Fields, a typical London square bursting with interest. Open from 10 am to 5 pm Tuesdays to Saturdays, it is free to enter. Simply collect a visitor's pass from the front desk, walk up the staircase along which portraits of past Fellows of the College stare out, and enter the lower level of the museum.

Most immediately striking is the sheer quantity of specimens on display. Brightly illuminated glass cabinets are full to bursting with jars containing bits and pieces of every creature imaginable. From the tongue of a chameleon to the large intestine of a whale, the specimens are both fascinating and repulsive. Apart from those few examples where the entire animal is contained within its formaldehyde tomb, it is almost impossible without hunting out the label to guess the organism from which the sample came.

Around the edge of the room are displays which detail the history of both the College and of the science of anatomy in general. These are illustrated by both its human samples and by the tools that were used to obtain them. A particularly interesting exhibit shows large wooden dissecting boards with a different section of the nervous system on each. Less easily stomached are the examples of diseased body parts, showing starkly how things in the body can go horribly wrong. Other curiosities worth singling out are the towering skeleton of Charles Byrne, a so-called 'Irish Giant' whose body was collected by Hunter contrary to his wishes, and the pickled brain of the father of computing, Charles Babbage.

Picture by Paul Dean

For some light relief, head to the far end of the museum where a small collection of paintings are hung. These are not the kind of pictures that would normally be found in an art gallery, not due to lack of merit but rather due to the unusual subject matter. They depict people or animals which would have been highly novel at the time of painting: a rhinoceros hangs close to a portrait of a native American; a hugely obese man looks across at a noble with dwarfism.

Upstairs the exhibitions are more informative and less nausea-inducing. Here the story of surgery is dealt with, moving from Joseph Lister's groundbreaking discovery of antiseptics to bang-up-to-date methods such as keyhole surgery. It is staggering how much practices have evolved and improved over the past hundred years or so. I left the museum feeling slightly freaked out, but also very glad that I was born now rather than in the times when barber-surgeons considered a filthy, blood spattered apron to be a badge of honour.

The photograph on the top left of this post shows the skeleton of a hydrocephalus sufferer.

Tuesday 3 November 2009

Sir John Soane's Museum

Sir John Soane (1753 - 1837) was the architect who designed, amongst many other buildings, the Bank of England. Strongly influenced by what he saw on an early study tour to Italy, he decided to specialise in the neoclassical style, bringing the majesty and elegance of Greece and Rome to his own country. He did not allow his humble beginnings as the youngest son of a bricklayer to impede him; thanks to his inclination to work hard and his natural talent he soon found success and was able to thrive. A few years after winning the Bank of England commission he purchased number 12, Lincoln's Inn Fields, eventually acquiring numbers 13 and 14 as well. It is in these houses that the museum now lies.

Soane was passionate about his favourite branch of architecture and sought to pass this enthusiasm on to students. He therefore transformed his house into a museum showcasing the best of classical design, not only by displaying ancient objects but by manipulating the rooms themselves. He hoped that young architects would come into the house and find inspiration, encouraging them to incorporate some of what they saw into their own plans. Every nook and corner is filled with another treasure: a piece of fresco here, a cast of a statue there. As the rooms themselves are mostly quite small this proliferation of objects could easily feel claustrophobic, however Soane’s canny use of light, often entering the interior through coloured glass, alleviates any sense of enclosure.

It is difficult to pick out highlights in a museum so full of interest, and where the building itself is such an attraction, but there are nonetheless a few things which truly stand out. One of these is the sarcophagus of King Seti the first, residing in the catacomb-like basement. Although the London air has unfortunately corroded away much of its former glory, this find, one of the most important relics ever found of ancient Egypt, is hugely impressive, being entirely covered in skilfully-etched hieroglyphics. The catacombs also contain a grave, supposedly that of the invented monk Padre Giovanni, but actually containing the remains of Mrs Soane’s beloved lap dog Fanny.

The picture room is truly a marvel. Faced with a large number of paintings and not enough space in which to hang them, Soane devised a novel solution: what appear initially to be static walls loaded with artwork are in fact hinged screens which can open out to reveal yet more pictures behind. The paintings themselves are more than worthy of note. Perhaps most striking are those by William Hogarth, of which there are two series: 'An Election' and 'A Rake’s Progress', highly satirical works whose messages are just as relevant today as they were in the 1700s. In addition to these are drawings of Italian buildings by Piranesi and watercolours of several of Soane's designs by Joseph Gandy. Had all of these latter actually been built, London today would be a very different place indeed. One view of the city is particularly far-fetched, having grand mountains as its backdrop, so perhaps these ideas were based more in Romanticism than in reality.

Soane's museum is not on the standard tourist itinerary, and so is often one of the last museums that people get round to visiting. Once they have done so however, it becomes a firm favourite. The house is not that large, and so it does not take long to wander around it, and it is definitely time well spent. The staff are friendly and knowledgeable; it is obvious that they are passionate about the place and enjoy showing it off. An extra bonus is that the museum is completely free, although it is so good that it feels rude to leave without giving a donation. After all, there are few places in London as interesting or as atmospheric.

The museum's website

Lincoln's Inn Fields is an attractive London square located just east of Kinsgway. Sir John Soane's Museum is on the northern edge. The southern edge is home to the Royal College of Surgeons and Lincoln's Inn itself lies on the east side. The closest tube station, just two minutes walk away, is Holborn (Central and Piccadilly lines).

Moctezuma at the British Museum

I had never been to an exhibition at the British Museum before last week, mostly due to the fact that there are a staggering number of interesting things that you can see there for free. Handing over at least £10 for a ticket has therefore never seemed necessary, and, if the current Moctezuma display is representative of these exhibitions, is not something that I will be doing again in a hurry.

It doesn't help that they have taken over the reading room in order to stage this exhibition. I love the reading room. With its multiple storeys of heaving bookshelves running around the outer wall, all in good old-fashioned heavy dark wood, and its desks protruding in a star-like fashion from the centre, it is my idea of heaven. Having all its glory hidden away behind screens irks me. Especially when the reason for it is so underwhelming.

The major failing of Moctezuma is that it doesn't have a coherent story to tell. There are indeed some nice objects to look at (although the masks that were my favourites are normally available to see in the Museum anyway), but many of the descriptions are repetitive and failed to provide any useful insight. The exhibition is supposedly divided up into sections on such things as religion and warfare, although if it weren't for the signs it would be difficult to tell this. Little is truly engaging, which is a huge disappointment as it wouldn't have taken much extra effort to make this a must-see event.

For example, there was a diagram comprising of three gears showing how the Aztec’s, or rather the Mexica’s, (the refusal to call people by their commonly known names was another annoyance) calendar worked. Why not make actual gears rather than just drawing them, so that people could move them and hence understand better how the whole system slotted together? Instead of just having small models of temple buildings why not make a mock-up of the interior of one of them that people could walk through? The Aztec way of drawing is highly stylised and figures are often difficult to pick out on the un-painted stonework, so why not give an explanation as to why their artists worked in this way?

I came away not really knowing what Moctezuma was like as a king, what society was like in the Aztec civilisation, or how the ordinary people went about their days, all things that I had hoped that the exhibition would shed light on. I could probably now sketch out a map of the centre of Tenochtitlan, or tell you the outline of the myths surrounding its creation, but I didn't feel in immersed in the culture. I appreciate that there are many things that we just don't know due to the Spanish invasion, but even if it wasn't completely accurate a bit of speculation could have added much needed colour, and the points we can be more certain on could have been fleshed out. The exhibition has received rave reviews, and so maybe I just didn't 'get' it, but I would still caution those thinking of spending a lot of money on a ticket.

Montezuma: Aztec Ruler

The Monument

A good way to get a panoramic view of London is to climb the Monument. Erected from 1671 to 1677, it was designed (as were great swathes of the City) by Sir Christopher Wren and commemorates the Great Fire of London in 1666. The height of the Monument, at 61 m, is equal to the distance between its base and the site of the bakery in Pudding Lane where the conflagration started. A towering Doric pillar of white Portland limestone, the Monument is the tallest freestanding stone column in the world, and yet nowadays it is barely visible, its dominance having been usurped by the numerous high-rise buildings that have sprung up around it. It is hence something to be stumbled upon, rather than to be admired in awe from afar.

Despite this, the view from the top is surprisingly good, and well worth the meagre £3 entry charge. The towering skyscrapers of the City, such as the famous Gherkin, and the vast dome of St Paul's Cathedral dominate the view to the north, but to the south the view opens out over the river. Tower Bridge lies a little way to the east, and to the west it is possible to make out the London Eye, carrying round in its pods the tourists who have paid far more for their panorama.

One of the best things to see, however, lies within the Monument itself. To reach the viewing platform it is necessary to climb 311 steps, which ascend their way heavenwards in a tight spiral. Once at the top it is mesmerising to stare downwards into the pillar’s core, looking at the stairs as they go round and round and round...

If you visit, do spare a thought for those who work in this place. As I descended the steps with a friend we were stopped by a terrified woman going in the opposite direction. Her eyes glued to her feet the whole time, she hastily thrust a couple of certificates in our direction. We thanked her, and she explained that she had to go up to the top to make sure everyone got this memento of their visit. Unfortunately, this simple task was made rather daunting due to the fact that she was petrified of heights...

Picture from Wikimedia Commons user Artybrad

The Monument's website

Pollock's Toy Museum

London, a place where I have been spending a lot of time recently, is full of things to see and do. Unfortunately this fact is well known and so it is also full of people, who are wont to get in the way and detract from the whole experience. It is rather harder to appreciate a painting if there is a crowd three-deep in front of it, for example. I have therefore been trying to seek out the less obvious places to go in an attempt to escape the hordes of tourists.

One such place is Pollock’s Toy Museum, situated just off Tottenham Court Road just west of Goodge Street tube station. Despite containing hundreds, if not thousands, of toys, this is not a museum aimed at children. Walking inside is like entering an Angela Carter novel and can be rather disconcerting. Eyes stare at you from everywhere: from the cracked wax face of an ancient doll, the threadbare head of a long-dead child's prized teddy bear, the maniacal glare of a wooden Punch puppet. A place not of dreams but of nightmares.

The building itself adds to the mood. Despite being two houses joined together the feeling is one of claustrophobia, with narrow twisting staircases leading to a maze-like collection of tiny rooms. Every bit of wall holds a display case, the contents collected together in themes which vary from room to room. There are doll's houses, wind-up tin machines, toy theatres, board games; toys from Europe, the Far East and Africa; soldiers, castles, farmyards. I especially appreciated a beautifully-made wooden Noah's ark in which the grasshoppers were the same size as the lions.

It is both fascinating and frightening, it makes the visitor feel both illuminated and ill at ease. But most of all, it makes you wonder why our ancestors insisted on making children's playthings that were so downright creepy. Then again, with things like Bratz dolls currently being hugely popular, maybe all kids want is to be given the heebie jeebies...

Pollock's Toy Museum

Image by user Mupshot on Wikimedia Commons