Awe and wonder are tools that natural history museums regularly put to good use. The sheer size and scale of whale, mammoth and dinosaur skeletons, for example, or the majesty of taxidermy tigers, usually provokes an emotional response from visitors. But this is not the path taken by the Natural History Museum’s exhibition, Venom: Killer and Cure, where only one of the specimens, a Komodo dragon, exceeds a metre in length. They deploy a different tactic: dread.
A number of the decisions surrounding the curation and promotion of this exhibition seem designed to provoke excitement around the danger of the subject matter. Rather than a photo of an object that appears in the exhibition, the lead marketing image is of a live snake, its mouth agape as it strikes towards the camera. Similarly, the list of exhibition highlights on the museum’s website begins with the promise of an unspecified “live venomous creature”, which turns out to be a huge tarantula.
I assume these marketing decisions were made because the objects in isolation, without the amazing stories provided by the interpretation, would not sell the drama easily or play on visitors’ fears. The species on display are fascinating, but mostly tiny – insects, spiders and frogs; and very many of the specimens included are necessarily preserved in jars. They are beautiful and intriguing, but fluid preservation is arguably the display technique that most obviously reminds visitors that these animals are dead, and therefore not live and dangerous, which would have helped to promote the exhibition.
A pair of rooms divide the displays into the two themes of the show’s subtitle: Killer and Cure. The design of the first section heightens the “killer” drama – everything is black: the walls, floor, cabinets and labels; and many of the objects are lit spectacularly from below.
But what I found most effective was the interpretation – it was superb. I have rarely seen dramatic writing employed in museum labels, particularly in scientific subjects – here it is used to excellent effect: “Eyes wide with shock, a cold shiver of warning slides down your spine – something is not right. Pure fear reaches your core. You have just been envenomed.”
Experimenting with text
In recent years it seems to me that the Natural History Museum has been experimenting with different writing styles in its temporary exhibitions. The standard model for interpreting animals in museums has always been the statement of facts in a relatively neutral voice, which varies little between different museums. To a degree of approximation, all natural history museums essentially have the same animals in their displays, and they tend to say very similar things about them in their interpretation. This is not to say that “normal” museum labels can’t be engaging, well-written and interesting, but it has been refreshing to see what the Natural History Museum has been doing lately.
In its outstanding 2016 Colour and Vision exhibition, the museum employed modes that can only be described as creative writing: “Nature has inspired us with its palette, and so we too paint our world to bring it to life… Colour is music to our eyes.”
The tone of the Whales: Beneath the Surface exhibition (ends 28 February) plays with being far more conversational, appearing to borrow a style more like documentary scripts or magazine articles than traditional museum labels.
For me, they have all been highly effective. There is real risk that attempting any of these dramatic, creative or journalistic voices only comes across as hokey or contrived, but I felt they successfully avoided these pitfalls.
Fascinating stories
Some of the animals that relate to the topic of venom are arguably hard to display well (which is one of the reasons that pinned insects and spiders are rarely well-represented in permanent galleries), and at times these objects are overshadowed by the stories in the labels.
Those stories are, however, fascinating – and as I explored I found people at nearly every display sharing what they had just read with their companions. For instance, who could fail to be impressed with the newt that pushes its sharpened ribs out through its own skin, picking up toxins on the way, and stabs them into its attacker?
One display explained the Schmidt pain index for venomous creatures – named after a man who encouraged different species to bite or sting him so he could rank the intensity of the pain, and elaborately and poetically describe the specific sensations.
Again, the words were excellent, but museums are challenged when the stories they want to tell are let down by the visual realities of the objects. Venom manages to justify their inclusion, but I don’t know how museums can make individual pinned ants look good.
That said, the beautifully presented jars of snakes, the rotund taxidermy platypus, and the huge, genuinely awe-inspiring fluid-preserved Komodo dragon all make up for their diminutive colleagues.
The exhibition’s selective use of media is highly effective – videos of the species in action are well chosen and instructive, making it a lot easier to understand how each venom is put to use. An extremely atmospheric cartoon of stylised silhouettes of some of the exhibition’s scarier species had one young visitor utterly transfixed and terrified to exactly the right level on my visit.
The second room is dedicated to the less dramatic subject of the science of using natural venoms in medicine. It is designed to mimic the feel of a clinical research lab, and I felt the appropriation of entire cabinets filled with empty specimen jars for set-dressing was a bit of a waste of space, which is a shame as the exhibition itself isn’t huge. The writing here is less dramatic, but still engaging. However, perhaps there is more to read than there was to see. Nonetheless, such themes are critical in highlighting the vital importance of natural history to human and global health.
Subjects like this one present a few challenges – in how to display less “impressive” specimens with brilliant stories, and how to communicate some difficult medical science with their collections. This exhibition is a lesson in how to write museum labels.
Jack Ashby is the manager of the Grant Museum of Zoology, University College London
Audience research has told us that people, particularly adults, crave a variety of experiences and expect a combination of science, emotion and cultural learning during their visit.
Through a new wave of public offers we have aimed to challenge visitors’ perceptions of the natural world, society’s place within it and the role of the museum. Venom builds on this, actively seeking to tell stories based on our world-leading science and wider society, through innovative design and interpretation.
When we started work on the exhibition, we felt it was an opportunity to take the successes of the Colour and Vision exhibition of 2016 one step further. By using venom’s emotional impact and gruesomeness, we hoped to trigger tension throughout the exhibition and play on the fear and fascination of visitors to draw them deeper into the intriguing world of our specimens. This was a key objective of the exhibition, reflected in the interpretation and the design.
The translucent skins imagined by exhibition designer Drinkall Dean, the personal tone used throughout, the combination of digital content and specimens in jars, and Rhea Thierstein’s sculpture of a cobra fighting a mongoose, were all intended to remove visitors from their comfort zone, and to challenge their views of the natural world.
Raphael Chanay is the interpretation manager at the Natural History Museum, London
Main funder In house
Exhibition design Drinkall Dean
Lighting design Lux Lucis
Display cases Florea
Exhibition fit-out contractor The Hub
Graphic design Margot Lombaert Studio
AV design Beakus, SDNA, The Natural History Museum
Exhibition ends 13 May
Admission Adult £9; child and concession £5; family £21. On the door: adult £10.50; child and concession £6.50; family £25.50. Free for members, patrons and children under four
A number of the decisions surrounding the curation and promotion of this exhibition seem designed to provoke excitement around the danger of the subject matter. Rather than a photo of an object that appears in the exhibition, the lead marketing image is of a live snake, its mouth agape as it strikes towards the camera. Similarly, the list of exhibition highlights on the museum’s website begins with the promise of an unspecified “live venomous creature”, which turns out to be a huge tarantula.
I assume these marketing decisions were made because the objects in isolation, without the amazing stories provided by the interpretation, would not sell the drama easily or play on visitors’ fears. The species on display are fascinating, but mostly tiny – insects, spiders and frogs; and very many of the specimens included are necessarily preserved in jars. They are beautiful and intriguing, but fluid preservation is arguably the display technique that most obviously reminds visitors that these animals are dead, and therefore not live and dangerous, which would have helped to promote the exhibition.
A pair of rooms divide the displays into the two themes of the show’s subtitle: Killer and Cure. The design of the first section heightens the “killer” drama – everything is black: the walls, floor, cabinets and labels; and many of the objects are lit spectacularly from below.
But what I found most effective was the interpretation – it was superb. I have rarely seen dramatic writing employed in museum labels, particularly in scientific subjects – here it is used to excellent effect: “Eyes wide with shock, a cold shiver of warning slides down your spine – something is not right. Pure fear reaches your core. You have just been envenomed.”
Experimenting with text
In recent years it seems to me that the Natural History Museum has been experimenting with different writing styles in its temporary exhibitions. The standard model for interpreting animals in museums has always been the statement of facts in a relatively neutral voice, which varies little between different museums. To a degree of approximation, all natural history museums essentially have the same animals in their displays, and they tend to say very similar things about them in their interpretation. This is not to say that “normal” museum labels can’t be engaging, well-written and interesting, but it has been refreshing to see what the Natural History Museum has been doing lately.
In its outstanding 2016 Colour and Vision exhibition, the museum employed modes that can only be described as creative writing: “Nature has inspired us with its palette, and so we too paint our world to bring it to life… Colour is music to our eyes.”
The tone of the Whales: Beneath the Surface exhibition (ends 28 February) plays with being far more conversational, appearing to borrow a style more like documentary scripts or magazine articles than traditional museum labels.
For me, they have all been highly effective. There is real risk that attempting any of these dramatic, creative or journalistic voices only comes across as hokey or contrived, but I felt they successfully avoided these pitfalls.
Fascinating stories
Some of the animals that relate to the topic of venom are arguably hard to display well (which is one of the reasons that pinned insects and spiders are rarely well-represented in permanent galleries), and at times these objects are overshadowed by the stories in the labels.
Those stories are, however, fascinating – and as I explored I found people at nearly every display sharing what they had just read with their companions. For instance, who could fail to be impressed with the newt that pushes its sharpened ribs out through its own skin, picking up toxins on the way, and stabs them into its attacker?
One display explained the Schmidt pain index for venomous creatures – named after a man who encouraged different species to bite or sting him so he could rank the intensity of the pain, and elaborately and poetically describe the specific sensations.
Again, the words were excellent, but museums are challenged when the stories they want to tell are let down by the visual realities of the objects. Venom manages to justify their inclusion, but I don’t know how museums can make individual pinned ants look good.
That said, the beautifully presented jars of snakes, the rotund taxidermy platypus, and the huge, genuinely awe-inspiring fluid-preserved Komodo dragon all make up for their diminutive colleagues.
The exhibition’s selective use of media is highly effective – videos of the species in action are well chosen and instructive, making it a lot easier to understand how each venom is put to use. An extremely atmospheric cartoon of stylised silhouettes of some of the exhibition’s scarier species had one young visitor utterly transfixed and terrified to exactly the right level on my visit.
The second room is dedicated to the less dramatic subject of the science of using natural venoms in medicine. It is designed to mimic the feel of a clinical research lab, and I felt the appropriation of entire cabinets filled with empty specimen jars for set-dressing was a bit of a waste of space, which is a shame as the exhibition itself isn’t huge. The writing here is less dramatic, but still engaging. However, perhaps there is more to read than there was to see. Nonetheless, such themes are critical in highlighting the vital importance of natural history to human and global health.
Subjects like this one present a few challenges – in how to display less “impressive” specimens with brilliant stories, and how to communicate some difficult medical science with their collections. This exhibition is a lesson in how to write museum labels.
Jack Ashby is the manager of the Grant Museum of Zoology, University College London
Focus on: interpretation
Venom: Killer or Cure is a conscious attempt by the Natural History Museum to move away from traditional interpretations of natural history collections.Audience research has told us that people, particularly adults, crave a variety of experiences and expect a combination of science, emotion and cultural learning during their visit.
Through a new wave of public offers we have aimed to challenge visitors’ perceptions of the natural world, society’s place within it and the role of the museum. Venom builds on this, actively seeking to tell stories based on our world-leading science and wider society, through innovative design and interpretation.
When we started work on the exhibition, we felt it was an opportunity to take the successes of the Colour and Vision exhibition of 2016 one step further. By using venom’s emotional impact and gruesomeness, we hoped to trigger tension throughout the exhibition and play on the fear and fascination of visitors to draw them deeper into the intriguing world of our specimens. This was a key objective of the exhibition, reflected in the interpretation and the design.
The translucent skins imagined by exhibition designer Drinkall Dean, the personal tone used throughout, the combination of digital content and specimens in jars, and Rhea Thierstein’s sculpture of a cobra fighting a mongoose, were all intended to remove visitors from their comfort zone, and to challenge their views of the natural world.
Raphael Chanay is the interpretation manager at the Natural History Museum, London
Project data
Cost £800,000Main funder In house
Exhibition design Drinkall Dean
Lighting design Lux Lucis
Display cases Florea
Exhibition fit-out contractor The Hub
Graphic design Margot Lombaert Studio
AV design Beakus, SDNA, The Natural History Museum
Exhibition ends 13 May
Admission Adult £9; child and concession £5; family £21. On the door: adult £10.50; child and concession £6.50; family £25.50. Free for members, patrons and children under four
