Bee beautiful

Our conservator Bethany Palumbo tells us how she restored a beautiful 19th-century papier-mâché model of a honeybee hive, created by master model-maker and anatomist Louis Thomas Jérôme Auzoux

Louis Thomas Jérôme Auzoux

Although the Museum’s collections are mostly of organic specimens, we also hold a fascinating collection of scientific models made to represent the natural world, made from all types of materials, from wax and cardboard to plaster and paint.

We are lucky enough to own a model made by esteemed French anatomist Louis Auzoux (1797-1880), who in the late 19th century developed a method of building strong yet light papier-mâché models that could be taken apart and rebuilt, allowing internal elements such as tissues and organs to be studied in detail.

Model of a honeybee hive in box with six bees, by Louis Auzoux

While Auzoux made many models demonstrating human anatomy, he later expanded his business to include magnified models of plants and insects. The model we have is of a honeybee hive, containing six beautiful bees.

The hive, painted with a protein-based paint and varnished with gelatine, is large enough to allow the viewer to see the fine details of the hive, including individual chambers containing tiny larvae.

As you can see in the image at the top of the article, the bees themselves are also intricately painted, with rabbit hair used to simulate their natural fuzz, and delicate wings constructed from metal wire.

While there was much to admire about this model, it was in received in poor condition. Previous restoration attempts had introduced many materials that were now failing. There were fills, constructed of paper, applied to areas in an attempt to hide cracks in the original model. These were covered in oil paint, which was dripping over the original paintwork and had become brittle and discoloured.

Oil paint layers were peeling from the model

The whole hive was coated in a layer of cellulose nitrate film, a popular coating in the mid-20th century which was used as protection and to create a gloss finish. This coating doesn’t age well, resulting in peeling. It had also been applied to the bees themselves, clumping together the bee ‘fuzz’ and disguising the paintwork underneath.

The priority for treatment was to return the model to its original form while stabilising it for the future.

I undertook treatment in several stages over the course of six months. First, the cellulose nitrate film was removed from all areas using acetone, which could be applied with a cotton bud and fortunately didn’t affect the paint layer beneath.

Fill material used to cover previous damage had become discoloured

The next stage was to remove the discoloured oil paint from the hive. This was done manually using metal and wooden tools lubricated with white spirit, which were used to gently scrape the surface under magnification. This revealed old fills on the hive, made from a combination of plastic tape, paper and old adhesives which also needed to be removed. They were easily softened with water and gently peeled away.

Once all unstable introduced materials were removed, work began to stabilise the original model. The bees were suffering from paint cracking and peeling, as seen in the magnified photograph below.

Peeling paint at 6x magnification

We decided to consolidate this using gelatine as it would be in keeping with the original construction and could easily be reversed if necessary. Gelatine was mixed in water and warmed to make it a thin consistency, and then applied with a paintbrush. Once the paint flakes had softened they could be gently pressed down. Gelatine was also used with acid-free tissue to stabilise the cracks and areas of surface loss on the hive.

With the hive and bees now clean and stable, the quality of this piece and its incredible paintwork can really be admired. We hope to put it on display soon for all our visitors to enjoy!

Bacteria: captured and cultured

For our new exhibition, Bacterial World, we embarked an exciting science/art experiment to make visible the colonies of bacteria present on a wide range of our everyday items and belongings. Once cultured and photographed, eight of these colonies were captured by artist Elin Thomas as a set of crochet artworks that are on display in the exhibition. Our exhibitions officer Kelly Richards tells us more…

For every human cell in your body, a bacterial cell is also present. These bacteria are part of our microbiome, a vast array of microorganisms that use our body as a home and our food as a source of nutrients. In return, the bacteria help us to digest food, maintain our immune systems and keep dangerous bacteria at bay. In fact without these bacteria we would be very sick indeed.

It’s hard to see our microbiome because individual bacteria can easily be as small as 0.2 microns; you could fit over a thousand of these smallest bacteria on one side of a red blood cell. But if we can select and artificially grow the bacteria, their colonies become living, breathing cities visible to the naked eye.

Click the images above to find out more about culturing bacterial colonies

Colonies, both natural and artificial, can contain billions of bacteria as well as the materials that they secrete such as slime, which helps them to move across surfaces, and antibiotics, which kill off other bacterial colonies that could compete for food and space. In their attempts to dominate the space and food available, as well as get enough oxygen to live, colonies can create beautiful, complex structures.

We had a go at visualising the bacteria that live invisibly alongside us by asking visitors to take part in a simple experiment. With the help of microbiologist Rachael Wilkinson, we took items such as coins, keys and jewellery and touched them lightly against agar plates – dishes containing a nutrient-rich jelly that aids bacterial growth. The agar plates were then given to Nicole Stoesser, a clinical microbiologist at the John Radcliffe Hospital, who grew them in the safe environment of the laboratory.

Many different types of colonies grew from the objects we printed. In the collage above, eight of these colonies have been represented as crocheted Petri dishes by artist Elin Thomas. These artworks are on display in the Bacterial World exhibition until 28 May 2019.

In the gallery below is a photograph of every participant’s plate, whether anything grew in it or not. Click on an image to see a larger version. If you took part in the experiment you will be able to identify your own plate from its number.

The results go to show that we really are living in a bacterial world!

From pin to paper

Katherine Child, image technician in the Museum’s Life collections, doesn’t just use photography to capture the beauty of specimens. She is also an artist and has been trying out innovative techniques for her paintings. You may remember her amazing moth illustrations created with deposits of verdigris on pinned insects and she’s now using that technique to explore Museum staff’s favourite insect specimens.

Verdigris is a green corrosion often found on old pins within entomology collections (as well as elsewhere, on things like statues and copper pipes). Last year, after learning that the substance was once used as a pigment, I decided to try and make my own paint.

A clearwing moth before conservation, showing verdigris spreading where metal reacts with insect fats, or lipids.

Verdigris forms when copper or a copper alloy reacts with water, oxygen, carbon dioxide or sulphur. While a beautiful shade of green, the substance is damaging in natural history collections, where it can actually develop inside specimens and if left, split them irreversibly. So as part of the conservation of the Hope Entomological Collections, verdigris is removed.

I started to collect up the substance as it was cleaned from specimens and after about three years (you only get a little bit per pin) I was ready to make my paint! After my first moth project, the only question was, what to paint next…?

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Byctiscus populi or ‘The Attelabid that changed my life’, chosen by Zoë (collections manager) who said ‘I saw a pink version of this species in the Natural History Museum in London and that’s when I decided I wanted to study entomology’.

With an estimated 6 million insects and arachnids in the entomology collections, it’s very easy to feel overwhelmed. You can pull open any one of thousands of draws and find astonishing specimens. While I have favourites, my first inclinations as to what to paint still felt a little arbitrary. After mulling over various possibilities, I decided to get help!

Chosen by DPhil student Leonidas, Agalmatium bilobum is a little bug which lays its eggs on tree bark, then covers them with mud to protect them.

I asked my co-workers what their favourite insects were, then opened the question out to regular volunteers and visitors of the Life collections. I loved finding out why people chose the things they did. Answers varied from ‘It was the first spider I ever looked at under a microscope aged 12’ to ‘Because they’re cool’ to ‘Because they have an ingenious way of manipulating spiders!’

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One of arachnologist Russell’s favourite spiders: Nuctenea umbratica. Though common in the UK, umbratica is Latin for “living in the shadows”, and it often hides away during the day. The slight transparency of the paint lends itself to a spider’s glittering eyes.

 

Painting this live African Mantis Sphodromantis lineola (chosen by conservator Jackie) was made slightly more challenging by the fact that the subject thought Katherine’s pencil might be tasty.

Most of the subjects I painted were based on specimens from the Museum’s collections or specimens individuals had brought in from their own collections, but one favourite was a live African Mantis, housed in the department to help with education and outreach. When I began to draw her she was intrigued by the movement of my pencil and came to the front of the tank, to follow every mark I made with her intimidating gaze.

A detail from the final painting
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Katherine’s fabulous finished painting, which will be framed and displayed in the Life collections department.

Though time consuming, the painting was loads of fun to research and do. It’s fantastic to be surrounded not only by extremely knowledgeable people, but also by people with a genuine passion for what they do and a love for the insects (and spiders) they study.

Where Do We Come From? What Are We? Where Are We Going?


These are some of the big questions asked in our current special exhibition, Settlers. It’s also the title of a new artwork by Ian Kirkpatrick that has just been commissioned by the Museum.

You may remember, back in July we put out a call for artists to respond to the main themes of the upcoming Settlers exhibition. We received an incredible response, with almost 100 proposals, so needless to say we were spoilt for choice! After several rounds of shortlisting, discussion and deliberation, we chose Ian Kirkpatrick, a Canadian artist now based in York.

Lit up for the Settlers exhibition launch.
Credit: Ian Kirkpatrick

We were excited by Ian’s bold iconography and references to the history of art and design, while using shapes and colours usually seen on contemporary street signage. His approach to the themes and issues around migration, genetics and settlement were innovative and brave. We also couldn’t wait to see how his work would look in our Victorian neo-Gothic building.

Ian working in his studio. Credit: Ian Kirkpatrick

Over a period of four months, Ian researched, planned and created his spectacular final piece Where Do We Come From? What Are We? Where Are We Going? Here he explains a little about his artistic process:

 

Most of my projects begin with a period of research – often looking at historical events or interesting facts related to the brief. I often sketch out a very rough layout of the design in my notebook, then create the actual artwork directly onto the iPad or computer. Because I use vector-based software, I can easily rearrange or modify graphics – so the design is constantly shifting until the artwork is finished.

Ian Kirkpatrick’s final design. The two smaller panels (L and R) can be seen on display in the Settlers exhibition gallery.

Ian created a series of six panels that explores the social and natural causes behind human migration, both in ancient times and in the present day. It presents historical and modern peoples moving across a landscape in response to conflict, climate change and urbanisation, and remixes imagery from classical paintings alongside iconography from Great War postcards, Roman coins and the Bayeux Tapestry.

Ian, Peter Johnson and Adam Fisk installing the main panels of the artwork.

Of course, in a building like ours, the installation of such a large, bold piece of work would never be easy. Peter Johnson, the Museum’s Building Manager, came up with an ingenious solution to hold the panels into the arches, without damaging the masonry by drilling or glueing.

Pieces prepared in the workshop, to sit on the capitals and support the artwork

Hand-cut pieces of plywood were made to snugly fit round the capitals, so that the Dibond aluminium sheets don’t rest on the stone.

Credit: Ian Kirkpatrick

So, standing back and looking at the finished piece, looking resplendent in the winter sunshine and attracting the attention of hundreds of museum visitors, how does Ian feel?

The project was a lot of work – but it’s also been very satisfying to see it finally installed. Although the piece initially started as a comment on contemporary British settlement, it evolved into something that explored global migration throughout all of history.  Trying to find a way to tackle a theme that big, while still remaining visually coherent, is quite tricky!  But I was really pleased with the results and love seeing the finished piece housed within the magnificent neo-Gothic architecture of the Museum!

 

All that glitters…

The latest display in our changing Presenting… series showcases some of the incredible colours seen in many insects. Zoe Simmons, collections manager in our Life Collections, explains how such wonderful hues are created.

Reflected and refracted light creates the many bright and shining colours found in some insects. The dazzling natural display shown in the specimens here is formed through a combination of embedded pigments and sculpted surfaces on each insect’s external skeleton.

Some species can be variable in colour. Here a pair of Lamprima, a genus of Stag Beetles, shows off the range of colours present in the species.

Different pigment chemicals are responsible for different colours. Carotenoids produce yellow, orange and red hues, while bilins may be green, or blue if linked with proteins. They reflect and absorb different wavelengths of light, and the wavelengths that are reflected are the ones that we see as colour. Typically humans can see wavelengths of 390-700 nanometres, with the lower wavelengths perceived as blue, and the higher ones as red.

Many of the Leaf Beetles (Chrysomelidae) exhibit metallic colours.

Many insects also have multiple thin layers over their upper surfaces to help protect them and prevent dehydration. Variations in thickness and chemical composition of these layers can interfere with the transmission of light, refracting and scattering it back.

Some of the most striking metallic colours are found in the genus Chrysina, where species can be rose, silver or gold.

The shape of the surface layer can reflect light in a multitude of directions, with micro-folds, grooves, pits, hairs and scales all helping to produce complex colours and effects.

The formation and purpose of these colours is scientifically interesting, with research having applications in areas such as nanotechnology. But these insects are also simply beautiful examples of the spectacular diversity of the natural world.

Sunset moths (Uraniidae) are so called because of the dazzling array of colours on their wings. As day-flying moths they are brightly coloured like many butterfly species.

Cathedral to nature

To mark National Poetry Day 2017, former Museum poet-in-residence Kelley Swain writes about her residency, getting to know the Museum, and the Guests of Time anthology.  

Throughout 2016, I was one of three fortunate writers to be invited into the Oxford University Museum of Natural History’s first poetry residency. It was our task to engage how we wished with the collections, curators, history and architecture of the Museum, and produce seven new poems each in the first third of the year. The next two-thirds comprised editing and publishing the residency anthology, Guests of Time, and running poetry engagement events.

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Kelley Swain reading from the Guests of Time anthology at the launch event  – December 2016

But this wasn’t the first time poets were inspired by the Museum. The building opened in 1860, an exemplary Victorian ‘cathedral to nature,’ heavily influenced by art critic John Ruskin who involved Pre-Raphaelite artists in its design and decoration.

Guests of Time
Guests of Time anthology

Guests of Time includes new work from the resident poets (myself, John Barnie, and Steven Matthews,) as well as contemporary Victorian poetry related to the Museum. This includes ‘The Lay of the Trilobite’ by May Kendall, a student at Somerville College, Oxford, and ‘A Year and a Day’ by Lizzie Siddal, who was invited to contribute designs for decorative carvings in the building (though, ultimately, decorative work was cut short due to lack of funds).

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Continuing to spend time getting to know the building and its contents, I’ve been able to more fully appreciate the astonishing attention to detail throughout, and the sometimes seemingly ‘superfluous’ garnishes in which the architects indulged, such as this decorative ironwork on one of the Museum towers.

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Decorative ironwork on one of the Museum towers

It is not a weathervane; it is not, of course, any kind of antennae. It is beautiful, seemingly unnecessary, yet somehow integral. It was the Victorians (Darwin, always, is a good example,) who began to understand that many things in nature considered ‘superfluous,’ (such as the blue decoration of a male bowerbird’s bower,)  had in fact evolved through mate preference (sexual selection) or another competitive advantage (camouflage, fitness).

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Blue decoration of a male bowerbird’s bower

Oxford University held an architecture competition to choose a design for the building. The winning team included architect Benjamin Woodward, iron-master Francis Skidmore, and sculptors James and John O’Shea. The Victorians were striving, in Ruskin’s words, towards ‘truth to nature’. They were selecting for what Darwin called ‘grandeur in this view of life’. We do well to remember that no attention to detail, however small, is superfluous: in nature, in architecture, in poetry. On a grander scale, the arts are as essential to humankind as is blue to a bowerbird.