“I learned that just beneath the surface there’s another world, and still different worlds as you dig deeper. I knew it as a kid, but I couldn’t find the proof. It was just a kind of feeling. There is goodness in blue skies and flowers, but another force—a wild pain and decay—also accompanies everything.”
one of my favorite books as a kid was this one on speculative
zoology/evolution that I loved so much I borrowed it to the point my
school had to chase me up on returning it several times. it influenced my early creature art and design and pushed me to delve into my own specbio (on dragons. no surprises there). I loved the informatic entries, all their little lore bits and ecological adaptations; the wild color palettes, their weird little shapes. it was called The New Dinosaurs, by Dougal Dixon.
there were two more books in the series that my school didn’t have, which is either a blessing or a curse, because the third book in the set is called Man After Man.
No, but that’s exactly something that should be put in a museum.
Imagine seeing this two, three, eight hundred years after the fact. Imagine this little girl through centuries of time holding up her hand to show you her most precious rock. It’s potent enough now, this intimate knowledge of a complete stranger, this tiny insight into what was explained to her and what she thought was important and who listened to her long enough to let you see it, but imagine centuries in the future. Imagine this little bit of rock that looks like every other bit of rock, with no context and no explanation to it. And then imagine finding/seeing this little sign, and realising that it was Bethan’s rock. That it was a rock that a little girl loved the look of , and picked up, and carried around with her, and when it was explained to her that museums were places where precious things were shown so that other people could see and enjoy them, the precious thing she wanted them to show, that she wanted to show you, was this rock.
This is what material history is. These windows through time into a person’s life and beliefs and mundane treasures, these bridges across centuries where a child a hundred, a thousand, ten thousand years ago can show you her favourite rock.
That is, in so many ways, what museums are for. And well done them for following through.
