"It seems that the soul... loses itself in itself when 
shaken and disturbed unless given something to grasp on to; 
and so we must always provide it with an object 
to butt up against and to act upon."

~Michel de Montaigne, Essais

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Mandi and I ventured down Euston Road to the Wellcome Collection, where medicine, science, history and art combine.  This is, according to Nature, ‘London’s brave venue where science, art and culture converge.’  The museum, created by Henry Wellcome, houses over 1500 exhibits documenting six centuries of mankind’s perpetual interest in the human condition. 

The two temporary exhibitions at the moment are ‘Miracles and Charms’, on display until the 26th of February, which explore human reliance on faith and superstition.  The first of these exhibitions, called ‘Infinitas Gracias’, is a collection of Mexican votive paintings dating from the 1700’s to the present which were commissioned by everyday people and displayed on church walls.  Painted on pieces of tin and small plaques, the images recall personal dramas while the words acknowledge the divine intervention which saw individuals and families through crises ranging from ill-health, motor accidents, false accusations and domestic troubles. The collection is a strong reminder of the role which faith has played, and continues to play, in these Mexican communities, from 18^th century paintings to modern day interviews in which people tell of miracles in their life.  I particularly liked the video of a woman called Maria from Guanajuato, who tells her story of the difficulty she had as a child learning to cook tortillas. After nothing but failure and with the pressure of a strict mother weighing on her shoulders, Maria eventually prayed in tears to Señor de Villaseca for a miracle. She soon made her first round, perfectly cooked tortilla which she dedicated as an offering to the saint.  To this day, Senor de Villaseca continues to hold an important place in Maria’s faith, as protector of her 15 children.  There was also opportunity for visitors to write their own votives, some of which had inspired artists to create votive pieces of their own. These express gratitude towards supportive families, the skill of medical experts and whatever unknown ‘greater force’ is out there.  One, called ‘Epic Bubble’, sticks out in my mind as particularly affecting: read it here.

‘Charmed Life: the solace of objects’, the other temporary exhibition, put together by an artist called Felicity Powell, emerged from her interest in and fascination with the work of amateur folklorist Edward Lovett. Lovett was a head cashier in Croydon who spent his spare time collecting charms and talismans, and exploring the importance of superstition and folklore in London during the late 19^th and early 20^th centuries.  Henry Wellcome knew of Lovett’s collection and in 1916 allowed Lovett to curate an exhibition, ‘The Folklore of London’, in what was then the Wellcome Historical Medical Museum.  

Powell was intrigued by the sense of hidden magic retained by the objects collected by Lovett, and the personal stories, now lost to history, which lie behind each charm.  The exhibition centred around a horseshoe-shaped display of charms, including lucky beans, mole feet, glass seahorses and a real sheep’s heart, stabbed trough with pins. In a small room, two videos play side by side. One video shows various MRI and PET scans of Powell’s body overlaid with images of the Lord’s prayer, written on a disc of paper the size of a small coin by 88 year old George Yeofound in 1872, in a script so small it is only legible when magnified.  The other video, also magnified, shows Powell at work, as she mesmirisingly creates small wax figures, face and hands with impossible deftness and precision.  After watching the video, which had me entirely captivated for the whole seven minutes, I was amazed to see just how small these wax pieces were in real life.

Memento mori

I wandered up the stairs to the permanent ‘Medicine Man’ collection, where an array of everyday items from the past re on display: Darwin’s walking stick, Napoleon’s toothbrush, Florence Nightingale’s moccasins, George III’s hair – it’s all there. Well, not quite all there: only 500 weird and wonderful artefacts out of Wellcome’s original collection of over one million objects are on show. There are artefacts from around the world, which go beyond the purely scientific and trespass upon the sociological and philosophical aspects of health, demonstrating our universal obsession with the human form from conception to death. These objects not only tell us about medical practices throughout history, but also offer an interesting insight into different cultures. 

Tattoo, late 19th century

Objects such as European chastity belts, Japanese sex aids, Peruvian mummies, 19th century tattoos (preserved on human skin) and memento mori figurines, show how different societies have viewed sex, death, health and beauty, sometimes with repulsion, sometimes with joy, but always with fascination.  Unfortunately, I am particularly squeamish, so things started to go downhill for me after the bleeding cups in the ‘Seeking Help’ cabinet, which was first display I came to.  I tried to continue, but only got as far as the shrunken head and shrivelled body on display before I admitted defeat and stumbled, slightly light-headed, back downstairs to Mandi and safety.  I’m feeling a little queasy just writing about it. Still, although my attempts to learn about various medical practices throughout history and around the world were frustrated by my exceptionally weak stomach, the three small sections of the ‘Medicine Man’ exhibition that I did manage to see were fascinating. 

The other permanent collection, ‘Medicine Now’, brings us right up to date with the latest ideas and developments within a few areas: the body, malaria, obesity, genomes and the impact of medical sciences on patients.  The comparison between malaria and obesity – two illnesses which don’t spring to mind as comparable – highlights just how divergent threats in the medical world are.  While the developing world lacks the money and resources to control the spread of malaria, the wealth and abundance of unhealthy foods in developed world led us to create an epidemic of a completely different kind.  

What makes this exhibition so accessible for everyone is the way it brings together scientific, artistic and the plain old every day points of view. The exhibition includes artwork, films, objects tucked away in draws, and ‘sound chairs’, where you can sit and listen to short audio clips of experts sharing their ideas about the different topics.  I chose to listen to a woman talking about her years of failed dieting.  There are tables at the end of the room where visitors could write about or draw their perceptions or experiences of different topics, ranging from war to unicorns, on pieces of card and display them in the ‘red boxes’ which line the back wall.  Around the corner is another room where you could put up drawings or artwork with the magnets provided.  I just played with the magnets for a bit.  Also, they have a Jelly Baby man – how cool!

The Wellcome Collection is definitely a place which isn’t visited enough, and I’d highly recommend going along to look around.  The Peyton and Byrne café in the entrance is also a great place to sit and relax.  And if you do visit, don’t forget to look up as you leave.  While slightly inebriated at the house of a good friend, the eminent scientist Professor Bernal, Picasso climbed onto a chair and drew a man and a woman, both winged and wreathed. The mural, known as ‘Bernal’s Picasso’, is now on display above the entrance of the Wellcome Collection.

'Bernal's Picasso', 12.11.1950

Mandi and I crossed the road to go to Euston station for some late lunch at Nando’s.  If you’ve never had Nando’s chicken liver, I have two words for you: DO IT. It’s amazing, and I don’t even like liver.

The Wellcome Collection and Nando’s were amazing, but this was definitely the highlight of my day:

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