My week of English wonders – I

England, despite the sweetness of its mild hills standing out, or its pleasantly green countryside, always had a funereal quality to my eye.

I am well aware that such an impression, indistinct and irrational as it is, is but an indefensible generalization; yet I cannot help this feeling deep inside of me every time I go back across the Channel.
It may be because of the many convent ruins characterizing the landscape since Reformation, or because of the infamously leaden sky, or the lingering memory of Victorian mournings; but I suspect the idea that this whole country could have an affinity with death was actually suggested to me by the British I happened to know throughout the years, who seemed to be fighting against a sort of innate, philosophical resignation with the weapons of irony.
In his sketches, John Cleese often made fun of the deferential British austerity, that fear of hurting or being hurt if feelings are given free rein — the same bottled up behaviour which finds its counterpart in the cruelty of British humour, in Blake’s dazzling ecstatic explosions, in the dandies’ iconoclasm or in punk nihilism. Thus, as hard as I have tried, I cannot get rid of the sensation that the English people think more than others, or maybe with less distractions, about vanitas, and are able to transform this awareness of futility (even in respect to social conventions) into a subversive undercurrent.

This is why heading to England to talk about memento mori felt somehow natural right from the start.
At the University of Winchester was gathered a heterogeneous crowd of academics (medievalists, medical historians, anatomists, paleopathologists, experts in literature and painting) and artists, all interested in the relationship between death, art and anatomy.


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These three days of memorable intellectual stimulation really fueled my mind, by nature already overexcited.
Therefore I arrived in London in a state of augmented perception, as the town greeted me with a bright sun and crystal blue skies over its buildings, as if eager to deny all the aforementioned stereotypes. And yet, in retrospect, the days I spent in the capital proved to be a protraction and a follow-up to the meditations initiated in Winchester.

My first, inevitable visit was obviously paid to the Wellcome Collection. This Museum, founded in 2007, is particularly dear to me because it addresses, like I often do on these pages, the intersections between science, art and the sacred. Its permanent collections feature anatomical dolls, memento mori, human remains (for instance a Peruvian 5 to 7 centuries-old mummy); but also fakirs sandals, shrunken heads, chastity belts and religious objects.



















A fascinating temporary exhibition entitled States of mind: Tracing the edges of consciousness introduces the visitor to the mysteries of the Self, of what we call “consciousness”, through the liminal territories of nightmare, somnambulism and its opposite — hypnagogic paralysis —, all the way to the uncharted realms of vegetative state. In the last room I learned with a shiver how recent studies suggest that patients suspended between life and death might be much more aware than we thought.

The Grant Museum of Zoology, just a five-minute walk from the Wellcome Collection, is the only remaining University zoological museum in the capital. The space open to the public is not very big, but it is packed to the ceiling with thousands of specimens covering the entire spectrum of animal kingdom. Skeletons, wet and taxidermied specimens are a silent — yet meaningful — reminder of the vortex of biodiversity.










Another ten-minute walk, and I reached 1 Scala Street, the location for what is probably one of the most peculiar and evocative museums in London: Pollock’s Toy Museum.


The visitor must proceed by climbing steep narrow stairs, passing through corridors and small rooms, in a sort of maze unfolding on multiple levels across two different houses, one built in the 1880s and the other dating back to the previous century. Ancient toys are stacked everywhere: dolls, tin soldiers, train models, stuffed animals, rocking horses, puppets, kaleidoscopes.
Coming from the Zoology Museum, I can’t help but think of how play is a fundamental activity for the human mammal. But what could appear just as a curious excursus in the history and diverse typologies of toys soon turns into something different.










Standing before the display cases crowded with hundreds of time-worn puppets, overwhelmed by the incredible quantity of details, one could easily fall prey to a vague malaise. But this is not that sort of phobia some people have for old dolls and their vitreous gaze; it is a subtle, ancient melancholia.

What happened to the children who held those teddy bears, who played out fantastic stories on tiny cardboard theaters, who opened their eyes wide in front of a magic lantern?














It might have been just another suggestion caused by previous days spent in heartfelt discussions on the symbols and simulacra of death; or, once more, my preconceptions were to blame.
But to me, even a museum dedicated to child entertainment somehow looked like a triumph of impermanence.

(This article continues here)

16 comments to My week of English wonders – I

  1. Simone says:

    Interessante! Hai visitato anche l’Hunterian museum?

  2. Ico-Neko says:

    Curioso, anche a me l’Inghilterra (anzi, la Gran Bretagna tutta) fa sempre la tua stessa impressione! Attendiamo il seguito dell’articolo…

  3. Mara says:

    Mi è familiare quel sentimento di malinconia di fronte ad oggetti del passato! Trovo che proprio in questo consista il fascino dei musei: dietro ad ogni oggetto esposto si nascondono delle storie e delle persone, e chissà quanti altri piccoli segreti.
    Come sempre articolo meraviglioso, al pari di tutto il blog!

    P.s.: se ora studio Storia ed antropologia all’università è anche merito di questo blog 😉

  4. Alice says:

    Adoro questo blog,trove che sia il piu interessante che ci sia in Rete. Vivo a LOndra da anni e la conosco molto bene. Spero tu abbia visitato anche il Soane Museum ( praticamente di fronte l’hunterian). Fanno anche i tour a lume di candela ed e’ il museo piu suggestivo mai visto. Un altro posto incantevole e’ l’abbey cemetary a dalston kingsland.

    • bizzarrobazar says:

      Sono rimasto in città per pochissimi giorni. Sono sicuro che ci sia molto, molto di più di quanto io possa raccontare in due piccoli articoli. 🙂

  5. gery says:

    Sempre interessante.
    Una domanda, cosa rappresentano quei quadratini, cerchi, puntini gialli, neri, rossi nella settima foto, sul Grant Museum of Zoology?

  6. Questo articolo arriva proprio al momento giusto dato che si approssima un viaggio (ahimé di lavoro!) a Londra. Spero di riuscire a ritagliare un po’ di tempo per qualcuno di questi suggestivi ed interessanti luoghi.

    Inutile dire che attendo/iamo con ansia le successive puntate!
    Complimenti come sempre.

  7. Ida says:

    Tutto questo è meraviglioso ed interessantissimo. Frequento per ragioni di studio e piacere l’Inghilterra periodicamente da moltissimo tempo e di questi luoghi non ne ho mai sentito parlare nemmeno da inglesi doc! Bellissimo, visiterò questi posti sicuramente nella mia prossima avventura anglosassone… Per adesso mi tocca occuparmi di qualcosa di molto più noioso ahimè (nonostante i miei interessi sono una ligia studentessa in… Giurisprudenza). Grazie come sempre per ciò che scrivi!!!

  8. Stargzalex says:

    Ciao Bizzarro, questo è il primo primo commento sul tuo blog, che però seguo quasi passo passo da anni! Ho appena trascorso un weekend a Londra e prendendo spunto da questo articolo ho visitato il Wellcome Museum – Io e il mio compagno eravamo così immersi nella visita che ad un certo punto il museo ci ha praticamente chiuso sotto i piedi e siamo tornati il giorno dopo!
    La mostra temporanea States of Minds è… bellissima, ed inquietante – molto inquietante. Fa comprendere pienamente quanto il funzionamento della nostra mente sia ancora profondamente misterioso, e stimola moltissime riflessioni che forse sono destinate a rimanere insolute. Grazie di cuore!

    • bizzarrobazar says:

      Sono felice che l’articolo vi sia tornato utile. Il Wellcome manca forse di un “focus” preciso (contiene un po’ di tutto, senza avere peraltro le caratteristiche della wunderkammer), ma i pezzi sono straordinari e le mostre temporanee allestite impeccabilmente.

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