There is nowhere beneath a roof, anywhere on earth, that means more to me than the great diorama halls of The American Museum of Natural History. It is stunning (and, really, rather sad) that it has taken this long for a popular book to be written about these magnificent works of art and science, but at least it has been done well. (It is also gratifying to see the book getting such good--and well deserved--reviews here.)
For many millions of people habitat dioramas have been their first taste of the beauty, calm, and nobility of wild creatures and wild places. More people are familiar with nature documentaries these days, and since I love good documentaries too I can't really complain about that. Nonetheless there are some things that habitat dioramas, when done well, can convey that the flickering image, even on an IMAX screen, just can't. No medium portrays the spacious calm of wild country, and the simple dignity of wild animals, better than dioramas. It's also important to remember the valuable record dioramas can provide: many of the dioramas in this book are of places no longer wild.
Stephen Quinn's credentials for writing this book are probably as good as anyone alive. He started as an artist for the museum and has been an important force in helping keep the medium alive through the dark years of the 60s to 80s, when across the U.S. it was frequently neglected, if not despised, by curators though not, blessedly, by the general public. Things are at least somewhat better now, and Mr. Quinn is now project manager for exhibitions at the museum. He has done a fine job with this book. The text is engaging and informative and the photos are big and beautiful.
I do have a few quibbles. He sometimes uses the word "captured" for animals collected (read killed) for the dioramas. I'm sympathetic with why he felt he had to do that, given what he's trying to do with the book and given the cultural forces with which he must contend. The moral issues behind hunting and museum collection are complex and beyond what a book like this could be expected to cover. Nonetheless, animals are never "captured" for taxidermy.
I should hasten to add that animals do not need to be killed specifically for taxidermy. Many if not most animals mounted for museums in the last few decades died in zoos, were hit by automobile traffic, etc. That generally was not a realistic option at the time these dioramas were created.
My other reservation is deeper, but harder to articulate, and I don't have a real solution to it. I also know that a lot of readers will be unsympathetic with it. I'm not completely comfortable with "behind the scenes" stuff in anything other than technical manuals, trade magazines, etc. The people who made these dioramas were of course just people but had high ideals (ideals that Mr. Quinn without question shares) and they wanted the dioramas to be about their _subjects_. His behind the scenes writing will engage people more with the medium and is interesting in itself, no argument. But how much does it really help to have people thinking "I wonder if that rock in Diorama Z is the one that employees used to go to make out behind on their lunch hour."?
I don't know the answer, and so I can't really fault the author. I also recognize that many of the reviewers here loved that aspect of the book. My hope, and I'm sure it's the author's as well, is that it will all stay in perspective. Let's hope that's right. It would be very sad to see dioramas become the subject of the kind of psychologizing and trivializing that permeates the world of "fine" art.
That said, this is a beautiful and well-written book about a noble, if often neglected, realm of art and natural history. If you've read through a long review like this one about a book on this subject, I promise you won't regret owning it.
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