Morbid Anatomy Museum: Taxidermy

A few months ago, I went to see the taxidermy exhibit at the Morbid Anatomy Museum. It was wonderful, but I was bummed that they didn't allow photos of the exhibition. Shortly after my visit, they started a Kickstarter project to help fund the acquisition and transport of The Kittens' Wedding, a diorama made by Victorian taxidermist Walter Potter. I had been dying to see Potter's work in person, so I supported the project. Luckily it was funded, and The Kittens' Wedding became the centerpiece of the taxidermy exhibit. Of course I had to go back, and to my delight photos were allowed this time around.

This was the last weekend for the show, so I texted my friend Carli, "I have to get to the Morbid Anatomy Museum before Kitten Wedding leaves," which is a totally normal text for me to send. I'm so glad we made it, because The Kittens' Wedding was incredible. It was larger, and more elaborate than I expected, and just totally strange and wonderful. This is the only of Potter's creations in which the animals are fully clothed (they even have undergarments!), and this is the first time it's been formally exhibited in the US.

The rest of the exhibition space is full of so many strange and wonderful creatures—they have a sloth, anteater, aardvark, porcupine, weasel, white wallaby, hyena, lion, zebra, ostrich, seal, walrus, penguin, black bear and cases of exotic birds. While I don't agree with hunting for sport, I do appreciate that most of these animals were made at a time when most people would never see these animals otherwise. Even today, having seen most of these animals in zoos or on TV, I'm still amazed at the crazy creatures nature produces.

The 'wall of dogs' was a highlight for me, featuring several cases with various breeds of dogs, sitting on velvet pillows. They have one cat—holding a taxidermy mouse in its mouth—that I might use as a model when the time comes to taxidermy Mozart (my cat).

There were a few other anthropomorphic scenes featuring squirrels having tea, playing cards and enjoying a hearty acorn meal. I love anything that incorporates the animals into a "real life" scene, and the Morbid Anatomy Museum never fails to deliver in the diorama department. But it's the terrible taxidermy that I not-so-secretly love more than anything—googly eyes, faces that aren't quite right and forms that make you question if the taxidermist ever even saw the animal in real life.

More Morbid Anatomy: House of Wax | Dioramas | Collector's Cabinet | Library

Morbid Anatomy Museum: House of Wax

The current exhibition at the always-fantastic Morbid Anatomy Museum is probably my favorite one yet. I'm sure I said that about their last exhibit—The Collector's Cabinet (those dioramas!)—but House of Wax is just so, so good. I'm always annoyed by the collective outcry about spoiler alerts and warnings, but I think it's necessary to mention that some of my photos might be a tad NSFW, which isn't a bad thing in my opinion, unless of course you're reading this at work and you sit in the very center of the room like I do.

House of Wax is a collection of late 19th century-early 20th century waxworks once a part of a Berlin-based Panopticum. According to Morbid Anatomy, Panoptica were "like the dime museums and popular anatomical museums of the US, these largely forgotten spaces fall somewhere between aristocratic cabinets of curiosity and today’s ideas of museums." In other words, totally my scene.

As always, Morbid Anatomy packs a powerful punch in just one small exhibition room with 34 exhibits—the exception being German serial killer Friedrich Heinrich Karl "Butcher of Hanover" Haarmann, who gets his own spot under a curtain by the bathrooms. They have death masks of Napoleon, Henrik Ibsen, Mary Stuart (Queen of Scots) and Kaiser Wilhelm I. There are examples of a corseted torso, syphilis, leprosy, lupus, tuberculosis, diphtheria, circumcision, psoriasis and a variety of other deformities and maladies.

What made the most lasting impact on me, however, are numerous waxworks depicting the unique Hell (I assume) that is childbirth. Although it admittedly takes a lot to make me squirm, seeing a cross-section of a fetus inside (or on its way out of) a uterus is definitely more terrifying to me than all of the skin diseases and genital deformities in the world combined.

Morbid Anatomy Museum: Dioramas

I already wrote about the incredible Collector's Cabinet exhibit at the Morbid Anatomy Museum, and I mentioned that the centerpieces of the collection were two amazing dioramas. The taxidermy scenes were originally part of a collection belonging to Sam Sanfillippo, owner of the Cress Funeral Home in Wisconsin. When Sam died, his collection was auctioned off and I'll always regret not knowing about its existence sooner. I do feel lucky, however, that I got to revel in the two that I did, and I'm still having a hard time comprehending how wonderful they were, even a few weeks later.

The two scenes were "The Woodland Fair," a collection of taxidermy chipmunks and an untitled bar scene full of squirrels in various stages of inebriation. In the Woodland Fair, the chipmunks are enjoying a carnival—riding a Ferris wheel, carrying balloons and handing out cotton candy. There is even a "topless girlie show," whose participants are actually wearing more clothing than any of the other fairgoers.

The fair scene also includes a corner bar and grill with a smoking patron (Louie?) and miniature cans of beer. Chipmunk attendees of all sizes hold hands, ride trains and sample treats—all for the low admission price of just 5 seeds.

The squirrel saloon scene is slightly less jovial but no less elaborate than the Woodland Fair. Squirrels in all sizes and colors enjoy a cold one, dance cheek-to-cheek, smoke pipes and comfort each other when they've imbibed a bit too much.

It's nearly impossible to pick a favorite, but I really love the slot machine-playing squirrel, and the balloon-holding chipmunk. The attention to detail in these scenes is really remarkable—from the marbled mirrors and miniature liquor bottles to the outfits and poses, everything is so perfect you sometimes forget that you're actually looking at real animals.

I'll always regret missing out on the entire Cress Funeral home collection and experience, but I'm so glad I got to see a tiny part of it in person—photos really just don't do things like this justice—and I didn't have to go all the way to Wisconsin to do so.

Bonus taxidermy: One more stand-out from the exhibition was this kitten with two faces (four eyes and two mouths) from another famous taxidermist, Walter Potter. The tiny creature only lived for seven days, but thanks to Potter and the Morbid Anatomy Museum, I was able to meet him (her?)—definitely a highlight in a collection filled with home runs.

Morbid Anatomy Museum: Collector's Cabinet

On Saturday JMP joined me for diner breakfast, a trip to the Morbid Anatomy Museum and post-museum pie at Four and Twenty Blackbirds, which is pretty much my ideal Saturday (or any day). The Collector's Cabinet exhibit at the museum was closing on Sunday and I hadn't seen it yet but I'm so glad we went because it far exceeded my expectations.

Like the museum's previous exhibition, The Art of Mourning, the Collector's Cabinet occupied a single room but it was expertly curated and every piece was fascinating. I lost track of how much time we spent looking at, and photographing all of the curiosities, but I definitely could have spent all day in just that one room.

The centerpieces of the exhibit were two life-changing taxidermy dioramas, which more than deserve their very own post as soon as I'm done fully digesting how extraordinarily awesome they both were. They also had a neck tattoo in a jar, a fully-articulated skeleton, a very organized brush collection, wooden prosthetic arms, a plaster death cast, a talking skull, a two-headed calf and so many other weird and wonderful trinkets on display.

We also checked out the adjoining library space, which itself is packed with enough stuff to make a visit to the museum more than worth your time. I am so glad that I became a member back when the museum opened in June—not only because I now get in for free, but because never has there been a place so deserving of my support.

The museum has only gotten better since it opened and I was pleased to see so many people there on Saturday. Every one that works there is always so kind and helpful and the gift shop is full of books and housewares and art that I definitely don't need but so desperately want. I never thought there would be a place like the Morbid Anatomy Museum where all of my creepy interests are celebrated and nurtured and I already can't wait to go back.

The Morbid Anatomy Museum + Library

Last Friday I was browsing the New York Times site like I always do when I first settle into work, when I came across an event listing for the opening of the Morbid Anatomy Museum. I knew immediately that I needed to go, before even doing a second more of research based on the name alone. But of course I soon got lost in a rabbit hole of articles, blog posts and finally the Morbid Anatomy site itself — so much so that I actually had to take a break because I was overwhelming myself with excitement (this is not a rare occurrence in my life, but a serious one nonetheless).

The museum and library appeared to be tailor-made for me and people like me who can't get enough of all things weird, creepy and dead. Even the opening exhibition —The Art of Mourning— aligned perfectly with the books I've been reading recently about mourning practices and funeral rituals.

I went on Saturday, which was opening day, and I immediately paid the $50 to become a member. Membership includes free admission to the museum and use of the library, as well as discounts on the gift shop and lectures, but supporting the museum was really just as important to me. I don't have much money to throw around, but when I find something as super amazing and perfect for me as a museum devoted entirely to curiosities, I can stand to trade in a few potential Starbucks drinks to lend my support.

The three-floor space is industrial and welcoming, with a ground floor cafe and gift shop, an upstairs exhibition gallery and the adjoining library. You can't take photographs of the current exhibition, but it's definitely worth seeing in person. There is a wonderful collection of really creepy death photographs, an exhibit on hair art (ew), a few death masks and various pieces of memorial art.

You can, however, take photographs in the library, which is filled with fascinating and hard-to-find books (obviously) as well as some great taxidermy, specimen jars, bones, models, paintings, more photographs and tons of other weird and wonderful odds and ends.

Aside from the fact that I'm a member, I have a feeling that I'll be spending a lot of time at the museum and library, and even the cafe — I ordered a latte for the sole reason that they had a really disgusting, vintage pull-down chart on bacteria hanging behind the counter. I don't know about you, but nothing makes me hungrier than looking at illustrations of the bacteria that causes typhoid or boils. As soon as I saw that chart I knew that I had found a place where I would never feel strange — a place where I can read my books about the plague, or cemeteries, or poisons, or medical experiments without judgement or sideways glances — and with free access to the library, I'll never be at a loss for creepy reading material ever again.