Focussing on aristocratic eighteenth-century women collectors who travelled the world in search of natural and man-made ‘curiosities’, Genevieve's research aims to deprivilege Eurocentric perspectives. Revealing the exploitative practices entailed in the production, consumption, and mediation of their collecting practices, her interdisciplinary design historical research unravels material controversies of the past that continue to inhabit the present.
Genevieve Drinkwater
As someone who has always been fascinated in practices of collection, the programme has helped me refine my research questions: What compels people to design collections? For what purpose do they accumulate ‘things’? And, when they’re displayed, who does and doesn’t get to see them?
Fascinated by the materials Enlightenment collectors accumulated, my object essay dissected the mystery of the V&A’s rare ivory manikin (c.1750-1800). Encased in a box that resembles a funeral bier, the 18 cm-long manikin can be disassembled to reveal a miniature foetus. Carved out of prohibitively expensive African elephant ivory which offered limited anatomical accuracy, it failed as a didactic tool. Divested of its practical, educational utility, I concluded that, over time, such objects were coveted by curiosity collectors who prized them as elite cultural capital, replete with ornamental and apparently ‘exotic’ materials.
Utterly absorbed (and appalled) by the ways collectors subjected materials to new narrativisations, my historiography essay detailed the efforts of Sir Hans Sloane. As a Grand Tour collector of global proportions, his efforts were instrumental in the birth of the British Museum in 1753. Mapping the divergent ways scholars have brought their opinions to bear on the genesis of the collection he ‘bequeathed to the nation’, I concluded by considering the ways museums overlook the violent extraction of ethnographic objects they continue to archive and exhibit today.
Interested in the power individual’s wield with archives – and increasingly alarmed by the predominance of male narratives in collecting scholarship – I began to wonder: Where were all the women? Recovering elite eighteenth-century women collectors from the archives and rearticulating them as designers of global natural history collections, my dissertation traced their travel routes and examined their illustrated journals to show how they procured specimens such as fossils, feathers, taxidermy, and minerals. Categorising and displaying them in purpose-built cabinets and boxes in their English country houses, I argued that their actions contributed to the British empire’s colonial expansion. In addition to revealing previously-overlooked perspectives (filling a long-overlooked historiographical gap), my dissertation also enabled the rediscovery of less ‘conventional’ objects of material study: minerals, shells, fossils, and taxidermy. This broadened the accepted range of material culture design historians typically consult. In doing so, new material histories that women were responsible for generating emerged for the first time.
Back in June 2020, I collaborated with two brilliant coursemates, Freya Purcell and Thomas Brown to create WORD ON THE STREET: We’d seen so many posters with messages responding to the pandemic pop up in residential windows: things like rainbows for the NHS, praise for Sir Captain Tom, social distancing signs, anti-racist protest placards, conspiracies theories and much, (much!) more. We were concerned that this vast range of ephemeral material culture would be discarded someday and no trace of 2020 (what a year!) would be left for posterity. Soon, we made it our mission to create a digital archive could collect and map crowd-sourced street photography found in the wake of COVID-19. To gather crowd-sourced submissions, we designed a website, programmed a digital archive map.
What started out as a modest little project designed to preserve a small piece of social history ended up accelerating as interest (around the world!) took hold. We’ve now collected over 1,000 unique crowd-sourced images and locations. And submissions continue to roll in via our lively Instagram page.
This exposure has helped me present the practice—and importance—of a design historian publicly and the praise we’ve received for volunteering our time to do this project has been incredibly humbling. Masters students from other institutions have approached us to use the archive for their future research, and the archive was featured in the Oxford Academic Journal: Writing Histories 2020. I’m also delighted to have written a piece about the archive for the publication: Material History Virtual World publication (pp. 84-87). Most notably though, with the generous help of my wonderful supervisor Caroline McCaffrey-Howarth, the archive won The Design History Society’s 2020 Virtual Event Award.
As a rich repository of material expressions, it is our hope that the archive will serve future historians from a range of different disciplines. Please keep submitting photos and we will continue to map them for future historians 👩🚀👩🏿🚀 🙏🏾 📷 🙏