The seaweed collection
I was brought up on a farm, called Groves, in Peasmarsh. There was a well under the kitchen floor. The roof was thatched, and alive with bats at night. It was a poultry farm, given to my father by his parents, who were Irish emigres. The house was Elizabethan, with uneven latticed panes much thicker at the bottom than the top. Quite a lot of them were cracked. The farm was going bust. We sold it to a cousin of the Queen. His name was Lionel Abel-Smith. He built a house down the lane for his boyfriend to live in. I remembered all this today, when I was at the South London Botanical Institute, and there on the mantelpiece of the room in which I was to give a talk, I saw — for the first time in almost fifty years — a small green metal botanical collecting box of exactly the kind my grandmother, who was a keen gardener, gave me when I was little.
I was at the SLBI to give a presentation to the members and trustees about my mosaic. I was nervous, but at the same time anxious to do justice to the thinking behind the process. When I’d left home a crew from the BBC was filming Matt painting. I was supposed to be there too, but I couldn’t stay for the interview because of my talk. I got up early and left notes all over the canvas, telling Matt what colour to paint and where to paint it.
When I arrived at the SLBI, Sue, who has overseen the project, took me on a tour of the house, and told me which members were in today. There was an expert on slime moulds, and an authority on Darwin. When my presentation was over one of the members was keen to show me the seaweed collection. Carefully preserved in locked cabinets were wonderful specimens, documented in elegant copper plate with notes like ‘Ex Herbario Musei Britannici, Polysiphonia macrocarpa Harv, Swanage, 15, June 1805.’ The seaweeds had been placed on wet leaves of paper. Apparently they do not need to be glued, as they adhere naturally. Once every month or so, every item in the herbarium has to have a spell in the freezer, to kill the mites.
Here are some images of seaweed, and before them, material prepared for the microscope. Surely they will appeal to every mosaicist of taste and discrimination?
I am always captivated by specimen drawers.
Shoot. Pushed the button too fast. I also meant to say that it appears that you have lived the most interesting life. How wonderful that you see the connections between all the personal history “connections” when they appear before you.