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history of australian science

Has anyone seen my Cabinet?

The Cabinet aboard the Endeavour

The Cabinet aboard the Endeavour


In March 1997, a replica of the HMB Endeavour arrived in the UK from Australia. Aboard was a hand-crafted Cabinet of Curiosities. The Cabinet was, I wrote at the time, ‘intended to evoke a sense of mystery. What is in the cabinet? What is its message?’ Some thirteen years later a further question remains unanswered — just where is the Cabinet now?

The Cabinet was an original piece, not an antique or reproduction, magnificently hand-crafted by Greg St John of the ANU School of Art. Inside were a series of eight artworks, each reflecting on an aspect of Australia’s scientific past. Together they sought to say something about the development of western science in Australia in the years following Joseph Banks’ voyage upon the original Endeavour.

I was the concept developer/historian/project manager for the whole thing, so for a peek inside the Cabinet I’ll hand over to a much-younger version of myself via the magic of Vimeo…

The Cabinet of Curiosities from Tim Sherratt on Vimeo.

You can have a closer look at the artworks on Flickr and unpack the Cabinet yourself. There’s also lots of background information on the Cabinet’s own website.

But where is it now?

After it’s jaunt aboard the Endeavour the Cabinet returned to Australia as part of the Natural History Museum’s Kaleidoscope of Life Exhibition and appeared at the Australian Museum and elsewhere. It then travelled back to London with the exhibition.

What happened after that? I heard that it might have been on display at the offices of the major sponsors RTZ-CRA (now Rio Tinto). Another report suggested that it had ended up at the Royal Botanic Gardens at Kew. In theory, the Cabinet was presented to the Royal Society of London, but that was more a symbolic act than a transfer of ownership. I just don’t know.

I made a few unsuccessful inquiries a few years back and then gave up. But I thought it was time to try again, this time drawing upon the awesome power of the interwebs. Have you seen it? Do you know someone who might have had something to do with it? If you’ve happened upon a recent sighting or have any useful leads please include them in a comment below and we’ll see if we can finally track the Cabinet down.

It was a privilege to work with Greg and the wonderful group of artists and I’d rather like to know that their efforts are being well looked after somewhere…

Please help!

UPDATE 17 November: Reward offered!

Your reward

As I was rummaging through my Cabinet files last night I discovered some keyrings that Greg had made using offcuts from the piece of Australian red cedar he used to construct the Cabinet. If you can point me to the Cabinet I’ll gladly send you one. Your very own piece of the Cabinet of Curiosities!

Remembering Lawrence Hargrave

Hargrave's models on display, 1919.

Remembering Lawrence Hargrave – Hargrave's models on display, 1919.

In 1962 William Hudson Shaw, a Qantas executive, knocked at the door of a cottage in the seaside village of Walmer, Kent. Shaw was in the grip of an obsession – a ‘labour of love’ to document the ‘true story’ of Australian aeronautical pioneer Lawrence Hargrave. This quest had brought Shaw to the home of Helen Gray, Hargrave’s eldest daughter, his beloved ‘Nellie’. Now into her 80s, Helen Gray remained firmly protective of her father’s memory, yet strangely ambivalent about his achievements. Nonetheless, through Hudson Shaw’s visit and the correspondence that followed, the two became friends and collaborators. ‘I feel so grateful that you have such great interest in L.H. [and] his work’, the elderly woman wrote in 1963, ‘what a difference it has made to my life that you appeared at the right time’. The biographer gained insight into the personal life of his subject, and the daughter was relieved of the burden of defending her father against the ill-formed judgments of history. Continue reading »

Stromlo: an Australian observatory

Few institutional histories could boast such a dramatic conclusion as Stromlo: an Australian observatory. The manuscript was substantially complete when a savage firestorm swept through the pine plantations flanking Mount Stromlo, destroying all the major telescopes and many of the observatory’s buildings. Among the losses was the Oddie Dome, built in 1911 to test the site – one of the first buildings in the nation’s yet to be inaugurated capital. This sudden twist of fate forced the authors to add an epilogue, providing both a poignant account of the fires, and an expression of hope for the institution’s future. Inspecting the scene shortly after the devastation, Prime Minister John Howard promised government assistance in rebuilding the site. Like many others, he lamented the loss of what he described as a ‘national icon’. Continue reading »

Atomic wonderland

The development and use of the atomic bomb was a turning point in history. It seems so obvious—the world was changed, a new age dawned. But this was not the first turning point, nor the last. History is littered with critical moments, crossroads, watersheds and points of decision. Each brings a new sense of urgency, each draws renewed attention to the fate of humankind, but the moment soon passes and the urgency fades…until next time. Continue reading »

Hedley Marston

In the 1950s, CSIRO biochemist, Hedley Marston, became embroiled in what Roger Cross describes as ‘the single most important crisis’ of his professional life. Research into fallout from the British atomic tests in Australia brought Marston into bitter conflict with the government appointed Safety Committee. It was a dispute that involved many of the major players in the Australian scientific community, and one that culminated in ‘perhaps the most unseemly episode in twentieth-century Australian science’. This is a fascinating story of ‘jealousy, hate and power’ that takes us behind the facade of scientific detachment and adds to our knowledge of the politics and personalities involved in Australia’s atomic adventures. Continue reading »

The history of Australian science

HISTORY OF SCIENCE in Australia is a field intimidated by its subject. Historians have been too slow to examine the local context of knowledge production and use, deferring to scientists and their uncritical catalogues of the past. Historical analysis has given way, too often, to the antiquarian plod or the celebratory frolic. Continue reading »

CSIRO

CSIRO (the Commonwealth Scientific and Industrial Research Organisation) and its forbears have undergone many transformations, reflecting twentieth century shifts in the relationship between science and government. Continue reading »

A conspiracy reveal’d

Cabinet of Curiosities

The Cabinet of Curiosities

Learned friends, a little over twelve months ago, I had the honour of addressing another distinguished gathering. My subject on that occasion was a rather unusual artefact that my colleagues and I had discovered – an item we came to call ‘The Cabinet of Curiosities‘. In the intervening months we have continued our researches into this object and have uncovered some disturbing facts. To be blunt, I believe that we have unearthed evidence of a widespread and long-standing conspiracy. Continue reading »

Unsung heroes

On Sunday I was listening to the local ABC station, 2CN, when a bloke came on talking about “unsung heroes” of Australian history. Apparently it’s a regular spot, and it so happened that the two heroes being sung on Sunday were scientists – Ferdinand von Mueller the botanist, and John Tebbutt, the astronomer. However, my initial pleasure at having scientists included in such a forum, quickly turned to frustration. Continue reading »

A wartime observatory observed

Ben Gascoigne, a young New Zealand physicist, stepped off the train at Canberra station. It was August 1941. A tall, good-looking man strode across the platform to greet him.

‘Woolley’ he said, offering his hand, ‘Do you play bridge?’.

That evening Ben Gascoigne found himself seated at a bridge table in Woolley’s residence at the Commonwealth Solar Observatory (CSO), atop Mount Stromlo, some fifteen kilometres south-west of the nation’s bush capital. Richard van der Reit Woolley had been appointed Director of the CSO less than two years before, in December 1939. At the age of 33, Woolley had arrived in Australia, direct from the ancient halls of Cambridge, determined to breathe new life into the observatory, which had languished for ten years without a permanent head. Cla Allen, one of observatory’s astronomers, wrote excitedly that Woolley was determined ‘to make the CSO an observatory of which the Empire can be proud’. War, however, had put these plans on hold. Continue reading »

Scienceworks

As a suburban teenager, one of the highlights of my school holidays was a trip into ‘town’. This expedition into the wilds of central Melbourne always included a wander around the Science Museum, then housed snugly with the National Museum and the State Library behind the imposing columns of 328 Swanston Street.

Naturally I pressed all the buttons I could, making all the engines start and the models come to life. I played noughts and crosses against a ‘computer’ that regularly cheated. But most of all I just stood in front of the glass-fronted cases and marvelled at the collections — the rows and rows of swords, the wax apples, the radioactive sample with its chattering geiger counter. Between visits I embroidered complex daydreams where the deserted building was mine and all its treasures lay waiting. Continue reading »

Making science for whom?

The title of this book, Australian Science in the making, strikes me as somewhat ambiguous. In one sense it seems to indicate an ongoing process of creation, while in the other it appears retrospective, reflecting on the establishment or achievement of science in Australia. The difference is significant, I believe, for the two interpretations suggest disparate views about the nature and development of science. The former implies that a continual process of construction and negotiation is involved in producing what we know as ‘science’. Science is a process, or an activity, rather than a discrete entity. There is room, then, in this interpretation, for the work of the social historian or political reformer, who seeks to highlight the cultural roots and social implications of a science. The latter view, however, assumes that there are certain criteria which, when met, enable one to recognize science as ‘made’ or established. Such criteria would be formulated with reference to some fixed model of what science is, and would thus emphasize fulfilment or attainment of that model. This inherently conservative view clearly imposes limits upon the study of science, and thus upon any discussion of its social role. Nonetheless, I would argue, it is this latter conception of science which is embedded in the structure and much of the content of this volume. This raises important questions about the way science is perceived in Australian society, and indeed about the role of the history of science in maintaining such perceptions. Continue reading »