Church of the Bio-geek

Mary Mangan is a scientist trained in cell and molecular biology in plant and mammalian systems, now using those skills in the field of bioinformatics, and is a co-founder of OpenHelix. Inspired by Luigi, she made a little trip and sent us this account.

Last week I decided to alter my Sunday plans based on a blog post. I was so intrigued about The Glass Orchard, the unique collection of life-sized glass models of plants on permanent display at the Harvard Museum of Natural History that I decided to walk over, weather permitting, to see it. And since Hurricane Bill decided to stay off to the east, Sunday turned out to be the perfect day.

My walk from Somerville passes through old neighborhoods (well, US old, not European old) with houses that are mostly the same vintage as the Glass Orchard, around the turn of the 20th century, give or take 20 years. As I walked I thought about the families that lived in those homes and what they might have been doing on a Sunday in August 100 years ago. I suspect they were mostly in church. I also kept an eye out for the Somerville Madonnas along the way. They are a quirky collection of mass-produced lawn sculptures with individual personalities that are really amusing in general. They are often the centerpiece of a charming garden with little cultural touches, and seem like quaint remnants of another time.

Quite honestly, that’s what I expected The Glass Orchard to be. The last exhibit I attended at the Harvard Museum — a collection of gorgeous old brass microscopes — showed many charming and attractive pieces, but they were really dated as tools of biomedical research. Similarly, I thought the flowers in the exhibit would be a sort of Victoriana frou-frou that would be nice, but quirky.

I was wrong.

These may have come from that time and place, but the Glass Flowers of Harvard are seriously remarkable — a still very effective, detailed structural look at plants and their components and mechanisms that stand the test of time. I won’t go into the history of the collection, you can find that in the linked posts. I’m just going to share my impressions below.

coffee_glass_sm.jpg From the reading I had done, I knew there would be lovely flowers. I expected them to be some of the “pet” species of the Victorians, the irises, orchids, etc. But this display was much broader than that. There were some gorgeous specimens like blue irises. But there were also cow-parsnips — which included the root structure, and not just the green vegetation at the top. There were plenty of samples of commercially important species — coffee, tobacco, potato, and such — not just fashionable hothouse orchids of the day. It wasn’t just “pretty” plants.

I saw glass mosses with their teeny hair-like features rendered in excruciating detail. Pollen samples at diverse magnifications were on display. There were various types and maturity of the flowers — even on the same plants. There were glass specimens of plants I have never seen — and probably never will. I’ll never think about cashews the same way ever again. I had no idea how they actually grew. Now I know.

In some cases the associated insects appeared with the plants. The Venus flytrap hosts a fly immortalized just prior to tripping the hinge on the trap. And the White Oak Wool Sower Galls included wasp larva and all.

I was surprised to see so many samples of cross-sections and higher magnifications of the plants and plant organs. In many cases the root structure details were included in the specimens. I was told by a terrific volunteer guide — also named Mary — that the father and son who created these works, Leopold and Rudoph Blaschka, had been provided a Zeiss microscope to examine the plants. It made me think of those brass ones I had seen years before. They used it very effectively.

cross_sect_2.jpg Mary the guide also pointed me to a number of special features of the collection. She pointed out the earliest ones and it was clear that the skill of the Blaschkas ramped up rapidly. She showed me some of the samples that are showing their age, and talked about some of the curation issues around this incredibly rare and fragile stuff. We looked at some of the special details that cursory glances wouldn’t have revealed to me—like the fly I missed in the flytrap on my first pass through.

The curators provide some highlights to special groups of plants — those with detailed and interesting pollination strategies, threatened plants (“plants in peril”), and food plants. Currently there is no list of all the species in the collection, but I’m told that one is in the works.

My few poorly-lit iPhone photos would never do justice to the 3-dimensional presence of these sculptures. And even the books I picked up about the glass plants — while beautifully illustrated and photographed—don’t have the same feeling as being in the room. If you are a plant lover — either professionally or as a hobbyist — I would certainly encourage you to visit this exhibition. It is stunning.

It was great to see quite a few other people there. Parents were using the models to teach their kids about pollens and fruits. Other plant lovers were equally amazed and overwhelmed with the quality and beauty of these treasures.

workbench_trio.jpg

The workbench that the Blaschkas used to create the flowers is also on exhibit. It has a foot bellows on the bottom and a few primitive looking tools on a very plain wood surface. From my digital perspective it is nearly unfathomable that such valuable scientific educational tools as these could be created in such a low-tech way. As someone who creates contemporary educational tools for biology, I wondered if someday someone will put my laptop in a room (I’m guessing not …). I’m seriously humbled by the accomplishments of the Blaschkas and the foresight of their patrons, and impressed by the curators and volunteers who maintain and share their work today.

The last time that I felt such a reverence and touched the direct line from my career ancestors was when I worked on an Earthwatch project on the Medicinal Plants of Antiquity in Rome. We handled centuries old Medicinal Herbal texts that had beautiful illustrations, many of which are coming online now at the Smithsonian in the Renaissance Herbals collection, part of the Institute for the Preservation of Medical Traditions.

I came out of the exhibit having had a quasi-religious experience at the church of the bio-geek. And I intend to go back on another Sunday soon. I’ve already recruited potential converts as well …

Books available at the Harvard Museum shop:

The Glass Flowers at Harvard. 1992. Schultes, ((Yes, that Schultes. Ed.)) Davis, & Burger. This book has gorgeous photos of the plants, beautifully arranged and lit. But it mostly focuses on the flowers, there’s very little on the cross sections and other details. There is an introduction to the Blaschkas and more photos of the people involved and the shipping process and such. ($19.95 USD)

Drawing upon Nature: Studies for the Blaschkas’ Glass Models. 2007. Rossi-Wilcox & Whitehouse. This is a compilation of many of the field drawings that were used to create the glass versions back in the studio. Classic images with lovely details, and locations of the specimens. ($24.95 USD)

I’m adding the price so that you know, and aren’t tempted to pay $50 on Amazon for a used copy. They have plenty of new copies at the Museum store.

Selling touselle

In 1482, in the month of December, King Louis XI was taken ill at Tours, and had Touzelle [wheat] brought from the diocese of Nismes, so that bread could be made for him. The prince, extremely weak in mind and body, and struck with the fear of death beyond all expression, believed that of all the corners of his kingdom, the diocese of Nismes produced the wheat most likely to bring him to health.

That’s Léon Ménard in his Histoire de Nîmes of 1755. The passage is quoted in a short post in what alas seems now to be a dormant blog about artisanal breadmaking. I got there because I was intrigued by this statement in a box in a GRAIN article by Hélène Zaharia (of Réseau Semences Paysannes) called Bread of life. ((This is a companion piece to breadmaker Andrew Whitley’s The bread we eat, published in 2007.))

Henri is an organic farmer in the south of France. In 1997 he was carrying out research into farming practice in the Gare ((Is this a misprint? I think it should read “Gard.”)) region when he discovered Touselle wheat. It is an early wheat, without whiskers, with a soft grain, very suitable for bread-making. It was once cultivated quite widely in Languedoc and Provence and was appreciated for its good yields, even when it was grown on poor soil in a difficult, dry environment. But by the time Henri became interested in it, it had been widely abandoned in favour of modern varieties.

Henri decided to try it out for himself and obtained a few seeds of four of the 13 varieties of Touselle held in the Department of Genetic Resources at INRA in Clermont-Ferrand.

It turns out that “Henri” (for some reason, no surname is provided in the GRAIN article) is Henri Ferté, and what intrigued me particularly about this passage is that he is a farmer who obtained germplasm directly from a genebank, in this case the Conservatoire de Ressources Génétiques, INRA Clermont-Ferrand. ((“[L]’une des premières collections européennes.”)) This doesn’t happen as much as it could, or should. Or at least I don’t know of that many examples. Henri knew about the genebank because he has “un diplôme d’agro en poche,” as Zaharia says in another, more recent, article (which I cannot find online, but is entitled “Gard: La relance des blés méditerranéens.”). How do less academically qualified farmers find out about what’s in genebanks? It would be great to do a review of such direct use of national genebanks, and why there isn’t more of it. Maybe there is one out there already? Not all users are breeders — we sometimes forget that.

Anyway, Henri seems to have been fairly successful in bringing back touselle, King Louis XI’s miraculous wheat. This was apparently still around — in a number of distinct forms — at the end of the 19th century, but later largely disappeared: “…by 2004 Touselle was being grown experimentally on a fairly large number of peasant farms in the south of France.” A Union for the Promotion of Touselle was established in 2005. It doesn’t look to me like their website has been very active in the intervening years, but that’s no doubt because niche wheat farmers in the south of France have better things to do than mess around on the internet.

The Glass Orchard

Driving from Ames to Des Moines last week, my friend Tom told me about Harvard’s Glass Flowers — more officially the Ware Collection of Blaschka Glass Models of Plants. It’s a fascinating story. They

…are a set of approximately 3,000 life-size models of plants made out of glass, with occasional bits of wire, paint, and glue. The collection is owed by Harvard University, where the models are on display in the Harvard Museum of Natural History. George Lincoln Goodale, the first director of the Harvard Botanical Museum, commissioned the models in 1886 from Leopold and Rudolph Blaschka, a father and son team of glassmakers based in Hosterwitz, near Dresden. The Blaschkas produced the models over 50 years, Leopold until his death in 1895 and Rudolph until his retirement at age 79 in 1936.

They’re not just beautiful, they’re supposed to be useful too, aids to the study of tropical botany in particular.

There are many fruits and fibers in the collection, Rossi-Wilcox explained, ((Susan Rossi-Wilcox is a curatorial associate at the Botanical Museum.)) as well as other “useful” plants. “The Botanical Museum’s whole mission is ‘economic botany.’ Cotton, silk, the food we eat … We’re this odd little sister of taxonomy. The point of making this collection was to make people understand plants that were common in their lives.”

Some of the latest — and the best — of the Blaschka models are the series Rudolf made on the diseases of fruit trees. The “rotten fruit” series, Rossi-Wilcox affectionately called them. “They are the most spectacular models he made,” she said. “They’re animated, realistic. The cut sections don’t have the mealiness of real disease, but as fruit, he’s got it — all the little weirdnesses of the colors. Anyone who has fruit trees has seen these things.

I can’t find a full list of the “164 plant families, totaling 847 species and plant varieties” represented by the models. But I have found photographs of Musa paradisiaca, Prunus armeniaca and Gossypium herbaceum. And there is also an Emperor Alexander Apple “affected by apple scab disease”. So agrobiodiversity seems to be well represented.

Nibbles: Pluots, Village chickens, Axolotl, Artisanal fishing, Fruit and climate change, Stamps, Hornless cattle, Artemisin for malaria, Aquatic agroecosystems characterization, Speciation and ploidy

Nibbles: Gardening, Maple syrup, Farming and conservation, Late blight, Urban guerrilla, Bizarre produce, Russian food, Aquaculture, Heirloom apples, Turkish medicinal plants, Bee-eating hornets