To many New Yorkers (and to many tourists), the habitat dioramas at the American Museum of Natural History are as iconic and recognizable as the Statue of Liberty or the Brooklyn Bridge. Almost every child who visits the Museum has his or her favorite, for secret reasons of preference that only curious children can understand. I've always been partial to Bison and Pronghorn, and the New York film director Noah Baumbach made the Squid and the Whale a thematic centerpiece in his 2005 movie of the same name. They are dynamic, intricate, and full of almost metaphorical stories. They capture intimate moments in nature that we can rarely access. But to students, the dioramas can be puzzling too, unlike any other museum exhibits they've seen. They invite you in to look closely at the same time that they distance you with a pane of glass. The dioramas are both "alive" and clearly stuffed. With their painted backdrops and their perfectly-taxidermied animals, they toe a line between art and nature that can be hard to explain. That doesn't mean, however, that students shouldn't be exposed to AMNH's dioramas in all their ethical and representational complexities. Please don't be dissuaded: the dioramas can teach so much - history, art technique, patterns in nature, observational skills- that all teachers and parents need to do before visiting is build a little background knowledge.
AMNH maintains a comprehensive site with video tours of its major dioramas and profiles of the artists who created them. Senior Project Manager for Exhibition Steve Quinn has written a great book - "Windows on Nature" - with full color reproductions and a primer on the dioramas' colorful histories. Here you can read Lisa Breslof's thoughts on "dioramas as useful teaching tools." She writes persuasively that the AMNH dioramas are of unique in the world and have intrinsic value, that they help students compare past and present conditions, and help students make connections to the real world. I tend to agree.
Some argue that "there is very little educational value in these dioramas. A frozen moment cannot tell us anything significant about animal behaviour. Instead, the dioramas feel more like trophy rooms where each diorama captures a particular moment in an African safari hunting spree, where you, the intrepid hunter, can take a pot-shot at your favourite game animal." But I would argue that these are precisely the issues you can and should raise with your students: don't be afraid to historicize the dioramas and talk about how many of their ingenious creators were hunters and collectors. Don't be afraid to talk about issues of representation: how are the dioramas here different than zoo habitats? Why did the artists choose certain poses and backdrops? Do the dioramas really reflect the natural world if human beings actively created them?
I have taken 3rd graders to visit the Akeley Hall of African Mammals for two years now, and each experience has been rich and different. I always answer questions beforehand like "Are the animals alive?" and "Are the dioramas like zoos?" This preparation is important, as students begin to understand that dioramas approximate nature, but also contain other embedded stories and intricacies. As with any trip to the mammoth AMNH, I would recommend restricting diorama observation to one hall - there's plenty to see without overwhelming everyone. And I'd recommend arming students with a written activity, a sketch or an observational worksheet, that keeps them engaged between dioramas.
I just love watching students hone their observational skills from window to window, as they press right up to the glass and find new, tiny elements. They tell their own stories about what's happening, and the stories are always right, different and fascinating. The real power of AMNH's dioramas, I think, is that they force observers to make up stories about what they see. Just as taxidermists, artists, curators, and educators use museums to tell stories about our world, so too can students use the dioramas to reinterpret their own perceptions.
