We are now so used to seeing the world through our digital screens, that it might seem odd to seek out a different kind of two dimensional experience, one which cannot be uploaded in seconds.
This feeling of technology overwhelming reality is shared by others and brilliantly captured by the Norwegian writer Karl Ove Knausgaard: “My current problem, what I struggle with, is that I cannot find an outside to technology. It is as if the outside had disappeared, as if it were no longer a possible place”. https://harpers.org/archive/2025/06/the-reenchanted-world-karl-ove-knausgaard-digital-age/
Plants, like everything else, get the digital treatment, and of course my initial reaction to the use of technology in modern botany is : ’Thank God!’ or rather ‘Thank Google’. I find botanical online resources amazing. Being able to ask search engines or AI apps to come up with plant identification, and much more, such as data about plants’ functions, geographical span, ecology.…will always be magical for me. Being able to take endless photos of plants, including some of the very small details, can also seem like an incredible gift. At the same time, I can find the whole experience overwhelming. Looking up a plant online, it lands amidst a flood of other plant images and information, losing its distinctiveness in an instant.
As a contrast to the digital world, I was keen to experience plants which had been collected through the traditional method of herbarium, where plants are mounted onto paper and pressed dry to preserve them. So I was excited to get access to Manchester Museum’s herbarium just a few months ago. https://www.museum.manchester.ac.uk/ourcollections/botany/
Herbaria are old tools, dating from the 16th century. The Italian Luca Ghini is usually considered as the inventor of the herbarium, and Gherardo Cibo (1512 – 1600), a student of Ghini, is credited for putting together the herbarium now considered as the oldest remaining example, which is currently kept in Rome. (For more information on the development of herbaria, see: The Green Middle Ages The Depiction and Use of Plants in the Western World 600-1600, Claudine Chavannes-Mazel and Linda IJpelaar Editors, 2023. https://www.jstor.org/stable/jj.1231865).
Some of these early herbaria became parts of cabinets of curiosities, where collected items could have both research and entertainment purposes. I often think of herbaria as scientific repositories, initially helping botanists with taxonomy, i.e. the characterisation and classification of plants, and now providing essential historical information. Each plant specimen is a sample in time and space, with the potential to help us understand environmental changes.
As museums have limited resources, it can sometimes be difficult to make a case to just see collections for the enjoyment of it, without a specific focus on research or learning, and I am grateful that Manchester Museum was happy to indulge my curiosity. I had no idea of how the materials were kept or how they could be accessed, first imagining that I could be let loose in a room full of drawers with sheets of pressed plants kept in alphabetical order. Manchester Herbarium has around 750,000 specimen, not something you can scroll through easily, even if it pales into insignificance compared to the number of plant photos available online (#plants has almost 60 million posts on instagram at the last count).
The recent digitisation of their herbarium catalogue (thank you technology!) meant that it was possible for me to request to view whichever herbarium specimens I wanted. Then, for each record I chose, a box was prepared, often with multiple specimens of a same species, and made available for me to see in the museum’s research studio. This meant that I could have some quality time with this botanical treasure trove, reviewing each specimen, looking up plant details with a hand lens and taking note of the context in which it had been collected. Some specimens were pressed on the Gardeners’ Chronicle job ads pages, where gardeners would tout their knowledge and good character. The paper, founded in 1841, was a key publication for gardeners and botanists.
In her book ‘Field Study : Meditations on a Year at the Herbarium’, Helen Humphreys describes ‘a visit to the herbarium (as) an exquisite kind of time travel’. And indeed, it felt just so. Although some species had been collected over 150 years ago, I was struck by the aliveness of the whole experience. Unveiling each specimen by removing the protective tissue paper, and being able to observe the plants details, as well as information about where, when and who collected it, was like reaching through time to people who had taken care to prepare the pressed plants and saw value in them.
Helen Humphreys also astutely observes that herbaria give equal reverence to all plants and collectors, ‘no one and nothing is preferred above anyone or anything else’. There is no heart emoji attached to a particular sheet. The observer can make their own decision about what to look for and look at, and go on their own journey of discovery.
I was particularly interested to look at plants which are now common to Manchester’s urban landscape such as Willowherbs and Ragworts. I noticed a sheet dated 1862 presenting two specimen of Rosebay Willowherb (Chamaenerion angustifolium), one from a valley in Switzerland and one from Mr Cooper’s garden in Bowdon, Greater Manchester. The specimen sheet was prepared by Charles Bailey, a Manchester business man who was a dedicated amateur botanist and created an impressive herbarium collection of some 300,000 specimens, now at the Manchester Museum. I was intrigued by his juxtaposition of the two Willowherbs, until I found out that Rosebay Willowherb was only locally found in England in the 19th century, initially favouring rocky places. The beautifully presented specimens were showing me how the plant had once had the specialness of an alpine trip find. Bailey is said to have written about his remarkable Mancunian specimen in the Gardeners’ Chronicle.
Using the digital world, I would then see how Rosebay Willowherb is now widespread across Britain and has been so since the 1950s. https://plantatlas2020.org/atlas/2cd4p9h.7fqgbm. But although ‘my discovery’ is already well documented online, it does not diminish the importance of my analog botany session at Manchester Herbarium. The experience opened my eyes to the history of plants and their long lasting beauty. It allowed me to witness a moment in time when the ecology of Britain was changing.
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All photo subjects were from Manchester Museum’s Herbarium. Many thanks to Rachel Webster and Kayleigh Crawford for enabling me to access some of the collection.
All photos and artwork are my own.
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