Michaela C.
Yelp
Let me take you back in time. Aaaaaaaaall the way back to...1996.
In 1996, my twelve-year old self came to Hyde Park Barracks Museum on a History excursion for school. Among the displays were countless artefacts discovered beneath the floorboards. One tiny object in particular, though, truly captivated me. A gnarly toenail clipping. I was grossed out and thoroughly impressed all at the same time. Here, right before me, was this fragment of a human being who had all but disappeared from the face of the earth. That toenail had downright obstinately refused to surrender to Time. Not even the glass betwixt myself and the gnarly toenail could ever dissever the closeness I now felt to the past. I was utterly rapt.
17 years later, I finally returned. Knowing that these sites tend to change a bit over the years in terms of exhibits, I had my doubts I'd see my ol' mate the magic, time-travelling toenail again when I went there today. I searched the rooms, hoping to find him...and there he was. Gnarly as ever. He even had some friends - a couple more nail clippings and a tooth!
I have the greatest admiration for the curators of this museum. This place is actually perfect. I really mean it. The work and research is obvious and nothing short of incredible. And the extra touches that put a zing! in my heartstrings really blow me away. Take, for example, the "ghost stair" at the entrance to the museum: an "abstract line tracing the handrail of the original stair." The audio guide asks you to look up and imagine the thousands of poor convicts who walked that ghostly staircase in days of yore. Spine-tingling stuff. And at the foot of the ghost stair, the penny really drops as to the whole logic behind the museum.
The three-storey structure allows the museum to simultaneously serve multiple, competing needs. Level 1 is a modern adaptation for exhibition where you can learn about the early history of the colony, try on a convict's suit, view enormous murals and survey interactive digital maps of Sydney's streets charting changes from "then" to "now." Level 2 starts to scratch away various layers of the building to reveal its multiple uses over time. And when you reach the top of the ghostly stair, at Level 3, the building is completely stripped back to its original condition and you find yourself in a theatrical reconstruction of the convict past, complete with soundscapes. As you walk down the hallway and into rooms containing rows and rows of replica convict hammocks (that you can hop in!) you hear the real, sad stories of convicts told to you in a thick Irish brogue. But it's when you get to a vast, empty whitewashed room containing nothing but convicts' silhouettes around the windows, (which provided an eerie white light), that the museum takes the experience to another level entirely. You feel like you have entered a memorial to those men who were packed in here like sardines and will forever be little more than shadowy silhouettes in our history. The body language captured in their silhouettes tells their collective story of woe. A more fitting memorial, I cannot imagine.
There is so much to see, you could easily spend the entire day here without even getting to the archaeology display in the Deputy Superintendent's Office, which is free to view.
My toenail anecdote of 1996 was more than just a bit o' whimsy. It is a testament to the importance of taking young people to museums like this, which are so affective and offer so much scope for the imagination. Y'see...I didn't know it then, but my encounter with that toenail turned out to be a key moment in my life: I ended up a colonial sensory historian.
* Review originally written and posted 8 December 2013.