Museums are filled with memories. Memories of events and of living creatures. These memories are represented by the objects in the museum collection. Visitors usually encounter these in show-cases, lifted for a moment from their hiding-place deep in the vaults or from under the rafters: forbidden territory for the passer-by.
When I was about six years old I went with my father to visit a friend in Amsterdam. This friend worked for the Royal Institute for the Tropics and he took me down to the vaults of this enormous building on the Mauritskade. The vaults where the collection was kept, far away from exhibition halls and visitors. A wonderful experience: the sight of all the rows of masks, spears, gold and silver. Creeping through the secret passageways made more special by the fact that I was there where others were not allowed to come...

Years later I arranged a days outing for my colleagues to the Tropical Museum. Bearing in mind my childhood experience I harped on until they made an exception for us and let our group of about forty people into the vaults. There they were once again, the hundreds of spears, the dozens of copper and gold Buddha statues. The objects never seem quite as impressive when on exhibition in the usual way. Here the past although tucked away lived on. The stories as yet untold seeped softly throughout the vaults.
The curators kept guard like factory foremen. Their faces were pale and drawn. "Don't touch anything" one called out in a timid voice. One of my good-humored colleagues said: "Oh look that little golden Buddha statue would look great on my mantelpiece!" It took a while before it dawned on the curator that this was only a joke.

These two occasions came to mind when I met Rommert Boonstra a few years ago and he told me that he would love to work with a museum collection. Boonstra is one of the founding fathers of 'staged photography' in the Netherlands, the art of placing objects in a setting as it were, to stage them and then photograph this still-life.
We finally got under way last year. Boonstra came from Rotterdam to his dearly loved Groningen. To the photographers greatest pleasure the curator unveiled for him the secrets of the collection. A candy store!

He took a box of miscellaneous things back to Rotterdam to practice. I met him there a few weeks later in his 'studio of organized chaos'. Hundreds of objects of every nature, boxes, scraps, wire and of course objects from the collection of our museum. From this exceptional abundance came the first landscapes of objects and small theater sets. Seen through the lens of the camera they grew to immense spaces where one would gladly lose oneself.

Boonstra has worked for the last six months in the silent, forbidding attics of the museum surrounded by a constantly growing amount of objects. Far away from the visitors and the exhibitions. He gave each object a special meaning by setting it in scene. The memory hidden within the object has now gotten more space, the story behind it was told in a special way.

This touches on the essence of a museum piece. As far as I am concerned it only has real value when it has something to tell, not only with words but also with atmosphere and feeling.

In 'Natura ex machina' a collection has been staged. A mounted bird becomes a story about a bird that once flew on high. A preserved frog achieves great dimension and becomes a symbol instead of just a 'disgusting thing in a glass jar'.
The observer is constantly amazed. The combination of objects, staging and poetry gives the visitor a lasting memory to take away.

Natura ex machina is an example of how good teamwork between a 'non-art' museum and an artist can achieve surplus value. An added value that improves the communication between collection and public.

And that is the objective of every museum.

Kees van der Meiden, director nature museum groningen