When I first stepped into the collection storerooms of the Whanganui Regional Museum, I came face-to-face with a large, sparsely feathered bird. His piercing, amber eyes stared directly into my soul as I read out the little paper label draped around his neck: "Emu?". He was the first friend that I made in Whanganui and, as I later came to find out, he was indeed a mounted, taxidermy emu (or Dromaius novaehollandiae).
I've now spent two weeks as an intern for the museum and have had many encounters with odd-yet-interesting objects. One great thing about working in a museum is that you never know what will spark your interest or make a strong impression. After my initial meeting with the emu, I was given a pair of gloves and set free in the textiles storeroom. I quickly found myself gazing upon a pair of traditional, wooden Dutch clogs with tears streaming down my face. Ok, so perhaps the tears were induced by a sudden bout of homesickness for Wellington - but as they splashed onto the cold, concrete floor of the archives, I felt that myself and the clogs were karmically linked.
For some reason, many things have brought me to tears since my arrival at the museum. While tagging along with the museum's education team, Margie Beautrais and Lisa Reweti, I was particularly moved to learn about a moa family which was found in a swamp and reassembled to stand side by side in the museum. I couldn't dwell on the fact that I was a 22-year-old Masters student exclaiming over moa skeletons with a bunch of five and six-year-olds; I was simply too busy learning about their extravagantly long thigh bones and miniature tails. To put it simply, when you're as passionate about museums and history as I am, it is delightful to see tiny humans sharing in your excitement.
I previously mentioned my tear-stained encounter in the textiles storeroom, but this was not an isolated experience. Exploring the museum's clothing archives has truly been a test of my stoicism. A 1930s gold satin evening gown with a floral, brocade overlay drew my attention. I imagined myself (or a size 0 version of myself) wearing the floor-length dress and running through the halls of a sprawling English mansion - suddenly, I was Keira Knightley in Atonement.