This beautiful show grapples with the history and purpose of habitat dioramas—those eerily lifelike tableaus found in darkened museum halls—and, by extension, questions the past and present life of natural history museums. What is the role of a natural history museum in 2025, and what do 20th-century dioramas mean in a 21st-century context? Because the exhibition involves institutional self-critique, a few contradictions crop up within its extended inquiry. However, these inconsistencies spur rather than dissuade viewers to think even more fully about “reframing” the mission of natural history museums for our complicated era.
Viewers without a natural history background or an experience of elementary school field trips might wonder what a habitat diorama is, exactly? A display text lists their three key features: 1. “a realistic background painted on a curved surface,” 2. “a foreground made with real or modeled plants and rocks,” and 3. “taxidermized animals.” But that bare-bones description doesn’t capture the haunting qualities of classic dioramas in any natural history museum.
Dioramas first rose to popularity in the 1920s. They were seen as a more dynamic alternative to the traditional glass cases crammed full of very dead-looking specimens or their skeletons. Dioramas were also an attempt to capture the support of the public for saving living animals and their environments in a time of unregulated hunting and habitat destruction during the early 20th century, when many species (including passenger pigeons, great hawks, grizzly bears, bison and mule deer, among others) were hunted to near or total extinction. In Los Angeles’ version of a diorama hall, as you approach each glass-fronted diorama, it floats into visibility out of semi-darkness. It’s hard not to be transfixed by the unblinking stares of taxidermied jackals, armadillos and monkeys.
Installation views of “Reframing Dioramas: The Art of Preserving Wilderness.” Courtesy of NHMLAC. Photo: Elon Schoenholz.
At first, quickly surveying the room, you’d be hard-pressed to find much that’s different in this exhibit from a hundred years ago when the first diorama hall opened at LA’s Natural History Museum. This indicates how well-integrated newer elements (film, text, projections, still photography, audio, and digital interventions) added for this show are within the context of the historical dioramas. These contemporary additions include three new dioramas commissioned for this show with film, projection and other new media elements. The most arresting of these is an eye-popping piece by artists Yesenia Prieto, Joel Fernando, and Jason Chang (RFX1) which looks a bit like a still from some neon-tinted anime film, populated by alebrije, brightly colored, sometimes hybrid, sometimes mythical creatures, cast here as protectors of and advocates for the natural world in all its dazzling splendor.
These new media additions help dissect the history, ethics and initial aims of specimen collection and exhibition. Bilingual text panels (English/Spanish) discuss former hunting practices that the museum no longer relies on to obtain specimens, as well as the many uncredited (and possibly unpaid) people who contributed to the dioramas’ making, also pointing out the part colonialism played in specimen acquisition.
A few contradictions leak in via the text panels. One panel tells us, “Before dioramas, museums traditionally displayed specimens in taxonomic order… Birds, mammals, insects and plants would all be packed into rows in separate cases. Dioramas gave these specimens life by putting them back together into their natural habitats.” (Italics mine).
Now, don’t get me wrong. I’ve adored natural history museums since I was a kid. I love this museum and show. But am I the only one whose fur feels rubbed the wrong way when dead, stuffed animals are described as being given life by any mode of displaying them? Also, a tad strange are the quotes asserting that dioramas are meant to show animals in “their natural habitat.” How does a glass case with an idealized painted background housing taxidermied animals and dead or fake plants constitute “a natural habitat?” A later text panel says something far more accurate, though, again, a bit at odds with previous display texts, declaring, “The static presentation of nature is the most artificial.” Still another panel states, “Dioramas are not exact copies of nature… creators selected and changed natural features to balance composition and interest,” again belying the notion that they are “natural habitats.”
Despite these small quibbles about semantics or textual discrepancies, this is a thoughtful, laudable show. In our era of climate change and ecological threat, natural history museums could potentially be an illuminating positive influence. This show, as well as being a piece of science history, represents a good faith effort to begin thinking about what those new roles for such museums could look like.
