The Cabinet of Curiosities & Colonialism

Whether stored in cabinets or large rooms, the display of such collections was often dictated by two primary categories: Naturalia and artificialia (or artefacta). The former consisted of objects from the natural world—from preserved animal and plant specimens to mineral and rock samples. The latter designated man-made objects—typically artworks and cultural artifacts. Many also collected scientifica—meaning scientific objects and tools.

Although such collections were kept by a wide range of groups and individuals—from Tsars to churches and apothecaries to scientific academies—a new wave of scholars have taken particular interest in the motives and cultural implications of the wealthy, often aristocratic, hobbyist collector.

The naturalia and artificialia accrued by such men primarily consisted of objects considered rare, foreign, and bizarre to the collector and their peers. As such, many now look to these collections to better understand, in the words of James Clifford, “the restless power and desire of the modern West to collect the world” and the manner in which the rich and influential went about worldmaking in their time period.

In 2017, the Museum Stobaeanum—named for the collector Kilian Stobaeus (1690–1742)—launched a three-part series of workshops under the larger project Beyond curiosity and wonder: understanding the Museum Stobaeanum. As part of the first workshop, Art History Professor Mårten Snickare gave a public lecture entitled Collecting and Colonisation: On Objects and “Worldmaking” in Early Modern Sweden.

In this particular lecture, Snickare explained that “The desire for rare collectibles, in its turn, was a driving force behind the launching and funding of colonial enterprises.” He went on to argue, “Sweden formed part of these entangled histories to a higher degree than is usually acknowledged.” 

Additionally, Snickare stressed the importance of addressing questions raised by the context of any museum’s holdings and presented several examples of such questions: “Are there ethically defendable ways of displaying these objects in our ethnographic and other museums? What might we do with the objects? What might they do to us?”

Today, many scholars like Snickare look to curiosity collections to better understand how they—and their owners—embodied and sustained colonialist notions of white discovery and ownership.