Dinosaurs of My Youth

The dinosaurs are back at the museum. Last weekend the ROM was totally packed with people wanting to see the great big papier-mâché monsters. I moved through the crowds holding on to my nephew’s hands as my husband skipped away and back in his excitement and awe of the dinosaurs. Personally, I couldn’t help but feel somehow let down. These dinosaurs were all new and shinny set against white walls. You could walk around and view them from different angles. There were touch video screens that explained the names and fun facts about the creatures. It was everything a modern museum should be and… I hated it.
It wasn’t the museum of my youth and despite my tender young age, I’m 34, I longed for the museum of my childhood. When I was little the dinosaur exhibit was dark – really dark. All of the walls were painted blue-grey and if they weren’t blue-grey then they were bumpy and damp looking to mimic caves and caveman times. Each dinosaur was housed in it’s own badly lit area because the ROM only had about three or four of them. I remember coming into the room with the biggest one – maybe a T-Rex? You had to move around to see the head because in the vast darkness there was only one small pot light. The mystery and tension were breathtaking. You could see the head a little, but not the body at the same time. I think there was some little dino-armadillo way down by the T-Rex’s feet. Something from his time but small and beneath his notice. I’m pretty sure there was a leafy backdrop- or maybe I imagined one. You can imagine lots of things in the dark. In other rooms there were these cave man and woman mannequins. They were snugged up to the rooms with the dinosaurs because even though we all know as adults that cave men and dinosaurs didn’t hang out together, as kids it’s part of our Flintstone reality.
I know that the museum of my childhood would be mocked by modern man and their offspring as lacking style and electronic stimulants. As an artist who has visited and loved art galleries and museums both here and abroad I should probably celebrate the change, the new, the shinny, the dinosaur in the round, but I don’t, I guess it’s the emotional equivalent of a foodie who sneaks corn dogs late on Sunday nights when no one is looking.