LONDON, UK — Even in death, a body tells the story of its life. Yellow-stained fingers indicate a cigarette habit. Bruises on the lower legs reveal the clumsy stumbling of an alcoholic. Tattoos and teeth can speak volumes about their owners’ fortunes, losses and loves.
As a pathology technician and former mortician, Carla Valentine’s career has been about reconstructing lives and deaths based on such physical evidence left behind.
It was ideal preparation for her current role as assistant technical curator at Barts Pathology Museum in central London.
That’s a benign title for what has to be one of this city’s most unusual jobs: the daily care of 5,000 human organs and tissues housed in glass jars and acrylic cases in an airy Victorian atrium in St. Bartholomew’s Hospital.
The earliest specimens date from the 1750s; the last were accepted in the 1970s. There are gout-afflicted toes, punctured scalps and everything in between.
Since taking over the daily maintenance of the long-neglected collection, Valentine has reorganized its shelves and replaced some of the aging jars, or pots. She’s also made it her mission to reconstruct the stories of the living, breathing humans to whom those organs once belonged.
“It’s not just about the science or the humanities,” says Valentine, a 32-year-old Liverpool native. “It’s about the people behind the pots.”
Valentine was hired two years ago in the hope of salvaging the collection and eventually opening it to the public.
She reorganized the neglected and leaking specimens, repotted some herself and peeled away the industrial carpet tiles to reveal a gleaming wooden floor. The museum now occasionally opens for special events, and there’s an ongoing effort to raise funds to open it to the public.
British law governs the public viewing of human remains, and the museum will need a special license to admit visitors to the whole collection. At the moment, all specimens less than 100 years old must be stored on the upper floors, which remain closed to visitors.
Domizio argues that despite its seeming anachronism, the collection remains vitally important to the medical profession.
“Would anyone suggest that a car mechanic qualify without ever seeing or handling an engine part?” she says. Disposing of the collection, as many universities have done, she adds, “would be the ultimate betrayal of the individuals who donated their gifts.” [READ MORE]
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