By Katerina Karp, visual artist, journalist, researcher
Reflections after an evening at Manchester Museum
The world becomes richer and more layered when we learn to see it in all its complexity – not just in familiar forms, but also in those that quietly slip away, first from our field of vision, and eventually from reality itself.
At the Living Worlds gallery in Manchester Museum, we gathered not just to talk about birds, but to reflect on time, memory, and change – the kind of subtle shifts that only reveal themselves with enough distance. The occasion was a rare public showing of A History of the Birds of Europe by Henry Dresser – an intricate 19th-century ornithological work that captures the astonishing diversity of European birdlife. At the heart of the evening was one particular species: the slender-billed curlew, officially declared extinct in 2024.
The idea of extinction can sound abstract, even statistical. It’s easy to hear it without really feeling it. But what happens when we try to imagine it differently – say, as a colour palette, containing every hue visible to the human eye, including those just beyond it? Now, imagine quietly removing shades from that spectrum, one by one. At first, it may go unnoticed. But eventually, something unique disappears. The silence deepens. The world becomes just a little less whole.
The loss of a species isn’t just the disappearance of a biological unit – it’s the vanishing of one possible way of being in the world. It’s tempting to think of it as a natural part of evolution: species adapt or disappear. But the reasons are rarely so simple. History shows us that human activity – the way we live, what we value, how we consume – often accelerates these processes. And their consequences sometimes only become clear too late.
As we were reminded that evening, museums are not simply places of preservation or display. They are places where time can stretch and fold, where we can see the long tail of decisions made long ago. They are places where disappearance becomes part of an ongoing conversation – between past and future, between knowledge and memory, between loss and responsibility.
Stories like the one Dresser recorded don’t just teach us about the birds of Europe. They help us understand ourselves. As a society. As a species. As temporary inhabitants of a planet whose long-term stability depends on our ability to notice the small things, ask difficult questions, and care for what still remains within reach.
This exhibition served as a quiet reminder that sustainability goes far beyond environmental concerns. It’s about recognising the relationships between past, present and future. It’s about learning to live alongside other forms of life, acknowledging their value, and finding ways to ensure their survival. Museum collections play a vital role in this process – by recording change, revealing patterns, and helping us build a more thoughtful relationship with the world around us. Sustainability is not just a goal. It’s a way of seeing. A way of listening. With openness, and with care for what could so easily be lost.
