Preserving the Past: The Importance of Specimen Care ⏳

Shannon Kira Mcmillan
Nov 26, 2025
6 min read

Updated: Dec 23, 2025

Growing up near Wollaton Hall in Nottingham, home to the city’s Natural History Museum since 1926, I was always drawn to its glass cabinets filled with taxidermy, insects, fossils and skeletons. I didn’t realise it at the time, but those quiet halls planted the seed for what would become my passion — natural history as a bridge between art, science, and belief.

My background in History and Religious Studies (especially the study of Abrahamic religions) often explored how humans understand creation, life, and the natural world. In many ways, natural history represents another kind of theology — one that studies existence through evidence, preservation, and wonder rather than scripture.

🦋 Natural History as a Reflection of Humanity

Natural history reveals more than biological specimens; it tells the story of our own curiosity and craftsmanship. Early collectors were motivated by discovery, but also by artistic and moral questions. The British monarchy played a surprisingly central role in this story — Queen Victoria’s fascination with exotic animals fuelled public enthusiasm for taxidermy and the decorative arts, while Charles Darwin’s evolutionary theory, funded by the Crown but condemned by the Church, pushed society into one of its greatest cultural debates.

Taxidermy also became a powerful tool for education and accessibility. In the early nineteenth century, few people could afford to travel abroad or join scientific expeditions, yet museums and travelling displays brought the wider world to them. Preserved specimens allowed ordinary visitors to encounter creatures from distant climates — expanding public understanding of biodiversity, geography, and evolution in ways that books alone could not.

One of my favourite early examples of taxidermy is the first taxidermy lion. Its maker had never probably seen a living lion, which led to a slightly awkward, almost goofy expression. I find it strangely beautiful — proof that learning begins with imperfection, and that preservation is as much an emotional craft as a technical one.

The Lion of Gripsholm Castle (1731) [link] -- Exhibit at the Australian Museum dates around 1909-1919.

🎨 Early Educational Influence

My fascination with natural history began in early childhood and developed further during my GCSE Art studies, where I explored marine and skeletal forms as part of a sea life project. I incorporated shark jaws, a discarded shark fin (created in protest of finning), and anatomical drawings of jellyfish to express the relationship between life, death, and preservation.

During this time, one of my friend’s fathers — a professional taxidermist — brought several prepared specimens into class for us to study and draw from. These included a ram skull, tortoise shell, alligator head, and taxidermy birds such as a raven. This experience sparked a deeper appreciation for anatomical accuracy, ethical handling, and the craftsmanship behind specimen preparation.

Since then, I have continued to create anatomical illustrations inspired by my interest in natural history and museum collections. I have recently opened an Etsy shop where I sell my own animal bone art, combining my artistic practice with my ongoing work in museum curation and conservation.

Year 10 GCSE Art Project: Explored animal anatomy (2017–2018)

🦴 Why Specimen Care Matters

Specimen care isn’t simply about cleaning or display — it’s about honouring the object’s story. Every bone, feather, or insect carries evidence of history, habitat, and human intervention. Caring for specimens is a form of stewardship — a way of balancing preservation with accessibility.

My recent work with the Yorkshire Natural History Museum reinforces this. Their collection includes fossils and dinosaur bones found largely across the UK, with additional specimens from around the world spanning multiple prehistoric eras. Alongside this, the museum holds a smaller modern collection — including a shark head, shark teeth, a fox skull, and other contemporary specimens they hope to expand. It’s a setting that brings together the ancient and the modern, highlighting how the principles of care, conservation, and documentation apply to every stage of natural history.

🧭 Evolving Ethics in Preservation

Natural history has always existed in conversation with ethics. From debates over fur versus faux, leather versus vegan, or vintage versus modern taxidermy, to wider concerns about sustainability, these discussions reflect changing attitudes toward animals and conservation.

Personally, I take a clear ethical stance:

Vintage over modern, when possible — reuse rather than reproduce.
Found over caught — I prefer working with naturally deceased specimens or reclaimed pieces.
No protected species — especially bats, which are legally protected in the UK.
Ivory is complex — while vintage ivory may have historic and artistic value, modern trade is unethical to me because it remains tied to trophy hunting and exploitation.

Indigenous and traditional cultures have long modelled a more balanced approach. Communities in the Nordic regions, for example, hunt sustainably within strict limits — using each animal fully for food, tools, and ritual — a form of stewardship deeply rooted in respect and survival. I believe this mindset still holds relevance for modern conservationists and curators.

🎨 Artistic Interpretations of Anatomy

My artistic practice continues to influence my approach to natural history and specimen care. I’ve been creating anatomical drawings for several years, blending accuracy with creativity to explore form, preservation, and identity.

My anatomical art explores the intersection of structure and storytelling — from the skeletal intricacy of an Asian rice field frog to the sculptural form of British mammals like the badger and fox. These works sit alongside earlier studies such as my monkfish skull drawing, completed during my GCSE art studies, which marked my first attempt to combine artistic technique with anatomical precision.

My creative process also extends beyond paper — I design my own tattoos, drafting each piece before collaborating with my tattoo artist, who reinterprets the design in their own style. Some of my current tattoos include an Asian rice field frog skeleton surrounded by yellow flowers, a raven skull with mushrooms, and a Tim Burton–inspired piece featuring Zero, Scraps, Sparky, and Ophelia. These designs reflect my fascination with anatomy, gothic storytelling, and the blurred line between life, death, and imagination — themes that also inspire my artwork.

I’ve always loved the gothic charm of Tim Burton’s films, particularly The Nightmare Before Christmas, which continues to influence my creative style and aesthetic — even inspiring the names of my two tortoises, Jack and Sally.

These drawings, alongside my Etsy bone art series — including depictions of white-tailed deer, roe deer, and Chinese water deer skulls — reflect my ongoing fascination with how art can document and honour the natural world. Several of these pieces are now available through my Etsy shop, where I share bone-inspired artwork that celebrates both the beauty and fragility of nature.

My creative practice naturally extends into collecting and caring for preserved specimens, where art, science, and ethical responsibility intersect in tangible form.

Anatomical studies exploring skeletal form and preservation — including badger, frog, fox, and deer skulls (white-tailed, roe, and Chinese water deer).

As well as my taxidermy inspired tattoos - (Four Dogs from Tim Burton films by Shaun Turner: @ShaunTurnerTattoo &

an Asian Rice Field Frog Skeleton and Raven Skull by Greg Cameron: @Throttled_Ink).

💜 Personal Taxidermy Collection

Alongside my artistic and curatorial work, I’ve built a small personal taxidermy and natural history collection that reflects my respect for preservation and education. My collection includes ethically sourced vintage pieces and naturally found specimens, focusing on quality craftsmanship and sustainable practice rather than acquisition.

Many of the specimens I own — from found bird skulls to vintage bugs — serve as both artistic reference and research material. They allow me to study form, structure, and technique closely, deepening my understanding of historical and contemporary preservation methods.

My collection is guided by a strong ethical framework: I prioritise vintage and found specimens over newly prepared or commercially hunted ones, and I avoid any endangered or protected species. This approach ensures my work remains grounded in conservation, curiosity, and care — the same principles that guide my curatorial practice.

My Personal Collection (2021-Present) -- My Personal Collection Section on my website [link]

🪶 A Personal Reflection

For me, specimen care is an act of empathy. I’ve cleaned, articulated, and documented many of my own finds — skulls, insects, shells — and in doing so, I’ve learned patience, humility, and reverence for life’s fragility. When I hold a bone or pin an insect, I’m reminded that this is more than preservation; it’s a dialogue between past and present, between curiosity and conscience.

Through both my personal collection and my work in museums, I’ve come to see that caring for specimens means caring for stories. Whether it’s a fossil millions of years old or a bee found in a garden, each piece deserves respect, accuracy, and ethical thought.

Institutions Mentioned:

🦌 Check out Wollaton Hall's website

🦕 Check out the Yorkshire Natural History Museum's website

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My Social Links:

🦴 Check out my My Etsy Shop (Currently Updating with New Creations)