, Natural History Museum, London, to 6 November
TAKE time over Liz West鈥檚 captivating neon artwork in the foyer of London鈥檚 Natural History Museum, because darkness awaits at Colour and Vision, its latest exhibition. It鈥檚 not that the sun didn鈥檛 shine 550 million years ago, where this story begins 鈥� just back then there were no eyes to see.
The basic chemical and structural components of vision existed long before it evolved. Something happened to make eyes viable, although the exact nature of that innovation remains mysterious. But once visual information meant something, there was no stopping it 鈥� or life. For with vision comes locomotion, predation, complex behaviour, and, ultimately, consciousness.
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Colour and Vision does a great job of explaining colour鈥檚 role in this story, although sometimes the curators bite off more than they can chew, as when they try to explain the difference between half a dozen kinds of compound vision.
The best insights come from the objects themselves. A sample card of dyed wools reminds us just how hard it has been for humans to extract colours from their environment. For most of our history we have used a dead-leaf palette. In contrast, Gouldian finches boast heads of different colours (black, red, yellow), cowries wrap their bodies around colourful shells, and molluscs lay down iridescent nacre 鈥� one of nature鈥檚 most beautiful materials 鈥� simply to strengthen their shells.
We, however, need an entire industrial base before we can say with any honesty, as the exhibition does, that 鈥渨e are the only species with the power to choose what colour means for us鈥�. Even then we are constantly reminded that our colour vision is a relatively recent acquisition, and that it鈥檚 a mess genetically. This means that there鈥檚 a world of variety, beauty and meaning out there humans simply can鈥檛 see.
Visit this exhibition, and brush up against it. It鈥檚 an uncanny trip.
This article appeared in print under the headline 鈥淪trangely unseeing鈥�
