The glass flowers of Harvard

Scientific marvels, botanical wonders, drop-dead gorgeous works of art — these are just some of the epithets that have been used to describe the allure of a legendary, century-old collection of exquisite glass models of plants on permanent display in the Harvard Museum of Natural History. The stunningly life-like collection is one of a kind, created by Leopold and Rudolf Blaschka between 1886 and 1936, and still ranks as Harvard’s most popular public attraction.

The origin of the collection dates back to the 1800s when Prof George Lincoln Goodale (1839-1923) was appointed the first director of the Harvard Botanical Museum, established to aid scientists and students, and educate the public. As Goodale set about acquiring funds for the building to house the museum, the display cases and other fittings, the nature of the exhibits to be developed in the new museum presented some difficulties.

Pressed and dried herbarium specimens lose colour quickly and get reduced to two-dimensional objects; wax or papier mache models are crude and inexact. A taxidermist can preserve an animal’s body to create a life-like display, but plants did not lend themselves to this art. Photography was still a nascent and sepia-tinted technique, and colour is vital to any appreciation of flowers. So, how does one make attractive plant exhibits?

About this time, the Harvard Museum of Comparative Zoology had acquired models of exceptional delicacy done in glass, representing jellyfish and other marine invertebrates. An inspection of these persuaded Prof Goodale that glass might prove to be the desired medium for capturing the beauty and intricacy of plants. There were two problems though: first, persuading the makers to shift to producing plant models; and second, to find funding for the project.

To tackle the first, Goodale decided to approach the makers, Leopold (1822-1895) and Rudolf (1857-1939) Blaschka — a father and son team — who had their studio in Dresden, Germany. Originally from Bohemia, they had moved to Dresden in 1863. Prof Goodale visited their studio in 1886 and discussed the plans he had made. At first, his arguments failed to excite the artists. Leopold was reluctant to enter a new model-making field and refused to consider experiments that would interrupt an already lucrative and congenial task.

Goodale knew that about 20 years earlier, Leopold had prepared about 60 models of orchids for the famous orchidologist HG Reichenbach, a collection that was unfortunately lost in 1868 when a fire destroyed the museum at Liege, Belgium, in which they were housed. It so happened that in the artists’ reception room, there was a shelf on which a few orchids made of glass were displayed, and they looked as if they had just been brought in from a conservatory. Prof Goodale assured Leopold that these orchids embodied exactly what was desired.

At length, a satisfactory deal was struck and it was agreed that the Blaschkas would send a few sample models for the Botanical Museum. Although the models were duly completed and forwarded to the USA, they were badly damaged on arrival at Cambridge due to careless handling by inspectors in the customs house at New York. Even so, there were enough pieces intact to convince Goodale that investing in Blaschka glass art was more than a worthy educational investment.

To tackle his second problem of long-term funding for such an expensive enterprise, Goodale approached many friends of the museum and members of the Harvard community, including his former student Mary Lee Ware and her mother Elizabeth Lee Ware; the latter showed interest.

Initially, the Blaschkas decided to accept a half-time contract, desiring also to continue with their output of zoological models; but by 1890, they were convinced that it was not feasible to divide their energies. At that point, they were offered a 10-year contract for their entire output, the Wares agreeing to continue the needed financial support. The Blaschkas resumed work with new gusto, secure in the knowledge that their product would be given unprecedented prominence.

From then on until 1936, the contract was renewed from time to time, and the entire product of the Blaschka Studio — of 4,300 individual models representing 780 species, tropical and temperate — came to Harvard University. Leopold and Rudolf worked together until 1895 when Leopold died, but Rudolf continued the work. The entire collection is the work of two men without the aid of a single assistant or apprentice. As the project was entirely financed by the Wares, it came to be known as the ‘Ware Collection of Blaschka Glass Flowers of Plants’.

The Blaschkas were of Czech origin, known for their rare excellence and high artistic merit in glasswork. Leopold was the son of one of their notable members, Joseph Blaschka, a skilful craftsman in gold, silver and glass. Leopold soon joined the family business of making fancy objects in glass and precious metals. These included glass eyes that came in a spectrum of sizes and irises, and were made to order. His leisure hours were spent in studying natural history.

In 1853, Leopold sailed to the US, spending time in studying and making many drawings of the marine invertebrates.

Returning to Europe in 1854, he began the manufacture of these sea animals in glass and the first of the glass plants. Naturalism, meanwhile, was becoming a fad. There was popular interest in aquaria and botany, and Leopold sent his own son Rudolf to study animals and plants. Rudolf came back a member of the Dresden Natural History Society. Soon, the family moved to Dresden and the father-son duo set up a thriving business, supplying glass models of animals to various museums, including Harvard.

Harvard’s Natural History Museum displays hundreds of attractive models of flowers and plants of the Ware Collection, both large ones representing sprays/clusters of flowers, as well as magnified parts showing structural details. Their artistic excellence and scientific accuracy are beyond words.

I still remember my first visit in the mid-1980s: like many before me, I wanted to blow on them to see if the petals and leaves would flutter! This in spite of the cautioning sign on the walls — “Please do not lean on the cases. All the models are made of glass.”

There are dahlias, rhododendrons, sunflowers, irises, marigolds — apparently just picked from the garden — buttercups, cowslips, blue gentians, all perhaps fresh from the fields, and dozens of others that take your breath away.

The colours range from the delicate azure of the blue-tipped morning glory to the fiery splendour of scarlet clematis. The consummate skill of the workmanship is evident in the feathery bloom of the fringe tree and the large, thick, spongy leaves of the milkweed. Not only is it impossible to detect inaccuracies with the naked eye, even a microscopic examination failed to reveal any. Examining some 16 models under the microscope in 1894, and comparing them with his own herbarium specimens, botanist Walter Deane found the accuracy “positively startling”. The minutest features were rigidly observed, ensuring that every model is an exact copy of the fresh specimen that the artists had in hand.

What was the secret of the Blaschkas? How could they produce such enduringly realistic glass models of flowers that have, by and large, stood the test of time? For one, they worked from nature, so they knew and studied the plants, growing them in their garden, and informing themselves completely. Then, with flawless skill, they transferred this into glass, some with wire armature to support heavy appendages, long leaves, fat blossom clusters and fruits.

Many models are made with several different types of glass having varying degrees of malleability and fusibility. Some are made from clear glass with paint added later; others — especially models by Rudolf — have “self-prepared glass” in which colour has been used at the beginning of the process itself. Over time, some of the models have been repaired.

In 2016, the Museum renovated and reopened the Blaschka gallery, displaying some 2,000 of the 4,300 models. The original glass cases were rebuilt with interior lighting and new white flat glass so the flowers’ colours seem so much brighter than before. New exhibits pulled from storage have replaced some old ones. The models have been reclassified as per the Angiosperm Phylogeny Group classification system.

Over a century later, the collection retains its relevance, continuing to inspire scientists, artists and lay people alike.

— The writer is a botanist and the author of ‘Iconic Trees of India’