Lines in the Ice: Seeking the Northwest
Passage
(or a Northwest Passage according to
one title panel at the gallery’s entrance) is the current British Library
exhibition in what is now called, slightly misleadingly, the ‘Entrance Hall’
rather than the more specific Folio Gallery, the Folio Society presumably
having ceased its sponsorship of the space.
Lines in the Ice charts the
European – notably Norwegian, Russian, Dutch, but principally English – fascination
with the Arctic over the course of four hundred years and the often fraught
relationship with the region, and with
its inhabitants whose way of life has been put under increasing pressure since
contact was first made.
The
displays particularly focus on the search for the Northwest Passage linking
Atlantic and Pacific, a venture full of drama and tragedy that reflects the
outward urge of Europeans at a time of trade and colonial expansion. Curated by Philip Hatfield (the British
Library’s Canadian Collections) and Tom Harper (Map Library), there are some
wonderful items: books, maps of increasing accuracy (including Charles II’s own
atlas), letters, photographs, and moving images. The overall design is thoughtful, the
information panels’ colour scheme evoking the icy Arctic environment.
There
are some well-known names connected with the region here, starting with the
Elizabethan explorer Sir Martin Frobisher, shown in a confrontation with
Greenland Inuit in the 1570s. The bulk
of the exhibition though is devoted to the nineteenth century efforts at Arctic
exploration, reflecting British maritime dominance, the most famous name from
that period of course being Sir John Franklin.
He and his ill-fated expedition, as well as those that set out to discover
his fate, have a central place in the display.
There is also film of the great Roald Amundsen, and not forgetting
Father Christmas in the roll-call of famous figures associated with the Arctic,
who it turns out has been issued with a Canadian passport.
Inuit
accounts of the European presence were often dismissed when they did not suit
the prevailing narrative, such as stories of cannibalism among Franklin’s men
reported by John Rae from Inuit eyewitness accounts, later found to be true. Inuit identity and culture tended to be
ignored by European interlopers, their existence – if noticed at all – seen as
irrelevant, but the exhibition ensures that we are reminded of their presence. It is significant that Amundsen’s success in
navigating the Northwest Passage in 1903-6 was partly reliant on local Inuit
knowledge. He was always ready to learn
from those with greater experience.
The
fate of Franklin’s expedition highlights the Gothic feel of the region, one
that Shane McCorristine has examined.
Even before Franklin, though, Mary Shelley had seen the Arctic’s uncanny
potential in her 1818 novel Frankenstein. The flipside is the attempt to impose an
element of domesticity on the alien landscape, as can be seen in a print of
crew members playing cricket in an 1824 book by Captain William Parry. One of the most striking images in the
exhibition is an 1848 illustration of Peter Halkett’s very English combination
inflatable dinghy and cloak, with an umbrella that doubled as a sail – except
how much use would an umbrella be in such a cold place?
Sound
is not forgotten as an aid to evoke atmosphere, and it expands the visual
experience. Part of the display has a
soundtrack of surf and seabirds to accompany the exhibits. There are also headphones where one can
listen to recordings from the natural world: icebergs as they sound underwater,
the echolocation of a male sperm whale, and the subsurface vocalisations of
bearded seals and walruses.
Recent
decades are dealt with somewhat cursorily at the end, perhaps because this is a
story that is still being written. The
recent discovery of the whereabouts of Franklin’s HMS Erebus has fuelled interest in the Arctic, and the exhibition comes
up to date with the political manoeuvrings for territory and access to
resources as illustrated in maps issued by the Russians and Canadians. The demarcation problem will become all the
more pressing as the ice continues to recede and, given Russia’s current attitude
to diplomacy, is a potentially significant international flashpoint, while at
the same time the Arctic is increasingly important to environmentalists as a
symbol of the destruction of the planet in the pursuit of profit.
The
Arctic is a place of breath-taking beauty, danger, and wonder. It has long loomed large in our imagination,
and while it is right to be concerned for its future as a site of national
rivalries and degradation from climate change and commercial exploitation, it
is worth being reminded of those who risked, and often lost, their lives as
they went West in pursuit of a passage to the East, becoming part of legend in
the process. Lines in the Ice is a worthy tribute to their endurance.
The
exhibition has been extended and closes on Sunday 19 April 2015.
