: Collections & Research

1 Corinthians 12 introduces its readers to the lasting image of the fledging church as a physical body – each part with different but important roles to fulfil. This metaphor has endured for centuries, and is a challenging one for many Christians today, who struggle with things like hard denominational boundaries and tribal us/them attitudes. For Fr. Ruth, a queer priest in the Church in Wales (CiW), it has a similarly challenging but uplifting message. 

Ruth is a curate (trainee vicar) in the Islwyn Ministry Area in the Diocese of Monmouth, and she’s part of a team that looks after twelve different churches up and down the Gwent Valleys. She’s also bisexual, gender-non-conforming, and in a civil partnership with her spouse, Hannah. In addition to her ministry in the CiW, Ruth is one of four Pastoral Leaders of an ecumenical LGBTQ+ church in Cardiff called The Gathering. 

If that surprises you, that’s okay. But, despite what you may have been taught, queer people have always been a part of the life of the church. We have always been vicars, ministers, deacons, worship leaders, caretakers, congregants, youth group leaders. We are a part of the heritage and life of the church in a way that has, for too long, been overlooked and brushed aside.

The Anglican Church, in particular the Church of England, is undergoing a real reckoning at the moment over the issue of blessing same-sex marriages. The CiW has already had this conversation, and voted in 2021 to bless the marriages of same-sex couples. Whilst, for many, this does not go far enough, it is generally seen as a good first step, and it sets a precedent for other Anglican churches also having this discussion. It also puts those campaigning for marriage equality in a really good position for the Church in Wales to formally allow the sacramental celebration of marriage (hopefully) soon. The current position is bittersweet for many, though. As Fr. Ruth explained to me: “When the current legislation passed, that was a huge change for the Church in Wales. But I felt quite conflicted about it. In part, I am delighted that we can offer something to people for whom the church have been offering nothing. But, in part, it feels like a half-hearted step, where, what you're saying is ‘we're going to recognise that these relationships are good and holy and that God can bless them, but we're not willing to offer you the sacrament of marriage’. It feels theologically incomplete. And it's hurtful, as a queer person in a relationship, to know that the sacrament of marriage is withheld from us.”

It is still a huge deal, though, especially when you consider the length of Christian history that we were completely excluded from the public life of the church. We were still there, though, in closets and in the background, and I like to find queerness reflected in artwork throughout Christian history. It’s forever fascinating to me the ways in which artists, for hundreds of years, have been interpreting biblical stories in ways that we, as audience members and critics, can see the homoerotic. In this artwork, we can see ourselves reflected; here, in the shadow of gender transgression, there, in the hint towards homoeroticism. Indeed, for many artists throughout history, the only acceptable outlet for them to express their homoerotic desires was to displace them through artistic interpretations of ‘safe’ stories and figures – biblical scenes and characters. For example, artwork depicting the martyrdom of St. Sebastian is almost always homoerotic – after all, an attractive young man, mostly naked, is often depicted as being penetrated by arrows.

For Ruth, the ways in which she honours her place in the Church, and where she sees herself in the heritage of the church, is through the practise of the Eucharist. A useful image for her in thinking about the Eucharist is that of a human heart. “During the Eucharist, the church is like the chambers of the heart. It draws in that which needs nourishment. In the movement of the Eucharist, the nourishment is received, like blood going out to the lungs and coming back again, and then it's sent back out into the rest of its community.” So, when Jesus says, at the Last Supper, “Do this in remembrance of me” (Luke 22:19, NRSV), and we partake in this remembrance, we become a part of something bigger than us – an invisible string that stretches back centuries, connecting everyone across the world that’s ever remembered Jesus’ life in this way, like branches of a nervous system spanning time and space and holding us together. In this act of remembrance, “in becoming the body of Christ, all of the boundaries get blurry. So we become parts of a whole. That requires all of our differences.” It requires our differences in sexuality and gender identity, and how we interact with the world around us as embodied creatures. “As someone who the church historically would have said ‘we have no need of you’, I find it really, really heartening that those who still wish queer folks weren’t in ministry can't say ‘we have no need of you’. Because here we stand within the sacramental honours of the life of the church. You cannot say to me: I have no need of you. The challenging side is, I can't say to them I have no need of them either. We are brought together in that wholeness. And that wholeness is of God and so it's not up to us to say we have no need of one another.”

In a world full of divisive individualism, rituals like a Eucharist serve as an important reminder that we are a part of a much, much larger whole. The human body is an ecosystem of multitudinous grace, apathy, compassion and anger – never just one thing, always many interlinking feelings and experiences and beliefs. And, if a single human body is an ecosystem, how vast must the ecosystems of our societies be? Another word for Eucharist is Communion. This is the term that I grew up with in my faith tradition, and it holds both a special and fraught place in my heart because of it. The obvious reason behind it being called Communion is that it is through this ritual that we commune with God – we honour Jesus’ life and death, and are in communion with something greater than ourselves. But, through the connections and interconnections of this action, are we not also in communion with one another? Are we not then, in spite of all the things that separate us, one body? 

 ‘Indeed, the body does not consist of one member but of many. If the foot would say, “Because I am not a hand, I do not belong to the body,” that would not make it any less a part of the body. […] If the whole body were an eye, where would the hearing be? If the whole body were hearing, where would the sense of smell be? But as it is, God arranged the members in the body, each one of them, as he chose. If all were a single member, where would the body be? As it is, there are many members yet one body. The eye cannot say to the hand, “I have no need of you,” nor again the head to the feet, “I have no need of you.” […] If one member suffers, all suffer together with it; if one member is honoured, all rejoice together with it.’ (1 Cor. 12:12-26, NRSV). 

On the 1 December 1994 a tree was planted in the Gorsedd Gardens in front of National Museum Cardiff.

The tree was planted on World AIDS Day 1994 as a memorial to those who have died of AIDS in Wales. Since its planting it has been known by a few different names including the Tree of Life and the Red Ribbon Tree, and has become the focus for yearly World AIDS Day commemorations on 1 December each year, with people attaching red ribbons to the tree.

The tree was planted by Mike Phillips and Martin Nowaczek (co-founders of Cardiff Body Positive), along with the Lord Mayor and Lady Mayoress of Cardiff. At the planting a balloon was released for all those who have died of AIDS in Wales. By the end of 1994 (the year the tree was planted) there had been 10,304 reported AIDS cases and 7,019 known deaths in the UK (with 141 cases and 118 of these deaths in Wales).

Speaking about the planting of the tree Mike recalls that “I was around 25 when we planted the Red Ribbon Tree. We’d opened the Cardiff Body Positive drop-in-centre the previous day and Martin, already ill, was feeling tired. He died less than 6 months later”.

The plaque next to the tree was rededicated in 2021 and the original plaque donated to St Fagans National Museum of History. It was displayed at St Fagans in 2022/23 as part of the exhibition Wales is… remembering Terrence Higgins.

The Cardiff Body Positive collection recently donated to Amgueddfa Cymru is closely associated with the tree as its co-founders Mike and Martin planted the tree in 1994.

Cardiff Body Positive was founded in 1993 and were based at 57 St Mary Street, Cardiff. It supported people living with HIV and AIDS from across Cardiff and south Wales, and was one of a number of Body Positive groups around the UK. Their drop-in centre opened the day before the Tree of Life was planted, and they later organised what they called a ‘Celebration of Life’ at the tree – celebrating the lives lost to AIDS and showing solidarity and support to those living and affected with HIV/AIDS. The Cardiff Body Positive newsletters in the collection contain some obituaries for those who died of AIDS in Wales including its co-founder, Martin.

Cardiff AIDS Helpline was also operating about this time as well as the South Glamorgan AIDS Network. It was Cardiff AIDS Helpline that organised the first Candlelight Memorial to be held in Wales, which was held on 1 December 1993 on the steps of National Museum Cardiff, with almost 600 people attending. They held another World AIDS Day Candlelight Memorial in 1994 on the evening following the planting of the tree.

Today there is still no cure for HIV, but effective treatment now means that people with HIV can’t pass the virus on and can live long and healthy lives. The Welsh Government HIV Action Plan as well as organisations and networks such as the Terrence Higgins Trust, and Fast Track Cymru are working towards preventing new infections and eliminating stigma by 2030.

Hi! I’m Sophie, a Biological Science student at Cardiff University. Currently, I’m undertaking a Profession Training Year within the Mollusca section in the Natural Sciences Department at Amgueddfa Cymru under the supervision of curator Anna Holmes. My passion for zoology has inspired me to pursue opportunities that deepen my understanding of the animal kingdom. I love learning about different species and their unique roles within ecosystems. While Malacology is a new field for me, I am eager to explore the world of molluscs and broaden my zoological knowledge.  

During my placement year I will be working with Anna to research a non-native species of bivalve, Potamocorbula amurensis known commonly as the Amur River clam. Specimens recently collected from the Outer Thames Estuary have come to us for identification confirmation and, if correct, it will mark the first record of P. amurensis in the UK. Native to China, Japan and Korea, Potamocorbula amurensis has been previously recorded in San Francisco Bay, where it spread rapidly, and more recently in Belgium. One of the most common ways bivalves are introduced to new environments is through ballast water from ships. Ships take in water in one area, along with small organisms, and then release it in another, leading to the introduction of non-native species. 

Over the past two months at Amgueddfa Cymru, I have been engaged in a variety of tasks that have allowed me to gain valuable experience and knowledge in malacology. In preparation for our report, I have been researching previous studies on Potamocorbula amurensis, particularly focusing on its invasions in San Francisco and Belgium. I have been using a light microscope and Helicon Focus software to photograph bivalves from the museum’s collections, some of which are over 100 years old. Specifically, I have been imaging the specimens of possible Potamocorbula amurensis from the Thames, as well as specimens of that species and similar species that were already in the museum’s collection, taken from their native habitat of Asia. I am comparing them with the Thames specimens to provide a positive identification. 

Additionally, I have been imaging other species from the same family, Corbulidae, also known as the basket clams, to examine the differences between similar species. In the UK, the only native species of Corbulidae is Varicorbula gibba, and it’s usually found burrowed in coastal mudflats or estuaries, hiding just below the surface. These shells are very small and must be imaged carefully, from several angles, ensuring the lighting emphasises the specific features that aid in identification. The right valve is notably larger than the left, earning it the nickname “overbite clam”. Each valve features a tooth, an important characteristic for identifying bivalves. 

Recently, ethanol preserved samples of Potamocorbula amurensis have been collected from the Thames. In the next few weeks, I will be analysing the DNA of these specimens, with the hope of discovering if the UK population came from the San Francisco introduction or the native population in China.   

 Understanding the presence and spread of non-native species like Potamocorbula amurensis can have significant ecological and economic implications. Invasive species often disrupt local ecosystems, outcompeting native species, altering habitats, and affecting biodiversity. Some non-native species (around 10-15% of them) can become invasive and by identifying the pathways of introduction and tracking the spread of Potamocorbula amurensis, we can better inform conservation strategies and management practices to mitigate its impact on local environments. 

In addition to my research project, I’ve also been given the opportunity to gain hands-on experience in curating shell collections.  I have been sorting through the CCW – Lloyd James shell collection, cataloguing it into the museum’s Mollusca database. This process involves carefully organising and documenting the specimens, ensuring accurate records for future reference and research. Working with this collection has given me the chance to appreciate the incredible diversity of British molluscs and observe firsthand how intricate and beautiful their shells can be. One standout for me has been Palliolum striatum a stunning scallop species with vibrant colouring and beautifully ridged patterns. 

My time at Amgueddfa Cymru so far has been nothing short of wonderful. The staff in both Mollusca and Natural Sciences as a whole have been incredibly welcoming and supportive. They have generously shared their expertise with me, not only expanding my knowledge, but also deepening my appreciation for all the great work the museum does. I’m truly grateful for this opportunity and excited for what the rest of my placement will bring. I look forward to continuing my work here and learning even more from the incredible team. 

The Urban Meadow at National Museum Cardiff is a little haven for pollinators in the city centre. On a summer’s day it is teeming with bees, hoverflies, grasshoppers, ladybirds and craneflies. 

Monitoring the meadow, and managing it for wildlife, is vital to make sure it continues to provide an environment where these creatures can thrive. Mowing too frequently, or not removing ‘problem plants’ like brambles and trees, could damage the harmonious interplay between different types of plant.

This year, with help from Greening Cathays and support from the National Heritage Lottery Innovation Fund, we’ve been trialling new methods of surveying the plant life so that Volunteers and non-specialist Museum staff can help us keep track of the meadow biodiversity. This will help us to manage the meadow in the future.

As well as contributing to our understanding of the meadow, our staff and volunteers have reported the well-being benefits of working outdoors:

“If I could, I would stay out here all day, it’s such a nice environment to be in”.

“I feel like I’m doing work – but it doesn’t have the stress of work. It’s the perfect balance”.

Staff and volunteers have also felt more motivated or confident to get involved outside of work:

“I have patch of grass at home, I’m now on a mission to rewild it. I really want to know how to do that, I feel more motivated now I’ve seen what can be there”.

"It’s quite empowering feeling you've recorded data that will be used, makes me want to get involved in more things like this".

What did we find?

On the Urban Meadow plants such as Common Bird’s-foot-trefoil (Lotus corniculatus), Oxeye Daisy (Leucanthemum vulgare), Lady’s Bedstraw (Galium verum) and Red Clover (Trifolium pratense) add colour to this part of the city every summer. The appearance of the meadow changes subtly throughout the season, depending on which plants are in flower.

Several native grasses, including Meadow foxtail (Alopecurus pratensis), Cock’s-foot (Dactylis glomerata) and Timothy (Phleum pratense) grow on the meadow.  However, we do not want the grasses to outcompete other species.

The vegetation surveys demonstrated that, although the meadow is relatively small, there is a mosaic of plant communities, reflecting small-scale differences in environmental factors.  For example, we found that one corner of the meadow is damper than the other three corners and a charmingly named grass called Yorkshire-fog (Holcus lanatus) has dominated here. 

To let other flowering plants, which attract insects for pollination, have some space to grow we are going to invite staff to help with sowing seeds of Yellow-rattle (Rhinanthus minor) this autumn. 

This annual plant is a parasite on grasses (Poaceae) meaning it gets nutrients by penetrating the roots of the grass, and restricting the its growth. Many meadows may need an application of Yellow-rattle seed this autumn because the grasses have coped better with the hot weather than the smaller brightly coloured plants. The Yellow-rattle seeds are sown in the autumn because they need to sit in the soil during the winter and experience the cold to germinate. The yellow flowers appear in spring, followed by seed pods which ‘rattle’.

We will also create training opportunities for staff and volunteers to help with scything the meadow to get the ground ready for the next year.

The Urban Meadow hasn’t just been an opportunity to increase biodiversity at National Museum Cardiff, it has helped people too. Cultivating a wildflower meadow takes years but is a testament to the resilience and ever-changing charm of the natural world. We hope to continue working with staff and volunteers to care for our meadow, for the benefit of people and plants.