Museum offers enchanting array of obscure curiosities

When I first heard about the Museum of Jurassic Technology, I envisioned a room filled with early tools used by humans or, since I don’t think humans were around in the Jurassic period, early tools used by dinosaurs. I definitely did not picture dead mice on toast, space dogs and a tribute to trailer parks.

I learned about the museum from Mr. Mullen, my high school history teacher. Naturally, since he was my favorite teacher, I visited the museum immediately, enthralled by its pure weirdness.

Since that first visit, I’ve frequently brought up MJT in conversations about things to do in L.A., just so I can rave about it. From USC, MJT is easily accessible by taking the Expo Line to Culver City.

Warning: this article contains spoilers. To maximize museum enjoyment, stop reading now and go visit without knowing what to expect.

If you must read on, bring friends who know nothing about the museum and watch their reactions. As bad as it sounds, I spent most of my second visit laughing at my friends’ confusion.

My friends quickly realized that the museum has no discernible connection to “Jurassic technology” and speculated its true purpose. After examining a horn that the museum claimed “grew from the back of a woman’s head,” they were convinced it was a “museum of lies.”

Nearby, a wall boasted a common beetle, next to a telephone.

“Am I supposed to talk to it?” asked my friend, Taylor.

Placards offer prattling descriptions, leaving patrons searching long blocks of text for information. My friend Jodee repeatedly questioned the placement of a sign reading “Portrait of a Woman,” seemingly placed with a video of a lemur eating berries.

Somehow, the museum has everything and nothing at the same time. There’s art — radiographic image of flowers. There’s theater — the Borque Theater Mechanics guide to making a man into a rock. There’s science — a graph demonstrating the various states of matter. But unlike other museums, there’s nothing of recognizable importance. There’s no Warhol, no dinosaur bones, no famous historical documents. Instead, the stuff is important because the museum says it is.

Lured by the promise of tea and cookies, we rushed upstairs before fully examining first floor.

The tearoom is quaint, classy, and most importantly, it makes sense, offering a sanctuary from the museum’s oddities. An accompanying outdoor courtyard features live music, majestic archways and caged doves. By this point, my friends were thoroughly confused, so the tearoom served as a place for them to recover from their frustration.

As we entered the upstairs section, we were greeted with imposing portraits of dogs in a curtained, candlelit room with a somber atmosphere. The portraits featured the fallen dogs of the Soviet space program, including “the famed Laika,” the first animal to orbit Earth.

Perhaps the museum’s strangest section, “Belief, Knowledge, and Hypersymbolic Condition” celebrates strange beliefs and old wives’ cures. The section is also educational; we learned that bedwetting can be cured by eating mice on toast, and sprinkling urine on family members on New Years Day is good luck.

My personal favorite exhibit, “Garden of Eden on Wheels,” showcases mobile homes, prestigiously dubbed “land arcs” by the museum. Belongings from Los Angeles-area trailers are displayed as prominently as a Van Gogh piece. The “Mary Elliot Collection” is exactly that: Mary Elliot’s personal porcelain collection.

The “Garden of Eden” exhibit signifies the essence of the museum as a whole, which presents the ordinary in an extraordinary light and makes the obscure appear prestigious.

It was only after thoroughly exploring the museum’s nooks and crannies that we watched the introductory slideshow. If the slideshow offered a clear explanation of the museum’s purpose, it could have served as an apt conclusion to our evening. Instead, my guests were left even more confused.

The museum is an “educational institution dedicated to the advancement of knowledge and the public appreciation of the Lower Jurassic.” But, we definitely did not leave the museum with enhanced knowledge of the Lower Jurassic, whatever that means.

The slideshow recounts the original meaning of museum as “a spot dedicated to the Muses, a place where man’s mind could attain a mood of aloofness above everyday affairs.” And from the dim lighting to the assorted exhibits, the MJT definitely exudes a mood of aloofness.

“So it’s a museum about museums,” concluded Taylor.

David and Diana Wilson founded the museum in 1988. It has since garnered a cult following, following mentions in The New York Times and Los Angeles Times. Approximately 25,000 people explore the museum’s curiosities each year.

If you’ve read this far, don’t worry — I’ve left many of these curiosities unrevealed, so you can discover them yourself. If you’re still unconvinced to visit, follow the museum’s own advice: “The learner must be led always from familiar objects toward the unfamiliar.” Take a step away from the familiar and into the Museum of Jurassic Technology.

Erin Rode is a freshman studying environmental engineering. Her column, “The Rode Less Traveled,” runs Thursdays.