Hull's Maritime Museum has resurfaced after a £20.4m renovation, and it's brought a 40ft-long skeleton of a North Atlantic right whale with it. The leviathan, beached over a century ago, now dominates an exhibition space barely big enough to contain its stupendous bulk. Kids can crawl into its ribcage like junior Jonahs, popping up in a clear plastic dome while digital whales swim across the ceiling. Because nothing says 'maritime heritage' like a giant whale skeleton with a jungle gym.
The North Atlantic right whale, as it turns out, was hunted almost to extinction because it was docile, leisurely, and extremely blubbery - which meant harpooned carcasses floated conveniently and yielded copious oil. Today, fewer than 400 remain. So, you know, we've really done a number on them. But hey, at least we get to see their bones.
At the other end of the cetacean scale, there's a delicately carved whale that fits in your palm, studded with miniature harpoons designed as toothpicks. It's part of the museum's world-class scrimshaw collection, the niche folk art of carving ivory and bone. Crewmen would 'scrimshander' - inscribing whales' teeth and walrus tusks with images of ships, patriotic Britannias, and loved ones. Also on display: narwhal tusks, spiraled into surreal hatstands and bedposts. Because nothing says 'I love you' like a bedpost made from a unicorn horn.
Hull's maritime history is, unsurprisingly, maritime. Set at the confluence of the River Hull and Humber estuary, it prospered through trading, whaling, and fishing. Now, it's into wind turbine blades for offshore arrays at Alexandra Dock. But the city still feels a bit out on a limb, with vacant shops and gap-toothed docklands, despite the marina and upscale warehouse conversions. Philip Larkin, Hull's most infamous adopted son, wrote of 'the surprise of a large town … where only salesmen and relations come, within a terminate and fishy-smelling pastoral of ships up streets.' A statue of him now greets you at Paragon station, because nothing says 'welcome' like a poet who was ambivalent about your city.
The museum itself is housed in the old dock offices, built in 1871, designed by Christopher Wray (who also did a stint in Calcutta's public works). It's a florid, neoclassical beast with sea monsters, fishing nets, and trident railings, crowned with pepperpot cupolas. Listed Grade II*, it became the Maritime Museum in 1975. But over time, it got tired and shabby, with only two of four floors open and a color scheme of shiny grey and lurid Germolene pink. There was also a big ramp in the middle, which architect Claire Humphrey of Purcell says prevented reading the room as a whole. The ramp is gone, and the colors are now subtle marine blues and glacial white. Much better.
The £20.4m project, funded by Hull city council (£11.8m), the National Lottery Heritage Fund (£7.7m), and private donations, has doubled public space and increased displayed objects by 50%. Around 1,300 artefacts are now on view, many for the first time. Highlights include a stuffed polar bear, Inuit bootees, and a so-called 'mermaid' - actually a hideous monkey-fish chimera. Also on display: a regatta of model ships illustrating the shift from sail to steam, and the carved wooden figurehead of a bounding dog from the Sirius, the first steamship to cross the Atlantic entirely under steam in 1838.
The museum also explores migration and the 'headscarf revolutionary' Lillian Bilocca, who campaigned for fishing safety in the 1960s after over 6,000 crewmen were lost in 150 years of trawling. Despite saving lives, she was ostracized and blacklisted. Because that's how we treat heroes.
The Court Room, with its heraldic shields and red-pink scagliola columns (resembling an Italian deli counter), has been restored as an events venue. Restoring the ceiling took eight conservators six weeks, hand-cleaning with cotton buds. 'We were aiming to create the best room in Hull,' says Humphrey, 'and I think we achieved it.' High praise, indeed.
The museum is part of a wider circuit including the re-landscaped Queen's Gardens and a new visitor centre for the Arctic Corsair, a historic trawler (think Hull's Cutty Sark) to be berthed in a dry dock. The vibe aims to be more Copenhagen than Humberside. In leveraging Hull's maritime history unsentimentally - because trade and extraction are notoriously unsentimental - these initiatives suggest a different civic future. And the museum's restoration will surely help turn the tide. Thar she blows, indeed.