Insektchau vs Butterfly House

There is something delightfully old-fashioned about a serious interest in insects. Long before wildlife documentaries and macro photography brought the miniature world into our living rooms, Victorian naturalists were filling drawers and cabinets with butterflies, beetles and moths, marvelling at the extraordinary inventiveness of nature. To visit either the travelling exhibition Insektenschau: Kunstwerke der Evolution, which came to Mendig last year, or the Schmetterlingsgarten Eifalia is to tap into that same sense of scientific curiosity and aesthetic wonder.

The Insektenschau was, in many ways, a modern version of the Victorian cabinet of curiosities. Thousands of specimens from around the world were arranged in display cases, each one revealing some new variation in form, colour and pattern. Under the intense lights, metallic beetles gleamed like polished jewels, giant moths spread their intricate wings, and tropical butterflies looked almost impossibly vivid. The exhibition was fascinating, and anyone with even a passing interest in natural history could spend hours peering into the cases, appreciating the sheer diversity of insect life and the astonishing ways evolution has shaped it.

There was a genuine scientific pleasure in seeing so many species gathered together. Viewed side by side, the insects became more than beautiful objects: they were evidence of nature’s endless experimentation. Every wing pattern, every antenna and every iridescent carapace seemed to tell a story about adaptation and survival. Yet there was also something slightly unsettling about the display. However impressive the specimens were, they remained pinned, preserved and motionless. The exhibition had the faintly morbid air of a collector’s trove, beautiful but static, a world of wonders arrested in death. The presentation was educationally questionable to say the least!

At Schmetterlingsgarten Eifalia, by contrast, those same wonders are fully (and literally) alive. Rather than standing at a respectful distance from glass cases, visitors enter a warm tropical environment where butterflies flutter freely through the air. They drift past your face, settle on leaves and flowers, and occasionally choose to land on a visitor. It is impossible not to feel a thrill when a butterfly alights gently on your hand or shoulder. In that moment, the encounter becomes personal and immediate in a way that no display case can ever replicate.

What makes Eifalia so compelling is that it offers a more holistic experience. You are not simply looking at insects as specimens; you are immersed in their world. The humidity, the lush vegetation, and the constant movement create an environment that engages the senses as well as the intellect. You can observe butterflies feeding, courting and emerging from their chrysalides, and in doing so gain a fuller understanding of their lives. The scientific interest remains every bit as strong, but it is complemented by a direct, embodied connection with living creatures.

Both attractions deserve praise for rekindling the spirit of the old naturalists. Each inspires admiration for insects as some of evolution’s most intricate and beautiful creations. The Insektenschau impresses with the breadth and beauty of its collection and offers a fascinating, if slightly macabre, glimpse into the diversity of the insect world. Schmetterlingsgarten Eifalia, however, ultimately provides the more memorable experience. By surrounding visitors with living butterflies and allowing moments of unexpected contact, it transforms scientific curiosity into something richer and more emotional.

A pinned butterfly can certainly be admired. But when a living butterfly lands on you, however briefly, the wonder becomes tangible. In that instant, nature ceases to be an object of study and becomes a shared experience. And that is why Eifalia leaves the deeper impression.

Below are a selection of photos from both exhibitions. Can you tell which ones belong to which event?

Forgotten Ruins of Heimschule Nickenich

Nestled in the rolling hills of the Eifel region, not far from the tranquil waters of Laacher See, the ruins of Heimschule Nickenich stand as a silent testament to a history both rich and turbulent. What was once a thriving Catholic boarding school has now become a hauntingly beautiful lost place, drawing hikers, explorers, and history enthusiasts alike.

The story of the Heimschule began in 1927, when it was founded as a Catholic educational institution, meant to guide students from their earliest secondary years all the way to their Abitur, the prestigious German high school diploma. By Easter of 1928, the school welcomed its first class, known as the Sexta, and over the following years, it expanded, embracing a rigorous academic curriculum alongside practical education. Students engaged in gardening, fieldwork, and hands-on workshops, fostering both intellectual and physical growth.

But history had other plans. The school’s vision of a full-fledged educational institution was short-lived. The economic struggles of the Great Depression made expansion difficult, and when the National Socialist regime took power in 1933, financial support for denominational schools dried up. By 1934 or 1935, the Heimschule was forced to close its doors, its grand educational ambitions unfulfilled.

Its closure, however, did not mark the end of its use. Under the Nazi regime, the building was repurposed, first as a home for girls completing their mandatory Landjahr, a rural service year aimed at instilling a strong work ethic and nationalistic ideals. Later, during the chaos of World War II, the site took on a far more ominous role. In 1944, a V1 military unit, Regiment 152 Wachtel, moved in. The surrounding forests became a launch preparation area for the infamous V1 rockets, the so-called "revenge weapons" deployed by the Nazis in their desperate attempts to turn the tide of the war.

Today, the Heimschule is nothing more than a skeletal relic of its past, perched on a plateau at the crossroads of Landesstraße 116 and Kreisstraße 57. Time and nature have reclaimed what once was a place of discipline and learning. Trees push their roots through cracked floors, vines creep up crumbling walls, and the wind whistles through shattered windows. It is both eerie and beautiful, a place that feels frozen in time.

Despite its decay, the ruins have not been forgotten. They sit along the scenic Traumpfad Pellenzer Seepfad, a 16-kilometer hiking trail that winds through some of the most breathtaking landscapes in the Eifel. Hikers and photographers alike are drawn to the site, captivated by the way history and nature intertwine so seamlessly.

However, for those who venture close, caution is advised. The building, abandoned for decades, is in a precarious state, with weakened structures and unstable foundations. In recent years, access has reportedly been restricted, and visitors should respect any barriers or warning signs. Still, even from a safe distance, the Heimschule Nickenich offers a glimpse into a past filled with ambition, loss, and transformation.

For those willing to explore, the ruins stand as a reminder of the way history leaves its mark—not only in books but also in the landscape itself. They tell a story of education interrupted, of war’s far-reaching impact, and of how even the most carefully laid plans can be undone by forces beyond our control. In their silent, crumbling state, they invite us to pause, reflect, and imagine the lives that once passed through their halls.

LSD Studies on Artistic Creativity

When I was young, I remember covetously looking up on the bookshelf at my grandparent's house and, amongst their rather fine collection of Reader's Digest subscription tomes, was a book by Gordon Rattray-Taylor called the Science of Life: A Pictorial History of Biology. The first time they allowed me to look in it, I was utterly wrapped by the pictures, photos and stories within. I later became a biologist, and I sometimes think without this early influence, would I have even gone in that direction? Incidentally, my grandparents eventually gave me their copy of the book and I am pleaseed to say it is still a treasured possession. In The Science of Life is a vivid description of 1950's psychological experiments into artistic creativity, which I have summarised below. 

Beginning in 1954, psychiatrist Oscar Janiger embarked on a pioneering study to understand how LSD influenced artistic creativity. Over seven years, he administered the drug to more than 100 professional artists, who collectively produced over 250 drawings and paintings under its effects. One such experiment, believed to be part of Janiger’s research, involved an unidentified artist who was given two 50-microgram doses of LSD, spaced an hour apart. The artist was then asked to sketch a series of portraits of the doctor who had administered the drug.

Over an eight-hour period, the artist created nine portraits, each capturing the shifting perceptions induced by LSD. As they worked, they described their evolving experience, offering a rare window into the psychedelic state and its impact on the creative process. Despite years of research, Janiger later reflected that no scientific consensus had been reached on the core elements of the LSD experience or the precise mechanisms by which the drug could enhance creativity. “Even 45 years after I started my studies,” he noted, “no scientific consensus has emerged clearly defining the core elements of the LSD state. Nor has research illuminated the specific mechanisms by which LSD can be used to stimulate creativity.” Still, he hoped that future studies would build upon his work, ensuring that his early explorations were just the beginning, not the end. You can see Janiger's experiment unfold below:

20 Minutes After First Dose:
Artist Claims to Feel Normal

85 Minutes After First Dose:
I can see you clearly. I’m having a little trouble controlling this pencil.

2 hours 30 minutes after first dose:
I feel as if my consciousness is situated in the part of my body that’s now active;  
my hand, my elbow… my tongue.

2 hours 32 minutes after first dose:
I’m trying another drawing…
The outline of my hand is going weird too.
It’s not a very good drawing is it?

2 hours 35 minutes after first dose:
I’ll do a drawing in one flourish… without stopping… one line, no break!

2 hours 45 minutes after first dose: 
[Agitated and changing medium to Tempera]
I am… everything is… changed… they’re calling…
your face… interwoven… who is…

4 hours 25 minutes after first dose:
[After taking a break, changes to pen and water colour]
This will be the best drawing, like the first one, only better.

5 hours 45 minutes after first dose:
[Holding a crayon]
I think it’s starting to wear off.
This pencil is mighty hard to hold.

8 hours after first dose:

Final drawing. The intoxication has worn off.

References:

Rattray-Taylor, G. (1967). The Science of Life: A Pictorial History of Biology. Panther. 

https://www.learning-mind.com/nine-drawings-experiment/

https://www.openculture.com/2024/05/artist-draws-9-portraits-on-lsd-during-1950s-research-experiment.html

Rodder Maar in Winter and Summertime

Rodder Maar, nestled in the Eifel region of Germany near the village of Rodder, is a fascinating natural landmark with a somewhat mysterious origin. Unlike many of the other maars in the region, which were formed by volcanic activity, Rodder Maar’s beginnings are still debated. Some researchers propose that it may have been created by a meteoritic impact, citing the absence of typical volcanic ejecta and the presence of magnetic anomalies. However, this remains an open question, with further geological studies needed to confirm the theory.

Over the centuries, Rodder Maar has witnessed significant changes, shaped not only by nature but also by human intervention. In the 19th century, during a time of severe economic hardship, the local population drained the maar to convert it into farmland (Loquis, 2024). With limited arable land available, this was a necessary measure for survival. As economic and environmental conditions fluctuated, the maar alternated between being a lake and a cultivated landscape. Then, in 1997, efforts to restore it began, with the goal of returning the site to its natural state. Within two years, the lake was successfully refilled, marking a major step in the region’s conservation efforts.

Today, Rodder Maar has been transformed into a protected nature reserve, providing a haven for diverse waterfowl and other wildlife. The restoration not only revived an important ecological site but also enhanced the region’s natural beauty. It has since become a popular destination for outdoor enthusiasts, offering scenic hiking routes such as the trail from Königsfeld to Rodder Maar, where visitors can enjoy the peaceful surroundings and observe the rich biodiversity (Outdooractive, 2024). Adding to its charm is the nearby Olbrück Castle, which stands as a reminder of the area’s deep historical roots.

Whether its origins lie in volcanic activity or a cosmic impact, Rodder Maar remains a captivating landmark. Its transformation from farmland back to a thriving natural habitat is a testament to the power of conservation efforts, ensuring that this unique site continues to be appreciated for generations to come.

Below I have included a mash up of photos of visits we have made to Rodder Maar in both summer and winter. I'll let you decide which is which 😉

References

Loquis (2024) Rodder Maar Historical Use. Available at: https://www.loquis.com/en/loquis/5554157/Rodder%2BMaar 

Outdooractive (2024) From Königsfeld to Rodder Maar. Available at: https://www.outdooractive.com/mobile/en/route/hiking-trail/eifel-low-mountains-/from-koenigsfeld-to-the-rodder-maar/55764981 

https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File%3ARodder_Maar.jpg

https://de.wikipedia.org/wiki/Rodder_Maar