The Eerie Taxidermy Catalogues of the Van der Meer Study

A silent, stiff stillness fills the Study, where a penciled catalogue entry in a notebook halts mid-description, leaving specimens and measurements forever incomplete.

Life in Preservation

These tools belonged to Cornelis van der Meer, taxidermist (b. 1873, Amsterdam), trained in a Dutch natural history workshop.

His notes—precise, detailed, and meticulous—recorded specimen dimensions, stuffing methods, and mounting angles. A folded slip referencing his assistant, Johan van der Meer, “complete fox mount Friday,” hints at a disciplined routine: preparing, preserving, and assembling specimens, alongside careful record-keeping.

Specimens and Tools

On the main bench, partially mounted birds and mammals lie with pins in place. Scalpels, needles, and forceps are sorted by size. A ledger beneath folded catalogues tracks specimen acquisition, preservation notes, and client or museum orders. Several unfinished mounts lean against the wall, fur and feathers slightly disheveled, paused mid-process as though awaiting Cornelis’ steady hand to continue.

Signs of Disruption

Later ledger entries reveal repeated corrections to mount positioning and fur alignment. Several specimens display uneven stuffing; limbs misaligned. A margin note—“museum rejects sample”—is smudged. Tools lie scattered, one needle bent, reflecting fatigue and growing anxiety that disrupted Cornelis’ precision. Partially prepared mounts remain on tables, the regular rhythm of taxidermy broken.

In the Study’s final drawer, Cornelis’ last catalogue entry trails into incomplete specimen records and penciled measurements. A penciled note—“confirm with Johan”—cuts off abruptly.

No record explains why work ceased, nor why Johan never returned for the remaining mounts.

The house remains abandoned, its specimens, tools, and catalogues suspended in quiet anticipation, preserving the halted rhythm of taxidermy that will never resume, a silent testament to meticulous labor left unfinished.