Volume 376, No.
9757, p1977, 11 December 2010
Perspectives
Barks and quacks: London's alcoholic remedies
A few years ago, Ricardo Leizaola, an ethnobotanist, visual anthropologist, and curator of London's Global Bitters Cabinet,
returned to his native Venezuela to study how knowledge of plants had
been maintained in rural communities that had been engulfed by the
sprawling metropolis of Caracas. He soon discovered that he could engage
with people who claimed to have little or no botanical knowledge by
talking about traditional plant-based alcoholic drinks. These amargos,
or bitters, are herbs and barks prepared with alcohol to extract,
concentrate, and preserve their purported medicinal qualities.
On
returning to London, Leizaola noticed that many similar bitters from
Africa, the Caribbean, and South America were being sold in the markets
and corner shops of London. Such an exotic collection of bitters and
herbal remedies promised to be a reflection of multicultural London, and
would serve as a compendium of botanical knowledge amassed from all
corners of the world. London's Global Bitters Cabinet is
Leizaola's collection of these alcohol-based tinctures, lotions, and
bitters, and also contains many plant-based liquors and cocktail bitters
found in London's bars and nightclubs.
The exhibition
explores the fuzzy boundary between medicinal and recreational alcoholic
products sold and consumed in London, all of which come under the
umbrella of herb and plant content. Many of the recreational drinks on
display started out as patent medicines—Absinthe, Jagermeister,
Chartreuse, and Campari to name but a few. Of these, none has flirted
with the medicinal and recreational as much as the juniper-based Gin.
Originally conceived by the 17th-century Dutch physician Franciscus
Sylvius as a diuretic to treat urinary disorders, Gin was sold in
pharmacies throughout Holland. Due to its high alcohol content, Gin soon
found favour as a recreational drink, especially among English soldiers
fighting in the Thirty Years War. The soldiers noticed its calming
qualities before battle, coining the term Dutch courage. Gin soon became
a popular recreational drink in London and its consumption was
increasingly blamed for social problems, as famously depicted in William
Hogarth's Gin Lane, and led to passing of the Gin Acts in the
mid-18th century. In a completion of the cycle, Gin became the Imperial
drink, prescribed to British civil servants in Africa and India along
with the quinine-containing tonic water to help stave off malaria.
One remarkable aspect of London's Global Bitters Cabinet
is that such interplay between medicinal and recreational uses of
alcohol still exists. Next to a cabinet stocked with homoeopathic
tinctures and herbal remedies that would not look out of place on the
shelves of a local pharmacy, is a television monitor playing adverts
from around the world, marketing these same products as recreational
drinks. The same drinks (give or take a little sugar and more appealing
packaging) are used in disparate social activities with markedly
different effects on consumers—intoxicants and detox agents, poisons and
remedies—all sold on the strength of their herbal and plant content.
Through
its multimedia displays, the exhibition strips away the context in
which these bitters are sold and consumed, leaving a range of products
that are largely indistinguishable in terms of their colourful claims
and (disclosed) ingredients. A cocktail of the homoeopathic myths and
misconceptions that exist in our society, this exhibition is well worth a
visit—I also recommend contacting Leizaola, since the anecdotes he has
collected along with his many bottles really bring the exhibition to
life.