Amsterdam is a city with two faces. It is seen by some as a rich historical hotpot of art, architecture and culture. To others, it is Europe’s ‘City of Sin’ where the Red Light District welcomes and encourages its guests to embrace the so-called immoral. Somewhere between these facets of the city stands a two storey brick building with a futuristic sign, ‘Micropia.’ The historical building "Ledenlokalen" (1870) is located in central Amsterdam and is part of "Natura Artis Magistra" which fittingly translates to "nature is the master of art." Artis Micropia is only a few minutes walk from the Anne Frank House, the MOCA Museum for Modern Art and the Van Gogh Museum. It is the only museum of its kind. It serves as a bridge between science and the general public by displaying microbes similar to Van Gogh’s ‘Sunflowers’ down the road. 

It is fitting that the museum is located in the Netherlands i.e. ‘the birthplace of microbiology.’ It was in the city of Delft, just forty miles from Micropia, where bacteria were first observed by Antoni van Leeuwenhoek. Leeuwenhoek was not trained in science but had the knack for constructing microscopes. He discovered miniscule lifeforms, dancing and squirming, in samples of water. He named the micro-creatures that we now know as bacteria or protists, ‘animalcules’ and was the first to propel these invisible creatures onto the world’s stage.

The public’s view, if there is one at all, on the micro-world isn’t positive. The first thing that probably springs to mind is a pathogenic virus's ability to wipe out millions. From 2020, the interconnectedness and influence of this invisible world with our own has been thrust into the forefront of our minds. News reports have introduced new terms like ‘RNA’ and ‘zoonotic’ expanding our scientific vocabulary. However this understanding has come from the need to protect ourselves from death and disease.  

This museum serves an entirely different function. ‘Artis Micropia’ is devoted to collecting and displaying the smallest organisms of our natural world. The exhibits showcase the extraordinary, seemingly extraterrestrial, powers and potential of fungi and bacteria in the environment and within our bodies. There is an emphasis on the delineation between commensalism (a relationship where one organism benefits and the other is unaffected) and mutualism (a relationship in which both organisms benefit from the arrangement). There are impressive displays detailing how microorganisms can be applied to cure illness, clean ocean spills and provide solid building materials. Spend an afternoon in Micropia and the way you view the world will never be the same.

Stepping off the noisy, cluttered streets of Amsterdam through the main entrance is taking a portal into another world. The foyer is as clean and controlled as a laboratory. There are human-sized statues of bacteria that are in equal parts terrifying and fascinating. Waiting to greet the museum’s guests is a giant ‘tardigrade.’ This near-microscopic animal is known, sweetly, as the ‘little water bear.’ The beastly looking organism has eight legs that are tipped with claws. Its body is covered with doughy rolls similar to the skin of ‘Rolly,’ the Shar-Pei puppy from New Zealand’s Purex commercials. Though where a sweet face is expected is instead an alien-like sucker. Tardigrades have a reputation for being near indestructible and have even been shown to survive in space. They endure extreme conditions by entering a near-death-like state. They excrete ninety-five percent of their water supply, retract their limbs and head and swaddle themselves in a shrivelled cocoon to wait out the danger.

Beyond the water-bear, an almost exact replica of the ‘Tardis Staircase’ from Doctor Who leads to the first exhibition. “When you look from really close, a new world is revealed to you, more beautiful and spectacular than you would ever have imagined,” is written across the wall with tiny specks of light.  This first display reminds all guests of their true origins. Micropia’s version of the history of human evolution extends beyond the timeline of the relatable posters that begin with the adorable Sahelanthropus tchadensis. Micropia takes you back to the very beginning. There is no way to be sure of humanity's exact origins and how life came to be, but Micropia proposes a currently accepted hypothesis. Prokaryotes - mostly single-celled, simple creatures - were the first life form on Earth. The prokaryotes are known today as bacteria, archaea and cyanobacteria (blue and green algae). These early organisms fed on carbon compounds from the Earth’s early oceans. An ambitious branch of these cells then learned to utilise the sun to evolve further. Cyanobacteria really kicked things off by harnessing water during photosynthesis and releasing oxygen as a by-product. This allowed enough oxygen to build up in the Earth’s atmosphere to make way for the evolution of oxygen-metabolising organisms and eventually, humans. 

Humankind's evolutionary relationship with microbes does not end there. Further into Micropia a display presents evidence indicating bacteria continue to influence the development and diversification of humans. The ‘holobiont’ is a term used to describe a host and its microbiota (the collection of microorganisms found within a specific environment). This relationship can increase the adaptive fitness - the better suited the creature is to the environment; the more likely they’re going to have sex and reproduce -  of all parties involved.  The union even enables hosts to perform particular functions only when it interacts with its microbial networks. The microbiota plays an essential, life-saving role in the physiological processes in humans. Microbes can enhance the development of the immune system, aid in the degradation and digestion of both fibre and nutrients and shield humans from pernicious bacteria. These interdependencies have earned the ‘holobiont’ the status of a ‘single evolutionary unit.’ The more diverse and specialised a host's microbiota is, the better chance the host has of adapting to and facing environmental challenges. Humans owe a lot to the plasticity and competitive nature of the microbes within. But really, at the heart of it, every group's motive is selfish: survival.  A healthy microbiota equates to a healthy host a.k.a home. 

Micropia has been curated so that each aspect of microbiology effortlessly flows into the next. As the admirer moves on from theories of evolution they are invited to take a closer look into their own bodies. A tacky display with a neon, prom-night style sign that reads ‘kiss-o-metre’ is set against a black stage backdrop. Couples or willing strangers can stand in the spotlight and find out how many and what type of microbes they exchange during a ‘french kiss’. The mouth alone is home to seven-hundred different kinds of invisible bacteria. Alarmingly, kissers exchange around eighty million bacteria during just ten seconds of kissing. It makes sense then that the more often people kiss each other, the more alike the bacteria in their saliva becomes, bringing a whole new meaning to the question of whether we turn into our partners over time.

The adjacent wall provides instant relief from the shock of the ‘kiss-o-metre’ A giant agar art gallery towers over the room. Agar is a versatile jelly-like substance used as a medium to grow microorganisms in laboratories. The wall is lined with shelves of petri dishes filled with agar jelly of all different colours. Each plate is tattooed with colonies of bacteria. Some of these colonies present like fine line drawings or intricate ink paintings, whereas others are vile. The black colonies on blood red agar scream danger and death. The red agar is, in fact, tainted with blood. This medium is infused with sheep blood and can measure the growth of potentially threatening bacteria such as streptococcus pneumoniae. ‘Strep’ is a type of bacteria that can cause illness ranging from ear infections to meningitis. Yet, the overall effect of the wall evokes a sense of fascination rather than disgust - just as Micropia intends. Handheld magnifying glasses allow for a closer look into the fossils of each species. Children climb the shelves beneath the wall to get a closer look at a plate that has caught their eye. 

The same children are quickly distracted from the gallery as soon as they spot the stool samples from lamas, lions and elephants. Their giggles are thwarted when their guardian elaborates on the sign that reads ‘faecal transplantation.’ FMT (Faecal Microbiota Transplant) is a difficult concept to wrap one's head around. Any conversation surrounding ‘faecal matter’ is generally considered unsavoury. Though, for Crohn's sufferers, bowel movements are permanently front of mind. Crohn’s is a disease where the immune system confuses healthy tissue in the intestinal tract as a threat and sets out to attack. Microbes may be a solution for the agony and inflammation. A faecal transplantation involves transferring stool brimming with good bacteria from a healthy person into the colon of someone who is sick. First the patient is given a course of antibiotics to reduce the overgrown population of harmful bacteria. The healthy stool is then introduced via an enema or even by swallowing a capsule of freeze-dried ‘poop.’ This healthy microbiota then gets to work restoring order in the patient's damaged gut.

After a full loop of the first story the spiral steps lead back down to the ground level to the final section. At this point in the museum the branch of ‘applied microbiology’ is introduced where examples of humans harnessing and manipulating microbes to provide relief and defence are showcased. Microbes have a vast range of applications. They can be utilised to resolve environmental catastrophes, provide sustainable building materials and treat wastewater.

An interactive display with computer screens and toy models walks the observer through the bioremediation of oil spills using bacteria. In 2010, petroleum giant BP had the greatest oil spill in modern history in the Gulf of Mexico. The disaster resulted in the launch of a massive interdisciplinary research initiative, GoMRI (Gulf of Mexico Research Initiative). GoMRI findings showed fifty percent of the oil was removed by physical or chemical means,  the whereabouts of the other fifty percent was unknown at the time. Eventually, GoMRI discovered types of bacteria, Bacteroidetes, that can degrade hydrocarbons - eat oil. These bacteria flock towards oil spills and flourish in the hydrocarbon rich environment as they gobble the poison. This discovery spurred efforts to monitor the capacity microbes have to enhance ecosystems harmed by humans. 

 As guests prepare to farewell the microbes, a final glass display encases clay-like, creamy objects. Lampshades, chairs and vases are arranged like priceless china. Here is an example of humans directly manipulating microbes for industrial purposes. Italian artist, Maurizio Monalti, discovered when mycelium (a network of fine threads that makes up fungi), spread throughout organic substances like wood chips they transform into a solid, lightweight material that can be moulded into any form. Subsequently Monalti began working with a team from Utrecht University who have managed to create a broad range of objects like soundproof tiles and fire-retardant insulation panels. The material has now moved beyond the art world and is being applied as a replacement for wood, rubber and plastic. The potential for fungi ends the tour on a successfully positive note.

Stepping back onto the streets of Amsterdam is an assault to the senses. Whether the museumgoer had prior knowledge of the microscopic landscapes and their inhabitants or Micropia was an introduction, each person exiting the doors will need a moment to readjust their focus. Micropia skews the scale of its guests' vision: what was average in size before walking through its doors is now mega. The prompt readjustment to the world as we knew it pre-micropia is, perhaps, followed by a realisation that life on Earth far exceeds the limit once perceived. Microbes in all their gruesome glory are ever present and ever working with and only sometimes against us.

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Just as I hope it will be for the children who visit Micropia, my introduction to cellular biology came in the form of a spiritual awakening spurred on by the arts. One summer, when I was sixteen, I discovered indie rock, the genre, not the sediment. I was especially fond of a band called Modest Mouse. They were a band that formed in the early nineties and helped define the sound of the Pacific Northwest indie rock scene. I was drawn to their fatalistic, existential lyrics that touched on themes of death, the afterlife and our place in the universe. One of their songs ‘Parting of the Sensory’ stirred something in me. The lyric “Someday you will die and somehow something's gonna steal your carbon” provided an answer to a big question: what happens when we die? Science took on a new meaning and I began taking it seriously without being able to articulate why. I couldn’t say I’d found ‘God’ or ‘enlightenment’ in the carbon cycle. When others questioned my decision to enrol at university in a Bachelor of Science over law or commerce, all I could say was “This feels important”. If I don’t understand the basic building blocks of life, how could I understand anything else and what would be the point?

Ten years on I visited Artis Micropia during my stay in Amsterdam. Admittedly, the museums weren’t the drawcard for my visit. I was there for the Pride Festival and had plans of boozy days on the canals and late nights at house gigs in the parks. I didn’t know Micropia existed before I arrived in Europe but the day I spent there remains my most vivid memory of Amsterdam. I felt the three years and thousands of dollars dedicated to studying this microscopic world better had paid off. I was still in total awe of the intricacies and abilities of the natural world’s smallest lifeforms. Still, this was 2019, I had no idea we were on the brink of a global pandemic. The quality of science communication would soon determine the chance of survival against a virus. This was the ultimate intersection of art and science. To communicate well, to cut through the jargon and succinctly convey complicated concepts required great skill in the craft. Micropia was ahead of its time. 

I often think of the banner that hangs from Micropia’s stone exterior. A waving man constructed of woolly balls hovers above Amsterdam’s walkways looking down on the people below. The welcoming figure represents the trillions of bacteria and other microorganisms that are dancing and thriving all over our bodies. To know 1.5 kilos of our bodily mass is made up from other lifeforms may fill you with terror, curiosity or comfort - knowing you’re not alone after all. Either way, next time you are standing in front of the mirror, consider the gallery that is your body. Run your hands along the bare skin of your arms and acknowledge the tiny life forms that guard your body's first line of defence and largest organ. Look closely into your eyes and greet the micro-creatures swinging from your eyelash jungle. Place a hand on your belly and contemplate the flurry of activity churning in your intestinal tract. Thank the hundreds of types of bacteria who are training your immune system and manufacturing vitamins. Consider that to understand them is to understand you.