t is pretty dusty in South Kensington at the moment. Without millions of visitors wandering through the V&A galleries, the dust begins to settle and the past takes over. Under the steely eye of Vernon Rapley, head of security, our objects are resting safely at the moment. But the purpose of a museum is predicated upon dialogue and difference: the interaction between citizen and object, the journey into a web of histories, and then the flourishing of curiosity. “Unvisited museums dwindle into very sleepy and useless institutions,” said our first director Henry Cole, who was an early proponent of blockbuster exhibitions. Today, our galleries remain in lockdown, starved of conversation. So I am delighted to be able to explore some of their most celebrated objects with readers of the Observer - who are, after all, their ultimate owners. And what becomes immediately apparent is the incredible diversity of the V&A’s collection – from ceramics to furniture to digital design to photography to fashion to fine art. A little unfairly, Cole described the museum as “a refuge for destitute collections”; Roy Strong called it “an extremely capacious handbag”. Yet what unites the 2.7 million objects held by the V&A is ingenuity and imagination: from Grayson Perry’s Brexit vases to Raphael’s cartoons, the museum is a vault of human inventiveness placed on display to inspire the imagination of today’s creative pioneers. Yes, there is the sublime and the beautiful in our galleries, but there has always been this sense of mission about using the artefacts to encourage the power of making. William Morris spoke of visiting the V&A and being “filled with wonder and gratitude at the beauty which has been born from the brain of man”. Museums and galleries across the world have used the Covid-19 crisis to broaden their online programmes and connect with new audiences. Digital provision will be an important part of the future, but there remains something magical about the aura of the real, authentic object. Stephen Greenblatt has written of “the power of the displayed object to reach out beyond its formal boundaries to a larger world, to evoke in the viewer the complex, dynamic cultural forces from which it has emerged and for which it may be taken by a viewer to stand”. So we look forward to Observer readers coming back to South Kensington and standing before these objects – and hopefully this list will remind us of just what we have all been missing. The Raphael cartoons (1515-16) Commissioned by Pope Leo X, Raphael’s designs for ten tapestries to hang in the Sistine Chapel have been on loan to the V&A from the Royal Collection since Queen Victoria removed them from Hampton Court in the 1860s in memory of her beloved Albert. Charting episodes from the lives of Saints Peter and Paul, the drawings are among the most sumptuous works of the High Renaissance. They speak not only to Raphael’s artistic genius, but also the way in which he transformed tapestry design in the 16th century. This year marks the 500th anniversary of the death of Raphael and, in addition to refurbishing the Raphael Court, we have begun a new digital research project which is unearthing a radical new understanding of his craftsmanship and studio practice. The Painter’s Two Daughters by Thomas Gainsborough (1758) I adore this painting, which sits very modestly in our British Galleries, for its intimacy, humanity and frightening air of innocent fatalism. The picture has a distinct echo of Van Dyck, whose portraits of children also had a melancholy sweetness. Gainsborough’s daughters were around 10 and six years old and shown in close sisterly contact with each other, linked by Mary’s arm stretching up to rest on Margaret’s hair (the girls’ hair would have been cut in this short style to fit neatly under mob caps). Margaret turns to face us, catching our eye with an almost haughty, if mournful expression. The Man-Tiger Organ, or Tipu’s Tiger (1794-99) A V&A favourite, this carved, wooden masterpiece depicts a European officer having his neck ripped open by a crouching tiger. Inside is an organ, which makes an eerie wailing noise while the soldier raises his arm in pain. Perhaps commissioned by Tipu Sultan, the ruler of Mysore, for his young sons who had been taken hostage by the British, it was initially a symbol of resistance. But after the defeat of Tipu, it was taken as booty from Sultan’s palace and displayed in London as an icon of imperialism. It is a daily reminder of the V&A’s relationship to the colonial past. Copy of Trajan’s Column (1864) The largest object in our collection is a copy. But not a fake. The plaster cast of Trajan’s Column reproduces the Roman original, a triumphal monument built to commemorate Emperor Trajan’s victory in the Dacian wars. The casts are wrapped around a brick chimney, which you can now step inside (or, indeed, abseil down). It dominates our Cast Courts, which brought together highlights of European sculpture to enable the Victorian public to see the wonders of Rome and Florence even if they could not visit for themselves. In the mid-19th century, the V&A pioneered all the modern techniques of photography, electrotyping and plaster casts to democratise popular access to high culture. The Age of Bronze by Auguste Rodin (1880) Rodin’s magnificent donation of 18 of his sculptures in 1914 remains the greatest gift to the V&A made by a living artist. Inspired by the works of Donatello and Michelangelo, the title alludes to the era after the Stone Age, when humanity finally became creative and “advanced”. When first exhibited the nude was so lifelike that Rodin was accused of having cast it from life. The gift was a celebration of Rodin’s belief in Anglo-French solidarity: “Your soldiers are fighting side by side with ours. As a little token of my admiration for your heroes I decided to present the collection to the V&A. That is all.” Fold-up chair, by Eileen Gray (1930s) Gray was one of the most intriguing designers of the interwar period and is nowadays considered an important proponent of Modernism. The S-bend chair - so named for the shape of the base, armrests and back – was designed for her Riviera summer residency and shows her commitment to simplicity, pragmatism and an honesty to materials. A collaborator with Le Corbusier and pioneer of modern living patterns at a time when the interior increasingly became an expression of self, Gray was overlooked for much of the 20th century by her male colleagues. More recently, she has been heralded “as an architect and interior decorator … for lesbian living”. Evening ensemble by Elsa Schiaparelli (1937) Donated to the V&A by Cecil Beaton as part of his major fashion gift to the museum, a Schiaparelli couture evening suit was widely regarded as the Rolls-Royce of the dressmaking trade. Purchased by the society fixture Alexandra Trevor-Roper, Lady Dacre from her London showroom, the jacket is made of burgundy silk velvet, with a tour-de-force embroidery incorporating rhinestones, sequins and silver-gilt thread. The ensemble’s luxurious textile, masterful tailoring and fine surface embellishment represent a high-water mark of 1930s haute couture. Generously, the suit was simply dropped off at the V&A in 1971 with a note: “Schiaparelli Suit, 1937. To be returned if not wanted.” Robin Hood Gardens by Alison and Peter Smithson in Poplar, east London (1972) This is one of Britain’s greatest examples of Brutalist heritage. Richar d Rogers compared the council estate to Bath’s Royal Crescent, and Zaha Hadid always admired it. However, in 2009, after decades of municipal neglect and a spirited campaign to grant it listed status and save it, Robin Hood Gardens was condemned. In 2017, when it was eventually demolished, the V&A preserved a nine-metre-high section of the western block, including a portion of “street in the sky”, a feature that the Smithsons hoped would incorporate the conviviality of East End street life into their design. Beyoncé’s Papillon ring (2016) Given to the V&A by Beyoncé in 2018, the Papillon ring is an ingenious design by the jeweller Glenn Spiro. Originally made as a brooch, it was adapted into a ring when it was found that the wings, unencumbered by mounts, could easily be encouraged to flutter. A concealed mechanism in the diamond-encrusted band mobilises this movement through the gentle flexing of the wearer’s finger, whereupon the ring comes to life amid the glitter and sparkle of green garnets, diamonds, titanium and white gold. When flexed in this way, the masterly, almost invisible, mounting of the stones is revealed on the underside of the wings. I so enjoyed writing a thank you note beginning, “Dear Ms Knowles…” Grayson Perry’s Brexit vases (2017) This Matching Pair of vases were made in 2017 amid the political turbulence caused by Brexit. In this respect they participate in a longstanding tradition of pottery with political messages. These monumental vases, however, strive to be non-partisan in reflecting strong similarities between the two divided camps. The blue colour of the glaze that harmonises the pair was a direct consequence of the crowd-sourcing technique that Perry used to decorate the vases. Apart from their favourite colour, he canvassed Remain and Leave voters for selfies and British symbols including personalities such as Gandhi, Shakespeare, Jo Cox, Nigel Farage, Gary Lineker, Winston Churchill and the Queen, all of whom make an appearance on the vases. Tristram Hunt is director of the Victoria & Albert Museum. He is a former Labour MP for Stoke-on-Trent Central and a former shadow education secretary