Body Worlds exhibition
Howard and I went to see the Body Worlds exhibition in Salt Lake City. It was fascinating, and disturbing. I could look at sections of bodies, hip joints, heart muscles, lung arteries, without feeling anything but interest. But when I looked at the whole bodies, I was forced to confront the fact that this had once been a living person who was now plastinated and put up for artistic display. All the bodies there had been specifically donated to the exhibition, but it was still very strange. I would examine the muscles and the nervous system or the circulatory system. I admired the artistry with which the bodies had been arranged. They not only displayed the interior of the human body for inspection, but some of the arrangements also made commentary on what it means to be human. I had to look respectfully and think carefully about what I thought was being said and what meanings I would take away with me. And then I would look into the face of the art and remember that this had once beena living human with family and dreams and a job. The emotional impact was impressive. (It would have been even more so if the place had not been packed with high school students on a field trip.)
And then I came to the human development room. The tiny fetuses in little jars had little effect on me, except the last one which had recognizable eyes and fingers. I felt awe that something so tiny could be the beginning of a human being. Next was a case with a fetus approximately 30 weeks along. It was so little and perfectly formed. It looked plastic, but again I looked into the face and knew that this exhibit had once been alive. My niece was 30 weeks along when she was born prematurely. I was looking at a baby who, for whatever reason, had never had the chance to live. I know the value of studying bodies after death, even the bodies of babies. But I could not look anymore. There were other cases in that room, but I could not even look at them. It was too sad for me. The adult exhibits had lived lives. Some were dead by their choices. All were in the exhibition by their choices. But the fetal babies were different. Howard and I moved on before I started to cry.
This exhibition, and the three sister exhibitions, are controversial. Many people have had many things to say about whether it should exist. When the first exhibition opened in Germany, I never believed it would come to the states. I thought people here would be too squeamish. But only a decade later it is not only in the States, but in one of the very conservative states and I saw no controversy over it at all. One of the things I am pondering about the experience I had, is what the very existence of the exhibition says about the society in which I live and what my reactions say about me. There is an element of freak show. There is an element of scientific study. There were definitely elements of beauty. The art was beautiful. All of those elements spoke to me on different levels. I am interested to note that there were no children on display. There were fetuses to newborn and then there were adults, nothing in between. It seems that either parents do not donate the bodies of their children, or the institutes refuse to use them for display. This says something about how humans feel about children, our protective instincts. I am glad there were no children. Seeing them would have been as hard or harder for me than the human development room.
We came home with an exhibition catalog. It has photographs of many of the exhibits we saw. It also has photographs from other exhibitions. The emotional impact of the photographs is much less than standing next to the actual bodies. I can look at the infant pictures without crying. Even so, it is not light reading. I have to respect the gift of those who donated their bodies to this project. I am glad that I went. I now have a whole raft of thoughts and impressions filed away in my head from which I can draw thoughts and connections. This is how creativity is fed. But for now I’m ready to file all of that into the back of my brain. I want to be able to watch my children without picturing the muscles, tendons, bones, and organs underneath their skin.