Test Tube Gods and Microscopic Monsters

 Art as Inquiry

By utilizing living systems in artwork, the artist and viewer can raise ethical questions about the field of biotechnology, medicine and even the integrity of using the living organisms. Varied organisms used in my installations such as the Workhorse Zoo (Salina, KS) and numerous Life Science Exhibits at the Exploratorium (San Francisco, CA) are important living lenses for conveying information: how traditional science uses animals and plant life as "tools"; introducing the general public to philosophical history and current scientific issues. In the Workhorse Zoo especially, there were responses from the audience in appreciation of placing the living examples of traditional science in a manner approachable by lay people. We made it easier for spectators to familiarize themselves with model organisms.

In ancient societies, mystic leaders attempted to understand natural phenomena through the developing religions of animism, totemism and shamanism, linking the supernatural to the material world. Depending on the religious discipline, animals have been regarded as gods, guides or spirits with special powers or presence that aid the devout. Nowadays, hospitals and research centers create and house the modern priests, shamans and magicians. How do we process the real issues that underlie the love-hate relationships between public perception, concepts/issues of life sciences practitioners and biomedical technology? More importantly, how do we make sense of our evolving relationship to science and the natural world?

At the Exploratorium, we encourage the visitors to practice freedom of experimentation/expression during their visit. That way the public’s education is based on their own understandings, curiosities, preconceptions and principles. Visitor evaluations have concluded that in a hands-on museum environment, people who handle specimens not only spend more time observing and asking questions about them but also learn more. I have observed persons of different levels of education to be highly receptive and able to discuss their findings after their interaction with the exhibits. By de-mystifying the aura around the lab equipment and organisms, the concepts become less overwhelming and monstrous.

Under the Lens

Working as an artist in a science and art museum setting, I have the challenge to create and maintain pieces that are engaging for patrons of all ages and levels of education. What is most difficult is ensuring that the environment fosters both learning and recreation. In a formal educational setting, there is a set agenda and a predetermined result that is expected from classroom exercises and activities. However, when you are encouraging the learning process in a museum, you grant the visiting explorer more freedom to raise further questions based on science, moral philosophy and personal experience. As for recreation, the visitor arrives at a facility in a casual attitude, not in a total escapist mindset (the approach to entertainment), but ready to receive information under informal conditions. All exhibits are designed with a hands-on component to engage intimate interactivity with conceptual models. An exhibit developer must be able to differentiate learning from education in the acquisition of knowledge and wisdom as well as consider the overall aesthetic design.

In particular, biology-related exhibits may seem ominous upon approach. The shape, sounds and smells emanating from them may deviate from familiar gallery pieces made of paint, wood or other crafted materials. But what happens when art can stare back at you? Or is aware of your presence? Living organisms can be unpredictable and the work must yield to the habitat that may or may not be totally influenced by the artist. The piece becomes an on-going conversation between the living, the dead and the inanimate.

From observations of model organisms such as developing chicken embryos to frantic dynamics of drosophila fruit fly colonies, we see the beauty and horrors of life. Life cycles are maintained and destroyed. Looking down the microscope or into the mouth of an unfamiliar organism is like arriving at opening night in a museum. On a minuscule level, the architecture of symbiotic relationships unlocks clues to cell organization and fate. Art takes on a new life as living organisms inhabit it and display their own “works in progress” in an unconventional environment.

Life and Death: Methodology, practice, ritual

In the realm of biology and life sciences, the role of the artist is split between being a craftsman and a garage scientist. The chance-interplay between the artist’s motivation and scientific traditions results in an unusual collaboration of techniques established in both the laboratory and the studio. During the development of a new environment, there is the opportunity to learn by trial and error, conduct scientific investigation and create physical/psychological bonds with the living medium(s). Before incorporating a living system into a piece, there is usually a crucial period of time for study and observation of the organisms and compliance to respected protocols of handling.

The continuity of maintaining museum exhibits as learning tools is also an issue for me. There are museum exhibits that require regularly scheduled dissection or removal of organs in which I have come to terms with. I believe that the "sacrifice" that is made in efforts of communicating information through the use of "live science," is necessary and currently the best way to understand biological principles.

"Live science" includes the altered state of being outside the conventional body. For example, when dissecting a live crayfish to extract the nerve cord, its life continues in a different physical state. The San Francisco Exploratorium has an interactive exhibit that illustrates nerve cord reaction to outside stimuli controlled by the operator (museum patron). In my daily preparation of this exhibit, I ensure a “quick death” to the physical body with minimal pain. We conduct the dissection according to certain protocols agreed upon as humane and practiced by the lab staff.

Many of the exhibits I have worked on and maintained required careful and timely attention to life and death cycles. In the laboratory, there may be elaborate colonies of organisms occupying petri dishes or tubes. The nests of smaller animals are cared for and studied. Under hot lights and heavy handedness by museum patrons, it is especially important to attend to a living system's requirements for survival and quality living conditions. Nourishment, housing and environmental concerns are addressed through protocols about handling the specimens and proper disposal of potentially bio/hazardous materials. At the same time, the learning experience for the visitor must be optimal. This includes the display and discussion of the dreaded issue of death.

Much of the viewing public isn't used to seeing real death in a museum setting. Death is present everywhere: movies, television, etc. Depicted negatively in these medias, society has been conditioned to view death as evil, violent or painful. But death is a natural part of a "living system" that is often overlooked and purposely forgotten. From death, energy is generated. A crop of bacteria can flourish from a festering pile of dead flesh. A colony of zebra fish may eat its eggs and young as population control. Termites practice cannibalism by eating their dead to avoid overcrowding in a snug living space. Seeing death in progress seems distressing or graphic at first. In actuality, it's a beautiful process of recycling materials and a display of survival behaviors by predators, parasites, symbionts and scavengers. As an artist and human being, my views about death and life (natural or altered) are integral to the dignity of the organisms and artwork.

The process of life and death go beyond the actual exhibition of the art piece. My relationship with the organisms before and after exhibition is quite personal, traumatic and rewarding all at the same time. I do not believe in the frivolous use of organisms or excessive waste in the creation and display of exhibitions. At this point of my personal artistic growth, I operate on a hierarchy of live/semi-living organism use, ranging from cell lines to small vertebrates like mice and invertebrates such as crayfish. In slightly larger vertebrates like chickens, I will only work with early embryo development with the intention of euthanizing the embryos in a timely matter. This helps avoid the further trauma of bacterial infection and the unnatural state of the embryo living outside of the safety of its shell. For larger vertebrates, I do not believe in live vivisection of any kind but am able to consider medium-sized animals in a performative art capacity keeping in mind their well being and representation.

Looking Within

The intimacies established between all the organisms I have ever used and myself are valued on spiritual and utilitarian levels. I am aware of the mortality that I am personally responsible for. However, I still struggle with the fact that I do take a superior position on the food chain and that we are able to use/control other organisms for our own intellectual evolution. Where do artists and scientists draw the line? I am still trying to figure that out. In my role as an artist, I feel that the knowledge I gain is useful to research and regulatory efforts. By making scientific principles accessible outside the laboratory, I hope my work can help another person construct their own opinions and conclusions through this unconventional forum.

Roundworms emboss agar plates with trails that document their travels. Zebra fish work quickly at creating their next heirs for the watery estate. Xenopus frogs rule the underwater world as albino mice build castles aboveground. The behaviors and life cycles of model organisms such as these become artistic inspiration for the laboratory canvas. What I look for is the uniqueness of behavior and habitation patterns that are critical to maintain in order to ensure quality of life for them. As soon as artistic mediums, unusual and unfamiliar in form, are introduced to the organisms, there is a tremendous responsibility to see that their entire life cycle can be completed with minimal pain and discomfort.

A life force in art creates an intimate relationship between the artist, medium and audience. In addition to an exhibit's impact upon visitor’s learning capabilities, I also consider my emotional/intellectual navigation that guides me in the use of exhibited living systems. I have created my own organism hierarchy; my own ethic based on personal beliefs and experiences.

In an effort to convey information/artistic expression useful to the general public I feel my work with animals is valid.

In respect to the organism, and without getting too "new agey" or silly, I have my own set of private rituals on death and dying. I express gratitude towards the life forces that have helped realize this and other exhibits. To me, magic and science have much in common. In the pursuit of knowledge and wisdom it is important to acknowledge the "tools" that assist the curious and the relationships/consequences that are created. This is my own way of being conscious of the social/ethical implications and importance of public information that is generated from my work.

Finding Significance

BioArt is a genre that enables much needed discussion and interaction between art, science and the viewing public. The artistic use of living organisms in my pieces have aided in my own comprehension of life, death, and an independent sense of improving global conditions. The identification/discovery of the symbiotic relationships both planned and unexpected, reveal our strengths and shortcomings that can be wonderful, dangerous and compelling.

By employing biological mediums as creative vehicles of expression, we open many doors for conversation, discussion and interactivity between the artist, audience and scientific community. In particular, the incorporation of living systems into artistic exhibits or installations assists in public understanding. In living art exhibitions organic relations and reactions to man-made constructs are often re-simulated in a way that encapsulates emerging biotechnologies and their ensuing debates.

From protest to sympathy, the audience is invited to react. As one walks away from an exhibit, the experience doesn't always end at the exit. The artist can act as a megaphone for the general public or can be put under scrutiny by the viewing audience and/or the scientific community. Ultimately, we process the messages that arise from the cultural interpretations of living organisms and social mores, both inside and out. For instance, in terms of emerging biotechnology, we understand how the threat of eugenics, exploitation, and medical advancements can have adverse social implications. If misused they can proliferate dis-agency, exploitation and the distorted distribution of medical privileges. By valuing the public’s opinions and reactions to certain practices/research, the scientific community should consider the concerns in the development of medical technology and responsible administration of care.

As you can see, art is a valuable tool for investigation, inquiry and evaluation of scientific and medical practices. While the general population does not wield scalpels and microscopes to probe and ponder the innards of the latest medical wonders, artists have gained a newfound responsibility of sorts to enrich the relationship between scientists and non-scientists. The artistic ability to recognize the bio-semiotic roots of the rift comes from some artist's critical focus on deconstructing behavior paradigms. That may be because we can offer an environmental/social organization from a viewpoint that is intentionally inclusive of the imperfect mishmash that is our "world."

Performance at symposium: Every eye has its blind spot.

Through the ages, incomplete visions have prompted mystics, philosophers and scientists to probe through the viscous liquid. What has been revealed are truths and lies about the super/natural world. The power of the eye and gaze, still not fully understood, continues to be a source of inspiration and fear. The live performance explored the physical structure and cultural symbolism of the mysterious eye and ended with a visceral ritual of incantation to protect everyone present against the powers of the Evil Eye.

Click here for original document: MS Word

Publication: The Aesthetics of Care? 2002. Collected Essays, Editions 1 & 2. Sponsored by: Symbiotica and The Institute of Advanced Studies at the University of Western Australia . Symposia held at Perth Institute of Contemporary Art.

Notes and References:

Koran, J. and Shafer, L. (1998). Learning Science in Informal Settings Outside the Classroom,

Science national Education Association (1982). Education in the 80's. Washington D.C.

Moore, J. (1993). Science as a Way of Knowing: The Foundations of Modern Biology.

Boston : Harvard University Press.

McDermott, M. (1988). Through Their Eyes: What Novices Value in Art Experiences.