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My friend and colleague, Catherine Heard, has a new show at Rodman Hall. It is called Theatrum Mundi and it is very, very neat. She has essentially made a cabinet of curiosity in the gallery and it is jam-packed with all sorts of cool stuff. I was honoured that she asked me to write the accompanying essay (see below). Theatrum Mundi is up for a year, so be sure to check it out if you are in the area!
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Theatrum Mundi: A Cabinet of Curiosity
Catherine Heard’s artwork is as diverse as it is provocative. Heard, a Toronto-based artist, has produced a number of works over the course of her career that reference long-standing practices in the history of visual culture. For instance, her wax sculptures are suggestive of both religious votive pieces and of anatomical models of the human body, yet disrupt expectations of both.
Heard’s current installation at Rodman Hall, Theatrum Mundi (“theatre of the world”), is a site-specific project that revives the tradition of the wunderkammer (literally “cabinet of curiosity” or “cabinet of wonder”) – collections of extraordinary objects which were popular among the wealthy and the elite of Europe during the 16th, 17th and 18th centuries. The objects found inside a typical wunderkammer included everything from jewellery to natural history specimens and, while many scholars see the wunderkammer as the precursor to the modern museum, a true wunderkammer could be defined by its lack of strict curatorial practice. These were dynamic displays that changed according to the whim of the collector who would constantly be searching for something even more precious, even more spectacular and even more exotic to place within their wunderkammer.
The inspiration for this installation came from a “cabinet of curiosity” that Heard created for her own home out of a china cabinet she had inherited from her grandmother. The wunderkammer in Heard’s home includes examples of her own artwork as well as objects and art pieces she has collected. Likewise, the Theatrum Mundi installation at Rodman Hall is comprised of both found and created objects. Objects fashioned by Heard are tucked in amongst objects and ephemera that she has either purchased or has been given over the years. The pieces in this installation range from a crucifix made of matches to dolls made of human hair and from a death certificate bearing the artist’s name to hand-blown glass eyes. We, as viewers of Theatrum Mundi, are unable to tell which objects were made by Heard and which objects were collected by Heard; the boundaries between artist and collector are blurred in this exhibition.
Like the traditional wunderkammers of Renaissance Europe, Theatrum Mundi consists of objects of intrigue which raise questions about the world around us. Specifically, Heard’s fascination with the history of science and with the study of human anatomy is evident in this piece. The drawers and shelves of this installation are full of objects which address cultural conceptions of health, illness, beauty and the grotesque. For instance, in Theatrum Mundi precise anatomical drawings are displayed in close proximity to abstract-looking wax sculptures which are suggestive of internal human organs but are, in fact, entirely imaginative creations. The juxtaposition of “anatomical fact” with “anatomical fiction” casts suspicion on what we have come to believe as the truth about the human body.
Collectable photographic postcards of human bodies considered to be “freakish” because they deviated from socially accepted ideals about what the human body should look like in previous eras are an unforgettable feature of the Theatrum Mundi wunderkammer. The inclusion of this type of material draws attention to the shifting contexts of knowledge production – an image made as a “document” for medical history can simultaneously function as an object of entertainment. The perceived veracity of the photographic record shapes dominant understandings in both contexts. The question we are left with when viewing these images of disease, disfigurement and deformity relates back to the “curiosity” factor of the wunderkammer – are these images simply a “safe” and socially acceptable way of visually inspecting one who is “different”?
Themes of death and disaster also figure prominently in Heard’s installation. For instance, photographs of dead children, a once common and socially acceptable practice for grieving parents to engage in, both fascinate and disturb contemporary viewers. A particularly poignant example included in the Theatrum Mundi installation is a photograph in which a young girl holds the body of a dead younger sibling. This photograph was taken outdoors, and the young girl sits posed by the family car cradling her recently deceased brother. That contemporary viewers are startled by this image is a reminder of shifting cultural norms about death and dying. Stereoscopic slides of disaster (including the attacks that took place in the United States on September 11th, 2001) and View-Master reels on the subject of disease and human anatomy are two more examples of how Heard’s wunderkammer forces us to consider the ways in which practices of looking and technologies of vision necessarily shape cultural ideologies.
In the true spirit of a wunderkammer, the installation will change over the year. This will be a gradual and an organic change, and viewers returning to the exhibition over the coming months will no doubt delight in trying to discover what has been added and what has been removed since their last visit.
This has been a bit of a crazy summer — lots of goings on and life changes (nothing I feel like blogging about, but I am ok). In the midst of all of this I’ve been on a bit of an unintentional blog hiatus. I’ve missed blogging and catching up with friends via their blogs, so I’m looking forward to getting back into the blogosphere.
In addition to dealing with the above-mentioned “life stuff” this summer, I did manage to present a conference paper at the Science and the Public conference in Manchester. The conference was held at the Victoria Baths at the end of June. It was a really neat conference — very interesting venue and many wonderful papers over the two days. Below is one of the photos I took inside the building — there was so much character and history, a very interesting space to be in!
While in the UK I travelled down to London to do some research at the British Library (one of my favourite places on earth). I also popped into Kew Gardens a couple of times (another one of my favourite places on earth). I was especially excited to visit Kew this year as the new Shirley Sherwood Gallery of Botanical Art is now open. The first exhibition held in this space (an exhibition calledTreasures of Botanical Art) is an exquisite show and well worth the wait. My only disappointment was that the Marianne North Gallery, which is physically linked to the new gallery, was closed for renovations. I absolutely understand the need for the renovations, but I think that being able to see both galleries at the same time would have been breath-taking. I guess I’ll just have to go back when the renovations are complete!
So, now we are nearing the halfway point of August and it is time, once again, to turn my thoughts to the new academic year. I feel I didn’t get nearly enough done this summer. I know that is the familiar refrain that all academics sing this time of year, but I felt that this was, quite possibly, the most unproductive summer I’ve had in my academic life. I’m not going to dwell on it and I know I can’t go back in time and change things, but the next few weeks are going to necessarily be super-duper busy as I attempt to get organized and get back on track. In some funny way I feel like returning to blogging is part of that process.
A couple of weeks ago we took a trip down to Rochester to visit The George Eastman House. I was especially interested to see the exhibit called bloom!, which featured some of Edward Steichen’s experimental colour work. As the title of the exhibit suggests, the photos included in this show had a botanical focus, many an interesting blend of botanical art and photographic portraiture. It was a stunning exhibit, and I really wish there had been a catalogue accompanying it. When I go to an exhibition I like to take in the show, go away and think about it for a while, and then return to the images. If the exhibition is in a different city than the one I live in a return journey is often out of the question, and this is where I find a catalogue to be particularly useful. The pictures in this exhibit of Dana Steichen (Edward’s second wife, I believe) were especially beautiful, and there is one in particular that I keep thinking about — a very ethereal-looking portrait of Dana holding a brilliant red apple, which, of course, has symbolic connotations, but also an aesthetically stunning compositional choice given the greenish tones in the rest of the photograph. Simply gorgeous!
Edward Steichen, Heavy Lillies (c.1935)
George Eastman House Collections
The other thing that really left an impression on me was seeing George Eastman’s suicide note. It had a hauntingly simple message: “Dear Friends, My work is done. Why wait?” It gave me shivers to see this written in his own handwriting.
The closing keynote speaker for our Greenscapes conference was Richard Piacentini, the executive director of the Phipps Conservatory and Botanical Gardens in Pittsburgh. His talk was entitled “The Reverse Greenhouse Effect” and, using the structure of those great 19th century glass houses as a metaphor, Piacentini described the inspiration and efforts that went into the recent renovations at Phipps, renovations that resulted in a silver LEED award from the U.S. Green Building Council. Very cool!
Something else very cool that Richard Piacentini talked about that night was the exhibition of Dale Chihuly pieces at Phipps. I love Chihuly’s work, I love botanical gardens and conservatories, and I’m currently writing about the relationship between art and gardens, so when Laurie suggested we take a road trip down to Pittsburgh to see the show for ourselves I jumped at the opportunity. The installation was originally scheduled to come down in November, but it has been held over until February. If you are anywhere near the Pittsburgh area I highly recommend seeing this show. It is simply stunning! I’ve posted a few pics below, but the photographs don’t come anywhere close to doing it justice.
On Friday afternoon our Department hosted “back-to-class” event for students, staff and faculty. It took place at Rodman Hall, a beautiful 19th century mansion which has been turned into an art gallery. In addition to the beer and the barbeque, we also were treated to a presentation by and about Mark Adair. An exhibition of Adair’s works entitled, “Death is in Trouble Now,” had been on display at Rodman Hall all summer (the exhibition closed on September 16th). Many of the works in the show explored themes of environmental destruction and the sense of rupture that often exists between humans and the rest of the planet in our current society. These are works that are intended to make the viewer somewhat uncomfortable, as one critic noted, Adair’s work is “not for for faint of heart!” For instance, his sculpture entitled “Chicken Choker” is of a man who accidentally killed himself during an act of autoerotic asphyxiation. Adair cleverly links this extreme act with Western society’s ongoing consumption of goods and resources in the face of environmental degradation. What this piece references, then, is the absurdity of pursuing pleasure to the point where it becomes fatal; we are killing our planet and, ultimately, ourselves because of our continual and wasteful pursuit of goods and resources.
Much of Adair’s sculptural work references gothic carvings. Although it was probably not the intention of the artist, I also could not help but draw parallels between the bodies on display in this exhibit and the bodies on display in the Science and Art of Medicine exhibit I saw this summer in London. My favourite pieces in Adair’s show, however, were the small charcoal drawings featuring “Death” as the central character. Titles such as “Death Goes Sailing” or “Death Dreams a Martini” convey Adair’s wit and dark sense of humour. These pictures have a narrative quality to them, we can follow along as Death encounters a series of misfortunes. The central premise, according to the artist, is that Death has become redundant; the “grim reaper” is no longer needed as men and women are doing a pretty fantastic job of killing one another through wars and environmental destruction.
(Image Credit: Mark Adair, Death Dreams a Martini (detail), 1999 – 2005)
We’re back from our little jaunt over to Montreal, Ottawa and Kingston. The main purpose of the trip was to see some of the gardens that I’m writing about while they are in full August bloom. I also got to do two things that I have been wanting to do for a long time: 1)attend International Flora Montréal and 2)see one of Gunther von Hagens’ Body Worlds exhibitions. We also managed to work in a little kayaking while we were in Kingston. It was quite the week and I’ve got no shortage of things I want to write about, but today is all about getting unpacked and doing laundry.
In the meantime, I wanted to post the link to Digital Arts & Humanities, a very neat resource exploring ideas, issues and applications in the world of Digital Humanities. I’ve spent most of the evening checking it out and following the various links.
We made our way to the Chelsea Physic Garden yesterday. This so-called ’secret garden’ was founded in 1673, and is one of the oldest and most interesting gardens in the UK. They recently opened up a section dedicated to the work and life of Linnaeus. Apparently ol’Linnaeus was once a visitor to the gardens and this is marked with a big, red sign that says “Linnaeus was here.” The sign even has an arrow pointing to the ground, indicating the spot where he might have stood. For some reason this totally cracked me up!
And in other celebrity place-related news, the Chelsea Physic Garden is right around the corner from Gordon Ramsay’s restaurant. For some reason I love Gordon Ramsay — he comes across as rather gruff in his shows, he has nothing good to say about vegetarians and just this week he made the news in the UK for telling a television presenter that she had bad breath on air, yet still I still like the guy. So, I took a tourist snapshot of the front of his restaurant. I didn’t immediately realize the connections between this image and the “Linnaeus was here” sign, but I think these two photographs fit quite perfectly together!
We also went to the Tate yesterday and saw the most amazing photography exhibit called “How We Are: Photographing Britain“. That makes one more exhibition catalogue I have to find room for in my suitcase…
I had a whirlwind day and managed to get to the V&A, the Natural History Museum and the Science Museum all before 5pm. I’m totally wiped out, but had a great day! The one thing that I was a little disappointed about was that the ‘wildlife garden’ at the Natural History Museum was closed because it was raining — that was, in fact, one of the things that I really did need to visit on this research trip so I’ll have to try and get back there before we fly home next week. The silver lining was that since I couldn’t poke around the wildlife garden I had time to check out Mark Dion’s exhibition, systema metropolis – very cool! Of course I had to buy the catalogue. I’ve been on a book-buying spree and have no idea how I’ll get them all home! Another highlight of the day was enjoying a pint in the ‘Green Dining Room’ designed by Morris & Co. at the V&A. Yay!
