It was blisteringly hot today and I was feeling cooped up and antsy (even after going for a run around the park), so I decided to come visit the Science Museum in South Kensington. The first thing that stood out was the amount of people visiting on a random Tuesday afternoon. Mostly families with children, some groups of teens and the rare solo random person like myself.
Self Conscious Gene, by Marc Quinn
I wandered around the ground floor, rather unimpressed by the huge apparatus displayed. Grabbed a map and immediately knew where I wanted to spend most of my time: the Wellcome Galleries' Medicine Exhibit. Having already been to a few health-themed exhibits funded by the Wellcome Trust I was anticipating some repetitiveness but I was pleasantly surprised. The storytelling and curation of the exhibit was both chronological, scientific, and aesthetic. There were interactive screens and engaging games scattered amongst the displays, and the flow of people wasn't a dull uni-directional river but rather an exploratory game where you could dart wherever your eyes pulled you next.
Left: X-Ray Machine for Shoe Fittings, 1930 - 1955 (Wooden ) & MRI Scanner for Premature Babies, 1992 (White)
Right: 3D Printed Models of Fetal Brains
I admit I approached this display because I was drawn to the 3d models of brains in the middle, but as soon as I stepped back to look at the machines on either side I was delighted to find they weren't a simple "old to new" display. They were completely different in purpose, emotional gravity, scientific complexity, and medical imagery technique. The only thing they shared was their size and silhouette.
I think this playful comparison highlights the different dimensions of human emotion... would you like to have your feet X-rayed to find the perfect kitten heel? We can do that for you. Fast forward 40 years and... Would you like to check on the development of your premature baby's brain? We can do that no problem and also print you a life-size 3d model of the brain. From shoes to baby's brains, medical imagery has opened up our world and allowed us to explore the depths of our emotions (and feet and brains).
Left: Forest of Rods, Model of the Protein Myoglobin, 1960
Right: On the Fabric of The Human Body, Andreas Vesalius, 1543
The storyline of the development of medical imagery was cleverly woven throughout the exhibit and although almost a century apart, these two objects really drive an important point home. Progress in medicine (and other sciences) is tightly bound to our ability to visualize structures invisible to the naked eye and visually communicate what we see (or think we see). This sounds obvious so let me say it again. Progress is driven by capacity to see. And then it's driven by our capacity to accurately share we what we see. Enter art and artists. We would've gotten nowhere if early scientists hadn't also been artists, if they hadn't been able to build intricate models of molecules or draw amazing portraits of the skeleton. To see and after, to represent are skills essential to furthering our knowledge of the world and ourselves!
A little note on inclusivity and accesibility: There were seats spread across the exhibit with life-size portraits of people resting like the one above. Most of the portraits were of people considered to be minorities; wheelchair users, people of color, neurodivergent people and individuals on the older side. I found this approach rather interesting because it brings them into the exhibit space in a strong and unapologetic way, however, it could also be seen as cheating if the Science Museum isn't doing much else to make the space more inclusive and accessible to all.
Santa Medicina, Eleanor Crook, 2019
Another of my favorites, this large bronze sculpture is strewn with symbols of medicine and religion, perfectly embodying the section of the exhibit titled "Faith, Hope and Fear". A rosary, scalpel, halo, scissors, candles, all symbols taken from the operating room and prayer rooms. I was personally drawn to Santa Medicina because of my upbringing, where medicine and prayers were applied with equsl frequency and force when a family member was unwell. My grandmothers would light candles for us during difficult times as a symbol of their faith and prayers, and if I had a cold, rosary beads would be taken out and rubbed on my chest. And religion never eclipsed modern medicine when it came to treating our maladies, but there was never a lack of faith either.
I love that the Wellcome Galleries commissioned this from Eleanor Crook for the Medicine Galleries - because for many of us, health, faith, and medicine have been tightly tangled during our upbringing, and if not on a personal level, most assuredly they have been on a historical level.
Okay last little bit of thoughts before the Science Museum closes and I get kicked out. These three pictures capture some strategies of curation that stood out to me. The postmortem examination table with bright lighting and bathroom-esque tiles in the back was made to look like a beautiful window in bathroom furniture shop... yet the red floor, grooves on the table (to drain the blood away) and the butcher-style scale snaps you back to the reality of a morgue and out of the ikea-verse. Morbidly beautiful.
The image in the middle is a close-up of the lettering used for a collection of quotes behind medical objects. They were quite far and behind glass so I couldn't tell if they were actually stitched or printed, but nonetheless, I loved the use of red thread. Surgical, delicate, and perhaps representing the "thread of life"?
Last but not least; this hospital bed frame. Eerie. Empty. Cold. A skeleton of a bed, if you will. And how could I not think of Doris Salcedo's work. If you don't know who Salcedo is or why I'm mentioning her, then go read my blog post about writing my dissertation, or just google the amazing Doris Salcedo's work.
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