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ForeXecutor
| Confronting your fears |
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| Written by Administrator | |
| Friday, 24 October 2008 | |
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This last weekend, I went to a museum with my family. It’s been a while since I have been to a museum: I visited one in London while I was there 5 years ago or so. This visit was different because I was a little apprehensive a few days before the planned trip and wasn’t quite sure how to take it. This may seem a bit strange to everyone, but the exhibit was different than anything I had seen before. When I was a little puppy, I lived in Rochester Minnesota and attended church not far from the Mayo Clinic and their Medical Museum of farm accidents--severed and mangled hands and fingers are what I remember most. But this was Body Worlds: the Story of the human heart. Remember that I live in Utah, unarguably the most conservative state in the union. During the visit, my son overheard a lady state emphatically that “this is as bad as pornography, and we are leaving right now”. True, the creator does leave a lot to be questioned about the supposed “medical” purpose of the bodies. He always left the nipples on the women’s breasts, and often men’s genitals were in unnatural positions for the activity being portrayed. This did not bother me and I didn’t have a problem with the nature of the show. In fact after the initial trepidation I felt on entering the exhibit hall, I saw the casts of the vessels of the heart the Archer, I was at ease. Except for one “plastinate” (as they are referred to) that my daughter had heard was there, which I was not looking forward to seeing. The “plastinate” in question, was of a man standing with his arm outstretched above his head with his entire skin draped over his hand. Even now I am glad that it was not included in the exhibition. This confrontation that played out in my mind was interesting to say the least. I have witnessed death firsthand and have not questioned its relative immediateness or finality. I had planned to lower my eyes and move past that particular plastinate. Three days later I am still wondering why I felt the way I did. I am not sure I will ever know, but I know this. I think the journey is half the battle and that I would like to know, to understand what that fear was in me for that singular image.
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