After a break, I’m back to playing with anatomy in time to coincide with a resurgence of anatomical activity in my life–MRIs, colonoscopies, the works. Using a facsimile of Gray’s Anatomy, I am choosing the most ornamental of illustrations for possible jewelry or screen prints.
Whenever I work from the anatomical interpretations of a skilled illustrator, I’m always aware that I’m at least one visual filter removed from the actual “giblets” (to use the charming Maria Bamford term). I can’t imagine having it any other way, having far to weak a stomach to endure even the birth videos in Family Life and Human Reproduction 101. I need the selective attention of an illustrator to even introduce me to the subject matter, removing the bits of gag inducing information and focusing on the functioning and majesty of nature parts.
I’m hoping to get access to the imaging that they are doing of my insides, which have the non-subjective filters of technological capacity standing between me and any gag inducing realism. I suppose all of my work is playing with the puke reflex to some extent. In philanthropic work, folks work against empathic barriers based on distance. It’s interesting to think that barriers to unfathomable realities are also also present in physically proximal entities, our bodies.
