I want to preface this article with a content warning. This work explores Body Worlds, an exhibition of human remains. While not necessarily gory, some may find it disturbing. Thank you!
The uncanny valley is an aesthetic hypothesis between the degree of anthropomorphism and emotional response. It postulates that an object that imperfectly captures the essence of a human being can elicit uncanny, eerie, or even repulsive feelings among its observers. The valley refers to a sort of dip or divide between the audience's ability to empathize with the representation. If fantastical, we enjoy the fictional world and its aesthetics with a degree of recognizable separation. If realistic, we remain entrenched in the familiar with comfort which does not detract from the viewing experience. Therefore, the valley exists in an interspace between recognizable fantasy and reality.
Why does the uncanny valley exist? It boils down to human identity, empathy, and cognition. The brain is remarkably adept at recognizing and processing the human face. From an evolutionary perspective, as we developed tribal relations, it benefited our survival to be able to recognize members of our own species. Body language often communicates more than spoken word ever can (Le Differend between spoken word and bodily experience will be explored in a later video!) By distorting our perceptual cues, the uncanny valley challenges the definition of humanness. Creating something distinctly human demands a re-articulation of the very fundamental parameters for identity. The face, after all, is the most universal symbol for individualism. And if it can be mirrored artificially, what does that say about identity?
If my academic attempt to master aesthetics in a few internet searches dissatisfies, let me pose a few examples. Successful fantasy? Take any classically animated Disney movie. The audience recognizes the characters as human yet their bright colors, exaggerated features, and design support a self-contained fictional world. Effective reality? Princess Leia's cameo at the end of Rogue One and the de-aging effects mapped to Samuel L. Jackson's Nick Fury in Captain Marvel are subtle yet do not disturb the viewing experience. But the uncanny valley? Oh boy. The two that I find most disturbing in my mind are 1) Dwayne the Rock Johnson's Scorpion King in The Mummy Returns and 2) the intended topic of this article Dr. Guther Von Hagen's anatomical exhibit: Body Worlds.
Depicted above (from top left): Jack Skellington from Tim Burton's A Nightmare Before Christmas, a young Samuel L. Jackson in Captain Marvel, a digitally-recreated face of Carrie Fischer mapped onto actress Ingvild Deila in Rogue One, a computer generated Dwayne Johnson in The Mummy Returns, and two plasticized bodies donated to Dr. von Hagen's Body Worlds
Undoubtedly, the Body Worlds exhibit tells a fascinating story. Its medium exemplifies the wonder, complexity, and fragility of the human body. It explicates disease, development, and death by plasticizing human remains, dissecting them, and transforming anatomical study into art.
Plastination's development represents incredible advancements in medical science and polymer chemistry. It occurs through four primary processes. The first step involves chemical fixation through formaldehyde. As dissection can be time-consuming, formaldehyde prevents the decomposition of tissues and endows a rigidity to the specimen to maintain its shape. Dissection then takes place, fixation enabling proper time to make detailed incisions and experiment with unconventional methods of display. The next step places the specimen in an acetone bath. The acetone serves to replace and withdraw any aqueous substances within the body, especially within capillary walls which may lend to decomposition. Then comes the step from which the term "plastination" is derived: polymer injection. The specimen is placed in a bath of liquid polymer such as silicon rubber, polyester, epoxy resin, or another plastic. A vacuum chamber and higher temperatures facilitate the acetone to boil out of solution, removed completely by the vacuum chamber. This leaves the specimen filled with liquid polymer. The final step involves hardening of this polymer through curing it with gas, ultraviolet light, or heat.
Sounds like some gross science, right? Well, preservation of human remains is an incredibly ancient practice. Only recently has disconnect from the dead become ingrained in popular culture. Egyptian mummification attempted to preserve the body through removal of fluids, curing the body with oils and salts, wrapping in linen, and burying it in a warm, dry environment. Egyptian religion deeply revered the dead, believing preservation of the body to be essential to a successful afterlife. Medieval Europe carved effigies of decomposing corpses onto the graves of many important clergymen and political figures, imploring the living with a responsibility to intercede for the destination of one's soul in purgatory. American funerals and preparation of the dead for burial were largely carried out by one's own family until the mid-1800s when embalming became an industrialized process.
So why does Body Worlds exist within the uncanny valley? Why do I, a lover of medicine, anatomy, and polymer science, find educational art displays so unnatural?
The curator and inventor of plasticity argue that the exhibit's purpose intends to accomplish three primary goals: 1) strengthen one's sense of health 2) show the potential and limits of the human body and 3) raise the question of the meaning of life. I have no doubt their medium succeeds in meeting the intended vision. Each body is meticulously preserved and displayed to educate the viewer on a particular organ system. The audio tour, combined with digital media and interactive platforms, provide a thorough yet practical introduction to human systems for a general audience. It condenses an entire year's study of biology into simple, provocative, and meaningful interactions with the dead. It even goes so far as to effectively warn and redirect parts of the exhibit on sex, reproduction, and fetal development if an audience member may be sensitive to those subjects. By all accounts, it is inclusive, effective, and engaging. Memorable, as any experience with death should be.
Yet I could not compel myself to separate specimen from human. As I stared into the glass eyes of each anatomical art piece, I constructed a face. I could see the shape of their cheeks, the part of their lips, arch of their brow. The lines of humanity I sketched over and over again in my sketchbook until I mastered the essence of humanity incarnated before me. The members of the audience around me made observations that echoed mourning, fascination, or deep respect. All I experienced was empty, uncanny, haunting premonitions... disembodied ghosts. I was entrenched in the uncanny valley. I could not separate my objective admiration of the human body as art from the personage of the medium.
This experience ultimately articulates my preoccupation with memory and narrative as the subject of my blog. My articles have been disjointed musings that attempt to accumulate and make sense of all that I bear witness to abroad. I recently received the criticism that my writings are not intended for a general audience as Body Worlds. They are strange little tunnels to the recesses of my mind. And I don't quite know if the few cubic inches in my skull are all that fascinating. Yet I do know this: I am in search of compelling stories. I crave the invisible, microcosmic narratives that lend knowledge about myself, my place in this home of lost causes, and my relationship with time. So thank you, dear viewer, for your time. The fact that you've read this far and engaged with my attempt to escape the uncanny valley means so much to my journey. I hope to share with you the story I seek. But perhaps value is not in my destination but the adventures I have along the way. So please, go support Dr. von Hagen's work. Go explore the unknown and untrod places. Find the stories no one wants to tell or create something like plastinated remains that push the boundary of what it means to exist, to love, and be human. Those are the stories worth sharing.
Check out the exhibition's website to learn more:
I'm joining you in the valley. I remember seeing that same exhibit and having the exact same reaction. Others in the crowd seemed to be more objective about it, but I found it horrifying. I never knew about the uncanny valley, though! Thanks for giving me new language to describe that weird feeling in my guts. Loved this entry.