The Crier

No Photos Allowed

What plastinated bodies can teach us about SLR photography

Forest Casey · Tech · Mar 15, 2007

Now that the Our Bodies exhibit at the Detroit Science Center is on its way out, taking with it hours of filmed interviews about its eerie display of corpses, I can talk about something that’s been bothering me lately.

I didn’t get a chance to see Our Bodies, but I did visit its sister exhibit, Body Worlds, a couple of years ago at Chicago’s superb Museum of Science and Industry. And as with any trip to that fair city, I was walking around with my camera slung over my shoulder.

The fun stopped when we got to the museum’s entrance: My digital SLR camera had to be turned off and stowed away. Because the plastinated bodies are fragile, flash photography quickly leads to their decomposition.

Once inside, where we could finally see the exhibit, I realized exactly why photography wasn’t permitted: Body Worlds was fucking bizarre.

When we entered the main exhibit hall, we saw bodies molded into shapes so shocking and wrong, they were almost blasphemous.

The first aisle of bodies was easy to adjust to — they were mostly there to present different organ systems as they function in the body. They were no more morbid or frightening than the skeleton in the corner of your high school biology classroom. Nothing you would miss photographing.

But when we entered the main exhibit hall, we saw bodies molded into shapes so shocking and wrong, they were almost blasphemous. An unborn child hovered in a glass case, all of its organs and skin removed; only a highway of blood vessels outlined its body. A tall man wearing a fedora on his skinless body had his chest muscles filleted and separated, as if subjected to the sharp end of Chef Tony’s Miracle Blade.

The centerpiece was a full-size Clydesdale horse and rider, both without skin. The horse bowed, and its rider extended his arm down low to the ground as if offering a gift to the commoners. Upon closer inspection, the object in his outstretched hand was his own brain.

If these bodies were on display in a suburban basement, their sculptor would be imprisoned. But because the bodies were crafted in a lab, they had a legitimacy that kept the public enraptured. I simply had to photograph them.

With great care, I entered spy mode. I took out my camera and snapped on a wide-angle lens. I would have to manual focus all of the shots and overexpose the photos because of the low light. If flash destroyed the bodies, I would find a way around it.

But what really got me — and this is finally the point of the article — were my fellow patrons. Despite the “No Photography” sign, when saw me struggle with my bulky camera, they whipped out their camera phones.

Despite the “No Photography” sign, when my fellow patrons saw me struggle with my bulky camera, they whipped out their camera phones.

Now, I understand the need to document life events, no matter how mundane. But how are you going to express the sublime creepiness of Body Worlds on a .75 inch screen? I suppose if you showed someone the horse photo at any larger than .75 inches, they might be sufficiently creeped out enough to stay away from the museum.

Soon, camera phones will have multiple megapixels, good enough for its photographs to be published in a newspaper. They will have removable flash attachments and miniature lenses. But, until then, I prefer to struggle with an SLR camera and low light photography, which is precisely why I, too, will probably suffer a heart attack someday and wind up on display.