Enshrouded in glass and once again in glass vitrines, specimens for the scientist are stark reminders of life’s material code. Suspended in time and put on display, corporeal flesh becomes a relic of its own history. In a nether world, perhaps reminiscent of death, yet without the degradation of time, the fetus floats in the pathos of insufficient sustenance: a neither here nor there but at once encased in liquids preserving its displaced existence. For a body or its tissue, or an organ or cell, scripted by performative unfolding, this once living matter is like a homeless refugee, whose maintenance relies on the kindness of strangers. In the mutability through time, such specimens speak simultaneously to ravishment and uniqueness as their failures to exist shift them into the domain of mortal countenance. However, they are more than biological entities. They have become, like the 20st century double helix, a cultural icon. The “never-born” continue to speak to cultural practices and social values of embryo collecting whose meanings evolve over time.

In zones of ambiguity, bodies and their parts float anonymously as mementos marking historical time. In an ocular joust, the observer assumes a pose, as details of his gaze achieve focus. Thoughts of definition enter and exit the viewer’s consciousness until some determination of meaning, however tentative, is arrived at. What questions are provoked by once living matter enclosed in a glass veil? To go behind a veil is to transgress a hidden boundary. At the same time the veil becomes a mirror of our concealed selves, as we peek behind the curtain of inscrutable worlds. What purpose do these morphological specimens hold in scientific, artistic and museum contexts in the 21st century?

From the Latin, specere, meaning to look at, emerges two related, yet distinct words: spy and specimen. To observe carefully, to spy on nature’s wonderfully “tangled bank” allows us to glimpse at history’s bio-archive. With the practice of embryo collecting, hidden social dimensions operate within and are uncovered. For example, interracial coupling, eugenic directives and medical procedures used to extract embryos in “choice condition.” Specimens have the power to evoke both clinical and somatic responses while remaining a valuable addition to understanding life and its infinitely various forms. In the museum context, where history is reframed by objects on display virtual technologies overtake our experiences of the “real.” Prior to medical museums dispersing their holdings, it is of the moment to utilize state of the art imaging in tandem with morphological specimens. The comprehension of images and their conceptual underpinnings is undergoing radical change, making corporeal artifacts a valuable resource.

Recently, MRI images have been employed to enhance information corralled by sonograms. By acute observation of fetal malformations, such imaging technologies provides scientists with close study to evaluate disturbances in the womb. Technical images, in the museum context offer another dimension in the discussion concerning the fetus as a cultural and political marker. Because babies in bottles has sparked debates about abortion and right-to-life politics, such imaging functions as a rebound to fundamentalist politics. Fetal images, as technology reveals, baby-like features go beyond a silhouette form to include disturbances within morphological and genetic codes. It is through this expansion of the signification process, that a dialogue between both sides of the debate is thus made.

Regarding a fetus, it may appear to be a baby, however, the use of MRI technologies can explicitly show why the fetus is not viable at certain stages of development. How can such a coupling of molecular readouts and extant specimens communicate to the public where the lines between nature and culture criss-cross? As technology brings past into the present, this linking of artifacts and technological processes open alternative means to examine more fully the nature of nature. In this regard, what does the public fetus represent?

During my exhibition The Glass Veil at the Medizinhistorisches Museum der Charite, one administrator was quite upset with an image in the show. All of the images, were, in fact, from the museum’s permanent collection. The image in question was of a fetus. Although the administrator had seen “the real” fetus many times, it was the enlarged reproduction that gave her pause. Was it the scale of the fetus that made it look like a baby? Or had she never quite seen the fetus in the same way? Pictures are created to generate meaning and as such are semiotic devices altering existing opinions. The fetus, a provocative icon in 21st century culture, is a marker of political issues and religious beliefs.

In the realm of scientific endeavors, objectivity (as a form of “truth to nature”) is a goal driven by accuracy and precision. Nonetheless, in the natural world, even among its species and types, the uniqueness of individual entities make universal forms improbable. By comparing specimens with their molecular structures, unique degrees of flexibility are noted. Such medical collections provide comparative morphological models which act as teaching devices for diverse disciplines: anthropology, sociology, visual art, history of medicine and science itself. These collections also open dialogues between science and society, public policy options, and medical procedures.

Occupying a world of unimaginable repose, a fetus is a primal marvel. A mystery in itself, the fetus has come to represent life as a continuous cycle moving from birth to death, an unfolding of a single cell that has within its code an expiration date. In the United States, the fetus is a highly charged icon which has been employed to sell Volvos, wage political battles and to reflect on wonder. Fetuses were also exhibited in Gunter Von Hagen’s controversial plastinated corpse show, Bodyworlds. They were sectioned off in their own separate room. These fetuses were not plastinated but instead were presented as babies in bottles at various stages of development, supposedly borrowed from historic collections, although no institutions were identified.

The fetus as medical specimen traces the history of scientific practices, including historically embedded cultural visions. The specimen, its preparation, its formal display and arrangement simultaneously functions as a scientific object and a cultural artifact. How are specimens posed? How does this figural articulation change over time? What are the ways in which dignity is preserved in specimen display, or in images of medical display, particularly in art and medical museum contexts?

This presentation will examine the above stated issues concerning the preserved embryo and fetus and their public display. Although embryo and fetal collecting in the United States began as a late 19th century practice, such collections in the United States were largely terminated in the 1960’s. Embryos and fetuses, however, continue to be a taboo subject. The moral status of the embryo as “tissue material” is beset with a myriad of ethical claims. Should discarded embryos be employed as research tools from which to extract stem cells? Furthermore, research into mixed species embryos, cybrids, and even savior siblings creates further controversy. Scholarly investigation of the fetus and its social history continues to bring forth relevant findings. Nick Hopwood, Lynn Morgan and Sarah Franklin, to name a few scholars, continue to unravel the social consequences of fetal portrayals, acquisitions and specimens. Medical museums and their operative practices are acutely poised to become part of this discussion in the 21st century.

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