Body of Evidence

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Body of Evidence was a multi-medium exhibition inspired by the impact of Art on Health held at the Adelaide Convention Centre 30 May – 1 July, 2016 featuring John Blines, Gina Czarnecki & The Australian Dance Theatre, Meg Cowell, Ian Gibbins, Naomi Hunter, Cheryl Hutchens, Hans Kreiner, Kerryn Levy, Deborah Prior, Damien Shen, Angela Valamanesh & Thomas Yeend. Curated by Carollyn Kavanagh.

I contributed an installation piece called Syntaxin: Kiss and Run, and two videos called Situs Inversus, one for an internal LED screen (which you can see here, with audio), and one, a special projection project (watch it here), on a huge window of the SW corner of the Convention Centre, along with one by Meg Cowell. 

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Body of Evidence

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Body of Evidence is a multi-medium exhibition inspired by the impact of Art on Health held at the Adelaide Convention Centre 30 May – 1 July, 2016 featuring John Blines, Gina Czarnecki & The Australian Dance Theatre, Meg Cowell, Ian Gibbins, Naomi Hunter, Cheryl Hutchens, Hans Kreiner, Kerryn Levy, Deborah Prior, Damien Shen, Angela Valamanesh & Thomas Yeend. Curated by Carollyn Kavanagh.

I contributed an installation piece and two videos, one for an internal LED screen running through the exhibition, and one, a special projection project, on a huge window of the SW corner of the Convention Centre, along with one by Meg Cowell, during the nights of 22-25 June 2016.


Syntaxin: Kiss and Run

2016. Timber, steel, brass, glass, digital prints, magnetic-optical disks, magnetic tape, plate glass, found objects. Dimensions: 182cm W x 41cm D x 165cm H (approx).

‘Syntaxin’ is a protein with a vital role in the molecular mechanism, called ‘Kiss and Run’, that controls the release of chemical messengers from the ends of nerve cells (synapses). The relevant structures can only be seen by specialised microscopes. This work uses Ian’s own electron microscope images of synapses, obsolete data storage devices containing those images, and found objects to illustrate the mystery of ‘Kiss and Run’. The texts come from recent scientific publications on the matter.  Click here to read them.

Postcards including images of synapses with text taken from papers about syntaxin:

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Here are some images of the installation itself:

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Situs Inversus

2016. Digital HD video window projection. 6200 x 1080 pixels, approx. 3 minutes duration.

‘Situs Inversus’ is rare birth abnormality in which the positions of the internal organs are reversed. Sometimes, the internal organs are duplicated in mirror image, which is fatal. This video takes those ideas to generate images which are mirror symmetrical and can be read equally from both sides of the window. The underlying images are derived from Ian’s videos of living cells, his body, and the Adelaide Convention Centre, including the projection window itself.
Here is the projection video:

and here is a pic of the projection itself on opening night, viewed from North Terrace:

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Situs Inversus Viscerum Totalis

2016. Digital HD video LED display. 1920 x 1080 pixels, approx. 6 minutes duration.

This version of video used the same underlying images as those in the projection piece, but sequences them in new ways with different text.

Here is a version of the video with audio. The backing track is made from sounds recorded at the Convention Centre itself.

A conversation with Garry Stewart

The following is an extensive email conversation, which happened over a period of time between Garry Stewart and Ian Gibbins during the preparation of ‘Proximity‘. It will give you an idea of the depth of research that Garry delves into for his work on any particular subject. It really shows that contemporary dance can be the thinking person’s art form as well as satisfying the draw of physical expression and virtuosity. 

Q. I’m wondering if you could say that ‘when we see we do it with our entire body, not just our eyes and brain’.

A. I think the purists would not like to say “see” but certainly “perceive” would be well accepted. There is no doubt that how we visually perceive the world around us is influenced by our prior knowledge and / or expectations of the things we see. In terms of the “entire body”, something that is so intrinsic to us it is generally taken for granted, is that we perceive the world and its objects necessarily adjusted for our body scale: how big we are compared to everything else. This determines how we interact with things at various distances from us, how we judge the weight of objects, how feasible it would be to manipulate them (their “heft” to use a nice poetic term…), etc.

When you “not just our eyes and brain”, I think you need to be careful there… no problem with “not just our eyes…”, but all perception, experience, knowledge etc necessarily comes to our awareness via our brain: everything we know about our body we experience with our brain, even if it seems so intrinsic that it doesn’t feel like conscious experience… This is totally incontrovertible for neuroscientists / cognitive scientists, but some philosophers still don’t like it and try to argue otherwise. As far as I’m concerned they can’t win that one… there is a growing group of “cognitive philosophers” who explicitly accept this position.

Q. Do you think this is true from the point of view that our brain creates a sense of our entire bodies position in space and relationship/point of view to the objects within our visual field?

A. Yes… a big chunk of our brain is doing just this job (the parietal cortex, which sits between the visual cortex and the sensory-motor areas)

Q. Does my body take on a sort of global ‘attitude’ in the act of seeing and perceiving?

A. Yes… but it’s even more interesting than that. The “attitude” can be interpreted in different ways, all of which can operate at the same time. In terms of spatial maps, we can orient to the world using body-based coordinates (“egocentric”): ie everything is referred to our own body, as in left and right, for example. However we also map in external, world-based coordinated (“allocentric”): eg objects referred to absolute directions such as north, south, east, west, etc…  there are subsets of both of these coordinate systems that relate to the distances involved (near, eg within reach; far, known only by integrating a virtual map… and several intermediate levels) and to the landmarks we use to navigate these spaces.

The other way you could interpret “attitude” is that overlain on all the spatial processing is what we choose to attend to. Attention is driven from several areas of the brain, but mostly form the prefrontal cortex. We cannot perceive everything that is going on in the outside world or in our bodies, let alone both, equally well at the same time. So brain selects what we will attend to = what we  focus upon = what we are consciously aware of at any point in time… This process seriously impacts on what we perceive. There are all the famous (notorious?) examples of people missing really “obvious” events because they attend to something else (most well known is the example where you are asked to watch a video of two teams playing basketball and you are to keep track of the number of passes each team makes; while you are doing this a bloke in a gorilla suit runs into the frame, waves his hands, and runs out… most people report not seeing him at all until he is pointed out… and then they cannot believe they missed it!!!).

Q. Through this, it seems our bodies are sort of in a state of readiness. Readiness to act, or not act. We seem to move from one state to another depending on how we are feeling and what is going on externally and internally.

A. Yes. An increasingly common concept is that the brain is basically working as a prediction machine. In one sense, we are always ready to do something… exactly what that is depends on what ever else is going on modulated by what out focus of attention is and our current plans, whatever they may be. If we are doing something actively, what our readiness is actually directed to usually depends on what has just happened, ie it is modified by past experience.

Q. So are we perceiving our situation in space and 3 dimensions corporeally? With our whole bodies? It seems like when we see our entire body goes into the state of this seeing and hence adopting an ‘attitude’ toward what we are seeing.

A. I think so. In this sense, I would again replace “see” with “perceive”. The sense of “our whole body” comes from different types of sensory nerves in the muscles, tendons, ligaments, bones, skin, etc that record all kinds of things like muscle tension, muscle length, touch, texture, temperature, and so on. The amazing thing is that our conscious perception of all this feels like a continuous integrated sensation (most of the time). One of the things that has driven more conventional philosophers nuts is that you simply cannot unravel all this by introspection. Our “body sense” is such a derived construction, it’s impossible to identify all its components without doing some pretty sophisticated experiments.

Q. Perhaps I’m encroaching on philosophy here?

A. See above: depends how you define philosophy!!

Q. My understanding of how we see is that it is a form of trained blindness. We are born with an over supply of neural connections for seeing but these hypertrophise as we learn how to see. So the number of neural connections for seeing diminishes throughout early childhood as we become more and more specific in how we perceive through seeing. Is this correct? We ‘sculpt’ an oversupply of nerve connections in our visual cortext to shape a more specific network of the connection.

Is it also correct to say that when we see as adults, we draw on our history of cognitively conditioned seeing (that is culturally prescribed) so that our ability to see is not just a mechanical function of the eyes/brain but also a composite of this along with our learnt cognition for seeing?

i.e. we have already learnt about depth, colour, shading, perspective etc so our conditioned version of this informs how we see as adults.

A. don’t think that idea of ‘trained blindness’ is really correct, though I can easily see where why you would conclude that!

It is true that we are born with more connections than we need, not just for the visual system, but for most other parts of the brain too. The issue here is that these connections are sort of a default pre-wiring that ensure all the different brain regions are connected up to each other at all.

After birth, sensory experience fine tunes these connections to make sense of the sensory-motor world within in which we find ourselves. The best example of this is language processing: by the time we are about 6 months old, the language we have been hearing up until that time strongly biases the way we perceive the language sounds we hear.

The visual system rapidly becomes “trained” to recognise all the elements of a visual field – edges, textures, colours, shading, etc – and synthesise them into recognisable objects. People who are born with damaged eyes but an intact brain (eg congenital cataracts) usually are unable to see if the eye problem is fixed later in life. This ‘training’ is a combination of fine tuning overall wiring between different regions of visual cortex, as well as regulation of synaptic density between specific sets of neurons in those pathways. So in this sense, your idea of ‘sculpting’ is correct.

All of the low level processing of information in the visual system takes place below consciousness. Some of it actually occurs in the eye itself (in the retina) before the information is sent to visual cortex. So the retina can process relative contrast, detect edges of different orientation, for example.

Visual illusions are usually set up to muck around with these low level processes, either in the retina or in the visual cortex. By introspection, we cannot tell the difference. Also even knowing that the image is an illusion, we cannot consciously over-ride it. As our visual system develops, we also develop an incredibly rich underpinning of memory that allows us to recognise, name, manipulate the things we see. This corresponds to your ‘learnt cognition of seeing’: this refers to understanding what we see, but not the act of seeing itself…

[people with strokes or other forms of selective brain injury have shown how fragile these processes are and how they can be broken down and dissociated. So someone may have cortical blindness, in which they actually can see, but they don’t know that they can… ]

It really isn’t clear how much vision is culturally prescribed. However, it’s nothing like language, for example. I think most vision scientists would say that everyone with normal vision processes a visual scene in pretty much the same way in terms of generating the image itself. But then it’s how you interpret it. For example, if I gave you one of our microscopic images, it’s unlikely you’d know  what it represents, what scale it is, what the colours mean etc, without me telling you. Conversely, when you watch a dance piece, you’d be picking up on all sorts of visual cues that I would miss.

The other thing that feeds into a cultural modification of the perception of vision is attention. We cannot focus on the whole visual scene at once. In fact we can only attend to a very small part of it. Exactly what we attend to is a mix of our own motivation, our training or cultural background, and the circumstances of the moment. For example, if we are out in the bush with an Aboriginal bloke who’s grown up there. all sorts of things would attract his visual attention which may entirely escape our notice, even though we’d experienced more or less the same raw visual inputs.

Q. Do the saccadic movements of the eye take ‘pictures’ that are then sutured together to create a whole image? Is that an acceptable way of describing it. 

If you had to describe saccades and how they form a total image in just one or two pithy sentences what would you say? 

A. That’s pretty much right Garry.

The saccades are rapid movements of the eyes that scan the scene before us. Each saccade takes about 1/20th of a second. The movements are controlled by several areas in the brain: one small part of the cortex generates the movement itself, another relates each movement to the spatial coordinates extracted from visual cues. Other areas control the speed and magnitude of the eye movements. Yet other areas (in the frontal cortex) direct the saccades to the locations that we wish to attend to.

During the saccades, the brain is effectively blind, ie. there is no visual processing taking place during the saccade (this is the little demo I did with the clock at your studio…). Inhibition of visual processing during the saccade is essential for the smooth stitching together of the visual scene.

Once we have fixed out attention on something in the world, our eyes still jitter around a bit. This means that the same photoreceptors in the retina are not exposed continuously to the same stimulus. If they are, the receptors desensitise and we become effectively blind…

Hmmm… more than a sentence or two there… how about this:

Saccades are rapid movement of the eyes that take a snapshot of the visual world. The visual cortex assembles the conscious experience of viewing a continuous scene from a series of saccades. This requires the activity of many areas of the brain, as well as a kind of visual memory that keeps track of what has been captured visually in each saccade.

Q. How do our eyes and brain creates depth and perspective in seeing. How do we know that something is close to us or further away. How do we situate ourselves in relation to our field of perception.

A. As it turns out, this area is actually one of the best known in just about all of neuroscience (even if there are still lots of unanswered questions). Here’s a quick run through:

The brain uses several sources of visual information to create a sensation of depth.

The main way we judge depth is via stereoscopic binocular vision. Each eye sees the world from a slightly different angle. The information from each eye is sent to the visual cortex which then compares the views from each eye. Objects that are closer look more different when seen from each eye than do more distant objects. This binocular disparity is then used by the visual cortex to encode distance of objects from the viewer.

[ 3D movies / TV etc work by showing two views of the scene that correspond to the view seen by each eye. The technological trick here is to make sure that the left-eye’s view is seen only by the left eye and similarly for the right eye… ]

We also judge depth by focus. We cannot focus on near and far objects at the same time. The visual cortex uses information from the eye-focus muscles to help us interpret distance. Usually when we look at something up close, we not only have to focus, but we also have to converge our eyes onto the object [ ie go a little cross-eyed ]. Again information from the muscles that move the eyes is sent to the visual cortex.

The visual cortex also extracts depth information from the relative locations of objects in space, especially as we move through visual space or the objects move or both.  Two effects contribute to this information. Closer objects block or occlude the view of object further away. And when we move, closer objects seem to move through our visual space more quickly than more distant ones.

Finally visual information on the spatial locations of object and their relationships to the viewer can be reinforced by other senses, especially proprioception, which can tell us if an object is within reach or not. We also know distances of objects by having physically navigated the space within which they and we co-exist [ eg by walking past the objects.]

Sounds of moving objects can tell us if they are nearby or distant. The Doppler effect can tell us if an object is moving towards us or away from us [ this is when a siren or jet engine seems to increase in pitch as it moves towards us and decreases pitch at it moves away. ]

This multi-sensory integration takes place in the inferior parietal cortex, the same general area that builds up our own body sense. This high-level processing is essential to centre visual perception of space and depth of the external world on our body-centred frame of reference.

Q. How does the brain construct a sense of unified self, or how does the conscious mind filter the enormous incoming stream of data to construct an idea of the world and self that has a contained, cohesive meaning. Does this question make sense? Can we describe the phenomenon of unified selfhood from a neurophysiological viewpoint?

A. The brain constructs your sense of self from the memories of your past, your experience of now, and your imagined future.

Your brain sets your self as the reference point for the predicted outcomes for all your actions, real or imagined, physical or mental, rational or emotional.

Your sense of self is the reference point for your feeling of space and time and scale and relationships with the world, the objects within it and the people who inhabit it.

A complete sense of self requires interactions between multiple regions of the brain, regions that process sensory inputs, motor outputs, concepts of space and time, emotional state and social context.

The parietal cortex integrates sensory inputs from the outside world with your sensations from your own body. If it is damaged, you may feel that parts of your body are not part of your self, they are not yours.

Your conscious experience of the self as a complete autonomous entity in the here and now takes about one-third of a second to synthesise: our conscious sense of self inhabiting a physical world is always running a fraction of a second behind real time..!

Your self is the conscious manifestation of your total cerebral activity. However, much of your self-awareness, your feeling of who you are, is a consequence of the subconscious activities of your brain. This subconscious brain processes sensory inputs, makes decisions, moves your body, keeps your balance and emotional state in check, controls the activity of your internal organs. If any of this goes wrong, you “do not feel your self”…

Your sense of self necessarily must be a product of your genes, your upbringing, and your environment.

Pure introspection cannot identify the cerebral functions that generate our conscious sense of self.

No-one really knows how we experience our conscious sense of self… Although we can identify the types of brain activity that are required for a complete sense of self, we can have direct experience only of our own consciousness…

 

Australian Dance Theatre

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Ian has been fortunate to have collaborated with Garry Stewart and Australian Dance Theatre on two of their productions: Be Your Self (2010) and Proximity (2012), each of which premiered at the corresponding Adelaide Festival and then toured extensively overseas.

Garry Stewart’s Be Your Self reveals the precarious stability of the concept of self as the work steps through the conventions we use to construct a singular and consistent notion of ‘I’. In an analysis of selfhood, Stewart situates the body at the centre of his inquiry. In Be Your Self the Australian Dance Theatre dancers are transformed into erupting, powerful, creative entities projecting a plethora of physical images and impressions set to an unpredictable, cartoonish, electronic score.

In Proximity Garry Stewart and Paris-based video engineer Thomas Pachoud (with the support of didascalie.net) worked in collaboration to create a dialogue for dance and real-time video manipulation. The work is primarily an investigation into the body’s interactive participation in the act seeing the world with reference to neurological body maps and the French philosopher Merleau Ponty’s phenomenology of perception.

In each case, Ian provided text that was used in the production. In addition, he ran workshops for the dancers that explored the anatomy and neuroscience of body sense. During the development of Proximity, Ian and Garry had extensive email conversations about these areas of research which formed the basis of text used in the production. You can read the correspondence here.

 

poetry & anatomy

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Dealing with the body is a complex problem, raising a mass of emotional, scientific, artistic and social issues. While the modern study of anatomy adheres to the highest ethical standards, this has not always been the case.

The poems on this page examine different aspects of the history and practice of anatomy: Chiara, one of the first recorded dissections; Mary, the last of Burke and Hare‘s victims to be sent to the Edinburgh anatomists; and an introduction to a modern-day anatomy class. The video of The Boy with Two Bodies explores the social framework of 14th Century Florence, when a mother of conjoint twins could be held responsible for the parlous state of local politics and the economy.


Abbess Chiara, Montefalco, 1308

“… her body should be preserved on account of her holiness and because God took such pleasure in her body and heart … After vespers or thereabouts, the said Francesca, Margherita, Lucia and Caterina went to get the heart, which was in a box … And the said Francesca of Foligno cut open the heart with her own hand and opening it they found in the heart a cross, or the image of the crucified Christ.” ~ Sister Francesca of Foligno (1318)

Understand that we, your Sisters, do this
out of respect for the truth of your testimony.

Understand that we do this
out of love and dedication,

that we acknowledge
the gifts of heavenly grace

bestowed upon you
beyond your material desires,

freed of devilish contrivance
or fabrication or calumny.

So forgive us, dear Sister,
as we peel back your incorruptable skin

like the petals of a flower
barely touched by this morning’s sun.

Forgive us, dear Sister,
when we expose your maw

when we cover your sinews
with herbs and fragrant spices

like a tender young lamb
ready for the fire.

Please, forgive us, dear Sister
once we have cleaved

your unkissed breast
and found the evidence for God

encased so securely within
your miraculous, blameless heart.

Published in urban biology (2012)


Mary Docherty, Edinburgh, 1828

The victims of William Burke and William Hare, and how much the anatomists paid for the bodies, according to Burke’s notebook:

“Joseph, lodger (10 pounds); Abigail Simpson, salt seller (10 pounds); Old woman, lodger (10 pounds); Mary Patterson, prostitute (8 pounds); Effie, cinder gatherer (10 pounds); Drunk woman,  from police (10 pounds); Old woman & deaf-mute grandson (16 pounds); Woman (8 pounds); Mrs Ostler, washerwoman (8 pounds); Ann MacDougal, distant relative (10 pounds); Mary Haldane (8 pounds); Peggy Haldane, Mary’s daughter (8 pounds); Daft Jamie Wilson, street beggar (10 pounds); Mary Docherty, beggar (5 pounds).”
                ~  after Ruth Richardson ‘Death, Dissection and the Destitute’ (2000)
 

How remarkable it is
after all this time,
despite my lowly station,
my miserable and uneventful life,
you still talk about me,
you still know my name.

My miserable and uneventful life;
my wayward, my errant son.
Why else visit this drear stonegrit town?
Why else would I succumb once again
to miasmic devils and spirits
bewitched by riffling midnight vapours?

I might then have missed that William Burke,
his hands around my soused old voice box,
his hands covering my wrinkled hide with straw,
his hands selling me for the anatomist’s knife,
his hands lifted to Almighty God
in preparation for the final drop.

By now, the townsfolk have had their skimmington,
they have shouted and marched
through the Surgeon’s Square,
they have seen revealed upon the table
the raw and bloody entrails
of death traded for unholy death.

Of course, nothing I can say will change
the minds of those choleric soft-palmed toffs,
who reap profit from our thankless labour,
whose one grand speech after another
punish the walls of Parliament, whose sentences
reek with the stink of the Poor House.

Perhaps, after all, you can appreciate
that I only dreamt of Ireland,
of the chances I could have taken,
of the life I might not have lost.
Perhaps, after all, you can appreciate
that I wish you have never heard of me.

Published in urban biology (2012)


Introduction to Anatomy

 1. Presentation

She lies before us, naked, of modest proportions, her hair closely shorn.
She seems relaxed, yet her arms are stiff, not with the rigor mortis
favoured by crime writers, but with the embalming solution her preparators
gently washed through her arteries and veins. Despite the years passed
since her death, there are no signs of decay: she is perfectly preserved.

Beneath the skin, we are very much the same: her muscles, radiate like fans,
overlap like feathers, across her ribcage. A little deeper, her heart. Perhaps,
she envisioned this moment, this space, when we see for ourselves that which
she only ever felt, when we share our ancient lineage, our animal inheritance,
beyond gender and race and any form of ephemeral social construction.

2. Exploration

They are broad shoulders. You don’t get a build like that without a lifetime
of hard work. His is what people call a big frame, heavy boned, even at his age.
You can see the reinforcement on his scapula, along the spine, around its borders,
where all those massive muscles attach: trapezius, serratus anterior, levator scapulae,
the rhomboids, supraspinatus, infraspinatus, teres minor, teres major.

You can’t help but wonder. Perhaps he was a labourer, a wharfie, a builder or brickie.
Or maybe he was a footballer, or some other sportsman, who liked to keep up
a bit of form. There is a tattoo on his arm, but we cannot see it from this angle.
Enclosed in protective wraps, we cannot see his hands. Are there scars? Calluses?
Are any finger-tips missing? Was there a wedding ring?

We return to the shoulders. Gently, someone folds back the layers. Quietly,
someone recites their names, muscle by muscle, muscle by muscle. They are
his muscles. They are our muscles. They are muscles that will be observed,
knowingly, again and again, as we lift our luggage, as we open a door, as we
hold hands, as we wave in welcome and farewell.

3. Revision

It is a beautiful body. You just have to keep looking. Of course, that is why it is here,
why we are here. So we can look, observe, learn. The limbs, once graceful, lithe,
are now unbound, exposed by a new kind of release, untethered by tendons,
ligaments, or retinacula.

We are invited to touch, to explore, the flexors and extensors, abductors and
adductors, the rotators, the evertors and invertors. We must be careful, as if peeling
back a flowerbud’s newly formed petals. We must pay attention to their relations,
their rightful place, beside, above, below each other, so easily disrupted in memory
by a wayward glance or misplaced word.

She has a beautiful body. Even on this cold afternoon, long after the stiches re-uniting
her belly have ceased to heal; long after whatever was wrong with her liver had failed
to improve; long after she had applied the last coat of opalescence to the nails of her
fingers and toes.

Published in Etchings 12: VisualEYES (2013)


Here is a video of a long poem The Boy With Two Bodies originally published in urban biology with an audio version on the urban biology – audiodraft CD. Taken from a well-known historical case of conjoint twins, as chronicled by Giovanni Villani (1276-1348). The twins were seen as an omen of impending disaster for Florence, and their mother was held to blame. This poem explores the story from several points of view including the city elders, the church, and, of course, the mother.

 

 

the art & science of embodiment

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As Professor of Anatomy for 20 years at Flinders University, Ian was privileged to access, explore and explain the intricacies of the human body. The study of human anatomy has a long and complex social history, some of it confronting, some controversial and some occasionally criminal. Even now, the ways we understand our feelings for our own body and those of others are full of mystery, notwithstanding the astounding advances made by modern neuroscience in this area.

For several years, Ian has been collaborating with artist, Catherine Truman, to document how we appreciate the body and communicate our representations of embodiment to others. Both the not absolute exhibition and The Microscope Project evolved from this collaboration. But Ian and Catherine also worked together on a series of studies, funded by Flinders University (2010) and the Australian Network for Art and Technology (ANAT Synapse Residency, 2011), exploring the relationships between external and internal representations of anatomical knowledge, the teaching and learning environment, and roles of touch, movement, and the felt experience of the body.

 

translating the body – the choreography of representation in anatomy teaching, 2010

the filtered body – the uncertainties of embodiment, 2011

Understanding the body and its representation is a problem spanning diverse domains including cognitive science, philosophy, social sciences and the creative arts. The Anatomy Teaching Laboratory & Museum in the School of Medicine at Flinders University is a unique, multi-dimensional learning environment highly valued by students.  However, learning detailed human anatomy is a very complex and, at times, reductive task. Each student must absorb and retain vast amounts of information and then construct his or her own idealised model of the body, derived from their interaction with multiple specific examples: the anatomical specimens, the models, radiographic images, the textbook diagrams, the living body of the instructor and the students’ own bodies.

These projects by Catherine Truman and Ian Gibbins examined the process of knowledge acquisition and transfer during the teaching of functional human anatomy in the medical course at Flinders University.

The projects used video recordings of the classes, questionnaires, and video-cued recall interviews with students to examine:

  1. how students use, interpret and ultimately internalise different representations of the human body that are used in the anatomy classroom;
  2. how the movement of the instructor through the classroom and the collection of anatomical representations influence the students’ ability to engage with and learn functional human anatomy.

Catherine and Ian found that direct physical interactions between students and forms of representation involving touch, gesture and language often are incidental to formal learning, yet they can reveal much about the intensity of the learning experience. Learning processes are highly personal yet, due to the vast amounts of facts to learn, there is little time for registering, let alone communicating, subtle shades of difference and meaning of the body

Catherine and Ian then focussed upon an exploration and creative interpretation of ambiguities and uncertainties inherent in this embodiment process, epitomised by the filtered learning experiences not only of the students, but the researchers themselves.

The outcomes of these projects informed a re-analysis of the anatomy teaching and learning environment where multiple representations of source material are used, with potentially significant implications for classes in which material is presented primarily on-line. They also led directly into new modes of practice in art-science collaborations resulting most dramatically in The Microscope Project.

Read Catherine’s extended account of the 2011 project on the ANAT Synapse Residency blog here.

Read some of Ian’s anatomy poems here.

 

poetry & neuroscience

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How do we communicate how we feel inside? Not just emotions, but our body sense, our pains, perhaps even the parts that are missing, or we never had…

Here are some of Ian’s poems that explore these issues:


from Lessons in Neuroscience

Lesson 1: Phantom Limb 
 
The space between my hands.

Like whiskey-tongued fishermen, shore-bound by Force Ten gales, I dream
about the ones that got away: snapper, mulloway, ocean trout, hammerhead,
fins slicing the sea into sashimi, carpaccio, butterfly fillets, jettisoned,
spinning and flipping and floating far from any dimly recollected grasp.

The gaps between my fingers,

as if they were feathers, as if they should span the imbalance dividing
this updraught from that, this diminishing shadow from its source,
this invisible calculation defining lift and drag, streamlined flight and
unrecoverable freefall, from this total, irredeemable, loss of sensibility.

The space between my hands, the gaps between my fingers:

only now can I describe the shapes that fill my memory; only now can I
describe the holdfasts, the hefts, the weights, the locks and latches, the keys
misplaced forever; only now, can I describe, for you, a tattoo needle,
a wedding ring, collisions, inadequate light, unbidden, insufficient narcosis.

~ Lessons in Neuroscience is published in full in urban biology ~


from entorhinal

PMID: 25786788
39º 59′ 05″ N
77º 06′ 47″ W
[ Potomac / definitively awake, compelling / spanned, point to point ]

A chasm we cannot avoid: on one side, coalescing planetary shadows,
spiral-arm galaxies, birthed from supernovae and gravitational collapse;
on the other, the monumental scree of eroding dynasties, royal families
shrilled with golden tarnish and quicksilver tar. The link? Appalachia.
Caledonia. Sahara. Immobile without destination, we circle, await
specialist interpreters, accredit a new generation of bridge makers.

entorhinal is based on a series of scientific articles about place and grid neurons. It is published in full in Rabbit 17: Geography (2016).


Sometimes it hurts

When you come to me
I feel your heat before your touch,
I feel the wind, hot, from a mid-summer
night, prickling with dried leaves,
endlessly irritable crickets, incipient thirst,
with the inevitable sunrise that follows,
that, in this climate of ill-defined seasons,
threatens fire before our first morning breath.

When you come to me,
I shiver like a violin string;
in cold sweat, my lip glistens with
dew-drops, my skin draws tight, tighter,
constricts my arteries and veins, a thunderbolt
blinds my shadows, ghostly spectres haunt
my path, sing storm-wracked sirens’ songs,
disguise ancient fog-bound shipping hazards.

When you come to me,
I count all the stars across the sky,
the sandgrains on the beach, in the desert,
the heartbeats I always lose, the pangs
I fear as your caresses slip unguided
into the voids of boundless space, as each
and nearly every one of your kisses falls
into unacknowledged whispers around me.

 

Most women experience genital pain at some time in their lives, 
but for surprisingly many, it is always there…

~ Published  in ‘Flying Kites: Friendly Street Poets 36’ (2012) and in ‘Shaping the Fractured Self: Poetry of Chronic Illness and Pain’, edited by Heather Taylor Johnson, (UWAP, 2017) ~


Cataplexy is a rare neurological condition in which people spontaneously enter a deep dream-like state, often in response to intense emotions. This poem has been published in e•ratio with a video. Read it here and watch the video below.


Read Dr Korsakoff and Colleagues Report  published in Southerly here.

See more about Ian’s science here.