Against the idea of a “molecular gaze” in art

SAHT2224 essay, S2 2006


This essay seeks to refute the notion of a “molecular gaze” in art and visual culture. While science has discovered much about the processes of life at sub-cellular level and how to manipulate these processes using such techniques as gene splicing, this knowledge has not radically altered cultural conceptions of identity, heredity and the body. The “molecular vision of life” (Kay, 1994) has simply given existing biological metaphors and references new depth by expanding the intellectual basis for understanding biological phenomena down to the molecular level. But this does not mean that the molecular level has become the focus of a scientific or cultural gaze that ascribes identity, difference or meaning. Rather the molecular level has been added to and complements the levels of understanding we already have of the living world. We can now relate the molecular processes of life to the cellular and gross physiological phenomena which are more usually the focus of discussion and representation in art and popular culture.


Origin of the idea of a “molecular gaze”

Bruno Strasser (2003) asserts that the emergence of the double helix as a successful and popular icon has been most marked since 1990. Although Watson and Crick's work has not been ignored since its publication in 1953, popular interest from both within and without the scientific community was galvanised, according to Strasser, by the Human Genome Project, which was established in 1990. Certainly interest in the relationship between biology, popular culture and art has risen dramatically since 1990[1] and various books and articles have been written by people interested in this area.

In 1993 Lily E Kay authored a book entitled The Molecular Vision of Life: Caltech, the Rockefeller Foundation and the Rise of the New Biology. It was described by one reviewer as a good historical account of genetics at the California Institute of Technology between 1928 and 1953, but an awful attempt at understanding them (Horowitz, 1994). “Her book is, it turns out, an ideological assault on molecular biology,” (Horowitz, 1994; p. 929). Kay's position is anti-reductionist, which makes her ideologically opposed to the central assumptions of molecular biology, that life can be understood at the chemical level and that this knowledge can lead to a better understanding of the organism as a whole, which she refers to as “the molecular vision of life” (Kay, 1993).

The concept of a “molecular vision of life” fed into the work of, among others, Dorothy Nelkin. In 1995 Nelkin and M Susan Lindee's book The DNA Mystique: The Gene as a Cultural Icon was published. This “analysis of folklore” (Nelkin & Lindee, 1995b; p. ix) examined genetic essentialism in social and cultural understandings of genetics, gene action and DNA. In her later work, including her collaborations with artist and art historian Suzanne Anker, Nelkin used Kay's “molecular vision of life” to describe a kind of genetic essentialism[2]. In 2005 Anker and Nelkin published The Molecular Gaze: Art in the Genetic Age, which explored art and its interpretations of genetics and associated genetic issues and controversies. Thus the idea of a reductionist, molecular understanding of life as expressed by Kay fed into the idea of a literal, artistic molecular vision, used in a predominantly non-scientific sense by artists who wish to comment on and explore issues related to genetic science (Nelkin & Anker, 2002).


“Molecular gaze” vs “biological gaze”

Since ancient times the heavenly gaze has been used as a source of metaphor for describing biological phenomena, but the use of astronomical imagery has always been somewhat misleading and certainly isn't applicable to contemporary biology (Fox Keller, 1996). In her chapter entitled “The Biological Gaze” (1996) Fox Keller describes the relationship between looking and touching as the intellectual focus of biology moved ever downwards, from the whole organism to the organs, to cells and finally the chemistry of life. Below the whole organism level the gaze is dependent on the ability to touch and manipulate. Internal organs must be removed before they can be visually studied, cells must be fixed and stained before they can be clearly seen through the microscope and marker genes must be inserted into DNA so that gene expression and proteins can be observed. “The 'secret of life' to which we have so ingeniously gained access is no pristine point of origin, but already a construct at least partially of our own making,” (Fox Keller, 1996; p. 121).

However, the biological gaze is not the same as the molecular gaze – it extends all the way up to the level of the organism as well as all the way down to the level of chemistry. It is for this reason that I believe it is inaccurate to speak of a molecular gaze, especially with respect to art and other non-scientific contexts. Genetic essentialism, which is most frequently referred to by Nelkin and Anker concept of the molecular gaze, does not depend on a “molecular vision of life”, literally or metaphorically, and this is why real molecules and molecular properties are hardly ever depicted or discussed in discourses outside of science. Classical genetics, which posited the gene as the basic unit of life, did not actually depend on seeing genes or molecules or on making them visible. “The existence of genes had to be inferred from the gross phenotypical properties they were presumed responsible for,” (Fox Keller, 1996; p. 117). Discovery of the structure of DNA simply gave solid content to the idea of how genes worked, adding a molecular picture to the cellular and whole organism pictures of development[3]. The new understanding went, “DNA makes RNA, RNA make protein and proteins make us,” (Fox Keller, 1996; p. 118). Biological metaphor, too, now had another level to be understood on – the molecular level.


“Molecular metaphor”

As Nelkin and Lindee (1995a) point out, the popular construct of the gene is not actually biological or scientific, it only refers to the scientific concept, which is the source of its power. Art and popular culture use concepts like DNA, genetic essentialism and genetic determinism as rhetoric - “molecular metaphors” (Nelkin, 2001) do not, therefore, constitute evidence of a molecular gaze. As previously mentioned, classical genetics and ideas of genetic essentialism and determinism did not rely on the molecular-level reality of genes, but used the concept of the gene in a model of heredity and development (Fox Keller, 1996). Despite heredity being now widely understood as the result of DNA transmission through generations, popular discourse still divides a person into distinct physiological units when discussing inheritance of family traits. A child is said to have, for example, their mother's eyes or father's nose, as if organs were the units of inheritance. Most telling, however, is the rhetoric of “natural distinctions” (Nelkin & Lindee, 1995b). Where once the basis for distinction between groups of people was gross physiological properties[4], difference is now supposed to be fundamentally genetic (Nelkin & Lindee, 1995b). But changing the location of difference to the DNA has not changed what those differences are supposed to be[5], whether they be physiological or behavioural.

The multiple levels of reading and understanding (molecular, cell, organ and organism) that appear in claims about the body[6] indicate to me that the notion of a purely molecular gaze is untenable. Rather these genetic metaphors and attributions point toward a biological gaze, which sees bodies as phenomena that can be understood scientifically, through observation and experimentation. Just as biological understanding can take place on a number of levels, which can be distinguished by how they are visualised, such as the organism and organs which are visible to the naked eye, tissues and cells which are visible with the aid of a microscope, and proteins and nucleic acids which slip between visibility and invisibility, so can biological metaphor translate between those levels, revealing relationships between the invisible and the visible. However while metaphors are essential to the communication of information (especially scientific information), they are always constructed and as such are neither entirely accurate or neutral (Nelkin, 2001). Both scientists and artists use metaphors as part of their practice in order to translate information. The following section looks at ideas about how art translates biological science and incorporates issues and ideas from biology into artistic practice.


Biological art – translation, critique, ambivalence

Nelkin and Anker (2002) explain artistic interest in genetics as part of a continuing tradition of art engaging with science and scientific ideas. They claim that at present artists are responding to genetics by using its iconography in figurative works. “Such art uses visual images that represent the language of genomics, the values affected by genetic understandings of the body and the implications of bioengineering,” (Nelkin & Anker, 2002; p. 967). Artists are then seen to be offering a social critique of science by referencing it through iconography.

Anker offers a different view of the relationship between art and science in an article by Robin Marantz Henig; “Visual images turn the technical talk of science into the emotional domain of public discourse. Thus they help us arrange the cultural assimilation of the genetic revolution,” (2004; p. B7). In this view art would seem to be translating scientific ideas and issues to a lay public. Certainly this is Marantz Henig's (2004) contention, that art can help make technology accessible and understandable to an ignorant and technophobic public. But there is an apparent contradiction – Marantz Henig also believes that genetic art becomes more interesting the more the viewer knows about genetics.

Sarah Boxer, commenting on the art exhibited as part of the 2003 DNAge Festival in New York, disputes the idea that art can translate science; “Like DNA, DNA art needs decoding. And decoding is tedious and time consuming... if you want to understand the DNA connections you are in for a lot of reading,” (2003; p. E.2:35). But at the same time Boxer is ambivalent about the usefulness of understanding the background (artistic and scientific) when appreciating this kind of art, because “[t]he most powerful images need no explanation at all,” (2003; p. E.2:35).

Examples can be found that support any of the above contentions, that biological art is iconographic, a critique, a translation, or just more interesting the more you know about the science it references. I also believe that the ambivalence and interpretive flexibility of art is also suited to translating social and scientific controversies.

In “Still Life with Stem Cells” (fig. 1) Patricia Piccinini has made a sublime translation of the stem cell debate from the intellectual to the emotional. The classification of human stem cells is contested ground and the central question is whether or not stem cells are “human” in a sense that demands moral equality with living adult humans. It is this definition that the legality or illegality of stem cell research, which has the potential to improve human health and biological understanding, rests on. Piccinini has translated the microscopic stem cell into a macroscopic object, a visual, emotional simile of a scientific object. The intellectual debate over real stem cells is, I would argue, rendered exactly into an emotional debate about the identity of these amorphous, humanoid blobs. Are they human, or sub-human, or something else? Superficially at least they appear human – we immediately recognise them as human/self, not animal/plant/other. But there the resemblance ends, because these creatures have no sensory organs to perceive the world with, no limbs to allow them to interact with it, no way to communicate their thoughts or feelings. In short, they lack the equipment to develop a sense of self, and if they cannot develop an ego, do they really deserve the same moral consideration we would give to an adult human? Piccinini's creatures make us uneasy partly because they do not present a clear argument either way.

Another reading of “Still Life with Stem Cells” has to do with the relationship between animal and stem cell research. The young girl sits among the stem cells, cradling and petting some while others are scattered nearby, as if she is playing with a litter of puppies or kittens. The relationship between animal testing and stem cell research has not quite been picked up in public debate as yet, but it resonates with the stem cell issues. Is it consistent to condone animal testing, to sacrifice the lives of whole organisms, such cats, dogs, monkeys and mice, who demonstrably have a sense of self and the ability to perceive and interact with the world, yet ban research on cells on the grounds that they are genetically identical to us?

Eva Sutton's computer-generated “Hybrids” (fig. 2) and Thomas Grünfeld's taxidermied creations (fig. 3) are also a kind of visual simile. Their work plays on the bioengineering metaphor of gene splicing, the “cutting and pasting” of genes from unrelated organisms together to create a novel genome. However in Grünfeld's work “cutting” is not a reference to the action of restriction enzymes but the real physical action of a blade. “Misfit (Giraffe)” is not necessarily a biting social critique of biotechnology but more a historical reference to natural history[7] that by sheer coincidence has regained intellectual currency with the prevalence of a bioengineering discourse that refers to “recombinant organisms”. Sutton's work, being interactive, has more to say about the design element of biotechnology, but like Piccinini she isn't taking a clear side on the controversy. Is “Hybrids” expressing the opinion that biotechnology is monstrous, unnatural and morally repellent, or is she showing its potential positive use, combining the best features of many species to create creatures with special skills and attributes?

Suzanne Anker's chromosome sculptures (fig. 4) are a good example of the use of genetic and scientific iconography. “Zoosemiotics” is a kind of visual pun, with its “greatly enlarged chromosomes that look like ancient alphabets” (Nelkin & Anker, 2002; p. 968), that plays on the ideas of DNA as a kind of code or language, to be translated and examined for information and meaning.

Kevin Clarke's portraits use the symbols G, A, T and C to express part of their subject's DNA and overlay it on a relevant image, such as in “Portrait of Jeff Koons” (fig. 5). Multiple meanings can be gathered from this style of portraiture. Nelkin and Anker (2002) cite it as evidence of a new genre of the genetic portrait, claiming that Clarke uses this kind of DNA transcription to express genetic essentialism, “that the genes are the essence of personal identity,” (p. 968). Bailey (2000) sees it somewhat differently. His opinion of a similar portrait by Clarke (“Portrait of James D. Watson”, 1998-1999) was that it proved exactly the opposite, that “DNA is not our identity,” (Bailey, 2000; p. 58). But this is also a work that might prove more interesting the more you know about biology. If a person's physical appearance (phenotype) is unique, produced by the interaction of genotype (DNA) and environment, is Clarke perhaps trying to recreate his subject's appearance by locating a fragment of their genetic code in an “environment” in the form of the background image?


Conclusion

The many levels of reading and understanding, from the molecular to the organ and organism, that appear in artistic depictions and popular culture references about the body indicate that the notion of a molecular gaze is unsupportable. Molecular biology has given biological metaphors and references another level to be understood on, but the fundamental chemistry of life has not become the sole focus of the biological gaze. Gross physiological phenomena are now understood as relating to molecular as well as cellular phenomena. Art engages with biology and scientific ideas in many different ways, ranging from simply appropriating biological iconography to actively translating biological concepts and controversies. The interpretive flexibility of art also helps communicate contested issues, like genetic determinism and the moral issues of scientific research.


References

Anker, S (2003) 'The double helix comes of age: artists explore DNA'. Seed. March/April 2003, p. 90.

Anker, S & Nelkin, D (2005) The Molecular Gaze: Art in the Genetic Age. Cold Spring Harbor Laboratory, Cold Spring Harbor.

Bailey, R (2000) 'Pink mice and petri dishes'. Reason. 32 (7): 58-59. [Accessed via ProQuest]

Boxer, S (2003) 'The art of code, or, at play with DNA'. The New York Times, March 14, 2003, p. E.2:35. [Accessed via ProQuest]

Call of the Wild: Patricia Piccinini (2002). Museum of Contemporary Art, Sydney.

Fox Keller, E (1996) 'The Biological Gaze'. In: FutureNatural, ed. G Robertson, M Mash, L Tickner, J Bird, B Curtis & T Putnam. Routledge, London. pp. 107-121.

Horowitz, N H (1994) 'The Molecular Vision of Life: Caltech, The Rockefeller Foundation, and the Rise of the New Biology by Lily E. Kay'. Biophysical Journal. 66: 929-930. [Accessed via ProQuest]

Kay, L E (1993) The Molecular Vision of Life: Caltech, The Rockefeller Foundation, and the Rise of the New Biology. Oxford University Press, Oxford.

Marantz Henig, R (2004) 'Where art studio meets science lab'. The New York Times, May 8, 2004, p. B.7. [Accessed via ProQuest]

Nelkin, D (2001) 'Molecular metaphors: the gene in popular discourse'. Nature Reviews Genetics. 2: 555-559. [Accessed via ProQuest]

Nelkin, D & Anker, S (2002) 'The influence of genetics on contemporary art'. Nature Reviews Genetics. 3: 967-971. [Accessed via ProQuest]

Nelkin, D & Lindee, M S (1995a) 'The media-ted gene: stories of gender and race'. In: Deviant Bodies, ed. J Terry & J Urla. Indiana University Press, Bloomington. pp. 387-402.

Nelkin, D & Lindee, M S (1995b) The DNA Mystique: The Gene as a Cultural Icon. W H Freeman and Company, New York.

Strasser, B J (2003) 'Who cares about the double helix?' Nature. 422: 803-804. [Accessed via ProQuest]





Fig. 1 Patricia Piccinini “Still Life with Stem Cells” (2002)
Mixed media, dimensions variable.
Source: http://www.abc.net.au/arts/visual/stories/s597714.htm, accessed 23/10/06.



Fig. 2 Eva Sutton “Hybrids” (2000) (detail)
Interactive print, dimensions variable.
Source: http://www.genomicart.org/sutton.htm, accessed 23/10/06.

Fig. 3 Thomas Grünfeld “Misfit (Giraffe)” (2000)
Mixed media (taxidermy), 210 x 130 x 80 cm.
Source: http://www.artnet.de/Magazine/features/bokern/bokern02-21-05_detail.asp?picnum=3, accessed 23/10/06.



Fig. 4 Suzanne Anker “Zoosemiotics” (1993)
Source: Nelkin & Anker (2002), p. 968.



Fig. 5 Kevin Clarke “Portrait of Jeff Koons” (1993)
Source: Nelkin & Anker (2002), p. 969.

[1] c.f. Suzanne Anker's (2003) comments in Seed: “Since the early 90s, I have been working with genetic iconography and its attendant molecular metaphors. In 1991, I pitched a genetics exhibition to several galleries in New York, but at that time no one was interested in culturally showcasing the anatomy of a macromolecule” (p. 90). But by 1994 Anker had successfully convinced at least one gallery and as a result she managed to curate “the first exhibition devoted exclusively to genetics and art” (Anker, 2003; p. 90)
[2] c.f. Nelkin (2001), “This 'molecular vision of life' sees genes as the essence of a person; they are 'what makes us human',” (p. 557) and Nelkin and Anker (2002), “In a molecular vision, the body is defined as a text, a 'coded script' of information,” (p. 967).
[3] For example, the development and reproduction of organisms can be understood in cellular terms, such as meiosis (gamete formation), mitosis (cells dividing) and cell differentiation or in holistic terms, such as breeding cycles, gestation, maturity and caste ontogeny.
[4] Nelkin and Lindee (1995 DNA myst) give the example of women's smaller brains as both proof and marker of inferior intelligence.
[5] For example, the size of women's brains is now assumed to be a genetically determined gender difference, as are the apparent differences between men and women's mental abilities in areas such as maths and logic.
[6] Such as those already mentioned, for example regarding family relationships that are visible in a person's appearance (“Grandma's eyes”, “Father's muscles”, etc.), and gender differences, where the external appearance of the body (silhouette, genitalia, etc.) is assumed to correspond with a person's sex chromosomes.
[7] Specimens of creatures new to science were often stuffed to be brought back for study in the homeland, for examples Darwin's collection of Galapagos finches. This practice was susceptible to fraud, however, which was common enough that by the time of European colonisation of Australia, experts found it hard to accept that the platypus was indeed a real creature, not an ordinary beaver retrofitted with a duck bill by some cunning taxidermist.