‘The human body is the most magnificent piece of art.” How many medical students have heard this phrase uttered by an anatomy professor or a neurologist in awe of the human brain? Like most platitudes, there is an underlying truth to this statement, a truth that is revealed by Chantal Gervais in her exploration of the innate aesthetics of the human body through the artistic use and rendition of medical imagery.
The Ottawa-based artist and photography professor’s work was recently presented in the Montréal, Quebec exhibition Rx, with 2 other artists who are likewise fascinated with the human body. 1 Gervais’ art series —Les maux non dits— are the latest works in her exploration of “the effects on the body of aging, accidents, disease and life itself, and how our perception of the body is influenced and altered by popular culture, art, science and medicine.” 2 She presents the body —her body — in life-size complex images that elicit a wide range of emotions and thoughts.
Looking at her works “Autoportrait 1” and “Auto-portrait 3” is quite disturbing to the clinician: the eye is drawn to the global image of a life-sized woman through a juxtaposition of magnetic resonance imagery, but the physician’s eyes are attracted to all the little details of organs, flesh or bone thus represented. A proliferation of details of different density suggests a mosaic. At first take, “Autoportrait 3” appears to be the negative of the first. However, a closer look reveals that only the outside shape is similar; the inside changes depending on the perspective. Some organs are very well delimited, others barely visible and some are not seen at all. The inner architecture is enhanced by use of contrast and by the choice of which layers are exposed.
The focal point of the exhibit is Gervais’ rendition of the “Vitruvian Man,” in which she reinterprets the ubiquitous Da Vinci drawing, transforming it into “Vitruvian Me”— a woman in all her splendour. Da Vinci’s drawing, which adhered to the utmost scientific rigour — it aimed at creating the “canon of human proportion” — is counterbalanced by Gervais’ work, which uses modern scientific techniques and imagery to reveal the inner body. The proliferation of details gives an impression of fragility to the otherwise overwhelming work. Just like diagnostic imagining, the longer you examine it, the more details are revealed, and the more the work differs from Da Vinci’s masterpiece. The smooth drawing is transformed in symmetrical assemblages of squares, almost pixel like. The head is not midline, but looking on one side — or are there 2 heads? Yellow spots mark the heels: could the Vitruvian woman have blisters?
One leaves the exhibit with mixed feelings. The inner beauty of the human body, its fragility, its profound aesthetic impact is clear. We are reminded of prehistoric Venus figurines, of silhouettes that children trace of themselves with markers onto large strips of paper: There is a definite impression of primitive art. However, at the same time, modern technology is at the core of Gervais’ work; it could not exist without MRI and flatbed scans. This powerful duality destabilizes and intrigues, and by changing our view of the body could change our view of the world.