Luigi Groto: A blind author and prophet in sixteenth-century Italy, by Laura Carnelos

Dr Laura Carnelos, Collections Research Assistant in Typography & Graphic Communication at Reading, draws on her postdoctoral work at the University of Venice to illuminate the experience of a famous blind author, Luigi Groto

Luigi Groto (1541-1585), also known as the cieco d’Adria, was the most famous blind author of sixteenth-century Italy. Since birth, he had only been able to see lights and shadows, as he once told a female correspondent. Despite this almost total blindness, from his very childhood Luigi had displayed particular mnemonic talent and brilliant oratorical skills. For his singular ability to compose verses and recite on stage, he was called to entertain audiences in important public events organised by the Venetian Republic. Scholars of the health humanities can learn a great deal from Groto about sixteenth-century experiences of sensory disability.

Incapable of reading and writing alone, Groto sharpened his hearing, and used his ears as eyes. He regularly asked trustworthy friends if he could ‘borrow’ their eyes and hands in order to read and write. Grotto’s numerous works circulated both in printed and manuscript form, handwritten by his scribes (‘da’ miei scrittori’), who sometimes transcribed them directly during his performances, as he remarked in the introduction to his book, Le oration iitaliane, e latine.

Gasparina Pittonia, Portrait of Groto at 31 years old, xilography from Luigi Groto, Trofeo della vittoria sacra (Venice, S. Bordogna et F. Patriani, [1572]).

Groto was at the height of his career when he was charged with possession of prohibited books in 1567. Forbidden from teaching, one of his main sources of income, Groto even contemplated death as an alternative to having to beg for help in his reading, writing, and personal care. In his letters, Luigi wrote of his frustration of being deprived of an activity which had enabled him to study, as well as to interact with sighted people. Besides being blind, we know from Grotto’s letters that he did not consider himself a good-looking man, and his physical defects deeply influenced his social and personal life. Rejected by women of his own social status, he finally formed a relationship with a servant and concubine called Caterina, with whom he had two children (who he never recognised).

Perhaps it was this sense of isolation and powerlessness that prompted Groto to go on to construct his own identity as a blind prophet, which secured him much success and reward. In 1567, he predicted the overflowing of Italian rivers based on the reading of astronomical and physical indicators, and of the cabala. In 1570 he translated the first book of Homer’s Iliad, taking advantage of the rediscovered image of Homer as a divinely inspired sage, and almost comparing himself to the greatest Greek poet. In 1572, he edited Trofeo della vittoria, celebrating the Venetian victory against the Turks at the Battle of Lepanto, which he had foretold through astronomical signs and a special anagram.

Jacopo Tintoretto (workshop), Luigi Groto, ca. 1582. Municipio di Adria.

Through these publications, Groto’s image as a blind prophet, as well as a good-looking person, began to take shape. In his 1572 publication, Gasparina Pittonia, a friend of Groto and a renowned engraver, depicted his face with his physical defects: an aquiline nose, high cheekbones, and wrinkles on his forehead. However, ten years later these characteristics were visibly reduced in the portrait of the blind man by Tintoretto’s workshop. The motto, ‘he was blind, but he could see with his soul more than others’ (‘multum animo vidit, lumina cactus erat’), is emblazoned on the book that Grotto holds in the portrait, emphasising his inner sight and superior sensibility. We do not know if this inclusion was Grotto’s wish, but he did appreciate the painting in which, according to a friend’s description, he was represented in his ideal persona of literary man and blind seer, without any evident physical defect. This image of a blind prophet was reinforced nine months before his death, when Groto played the role of Teiresias or Oedipus (critics disagree about which) at the opening performance of the Teatro Olimpico in Vicenza. By acting the part of classical blind figures and disseminating his idealised portrait engraved and printed in his works, the construction of Grotto’s image as the prophetic blind man was confirmed.

Further reading

Laura Carnelos, ‘Street Voices. The Role of Blind Performers in Early Modern Italy’, Italian Studies, vol. 71 (2016), no. 2, pp. 184–196; Ead.,‘Cecità.La percezione di una (dis)abilità nella prima età moderna’, in S. Carraro (ed.), Alter-habilitas. Perception of disability among people, Verona, Alteritas, 2018, pp. 235-256.

 

Call for Participants: Global Health Humanities Workshop

This workshop, organised by Dr Rohan Deb Roy (co-director of the University of Reading’s Centre for Health Humanities), examines how biomedicine was received, reinterpreted and transformed in the non-western world in the twentieth century. Through case studies focussing on India, Palestine, China and Africa, it traces the various ways in which the medical category of ‘global health’ was consolidated in course of the last century.

We’re excited to announce that our confirmed speakers include Professor Mark Harrison, Dr Chris Wilson, Dr Mary Augusta Brazelton, and Dr Ann H. Kelly.

If you’re interested in attending the workshop, please RSVP to r.debroy@reading.ac.uk.

Many thanks to the CHH’s Social Media Manager, Amie Bolissian Mcrae, for designing this poster.

Facial Prejudice: the Last Taboo? By Marjorie Gehrhardt

Dr Marjorie Gehrhardt, lecturer in 20th century French history, tells us about a recent event she organised on experiences and representations of facial differences.

From The Phantom of the Opera to James Bond villains and The Undateables, visible facial differences are still overwhelmingly presented as signs of moral or intellectual flaws. On 20 November 2018 we held an event to challenge these negative associations and raise awareness of the still powerful unconscious bias against people with visible facial differences in twenty-first century societies. I hosted an evening lecture, by guest speaker James Partridge OBE, founder of the charities Changing Faces and Face Equality International. Funded by the Deans of Diversity and Inclusion, this event gave the audience an insight into the challenges experienced by James personally, and were inspired to stop taking facial differences at ‘face value’.

Looking different in a beauty-focussed culture

James shared his personal journey of physical and psychological recovery following a car accident at age 18, in which he had been severely burnt. In his own words, James ‘used to trade on his looks’, but his appearance changed dramatically as a result of his injuries. His talk emphasised the importance of surgeons and nurses, not just form a medical point of view, but also in helping him come to terms with the life-changing implications of his accident. How much to tell patients about their condition and when, how to facilitate the injured person’s first encounter with their reflection in a mirror, when to stop surgical reconstruction: these are all questions medical staff have to consider.

Surgery, James pointed out, has made tremendous progress since the time of the First and Second World Wars; however it is not always possible to restore looks to their pre-accident appearance. This is all the more difficult because of the prevailing visual diet that tells us that our happiness and success depend on us having perfect facial looks. Despite the recent success of more positive narratives, such as R.J. Palacio’s Wonder (2012), visible facial differences are still overwhelmingly associated with negative attributes and prospects.

James Partridge courtesy of Yakub Merchant

Challenging the unconscious bias against people with visible facial differences

Encouraged by his surgeon, James wrote a book, Changing Faces: The Challenge of Facial Disfigurement. In it, he seeks to give practical advice to enable other people going through a similar experience to live confident lives. The success of this book, and the work of Professor Nichola Rumsey (UWE) inspired James to set up the charity Changing Faces in 1992, with the mission of providing psycho-social help to people with visible facial differences in the UK. His aims, James told us, were twofold: on the one hand, to empower people with visible facial differences, and on the other hand to challenge unconscious prejudice within our societies.

Several awareness-raising campaigns followed, including the Face Equality Campaign. One of the key challenges is to help society uncover this unconscious bias. In order to do this, Implicit Attitudes tests have been used and the latest one, run in 2017, revealed that although the majority of participants said that they did not discriminate against people based on their facial appearance, 67% of them in fact held negative attitudes towards people who have disfigurements (against 90% in the 2008 IAT).

Despite the fact that people with visible facial differences are now protected from discrimination under the 2010 Equality Act, some myths about disfigurement are still very much present. Among those, James believes that three stand out:

  • Low expectations or pity: people with visible facial differences are thought to lead less meaningful lives, and less is expected of them at work/at school. This sometimes is due to an underlying belief that they are less capable, or that their visible differences reflect intellectual flaws. As a result, they might not achieve their full potential or be pitied and seen as ‘victims’ (a term James challenged the audience to stop using!)
  • Evil’: people with visible facial differences are sometimes thought to be morally flawed, an idea reinforced by stories and films associating facial differences with evil. This stigma was challenged in the short film Leo, starring Downton Abbey’s Michelle Dockery.
  • Fix it’: a third widespread myth sees facial differences as being entirely ‘fixable’, through the means of plastic surgery especially. People with visible facial differences are consequently perceived as unwilling to change and deliberately choosing not to ‘fit in’.

What next?

Although progress has been made over the last few decades, James invited us to challenge this unconscious bias when we see it reflected in the words we use or hear used, as well as in the media and in films. The latest campaign by Changing Faces specifically addresses negative representations of people with visible differences in films: #Iamnotyourvillain reveals how pervasive and damaging such representations of facial differences are still today.

James has now stepped down from his role as CEO of Changing Faces, and in the Autumn of 2018 he launched Face Equality International, an international alliance of NGOs committed to supporting people with facial differences, and to challenging appearance-based discrimination.

Workshop on the fabric of the human body

On the 7 and 8 November, the Centre for Health Humanities teamed up the University’s Arts Strategy, and was supported generously by the Heritage and Creativity Institute for Collections, in its running of a special workshop ‘On the fabric of the human body’. The event was organised around two gems in the Cole Library at the University, a first edition of Andreas Vesalius’s De Humani Corporis Fabrica (1543) and a first edition of Govert Bidloo’s Anatomia Humani Corporis (1685).

Vesalius

Bidloo

 

Five artists and a range of academics from the Centre got together to share their responses to these monumental anatomical atlases; we explored themes of movement and change, senses and perception, craft and medical knowledge and stories/storytelling in health practise and research. Activities involved a poetry session lead by poet and author Kelley Swain, a wax-modelling session lead by doctor and artist Simon Hall, a collage-making session with sculptor and anatomical artist Eleanor Crook, a movement/rolfing session lead by dance artist and rolfer Fiona Millward, and an insight into the realistic modelling of designer Agi Haines.

Early-modern marginalia

It is hoped that this very hands-on, artistic approach to the University’s collections, and the research of the Centre for Health Humanities, will lead to some exciting new collaborations between academic and artists, as well as some creative arts-lead responses to our special collections.

Stan the Skeleton kept the sessions in order and contributed some fresh insights

For more information about our Cole Collection, see: 

www.reading.ac.uk/special-collections/collections/sc-cole.aspx

And on each of our artist-partners, see:

eleanorcrook.net

agihaines.com/

simon-hall.co.uk/

fionamillward.com

kelleyswain.wordpress.com

Call for Papers: Disease & Ease, 1500-1800

University of Reading Conference, 1-2 July 2020

 

[Please note that the original dates for this conference were 3-4 July 2019, but one of the conference organisers has since found out she is expecting a baby, and will be on maternity leave in the summer of 2019, hence the new dates]

‘O how sweet is rest and ease after Sickness and pain!’, exclaimed the Lancashire minister and medical practitioner James Clegg (1679–1755) when he found himself ‘much better’ from a month-long ague. This 2-day conference will investigate what exactly sickness and health felt like for patients such as Clegg. We invite abstracts for 20-minute papers on the diverse sensations, emotions, thoughts, and spiritual feelings of patients and their families and practitioners from ‘the first invasion’ of illness to ‘perfect recovery’, chronic debility, or death. By encompassing all states, signs, stages, and outcomes of disease in early modern Europe and the wider world, Disease & Ease seeks to broaden and rebalance our overall picture of premodern health, showing that not all conditions ‘carried the patient to the grave’. Lately, a number of scholarly centres for the medical humanities have been restyled as centres for ‘health humanities’, a linguistic adjustment indicative of a growing desire to expand the remits of the field to incorporate a greater array of physical and mental states, including health itself. It thus seems an opportune moment to hold a conference which considers experiences of health and ease alongside sickness and suffering.

 

L0019338 P. Boone, Allegories of the senses (1651). Wellcome Library, London. CC BY 4.0.

Since Roy Porter’s call for a ‘medical history from below’ (1985), much has been written about the early modern patient. The first swathe of research focused mainly on patients’ practical responses to sickness, such as their choices of therapies and practitioners. In the 1990s, scholars became increasingly interested in the somatic aspects of illness, as exemplified in Barbara Duden’s seminal text, Woman Beneath the Skin. The bourgeoning of the histories of pain and emotions in the 2000s has significantly revitalized and enriched this research, and now – encouraged by the forthcoming meeting of the European Association for the History of Medicine and Health – a sensory approach has been added into the mix. Disease & Ease will showcase and evaluate these exciting developments, and consider current and future challenges and opportunities. Drawing on all manner of sources, from bed-sheets to doctors’ casebooks, the conference will enable us to reach a new level of empathy for patients in the past as well as the present, while forging fruitful links between scholars working in a variety of disciplines within the health humanities.

 

We are excited to announce two keynote speakers, Professor Michael Stolberg (University of Würzburg), a world-leading scholar of early modern experiences of sickness and death, and Professor Sasha Handley (University of Manchester), who is at the forefront of research on wellbeing and health, with a focus on the material culture of sleep.

 

Our conference will conclude with a compelling roundtable discussion on how the experience of health and illness has changed over time; discussants include expert patient and Ambassador for the MS Society and ADD International, Trishna Bharadia, philosopher of illness at the University of Bristol, Professor Havi Carel, specialist nurse Ros Badman, and general practitioner Dr John Jitan.

 

Possible themes for papers

  • Different health conditions, stages, and outcomes, including health, falling sick, being injured, undergoing surgery, the height of illness, death, revival and survival, recovery, convalescence, relapse, chronic illness, disability, infirmity, invalidism, etc;
  • Diverse aspects of patients’ experiences, including emotional, mental, physical, sensory, social, spiritual, political, or economic dimensions;
  • Specific signs, measures, or symptoms of illness and health, e.g. changes in sleeping patterns, mood and emotions, appetite and sensory powers, strength or weakness, and pain and ease;
  • Relationship between the body and soul or mind, and parallels or paradoxes in patients’ spiritual and bodily experiences.
  • Various perspectives, including patients and their families, carers or practitioners;
  • Variables in patients’ experiences, such as different genders, ages, constitutions, socio-economic backgrounds, countries, religious and ethnic backgrounds, and medical theories;
  • Special types of care provided to different health states – medical, surgical, emotional, spiritual, and social – from therapies designed to palliate the sufferings of chronically ill or dying patients to remedies to help lessen scars left by disease;
  • Variety of approaches and source types, including objects and material culture, manuscript and print, images and text, etc
  • Methodological and conceptual challenges and opportunities in this field of research.

 

Abstract submission

Please send the following information in one word document to Hannah Newton and Amie Bolissian Mcrae at diseaseandease@gmail.com by 1 February 2020:

  • Your name and a short biog or 1-page CV
  • Paper title
  • 250-word abstract

If you would prefer to organise a three-paper panel, please send one document containing all three sets of information outlined above, plus an overall panel title, summary of the panel’s themes, and the chair’s name. There will be no conference registration fee. Bursaries to the value of £90 are available for a limited number of postgraduate students and sessional or unwaged ECRs; please indicate if you would like to be considered for a bursary.

The conference is part of Hannah Newton’s Wellcome Trust University Award, ‘Sensing Sickness in Early Modern England’. Thanks to the Wellcome Trust for funding the event. 

 

The Aged Patient in Early Modern England

Amie Bolissian Mcrae provides a tantalising glimpse into the subject of her new Wellcome Trust-funded PhD project, ‘The Aged Patient in Early Modern England’. The PhD builds on her MA dissertation, which was awarded the Royal Historical Society’s Rees Davies Prize for the best MA dissertation in the whole of the UK!

Jan Lievens, Old Woman in Profile, c.1630

 

By Amie Bolissian Mcrae @

‘Old age must have been pretty rare in the past, so how can you study it?’ This is the response I often hear when I tell people about my MA dissertation and forthcoming doctoral project, ‘The Aged Patient in Early Modern England’. It’s just not true, however! Approximately twenty percent of the adult population was aged over sixty during the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries. It was common to have living grandparents, and to harbour hopes of living to a ‘good old age’ of seventy or more. Men and women worried about the illnesses of their ageing parents and loved ones, and paid avid attention to their own ailments as they aged.

‘An old woman gives a physician an urine sample for him to test. Woodcut by J. Amman, 1574?’ by Jost Amman. Credit: Wellcome Collection. CC BY

Here is an example. On her birthday in 1716, the Hertfordshire grandmother, Lady Sarah Cowper, wrote with trembling hands:

‘I am now 72 years of Age, very Crazie and Infirm, Lame with Rhumatick Pains in my Thighs … I now despair of ever getting Rid of It … Also my Hands Shake with the Palsey. I am Dull of Hearing, Dim of sight, and What Is worse a Cough Disturbs me Night and day; so as Life itself no Rellish Dos Afford’.1

This poignant diary entry, which first sparked my interest in what it was like to be old and unwell in the early modern period, raises questions that will be addressed in my new Wellcome Trust-funded PhD. How common was Lady Sarah’s gloomy attitude to infirmity in old age? What sensations, emotions, and spiritual feelings did the illnesses and weaknesses of old age evoke? Did patients and their loved ones seek remedies for the ‘accidents of old age’, or did they regard declining health as inevitable and untreatable, as some historians have implied? Who looked after elderly patients, and how did carers feel about this role? Finally, what was old age in a medical context? Was it seen as a natural process of decline, or a disease in its own right, with specific symptoms like watery eyes and brittle bones?

‘An old woman falling asleep over reading a book. Etching after Rembrandt.’ 1600s. Credit: Wellcome Collection. CC BY

Through examining a wide range of printed and manuscript sources, my PhD will investigate medical understandings and treatments of disease and ‘deterioration’ in old age, and explore the personal experiences of older patients and their families and carers in England, c.1570-1730.

What I find most exciting about this project is its capacity to reframe our understandings of both old age and disease in early modern England. It will show that illness and infirmity were intimately connected to notions and experiences of ageing: disease and disability were thought to age the body, and people ‘felt’ themselves old when they became ill or infirm. Not only will the study fill a major gap in the scholarship of old age and medical history, it will also be of great modern-day relevance, with potential to spark debates on the wellbeing and care of an ever-expanding ageing population.

Amie receiving the Rees Davies Prize for best MA dissertation in the UK at the Royal Historical Society’s Prothero Lecture on 6 July 2018, with one of her PhD supervisors, Dr Hannah Newton

Sickly Smells & Putrid Potions

By Hannah Newton

Ever wondered what it would be like to live at a time before antibiotics, anesthetics, and x-rays? Last month, a group of 7-10-year-olds were invited to find out! In a special history of medicine workshop, Sickly Smells & Putrid Potions, Gerrards Cross Brownies used their five senses to investigate what happened if you fell sick in the 17th century. The workshop is designed to spark children’s curiosity about the past, while cultivating their empathy for people who are unwell today. It is part of a five-year Wellcome Trust project, Sensing Sickness,and will be repeated to other groups and schools across the country.

The Brownies from 4th Gerrards Cross

The workshop began with the story of a sick girl called Nally Thornton, who caught smallpox about 350 years ago, a dreaded disease that killed 1 in 3, and caused temporary blindness. Thankfully, Nally was one of the lucky ones, and her happy recovery is described in detail in her mother’s diary. The idea behind this opening was to build an emotional connection between the Brownies and past patients. People living centuries ago often seem alien to us, but when we read their own words, uttered in moments of heightened emotion, we realise they are every bit as human as us. The Brownies then peeped into a miniature recreation of Nally’s sickroom, complete with fourposter bed, fireplace, and tiny bottles of potion.

The first activity, picturing the sickchamber, involved analysing a painting of a 17th-century sickroom. In pairs, the children imagined they were in the room, and listed everything they would see, hear, and smell, from the soft ticking of the clock to the loud ‘ouch’ of the patient. The sharp-eyed Brownies spotted small details in the painting, such as a get-well letter, and described how the sick woman might be feeling. ‘Her hand’s on her head, so she must have a headache; she’s looking at her dog, and can’t wait till she’s better and can take him for a walk!’, said one of the youngest Brownies. Clearly the idea that the under 10s can’t empathise is a myth! When discussing smells, I gestured to a box in the corner which contained four ‘smell cubes’ from the sickroom, supplied by the aroma makers, Aroma Prime; hoping for maybe one or two brave volunteers, I was amazed when practically everyone charged towards the box, keen for a sniff! 

Next, it was time to be wee detectives! In the 17th-century it was believed that the appearance, smell, and even taste, of urine provided clues into what disease the patient had contracted. Taking on the role of the doctor, the Brownies examined four flasks of fake urine, into which had been strewn various curious items, such as gummy worms and crumbled biscuits. Using a ‘urine wheel’, volunteers matched the urine samples with the disease. ‘Wee detectives was my favourite activity’, said one Brownie. Today it might seem odd that such a yucky technique was used by doctors, but the Brownies understood that in the absence of modern diagnostic technology, looking at what came out of the body was the best way to find out what was going on inside it.

At last, it was time to discover what kinds of medicines were used in the 17th century. A quick true or false game ensued: I held up a series of pictures of possible ingredients – from earthworms to a chocolate – and the children guessed whether these really would have been used in premodern medicines. This activity showed that while some 17th-century remedies would have tasted disgusting, others were actually quite pleasant – sugar, honey, and cinnamon were common ingredients in children’s medicines, for instance. Afterwards, the Brownies had a go at designing their own marvellous medicines, and included all sorts of weird and wonderful ingredients, along with instructions and caveats – one Brownie wrote, ‘Warning! Don’t drink the whole bottle otherwise, you’ll die!

In the 1600s, patients ‘shopped around’ for their doctors, and often consulted 2 or more at once. The final activity brought these doctor visits to life. In their Sixes, the Brownies devised a short doctor drama, in which several practitioners presented their imagined medicine – created in the previous activity – to the patient, and the patient tried each one, before deciding to which doctor to employ. The Brownies got fully into character, and once again displayed their precocious ability to empathise. Those playing the patients, for instance, swooned, groaned, and grimaced at the taste of the pretend potions, and the doctor actors used all their powers of persuasion to convince their clients that their medicine would cure even the most dangerous disease.

I’d like to thank Gerrards Cross Brownies and the staff, for having me. I learned a great deal from the children, whose fresh outlook and keen imaginations have made me think about my research in a new way. As well as being fun, I hope the workshop will have opened a door to discussions among children and their families about illness and medicine, topics often out-of-bounds for the young. We’re living in an ageing population, and this generation of children is especially likely to be involved in the care of sick or frail relatives. I hope that by giving the Brownies the opportunity to talk about these issues they will be better prepared for coping with these situations should they arise in the future.

The story of Nally Thornton, mentioned above, was live-tweeted in the leadup to the publication of my new book, Misery to Mirth: Recovery from Illness in Early Modern England, which is available for free download from here. You can catch up with the tweets at @17thcenturymum.

Tweeting from the Grave: Sickness and Survival in the 17th Century

By Hannah Newton

My favourite thing about being a historian is reading other people’s diaries. I began to realise this at the tender age of eight, when our teacher asked us to write a series of diary entries from the perspective of someone during the Great Plague. It seems that I’ve never really grown up: over the next nine days, I will be tweeting as 17th-century mum, Alice Thornton (1626-1707), whose young daughter Nally fell dangerously sick 351 years ago.

The tweets are based on real diary entries by Alice and other 17th-century parents, which I encountered while researching for my first book, The Sick Child. Winner of the 2015 EAHMH Prize, this book shows that while illness was a source of great anguish for young patients and their families, it was also a time of tender loving care and mutual affection.

On the 7th  June my second book will be coming out, Misery to Mirth, which investigates what it was like to recover from a life-threatening illness in the 17th century. Courtesy of the Wellcome Trust, this book will be free to download.

Together, the books overturn two myths: the first is that high rates of mortality led to cold and aloof relationships between family members in the premodern period. The second myth is that before the birth of modern medicine, most illnesses left you either dead or disabled.

I will not give away what happens to Nally Thornton, but I do hope that readers come away convinced that 17th-century people were every bit as human as we are now, with deep emotions, feelings, and relationships. It’s possible that the tweets may also resonate with the experiences of patients and carers today, helping to enhance empathy for those affected by sickness both in the past and present.

Follow Alice Thornton’s ‘live’ tweet story at @17thCenturyMum from Friday 1 June.

 

Artistic Practice, Health Humanities and Collections: workshop 4 May 2018

Miranda Laurence, University of Reading Arts Development Officer

It’s quite difficult to describe the frisson that went around the room as everyone realised that, in front of them, to look at and indeed touch, were original copies of some of the most famous books in medical history.

Andreas Vesalius, De Humani Corporis Fabrica

Full of painstaking engravings illustrating the very minute details of the human body in all its layerings, the copies of Vesalius’ De humani corporis fabrica and Bidloo’s Anatomia Hvmani Corporis provided a huge source of fascination for the artists and scholars gathered for an afternoon’s workshop, jointly organised by the Health Humanities Research Network, and the Arts Development Officer as part of the University’s arts strategy activity.

We invited four artists from different disciplines, with an interest in medical humanities, to join the Director of the Health Humanities Research Network, Andrew Mangham, University Art Collections Curator, Naomi Lebens, Research Officer at the Cole Collection, Verity Burke, and Arts Development Officer, Miranda Laurence. The artists were Simon Hall, doctor, visual artist and dental trainee whose work explores art and medicine collaboration; Fiona Millward, a dancer, teacher and choreographer and Rolfing practitioner; Kelley Swain, a writer of science poetry and literature reviews, and teacher of medical humanities; and Eleanor Crook, a sculptor with a special interest in mortality, anatomy and pathology who exhibits internationally in fine art and medical and science museum contexts.

Naomi Lebens and Verity Burke began the session by introducing us to chosen items from the University Art and the Cole collection, respectively; the theme of ‘movement and stillness’ underpinned their choices. Our discussion ranged from the different visual and haptic interactions experienced when dissecting preserved body parts as opposed to conducting an operation on a live person; to how the illustrations of dissected bodies in the two anatomical text books varied from classical to grotesque, and what effect that had on the viewer; to how sketches of performing dancers related to a drawing of a woman on her death bed, and a woman mid- conversation.

Image from Govert Bidloo, Anatomia Hvmani Corporis

These eclectic conversations led us to an exploration of how each of us might unlock an unfamiliar object – whether that might be a work of art, a book, or anything else – from our different discipline perspective. Eleanor wrote: “these responses ranged from it being a kind of physical empathy, to it being a teasing out of stories, to it being a relationship to the hand and the haptic, to it being , in my case, a kind of séance.”

The different disciplines in which everyone worked might have given each person a different starting point, but as conversation flowed, the approaches described by one person drew sparks of responding imagination from another. For Fiona it was illuminating “to recognise the mutuality within our approaches of opening oneself up to the making process, but also the diversity bred of our different forms and so how the steps beyond that spiral out into different directions.”

We are hoping to be able to follow up this stimulating workshop with more opportunities for scholars and artists to exchange knowledge and processes, and indeed be collective in their un-knowing curiosity. As Kelley said, “it was a rare treat to be invited to get together to think about a collection, with artists and academics, all of whom have related points of interest.”

We feel that this is a delicious opportunity to approach the University’s amazing collections in a new and unchartered way. Naomi speaks for us all in saying that the workshop gave her “renewed belief in the power of collections as a tool for opening up dialogues between academics and creative practitioners on an equal footing; helping them to understand one another’s processes and, in turn, to incorporate new ideas and ways of thinking into their work. Fostering true interdisciplinarity.”