Museums, STEM, and the Vital Role of Humanities

1This week, Brandy Schillace (public engagement fellow at Dittrick and editor of MedHum Fiction | Daily Dose) posted about the intersections of STEM and humanities at museums. STEM has become something of a buzz word in education, Science, Technology, Engineering and Math as the driving force for curricula. And these are, of course, brilliant things to aim for–a way of bringing forward those aspects of education that support industry and the economy, innovation, and change. Except, as many educators are quick to point out, STEM misses one very key component: the humanities. What about art and literature, anthropology, sociology, history and etc.? We share this post below–and hope you enjoy it!


 

The Huffington Post ran a story last year, citing recent studies that found humanities degrees in decline. Arizona State ran their own posting, reminding us that STEM should not (and cannot) replace humanities, but must work in concert. And as recent as January, the Telegraph quotes Keith Budge as remarking “Too readily schools become obsessed by such easy polarities as sciences ‘good’ and humanities ‘wishy-washy'”–it cannot be a binary, and it is not a black and white issue.

Then again.

The Greater Cleveland Area is home to some of the finest medical institutions in the nation, and yet the US Department of Health and Human Services still identifies many communities in Cuyahoga County as critically under-served. And statistically, that under-served population is made up of minority communities rendered invisible by segregated urban centers. Alexander Kent & Thomas C. Frohlich wrote an article earlier this year about the nine most segregated cities in America. Cincinnati and Cleveland both made the list, and:

With more than 55% of its population living in homogeneous zip codes, the Cleveland metro area is the most segregated urban area in the country. [The 9 Most Segregated Cities…]

Income disparity also exists in these segregated areas; In 2013, “20.2% of black Cleveland residents were unemployed, the highest rate among large metro areas and nearly four times the white unemployment rate of 5.4%.” [more here] But what, you might ask, does that have to do with STEM or with museums? More than you might suppose. As we address, collectively, the pressing issue of community health and wellness, one thing becomes clear—for needs to be met, the under-served  must feel empowered to make their own health choices via the dissemination of key and critical information. And yet, the barriers to medical care are more than physical; medicine needs to be “re-humanized” to combat the sense of alienation most people feel as well as to educate them about their rights and choices. Museums (and libraries), very often from within these same urban centers, offer an alternative education program–an invitation to take part, to learn, to enjoy, and most importantly, to be part of a community.

As an example of how this might work, I offer How Medicine Became Modern. The Dittrick Medical History Museum (where I serve as public engagement fellow) embarked on this exhibit over a year ago–a digital interactive that teaches through touch. By beginning with our history and allowing visitors to discover the connections between yesterday and today, these interactive displays will: 1) encourage the public to engage with history so as to see their role as stake-holders in their own health; 2) focus on the human stories at the center of innovations, encouraging medical-humanities approaches among health practitioners; and 3) reveal the embedded ethics of health innovation, issues of access, and who among the community have been under-served or overlooked.

The digital platform, in many ways, honors the dynamics of STEM. Math, engineering, programming, cutting edge technology–but all of it wrapped about story, the humanities kernel that gives the whole project meaning. How Medicine Became Modern further provides for two public engagement initiatives: Conversations and Exchanges. Conversations, or dialogues with the community, bring medical history beyond the walls of the Dittrick Museum by partnering with area institutions like the Cleveland Public Library, Global Center for Health Innovation (GCHI), and museums like the Cleveland Museum of Natural History, so as to reach new audiences. Free to the public, these 15-minute, TED-style presentations address such topical and current themes/issues and their historical antecedents as pregnancy and birth, vaccinations, and Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder. Audience members then participate in round-table discussions following the panel. These events have proven incredibly popular with the public as demand and growing waiting lists have resulted in raising the maximum attendees from 35 to 45 participants, with the most recent bringing in over 60 participants.

I’ve worked with at-risk communities throughout my career. I’ve been especially involved in SMDEP, a program for at-risk students who want to enter the field of medicine. One theme I encounter frequently concerns the “right to belong.” These under-served groups tend not to be the ones most often encouraged by STEM. Some feel alienated. Unwanted. Some may be afraid even to approach the idea–medical school or the sciences, or college itself, is for “other people.” Museums and libraries have the opportunity to use humanities (narrative, history, anthropology) to reach out and to show how others have engaged… how health is everyone’s business…how the community is best served by those from inside it, working together. It may be a science museum… but every museum uses the humanities to reach the human.

Back to Keith Budge, headmaster, Bedales School, UK: the issue isn’t STEM vs. humanities. The issue is how do we best combine these practices? How do we use humanities to support STEM, and the reverse? And how to we, as museums, as libraries, as cultural institutions, become centers of our communities–making connections, bridging gaps, and leading the way?

Because that is our future.

The Eye as Art: Anatomy and Vision in the 18th Century

Engraving of the eye in DeGravers' A Complete Physico-Medical and Churugical on the Human Eye and the Demonstration of Natural Vision (1780).
Fig. 1: Engraving of the eye in  A Complete Physico-Medical and Churugical on the Human Eye and the Demonstration of Natural Vision (Degraver, 1780).

There is not one Part of the whole Body, that discovers more Art and Disign (sic), than this small Organ: All its Parts are so excellently well contrived, so elegantly formed and nicely adjusted that none can deny it to be an Organ as magnificent and curious, as the Sense is useful and entertaining.

— William Porterfield in A Treatise on the Eye, The Manner and Phaenomena of Vision, 1759

The Dittrick Museum is thrilled to have Dr. Jonathan Lass present “Eye of the Artist” for the upcoming Zverina Lecture on Oct. 14th. Dr. Lass, the Charles I. Thomas Professor, and formerly chair, in the Department of Ophthalmology and Visual Sciences at Case Western Reserve University and Medical Director of the Cleveland Eye Bank, will discuss the ways eye conditions impacted the work of artists including Pissaro, Monet, Degas, and O’Keefe, and how individual vision could influence major artistic movements throughout history.

Fig. 2: Engraving of how the parts of the eye create an image of an object. From Chandler (1780).
Fig. 2: Engraving of how the eye creates an image of an object. From Chandler (1780).

Although Dr. Lass will focus on pathological conditions for his lecture, today’s post looks at how 18th century physicians described “normal” or “natural” vision. These authors’ considered the eye, with its delicate structures and wondrous design, as a work of art. To disseminate research about these intricacies, engravers used immense skill and detail to produce anatomical representations (Fig. 1) and optics diagrams (Fig. 2).

Aside from graphical renditions, these early writings on the eye relied on artistic terms. Rays of light “paint” images onto the retina and these unique “strokes” are received by the Sensorium (the sensory part of the brain) and interpreted as “sketches of nature” by a viewer’s Mind.

Fig. 3: Structure of the eye and optic nerves from
Fig. 3: Structure of the eye and optic nerves from Degravers (1780).

Medical authors’ use of this artistic terminology reflected contemporary discussions surrounding the relationship between vision and reality. Were the perceptions of the Mind accurate depictions of the environment or were they truly only “sketches”? Could the eyes be trusted as empirical tools in science, or were external devices, like microscopes, necessary to ensure precise experimental data? Do eyes act as artists or instruments? Debates about the nature of colors (inherent in objects, dependent on light, created by the eyes) and the origins of delusions (originating from the mind or the organs) circled in scientific communities where the hallmark of research was eye-witnessed experimentation.

We hope you join us for the Zverina Lecture to hear more about how the eyes’ structure and function influence perceptions of reality, and how major artists’ health impacted the way they saw and portrayed the world around them.

The talk begins at 6:00PM, followed by a reception in the Dittrick Museum gallery. There is no charge, but you must register to get a seat! Please RSVP to Jennifer Nieves at 216/369-3648 or via email at jks4@case.edu

Continue reading The Eye as Art: Anatomy and Vision in the 18th Century

Event and Gallery Opening! From Ether to Epidural by Jacqueline Wolf

IMG_5115Anesthesia: it calls to mind surgeries, treatment of shock–the rendering of a patient unconscious and free (temporarily) from pain.  But anesthesia has played an enormous role in the shifting ideas surrounding labor and birth in America generally–and right here in Cleveland. It’s more than a knock-out; it’s an ever-changing history!

On Thursday, November 19th at 6:00pm, Dittrick will share this fascinating story through a gallery opening (Childbirth in America, 1840-1940) and a talk by celebrated author and historian Jacqueline Wolf. Reproduction, birth, and women’s health in the 19th century shaped the way we practice obstetrics today. One of the biggest changes since then has been the use of obstetric anesthesia… From ether and chloroform in the 1890s, to barbiturates and narcotics in the 1950s, to the “natural” childbirth movement of the 1970s, each generation of American women has faced a very different birth experience! In this opening lecture, Jackie Wolf will explain how and why women’s obstetrician’s views of labor pain and its appropriate treatment changed over time. Dr. Wolf has explored this topic in her evocative Deliver me from Pain (2009), and will share her more recent insights.

IMG_5116The lecture is free, the gallery will be open late, and a reception will be provided in the museum space itself. We hope you will join us for the opening–to see the new permanent exhibit and the birth-chair platform (a generous gift from the Cleveland Medical Library Association), and to hear from a leading researcher in the field!

Exhibit: Childbirth in America 1840-1940, curated by Catherine Osborn in collaboration with Jim Edmonson and Anna Claspy.

Talk: Ether to Epidural: Obstetric Anesthesia in Historic, Medical, and Social Context, Jacqueline Wolf, PhD

Location: Dittrick Medical History Center and Museum, 3rd floor Allen Memorial Medical Library.

RSVP: Jennifer Nieves at 216-368-3648 or email jks4@case.edu

Eye of the Artist: The Impact of disease on the formation of Art

2Wednesday, October 14th,  Anton and Rose Zverina Lecture by Jonathan Lass, M.D., “The Eye of the Artist.”

Art. Science. Disease. Medicine. The combination can result in startling and beautiful revelations. We welcome you to join us at the museum for a free public lecture, followed by a reception, on the “Eye of the Artist.”

Have an interest in art? Spent hours contemplating impressionist paintings and wondering about the world as the artist saw it? Or perhaps you have an interest in medicine or medical humanities, and you want to know more about intersections between art and practice. Join us to hear Dr. Lass, the Charles I Thomas Professor, and formerly chair, in the Department of Ophthalmology and Visual Sciences at Case Western Reserve University and Medical Director of the Cleveland Eye Bank. He will explore the impact of various eye diseases upon famous artists, the impact of these conditions1 on their style and productivity, and the changing the history of art itself. The artists to be discussed by Dr. Lass will include Pissaro, Monet, Degas, and O’Keefe. Beauty really is in the eye of the beholder!!

The talk begins at 6:00PM, followed by a reception in the Dittrick Museum gallery. There is no charge, but you must register to get a seat! Please RSVP to Jennifer Nieves at 216/369-3648 or via email at jks4@case.edu

Embracing Digital History: How Medicine Became Modern

Brandy L. Schillace

What was it like to be sick 50 years ago? 150 years ago?
What medical innovations most changed American lives?
How did Cleveland rise to importance as a medical city?
In other words:
How did we get here?

The Dittrick Medical History Center and Museum, in collaboration with design partners and funded by the National Endowment for the Humanities, presents: How Medicine Became Modern, an innovative new way to explore the artifacts, people, and stories behind the great innovations of our age!

Museums nationally and internationally are reaching new audiences—while retaining and engaging present ones—through the medium of digital technology. The Philadelphia Museum of Art presented inter-actives for Treasures of Korea; the Field Museum of Chicago showcased a 3D exhibit about Tyrannosaurus bones; the British Museum of London installed 3D touch-activated Explorer Tables allowing virtual autopsy of a mummy. More locally, the Cleveland Museum of Art opened the award-winning Gallery One.

Now, the Dittrick Museum embarks on a project to make history come to life through a 10ft by 4ft interactive digital wall–a place where visitors can “handle” artifacts (rotating BC-Logo_LGand zooming), and more importantly, a place to engage with the human stories behind them. Partnering with Zenith Systems and Bluecadet, and supported by NEH’s Museums Libraries & Cultural Organizations grant, How Medicine Became Modern will go live in 2017!

Exhibit Details:

  • 6Free-standing 10ftx4ft wall in the main gallery
  • Ability to zoom, rotate, interact with artifacts
  • Links to the stories behind artifacts/Access to interactive game-play
  • Four lenses into medical history:

HMBM

 Want to hear more?

How would something like this work? Why would a museum want to take part in digital mediums? The 225th anniversary of the College of Physicians of Philadelphia Historical Medical Library (also the parent body of the Mütter Museum) asked these very questions in 2013. The answer? Museums and libraries must see new ways of engaging the public–and of building community. As I say in an essay for H-Sci-Med-Tech, History—far from being lost in the past—is by these means coming out to meet new friends. The story of medicine’s past offers something valuable to medicine’s future, a new way of interfacing between worlds that is both physical and digital, then and now. We enter the story through these public spaces, and through digital mediums, medical collections around the world are beginning to reach beyond them as well. What we see is a convergence of exhibit, interaction, and digital outreach.


A Practical Example from the Project:

L0057592 Fowler's phrenological head, Staffordshire, England, 1879-18 Credit: Science Museum, London. Wellcome Images images@wellcome.ac.uk http://wellcomeimages.org Lorenzo Niles Fowler’s (1811-96) detailed system of phrenology is shown on this phrenological head. Phrenologists believed that the shape and size of various areas of the brain (and therefore the overlying skull) determined personality. For instance, the area under the right eye relates to language and verbal memory; the desire for foods and liquids was thought to be located in front of the right ear.  Fowler’s system, based on his thirty years of research throughout the world, was just one of many. He was an American phrenologist who led a revival in phrenology after its decline in the 1850s. In 1860, Fowler emigrated with his family to the United Kingdom and set upon an ambitious lecture tour. In 1887, Fowler set up the British Phrenological Society, which finally disbanded in 1967. maker: Unknown maker Place made: Staffordshire, England, United Kingdom made: 1879-1896 Published:  -  Copyrighted work available under Creative Commons Attribution only licence CC BY 4.0 http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by/4.0/
Fowler’s phrenological head, Staffordshire, England, 1879-18
 Science Museum, London.

The history of medicine offers much more than static displays or old tech. Each object, from a cast of Joseph Lister’s hand to a full-scale working x-ray machine, tells a tale of personal tragedy and triumph, of success and failure, of hopes and dreams.

Take, for instance, the phrenology bust. Sleek, smooth–replicas are attractive enough to show up on end-tables and mantle pieces. But what’s the story? It’s about Diagnosing by the Bump!

Franz-Joseph Gall (1758-1828), proposed that different functions, such as memory, language, emotion, and ability, were situated in specific “organs” of the brain. These portions of the brain would grow or shrink with use, and the changes would appear as bumps or depressions on the skull. Called Phrenology, the practice of “reading” the bumps supposedly allowed a practitioner to assess different abilities and personality traits. Does that make sense? What might our own phrenological assessment look like? The digital display allows the viewer to see a chart with interactive sections of the brain. Why not do your own “reading”?

William Cowper. 1737. The anatomy of humane bodies
William Cowper. 1737. The anatomy of humane bodies

But that’s not the only story. Phrenology resonated with the American Dream. Johann Kaspar Spurzheim (1776-1832) arrived to begin a speaking tour, and found a very willing audience. Why? It fit the “American Dream” idea of rising from nothing, emphasizing the ability to train the mind and attain social mobility. In other words, despite the bumps you were born with, we could all get better, a kind of rags-to-riches idea very popular even today. One of Cleveland’s own doctors had his “head examined”—Jared Potter Kirtland. On the other hand, phrenology and it’s sister pseudoscience physiognomy had a dark side; they privileged one race, one class, and one sex. Not exactly a “dream” of equality. (And for the record, Kirtland did not apparently agree with the reading; the booklet has his marginal notes!) The digital display offers the visitor a window in time; they can see the images and texts (and hand written notes!) while learning about larger ethical dilemmas.

Phrenology was later abandoned and its practitioners were attacked as charlatans and fakes. Even so, phrenology helped to move psychological understanding forward in two important ways: 1. it suggested that different parts of the brain did different things and 2. It demonstrated that individual effort could be just as, if not more, important than biological inheritance. The take-away? Through digital means, the visitor doesn’t just see the bust in a cabinet. Instead, he or she can look at it closely, from all angles, and then walk through time.

Johann Heinrich Oesterreicher. 1879. Atlas of human anatomy
Johann Heinrich Oesterreicher. 1879. Atlas of human anatomy

Better yet, the visitor can walk through the body—through anatomies and flip books of fugitive sheets (where each layer reveals more of the anatomy underneath). So much of our fragile history remains out of reach for visitors–but digital humanities/history projects can do much more than show the item itself. It can open up that artifact as a window into another time, another place.

We look forward with great anticipation to bringing this digital history/digital humanities project to life–the human story behind medical history: “How Medicine Became Modern.”

ABOUT THE BLOGGER
Brandy Schillace, PhD, works as Research Associate and Public Engagement Fellow for Dittrick Museum. She is also a freelance fiction and non-fiction writer, lecturer, blogger, and the managing editor of a medical anthropology journal, Culture, Medicine, and Psychiatry. View her recent TEDx talk on the history of medicine and “steampunk,” featuring artifacts from the museum!

Check that Temperature! Rhythm Method, Thermometers, and the Gynodate

unnamedSex, contraception, and reproduction: if you think those are topics best avoided in a museum, think again! Next week, the Dittrick hosts its annual Percy Skuy Lecture on the History of Contraception, and this time, it’s all about temperature. Hot under the collar? It might be your cycle! Leo J. Latz, a Chicago doctor, first championed the Rhythm Method (based on work by Ogino-Knaus) in the United States. In 1932 Latz published The Rhythm of Sterility and Fertility in Women, which sold over 200,000 copies by 1942; he contended that the “findings of modern science disclose a rational, natural, and ethical means to space births and to regulate intelligently the number of children.” This coming Thursday, April 9th, come hear about the use of thermometers and the rhythm method to control fertility–lecture by Dianna Day, followed by a reception upstairs in the contraception gallery The event is FREE, but please do RSVP to ensure a seat: http://artsci.case.edu/dittrick/upcoming-events/ Want to learn more about contraception’s contested history? Here are some tidbits from our archive–and we hope to see you next week!

The-Rhythm-1934-coverRHYTHM METHOD
How did it work? Latz advised avoiding intercourse for eight days: for women with a regular menstrual cycle, this began five days before ovulation, with an extra three days tacked on for safety’s sake. As a devout Roman Catholic, Latz advanced this method of fertility control as more in line with Church teachings. He published pamphlets on rhythm for priests to distribute to couples, and parish bingo games gave out his book as a prize. Many shared Leo Latz’s faith in the science behind the Ogino-Knaus findings. But applying them to birth control proved not so simple, nor straightforward. Calculating the time of ovulation can still be tricky. It varies from woman to woman, and a woman can ovulate at a different time each month. Stress, illness, or interruptions in normal routine can also alter a woman’s cycle. Despite these uncertainties, the Ogino-Knaus method caught on, as evidenced by the proliferation of rhythm method calculators after 1930. Companies produced graphs, wheels, calendars, and slide rules, which cost from 10¢ to $5. In 1955 over 65% of Catholic women surveyed said they used Rhythm… And of course, given that is was a private means of controlling fertility, many more likely took advantage.

Ironically, Leo Latz felt biting backlash for all his efforts to bring an acceptable form of contraception to Catholics. Some felt he went too far. When Latz published The Rhythm in 1932 he served on the medical faculty of Loyola University. According to Leslie Tentler, writing in Catholics and Contraception: An American History (2004), Latz “was abruptly fired from that position in August of 1934,” and this action “was almost certainly a direct result of Latz’s prominent association with the cause of rhythm.” In 1935 Latz confessed to his friend Father Joseph Reiner, S.J., that no one “knew the anguish and dishonor I …suffered, when people said: ‘I heard you were thrown out of the University.” –Jim Edmonson (see original post here)

gynodate 2009-004-frontGYNODATE
A later variant of rhythm calculator was known as the “Gynodate.” Swiss clockmaker Jaquet introduced the “Gynodate” in 1958. It combined a regular alarm clock and a gauge to calculate the “safe period” as directed by Hermann Knaus. Jaquet claimed it “indispensable for every woman for natural birth control.” The Museum of contraception and abortion in Vienna, Austria, had the associated ephemera (pictured here). The thing that we like best about the “gynodate” is its stylish concealment of its function. Looks like a nice, if simple, alarm clock when the Gynodate 2 high resdecorative bezel is closed. But lift the hinged cover and you reveal adjustable dials to set for the onset and end of the monthly period, and hence gauge the days of fertility. It’s reminiscent of oral contraceptive dispensers in the form of lipstick containers or dialpak dispensers disguised as facial powder compacts…Certainly not the first, nor the last, time that designers strived to camouflage the purpose of a medical device. Sometimes this was done to conceal an object’s function from unwitting patients (as in the case of medical furniture in the 1880s), while at other times it was done to safeguard personal dignity, as in the concealment of contraceptive purpose of the object at hand, the “gynodate”. –Jim Edmonson (see original post here)

Dittrick Book Launch Event: Rhetoric in the Flesh

Contributor: Julia Balacko

EVENT: Book Launch for T. Kenny Fountain’s Rhetoric in the Flesh

hRecently, I had the pleasure of attending the book launch for T. Kenny Fountain’s Rhetoric in the Flesh: Trained Vision, Technical Expertise, and the Gross Anatomy Lab at the Dittrick Museum. At the event, Fountain discussed some of the key arguments from the book, and shared anecdotes from his participant observation in the human gross anatomy lab.

Fountain’s text is an ethnographic account penned from the perspective of a rhetorician of science communication. His focus on language offers a lens into anatomical learning and clinical training that is at once pointed and engrossing. Through his account, Fountain reveals the underlying relationships and tensions between students of anatomy and the bodies they dissect.

As I learned from the book launch talk and from an initial reading of the text, one term that Fountain’s participants in the laboratory often returned to was “making.” This word appears counterintuitive, given that dissection entails acts that are more closely associated with destruction than creation: scraping fat from tissues, disarticulating bones, removing organs to see structures beneath of them. However, “making” had a particular cadence in the interviews and interactions that Fountain had with students and faculty in the lab.

Students, instructors, and teaching assistants in the cadaver laboratories employed “making” to describe cutting and preparing the corpse in ways that would mimic the beautifully colored, flawlessly sketched anatomical drawings in their medical atlases. To dissect a body in a careful fashion that would reveal biological structures as cleanly and as clearly as the textbooks was to “make” the body, both into a mimicry of the visuals in the textbooks, and into a body that was representative of what the books deemed anatomical truth. Some students alternatively deemed this process “Netterizing,” or rendering their cadaver’s anatomy to appear as manifestly as the eminent anatomical artist and physician Frank Netter did in his illustrations.

Students in the past have also “made” cadavers into new visual things, as the Dittrick Museum’s collection of rare photographs from 19th century medical schools reveal. Medical students in that era would commonly photograph themselves and their classmates standing over the body they were dissecting. These photographs were frequently sent as postcards to family members as a sign of pride, demonstrating the students’ hard work in medical school and their experience in the anatomical laboratory. In these images, the cadaver represented how they were becoming professionally distinct as physicians: they could learn by dismembering real human bodies, a privilege not extended to other professions and certainly not to a scientifically-minded lay person.

The Dittrick Museum Chief Curator, James M. Edmonson, published these photographs along with historical commentary in the book Dissection: Photographs of a Rite of Passage in American Medicine 1880-1930. Yale professor John Harley Warner, also a historian of medicine, coauthors the book.

As we see, the students dissecting bodies can transform these cadavers into something else. Yet bodies can be “made” by more than the students and faculty alone. Fountain’s text argues that bodies can make themselves. In one case in his book, a woman who donated her body to science accompanied her anatomical gift with a letter. The letter contained details of the domestic abuse she suffered, as she explained the scars medical students would discover on her skin when they began to dissect her. The woman cast her body in a context that the students who received her body, and read her correspondence, could not ignore when considering the conditions under which that body lived and died. This woman “made” her body a representation of its life, its embodied struggles, and its significance as a precious gift to the students who received it.

Cadavers can also “make” themselves in death. One cadaver in the laboratory Fountain observed at had late-stage cancer that had not been reported on her medical records before she was embalmed for dissection. The cancerous tissue was stiff and impossible to cut through. It obscured structures, encased organs, and halted the dissection. In this instance, the cadaver makes itself both anomalous– by not representing “true” anatomical structures like the textbooks– and simultaneously representative of the reality of disease, which medical students will confront as future physicians.

In the past and today, cadaver dissection stands an important source of experiential and visual knowledge of the material human body for medical professionals. Like the 19th century medical students who posed proudly next to their cadavers, medical students today are equally as privileged to gain firsthand knowledge from the human body. Although students’ relationships to their cadavers have no doubt changed, as Fountain’s book suggests, the study of anatomy remains an exceptional experience in the education of future physicians.

You can learn more about and purchase Rhetoric in the Flesh here: http://www.attw.org/publications/book-series/rhetoric-in-the-flesh

To learn more about the Dittrick Museum’s photographs, get Dissection: Photographs of a Rite of Passage in American Medicine here: http://www.amazon.com/Dissection-Photographs-American-Medicine-1880-1930/dp/0922233349

ABOUT THE AUTHOR:

Julia Balacko is a second-year PhD student in medical anthropology at Case Western Reserve University. Her research explores the history, development, and cultural meaning of cadaver dissection in American medical education.