Performance and Pathology: The Theatricality of the Body in the Operating Theatre and Beyond

Throughout performance history, the body has been viewed as a chief locus of signification. Denis

Diderot’s Paradox of Acting concerns itself primarily with the actor’s ability to materialise the feelings of

a written text and to literalise them in time and space through his/her individual mastery of the text’s

aura.1 Audiences’ fascination with the performer’s body in corporealising texts has extended into our

contemporary performative milieu, with artists such as Marina Abramović and Ron Athey aiming to

explore the limits of the body in expression and endurance. This, I argue, encourages the positioning of

the body itself as a text to be interpreted. Yet, a long history of performance concerning the body can be

traced outside of the theatrical space. Performance pervades and constitutes every aspect of our lives,

influencing the fields of psychology, medicine, biology, and more. In this essay I aim to demonstrate the

inherently performative nature of science – in particular, of the old operating theatre and its evolution into

the modern laboratory. I suggest that science and performance are not mutually exclusive and,

significantly to our understanding of the body as a signifying (and signified) text, I will analyse the ways

in which the scientific space renders the body and how this is intrinsically theatrical in nature.

The first anatomy theatre was established in 1594 at the University of Padua, and remains preserved. 2 Its

construction is architecturally mimetic of the classical amphitheatre, and along with Andreas Vesalius’

anatomical theatres, it was moulded on the structure of the Colosseum in Rome. Its circular seating

arrangement focalises the anatomy bench from every viewpoint and makes the theatre an opportune space

for various forms of performance to unfold. Arranged in tiers and elaborately decorated, students and the

public were permitted intimate access to the show of dissection – an otherwise private display. As José

van Dijck writes, ‘anatomical theatres were designed after typical Renaissance stages – round stages and

gradually ascending seats – enabling the audience to literally gaze into the cadaver from a high angle’. 3

1
Denis Diderot, The Paradox of Acting (London: Chatto & Windus, 1883).
2
Silvia Donati and Barry Lillie, ‘Italy’s Ancient Medical Schools: Anatomical Theatres’, Italy Magazine
(29 October, 2014), < http://www.italymagazine.com/featured-story/italys-ancient-medical-schools-
anatomical-theatres> [accessed 26 November, 2015]
3
José van Dijck, ‘Digital Cadavers and Virtual Dissection’, in Anatomy Live: Performance and the
Operating Theatre’, ed. by Maaike Bleeker (Amsterdam: Amsterdam University Press, 2014), p. 39.
As Dijck describes, the Renaissance-style theatre brought the public spectator into the previously obscure

medical realm and allowed for a confrontation with the deceased body hitherto unheard of. The

demonstrations of public dissection and anatomical exploration were therefore fashioned with this lay

audience in mind, and in addition to the edifying displays of anatomical knowledge, ‘[i]t was not

uncommon for a banquet, a concert, or other performers to adorn dissections’. 4 The demonstrations were

both educational and entertaining – and this joint purpose has maintained its significance into the twenty-

first century, with German pathologist Gunther von Hagens referring to his dissections as a form of

‘edutainment’.5

The dissection of the body thus operates as a form of spectacle, with the formerly textual knowledge

taking material form in the centre of the stage. The rise of the anatomy theatre is accordingly in tandem

with a shift from private to public knowledge, and of text-based to personal authority - disseminated by

the anatomist who functions as the chief instructor and actor in this performance, wielding the scalpel as a

tool for exploring the inner workings of the human being. The anatomical amphitheatre becomes the site

in which textual data materialises; the body itself is scripted and presented as a colonial subject to be

discovered. It is the anatomist’s role as educator to conquer and invade the body in a discomforting

revelation of its interior design. With his instruments – themselves performative keys to knowledge – the

anatomist voyages through the body, exploring it as both a text and a map of an inner world. This medical

investigation into the corpse is what the anatomist must, as actor and orator, reproduce through speech to

the dazed and intrigued spectators – an act Dijck describes as ‘the democratization of knowledge’. 6 The

anatomist is therefore functional not only in the development in understanding the human body, but in

granting publicised access to this knowledge for the wider social strata.

4
Ibid.
5
Gunther von Hagens, in ‘The Naked and the Dead’ by Stuart Jeffries, Guardian (March 19 2002) <
http://www.theguardian.com/education/2002/mar/19/arts.highereducation> [accessed 26 November,
2015]
6
Dijck, p. 54.
2
In conjunction with these ideas of publicisation, the artistic disciplines were notably intertwined with that

of science, with Rembrandt’s renowned painting, The Anatomy Lesson of Dr Nicolaes Tulp (1632)

proving a famous example in rendering the ‘anatomo-clinical body’ for wider audiences to observe. 7

Painted in the Baroque style of the early 1600s, The Anatomy Lesson shows a consciousness of the body

as a spectacle to be perceived and understood. With exposed musculature and twisted hand, the cadaver is

subjected to the discerning gaze of the students - and of us - while Dr Tulp himself is positioned as a

figure of authority, with surgical tool in one hand, and the other in gesticular demonstration to his pupils.

As Karen Ingham observes of this work, ‘[t]he hand is a central metaphor for anatomical progress and

understanding’.8 While primarily in reference to the cadaver’s hand, I would extend this metaphor further

to encapsulate the hand of the anatomist as a tool for bringing forth knowledge through a physical – and

violent - intrusion of the body. As a result, this culture of dissection emphasises the structures of power

within which the anatomy performances operate. In The Anatomy Lesson, Dr Tulp is distinguished from

the students through the wielding of authority as symbolised through the tools of dismemberment, which

he will use to ‘voyage within the body to reveal its secrets’. 9 The passive cadaver is thus acted upon by

this higher power and, as Rembrandt renders him, he is not simply a corpse, but an object of the scopic

regime – reminding the spectators that they too can be objectified under such surveillance.

The anatomist’s authority can also be regarded as authoring the body for the epistemic consumption of

the lay audience; the anatomist’s aim is ‘to deconstruct and disassemble the body in order that we may

know it better’.10 This authoring technique implies the necessary mediation between two worlds – those of

the living and the dead – and a subsequent translation of the bodily text for the pupils’ and public’s

enlightenment. Like Diderot’s actor, the anatomist’s role necessitates a toggling between text and reality

in order to present knowledge that is scientifically verifiable, representing ‘a journey from superstition to

science’ in the distinctively public realm of the anatomy theatre. 11 I therefore argue that science and art

7
Karen Ingham, ‘The Anatomy Lesson of Professor Moxham’, in Anatomy Live (Bleeker), p. 77.
8
Ibid., p. 78.
9
Maaike Bleeker, ‘Introduction’, in Anatomy Live (Bleeker), p. 13.
10
Ibid., p. 83.
11
Ibid., p. 79.
3
are fused in this didactic performance, which extends beyond the artistic discipline in its confirmation of

medical reality. With this in mind, the body performs itself as an object of undiscovered knowledge, and

it is the anatomist’s role to expose the inner workings of the organs in a highly visceral denouement –

encouraging the spectators to view the body ‘as a text within a heightened dramatic space’. 12 Narrative

control is therefore in the anatomist’s hands, and he is positioned as the main protagonist – a Columbus

figure – who seeks to create a new medical equilibrium through his revelations of the anatomical map.

This discovery through force buttresses the anatomist as a figure of power possessing a mastery of skill

both in anatomical unearthing and oracular deliverance. Diderot’s Paradox of Acting, written in the

eighteenth century, is remarkably echoic of these implicit power structures within the anatomy theatre,

and, in the roles of both actor and anatomist, meaning is filtered to the audience through the performer’s

esoteric expertise. As Anja Klöck explicates in her examination of the actor:

Within this ideology of the technical mastery of the body, the actor could be seen as the knife

(instrument/technique) and the surgeon (specialized subject) as well as the body (object), as much

as their representation (performance) and discursive concepts of the body.13

While implying a cross-pollination of the scientific endeavour into dramaturgy, Klöck reinforces the

theatrical heightening of anatomical performance as a whole. Klöck’s suggestion of the actor as the

amalgamation of these medical aspects sets the actor’s mastery on par with that of the anatomist in

propagating corporeal signification to an audience. In fact, what Klöck alludes to is the actor’s dominance

in operating on multiple levels of technique and representation – the actor has the advantage of

demonstrating himself as the lived body which animates itself as spectacle, subject, and object of intrigue.

This necessarily brings into question issues surrounding the subject and the body - whether their existence

in the performative sphere is united or divided, and what is subsequently at stake regarding agency and

passivity. As Maaike Bleeker argues, ‘[t]he corpse dissected within the theatre of anatomy […] is

12
Ibid., p. 83.
13
Anja Klöck, ‘Of Dissection and Technologies of Culture in Actor Training Programs’, in Anatomy Live
(Bleeker), p. 117.
4
fundamentally a pedagogical prop’ and is therefore a means by which the anatomist can interrogate and

expound it as an educational resource. 14 Subject and body are dislocated and the body becomes, through

progressive dissection, ‘a body of knowledge’.15 However, while the deceased body is devoid of its

animation, its educational purpose in this display is to be related to the bodies of the living; what the

anatomist discovers about the corpse is what we essentially discover about ourselves. The anatomist

interacts with the body in ways that ‘provoke, stimulate, and question the very nature of what it is to be

human’, meeting the sixteenth century demands for a greater realisation of the physical body that artistic

mimesis could not afford.16 The anatomy theatre subsequently marked a new epoch which inaugurated the

production of a knowable materiality to what was previously symbolic.

The culture of dissection was therefore ground-breaking in its contribution to the medical curriculum,

and, much like the actor, the departed body was considered microcosmic of the universal human and its

intrinsic nature. Yet, the anatomist is fundamental not only in presenting the audience with a knowledge

of the self, but in bringing them into confrontation with ‘one of three great enigmas in a normal person’s

life’ – the enigma of death. 17 Death was no longer something to be muted or absented, but became a

spectacle to be faced and studied in relation to the living, rather than separate from, or ‘other’ to it. The

notion of studying a body after its passing has both fascinated and disturbed human beings throughout

history. In Ancient Egypt, the dissection of dead bodies had, most notably, ‘a magico-religious aspect’

and dissectors placed little concern on discerning the body in order to better understand it. 18 Disease was

regarded ‘in an animistic fashion’, and the process of mummification – in which Hagens’ plastination has

its origins – was governed by a superstitious desire to ensure steady transition to the afterlife rather than

to reach empirical and medical clarification. 19 However, with the legalisation of dissection in sixteenth

century England, the interests of scientific enlightenment permitted a new kind of engagement with the

14
Bleeker, p. 17.
15
Dijck, p. 29.
16
Bleeker, p. 17.
17
Arthur Marvel Lassek, Human Dissection: Its Drama and Struggle (Springfield: Charles C. Thomas
Publisher Ltd., 1958), p. 4.
18
Julian L. Burton, ‘Chapter 1: The History of the Autopsy’, in The Hospital Autopsy 3rd Edition: A
Manual of Fundamental Autopsy Practice, by Guy Rutty (Florida: CRC Press, 2010), p. 2.
19
Ibid.
5
deceased body. No longer were dissections confined to be performed only on those with wealth and social

eminence, but were undertaken on the bodies of criminals and, with Burke and Hare in the nineteenth

century, on bodies that had been stolen – even murdered – as a result of medical demand.

In particular, early sixteenth century Europe marked a relationship not only between science and art, but

between science and the juridical system. Public dissections ‘not only served educational purposes, but

[…] taught moral lessons’.20 In significant contrast to the mummification of Ancient Egyptian pharaohs,

the bodies provided to science in the sixteenth century were not those of high social status but, rather, the

bodies of executed criminals. This created a new context in which the body was acted upon and invaded.

For the spectators of the sixteenth century, the culture of dissection served as a warning to the public; the

inevitable fate of criminals was to be exposed and dissected for medical enlightenment. The slow

destruction of their bodies removed any possibilities for bodily resurrection after death, and this was

undoubtedly perturbing to audiences who considered the bodies as existing in a state of purgatory until

their dues to society were paid. Additionally, Dijck notes that, ‘[b]esides public humiliation, it implied

that the executed criminal was denied burial – a final resting place for the soul’. 21 Here, unlike with the

pharaohs, the bodies are disregarded as possessing a soul worth preserving, and this subsequently links its

ontology to that of the Cartesian machine-body – operating (or, rather, serving) only for corporeal

functions - with the soul remaining separate from this physicality. The body is no longer embalmed and

oiled to maintain a stately appearance, but reduced to a representation of the anonymous body for

scientific learning, and ‘forever exposed to the scopic regime of science’.22

This judicial relationship between the anatomical discipline and the convicted criminal also lends another

layer to the body’s performance and the anatomist’s function. If the act of public dissection functioned as

‘a form of extra punishment on top of the death sentence’, the anatomist’s role was subsequently an

‘extension […] of the executioner’s job’.23 In combination with the ‘edutational’ elements of the

20
Dijck, p. 30.
21
Ibid., p. 35.
22
Ibid., p. 38.
23
Ibid., p. 35.
6
anatomical performance, then, there is also a strong moral component at play, and an ethically based

narrative alongside that of the anatomical journey. Yet, despite the body’s supposed degradation to an

object for medical discernment, there is also a redeeming constituent involved, and one that follows the

conventions of the medieval morality play – namely, the conventions of ‘catharsis or purification of the

soul’.24 Often, the criminal body was viewed as undergoing a transformative redemption in the sphere of

the anatomy theatre. The body’s performance as a site for medical enquiry suggested a debt to society

that, having been paid in the climax of anatomical revelation, would increase the corpse’s chances of

proceeding to the afterlife. The performance therefore emphasised morality, and built suspense through

pedagogical props such as the skeletons (both in literal display around the theatre, and in drawings on the

walls). These props ‘foreshadowed the cadaver’s inevitable fate’ while subsequently allowing for the

hope of spiritual ascendance once the performance drew to a close.25

In Gunther Von Hagens’ Anatomy for Beginners, the props function in a similar manner, though they are

undoubtedly shrouded more in secular than in sacral symbolism (Von Hagens publicly removed himself

from questions of religious or spiritual associations with regards to the anatomical body). Anatomy for

Beginners aired in 2005, and as Von Hagens shows in his reconfiguration of the anatomy theatre set, there

is a clear emphasis on setting and the interaction of props in forming the theatre as a scientifically and

theatrically legitimate space.26 In ‘Lesson 1: Movement’, fragments of anatomy are displayed around the

theatre, along with entire skeletal figures, mimicking our preconceived notions of the scientific

laboratory. The studio is theatrically lit to highlight the hanging cadavers, and, upgrading the sixteenth

century anatomical drawings, a living nude model is displayed with organs drawn onto the body by on-set

artists. The ‘edutainment’ purpose here is immediately apparent; Von Hagens functions as showman and

educator with the scientific performance accentuated by his reserved assistant, who stands by his side,

donned in a white coat, and narrates his anatomical findings to the audience. As Ian Maxwell observes of

the anatomist, ‘Von Hagens is clearly very accomplished both with the technicalities of dissection, and as

24
Ibid., p. 40.
25
Ibid.
26
Anatomy for Beginners, Channel 4, 2005.
7
an educator’.27 Performing the first anatomy lecture theatre in 170 years, Von Hagens was meticulous in

reviving the uncomfortable relationship between science and art – a marriage that has, since the

nineteenth-century, fallen out of favour. In reworking the anatomy theatre for the modern audience, Von

Hagens successfully fuses the historical dissections with contemporary show business. The theatre is

transformed into a sleek studio setting and the show successfully brings the out-dated practice into a new,

contemporary dialogue for students and public, now leading to the revival of public anatomy lectures in

universities.28

In similarity to the moral dilemma of the criminalised body, the plastinated figures displayed in Anatomy

for Beginners and Von Hagens’ live exhibition Body Worlds raise the question of bodily presence. Von

Hagens’ plastination technique requires the draining of fluids and fats from the body and the replacement

with ‘silicon polymers’.29 Having visited the Body Worlds exhibition at the O2 Arena in 2005, I felt a

remarkable eeriness at seeing these plastinated figures – bodies that Von Hagens insisted were more

accurate than models or drawings, which could only ever be shadows of the real. However, the process of

plastination lends an absence to the figures that have been repositioned into lifelike poses frozen in time.

One display shows a group of figures halted in a game of cards. The spotlight shines on their matte skin

and draws attention to its dried and leathery texture. The performative engagement is incredibly distant,

more so than in the traditional theatres where engagement is essential to enactment. We are positioned as

outsiders looking in and the exhibition is entirely silent as viewers are left to roam around the ghostly

displays. No anatomist is present to reveal the body’s narrative, or to activate it as a performative subject.

These cadavers are shown, not told, and there is something vacant about the odourless bodies, wholly

devoid of a semblance to life. The inactivity of the card players, rather than imbuing the cadavers with the

impression of mobility or living likeness, only serves to augment their removal from the living. As Ian

Maxwell argues, ‘the plastinates […] enjoy a complex relationship with their own humanity: stripped of

27
Ian Maxwell, ‘”Who Were You?”: The Visible and the Visceral’, in Anatomy Live (Bleeker), p. 52.
28
Auslan Cramb, ‘First Public Anatomy Lectures Planned in the UK Since Burke and Hare’, Telegraph
(18 March 2015), < http://www.telegraph.co.uk/education/educationnews/11480902/First-public-
anatomy-lectures-planned-in-the-UK-since-Burke-and-Hare.html> [accessed 3 December 2015].
29
Maxwell, p. 53.
8
life, they are no longer the people that they were and instead are asked to function as exemplars, as

everymen’.30

Maxwell highlights the reduction of these bodies to nameless paradigms for the rest of humanity. The

concept of ‘everymen’ links both to this generalisation of the cadaver as a microcosm of its species and

also to the morality play I have explored in traditional theatres. Yet, these bodies are not those of

convicted criminals, and they are therefore more accurately aligned to the everyman. The plastination

process additionally removes their individual histories and they become not diverse representations of

humanity, as Von Hagens desired, but manufactured subjects whose bodily distinctiveness is erased in

favour of preservation. As critics have remarked of the plastinated bodies, the removal of liquids and fats

to be replaced with preservatives not only drains the fluids but also the semblance to humanity that,

arguably, the original cadaver maintained. Upon entering the gallery space, we are positioned to view the

subjects voyeuristically, as models. Rather than viewing the bodies as mirrors of how it is with our living

bodies, the exhibition ‘reiterates […] one of the central paradoxes of anatomy, namely the use of dead

bodies to teach about living ones’.31 While in Body Worlds, Von Hagens encourages us to identify with

these bodies through their lifelike positioning, I believe Anatomy for Beginners is far more successful in

allowing for identification with the deceased body. Much like Diderot’s concept of the actor, the fusion of

techniques and mastery is essential to igniting characters onstage, and it is Von Hagens’ necessary

interaction with the figures that allows us to recognise ourselves, rather than viewing the plastinated

bodies as the res extensa.

To elaborate, the power dynamic between the anatomist and cadaver is the critical strategy in allowing for

the body’s performance and representation. In ‘Lesson 1’, Von Hagens strips the skin of the cadaver

before reanimating its muscles in an anatomically didactic show. With his assistant explaining the

muscles’ movements, we witness the animation of a figure not completely removed from ourselves. Von

Hagens’ assistant even gestures to the audience to mimic the muscular motion – an action that reduces the

30
Ibid., p. 54.
31
Maaike Bleeker, ‘Martin, Massumi, and The Matrix’ in Anatomy Live (Bleeker), p. 151.
9
perceived boundary between the deceased body onstage and ourselves in the seats. If sixteenth century

dissections marked an advancement from the stationary bodies in anatomical drawings, so too does

Anatomy for Beginners – produced a year after Body Worlds’ O2 opening – mark a more intimate

engagement with the body as both performative subject and demonstrative object. The anatomist, as actor,

is key to this demonstration, both in asserting knowledge to his audience and in trespassing the

boundaries between the living and dead in a highly dramatic search for medical illumination. The

anatomy theatre, unlike the museum, allows for a heightened performative context in which to witness the

anatomical body. With ‘anatomy’ itself derived from ‘to cut’, it is the culture of dissection, as we have

seen in Klöck’s analysis of the actor, that grants us exploration into the body as a text.

The culture of dissection resulting from anatomy lectures therefore amplifies, and permits, the body as a

performative space to be uncovered and revealed to the public. The body itself, along with individual

organs, can thus be seen to perform in this scientific and dramatic quest for knowledge. As Maxwell notes

of the theatrical emphasis on dissection, ‘the human brain […] can now be “seen” to perform within its

own theatre of flesh and bone’. 32 Maxwell draws attention to the anatomy theatre’s performative nature as

instrinsic and comprised of a myriad of layers operating on multiple levels. In this theatrical environment,

voyeurism is inherent and encouraged through both the spatial arrangement of the seating and tiers, and

through the literal performance of the dissection as ‘a highly ritualized ceremony’. 33 This ceremony has

been translated and revived through generations, continuing to animate a ‘theatrical corpus’ whether

through public dissections, plastination, or the digitisation of bodies for a modern public. This is achieved

through a theatrical process that Sally Jane Norman sees ‘as ancient as it is metamorphic’. 34 Through

scientific performance, the body is rendered not an enigma or an ‘other’, but a text which can be

deciphered and comprehended if we, through scientific reasoning, are determined to discover it. As

Maxwell writes:

32
Maxwell, p. 87.
33
Lucia Dacome, ‘Women, Wax and Anatomy in the “Century of Things”’, in Spaces, Objects and
Identities in Early Modern Italian Medicine (Malden: Blackwell Publishing, 2008), p. 54.
34
Sally Jane Norman, ‘Anatomies of Live Art’ in Anatomy Live (Bleeker), p. 187.
10
 [T]he theatre of the body is still a space suffused with excitement and anticipation, a space where

power and knowledge continue to be brokered and negotiated, and a space where art and

bioscience may find a creative dialogue that furthers our understanding of what it is to be human. 35

In conclusion, the body is the central element in the anatomy theatre’s performative realm. As seen in

Rembrandt’s paintings, and Klöck’s analysis of the actor as anatomist (and vice versa), the body is a site

on which struggles of power and knowledge are ultimately played out. It is therefore a text on and in

which stories are inscribed, and the anatomist’s conquering of it demonstrates one way in which the

narrative of the body can be told. The fusion both of science and entertainment is necessary in

constructing a palatable realm in which the public can indulge in morbidly voyeuristic intimacy with the

corpse. The anatomy theatre is thus largely significant in creating a lived experience for the audience

through the felt presence of the anatomical body. And, although I believe Body Worlds is less effective in

rendering the human as an identifiable subject, it succeeds in its semblance to durational and enduring

performance art pieces of today, which make us conscious of – and also make us question – the reality of

bodily presence. The haunting quality of Body Worlds is largely a result of its inability to animate the

body through strict intervention. The anatomist is, fundamentally, the artist that connects ‘living and dead

flesh,’ and it is the inherently theatrical space of the anatomy theatre that brings medical understanding

and advancement to the forefront.36

Bibliography

Anatomy for Beginners, Channel 4, 2005

Bleeker, Maaike, Anatomy Live: Performance and the Operating Theatre’ (Amsterdam: Amsterdam

35
Ibid., p. 88.
36
Gionna Bouchard, ‘The Revelation of Techne: An Anatomical Theatre’, Performance Research, Vol.
10, No. 4 (December 2005), p. 6.
11
 University Press, 2014)

Bouchard, Gionna, ‘The Revelation of Techne: An Anatomical Theatre’, Performance Research, Vol. 10,

No. 4 (December 2005)

Burton, Julian L., ‘Chapter 1: The History of the Autopsy’, in The Hospital Autopsy 3rd Edition: A

Manual of Fundamental Autopsy Practice, by Guy Rutty (Florida: CRC Press, 2010)

Cramb, Auslan, ‘First Public Anatomy Lectures Planned in the UK Since Burke and Hare’, Telegraph (18

March 2015), < http://www.telegraph.co.uk/education/educationnews/11480902/First-public-

anatomy-lectures-planned-in-the-UK-since-Burke-and-Hare.html> [accessed 3 December 2015]

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Identities in Early Modern Italian Medicine (Malden: Blackwell Publishing, 2008)

Diderot, Denis, The Paradox of Acting (London: Chatto & Windus, 1883)

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(29 October, 2014), <http://www.italymagazine.com/featured-story/italys-ancient-medical-

schools-anatomical-theatres> [accessed 26 November, 2015]

Hagens, Gunther von, in ‘The Naked and the Dead’ by Stuart Jeffries, Guardian (March 19 2002) <

http://www.theguardian.com/education/2002/mar/19/arts.highereducation> [accessed 26

November, 2015]

Lassek, Arthur Marvel, Human Dissection: Its Drama and Struggle (Springfield: Charles C. Thomas

Publisher Ltd., 1958)

12