Genetics, Art, and Exploring Our Histories

Megan Workmon Larsen
5 min readApr 24, 2017

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Color-coded DNA sequence.

Think about your family story. How far back does it go? Do you feel attached to it or is it but the account of strangers? Does it matter to who you are now?

DNA testing or profiling began the year I was born, 1984, by Sir Alec Jeffreys. For humans, our DNA is 99.9% similar to every other person yet it is still possible within the sequences to find variations that tell a longer and larger story of our origins. (We also share 33% of our DNA in common with daffodils — Something I remind myself of every time someone pisses me with a grumbled response of “whatever, one-third daffodil.” Makes it hard to stay mad if everyone is 1/3 friendly yellow flower.) Over time, DNA testing has both become more accurate as well as offered at a much lower cost, leading to not only more “YOU ARE NOT THE FATHER MOMENTS!” on daytime TV, but also new structures and institutions devoted to uncovering “your ethnic mix, distant relatives, and even new ancestors” for a mere one-time fee of $79.

In education, DNA testing has moved to the classroom. When I was in high school, this was a newfangled technology that was pretty pricey still, yet I’m pretty certain we did something with DNA replication and regulation. (Sorry, Mrs. Uchida, my awesome AP Bio teacher, I don’t remember this section very well –But, I do still have my poetry written about cells and the paper-mache “catfish of the future” project.) In the last few years, DNA testing has become a vehicle by which to discuss identity, origin, and commonalities.

“Asking people to take DNA tests — an idea that has spread to a campus wide effort at this public university — grew out of consulting work Foeman does in race mediation. Instead of a confrontational approach, trying to provoke people into recognizing their own biases, she wanted something that would pull people together, or at least give them a neutral place from which to start to talk. And with racial divides so stark, she wanted to add some nuance and depth. She wondered: What if people started finding out things they didn’t know about themselves?” From To reset the conversation about race, college course starts with DNA test.

Berkeley and Stanford both offer DNA testing to their students from saliva sampling. Replacing the ol’ “read a book prior to the academic year” trope, Berkeley offers the chance for new students to submit cheek swabs in order to test for three specific genes, the genes that determines a flush reaction to alcohol, control your metabolism, and determine if you can digest milk. (I definitely don’t have the last one. I miss you, cheese.) The samples are collected, analyzed, and then destroyed. A good portion of the critique of this practice is around the simple question of “do students feel coerced to provide genetic material?” and “are people really ready to face the findings of their DNA?” Faculty suggestions in higher education settings can very easily be misconstrued as assignments or mandatory work, yet as the samples are both anonymous, only looking at a few genes, and there are educational components around the process, it appears to be fairly well thought out. But, is access to this information actually helpful?

“The ethicists and activists think that ordinary people aren’t ready to learn about their DNA in an unmediated way. They make two tacit assertions in support of this idea. One is that biology is not important and that by “geneticizing” ourselves we deny our own humanity and reify all sorts of bad things such as racism. The second is that the genetically tested masses would not understand this and might behave as if their genes were completely deterministic…But if the Berkeley biologists do their job and the Berkeley freshmen are paying attention, the students will reach the opposite conclusion — that genes are an important part of who we are, but only a part.” Via School of Hock by Misha Angrist.

So, how does this all fit within culture? And, how are artists responding to such a change in technology and access to the hidden histories of our DNA?

Residente, a Puerto Rican rapper, traced his DNA to his family’s origins in Africa, Europe, Asia, the Middle East, and America, making music with local musicians in each locale. A great article here from Billboard around his new album and the response the the video linked below.

(Forewarning of a totally awesome and bizarre music video featuring a whole lot o’ birthing out of people in the middle of a desert below — NSFW depending on how your work feels about birth portrayed in an artistic way. I sometimes wonder what the IT people at my job think I’m up to on any normal day…)

“I collaborated with talented artists, artists that the musical industry doesn’t know of because they don’t pay attention to them, artists that make music without expecting something in return, artists whom I share DNA with, just how they shared their stories with me” — Residente

In the art world, Heather Dewey-Hagborg collected the discarded remnants of the every-day in order to recreate the people who used them, testing the DNA on cigarette butts, gum, hair, and other items to determine the unknown person’s ethnicity, gender, facial structure, and more. She then built their faces and printed them in 3D. (For more, here’s an article on her work from Popular Science here.)

“It all started with wondering what I could learn about someone from a little piece … they left behind.” — Heather Dewey-Hagborg on her series “Stranger Visions.”

DNA focused art has also gone mass-market with top 10 DNA art project lists on Pinterest and a treasure trove of options on sites like Etsy for customized work for you concerning you. You can have your own DNA analyzed and printed on a large format canvas for your living room via dna11, sporting the tagline “from life comes art.”

Personal DNA pictures bring a new form of intimacy to the bedroom. Example via DNA11. I would also really like to fluff those sad, sad pillows so they looked a little happier.

So, some questions to end…

Does knowing your genetic history and reality make you feel more connected? And, to whom?

How does artistic work around genetics and DNA make you feel? Does the intent matter?

And, as these technologies increase access, what are the society’s responsibilities toward this work? And, if you are an creative, do you plan to respond?

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Megan Workmon Larsen
Megan Workmon Larsen

Written by Megan Workmon Larsen

Rebellious educational researcher, storyteller, and artist with an operatic flair and human-centered approach. Teaching AI now, because why not?

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