The really scary thing is that Britain actually needed to pass a law telling people not to play with corpses. Body Part Sculptor by D. Trull Enigma Editor dtrull@parascope.com Ars longa, vita brevis: Art is long, life is short. Since time immemorial, aesthetics and mortality have been locked in vicious battle over which is the true defining element of the human condition. The art world has lately attempted to reconcile that conflict, in a sense, with a proliferation of macabre works that embrace the inevitable death and decay of the physical body. This "if you can't beat 'em, join 'em" movement has been taken to a new plateau by London artist Anthony-Noel Kelly, for whom the term "body sculpting" has nothing to do with weight training and aerobics. Kelly, a part-time sculptor tutor at Prince Charles' Institute of Architecture, has gained recognition with sculptures of heads, feet and torsos that have commanded prices of over $7,000. The works have also stirred controversy, drawing charges of tastelessness and an excessively realistic depiction of death and suffering. An eccentric artist with an eccentric background, Kelly is part of an aristocratic family, and a cousin of the Duke of Norfolk; yet his resume includes years spent in undignified labor, working as a butcher and in a slaughterhouse, where he seems to have cultivated a keen interest in corpses. "I have no qualms about doing this work," Kelly once said in defense of his art. "I wouldn't wish to hurt anyone. While I find beauty in death, these are nevertheless rotting bodies." No one realized just how literal Kelly meant that, until an unnamed art patron viewing Kelly's sculptures recognized the face of an old man who had recently died. The head was coated in silver and part of the exposed brain had been removed. The stunned exhibition attendee reported the bizarre posthumous reunion to police. Laurence Martin, Inspector of Anatomy for Her Majesty's Department of Health, had already begun his own investigation after noting a newspaper report about Kelly's work. Martin enlisted the aid of Scotland Yard's organized crime group and alerted area hospitals and medical schools to check their inventories for stolen bodies. When police raided Kelly's London apartment and his family castle in Kent, their suspicions were confirmed: about 20 to 30 human body parts were discovered on the premises. Kelly was arrested and later released on bond. Within days police make a second arrest, apprehending a former employee of London's Royal College of Surgeons, who is thought to have served as the source of Kelly's peculiar art supplies. Kelly admitted to using the body parts in his art, explaining his procedure of molding plaster casts from the remains and gilding the plaster copies in gold and silver. He then disposed of the body parts themselves, which were not incorporated into the finished artwork in any way. Kelly didn't limit himself to the cadavers of strangers -- he reportedly crafted one of his pieces from the body of his grandmother, a former diplomat. The revelations about Kelly are causing consternation in the art community, which can't seem to decide whether to condemn his work or applaud it -- or perhaps dismiss it with a bored and fickle yawn. The London Contemporary Art Fair was left to decide whether to exclude two Kelly busts from exhibition. "I need to see whether there are legal implications, whether or not there's a question of invasion of privacy," said Lucy Sicks, the fair's director. The basis of Kelly's arrest was his possible violation of Britain's 1994 Anatomy Act, which forbids the use of human remains for any purpose other than medical research, and makes it illegal to dispose of them in any way that does not constitute a proper burial. Which brings us to the heart of what's at stake in the Anthony-Noel Kelly case: should individuals have the right to donate their bodies to art, in the same way we can donate our bodies to science? The Anatomy Act doesn't give Britons that choice, and that doesn't seem right. Aside from its appropriation of body parts without proper permission, I see nothing objectionable about Kelly's works. There are so many crazy things we're allowed to do with our bodies once we're gone -- burning them, freezing them, launching them into space like Timothy Leary and Gene Roddenberry -- we might as well have the freedom to transfigure our commonplace flesh into art. Or let some struggling artist have a go at it, at least. "You look at them and remind yourself: 'this is how we all end up'," Kelly has said in narcissistic awe of his works. But that's not entirely truthful. After a few months in the ground, I think I'd become a much less pretty sight than a shiny silver-plated cast of my freshly-expired face. Sources: Electronic Telegraph; Scottish Daily Record; The Irish Times (c) Copyright 1997 ParaScope, Inc. More Fortean Slips! What do you think? Share your views in the message boards!