The first thing that catches your attention as you open “my body – a Wunderkammer” by Shelley Jackson, is the audio of deep and heavy breaths and a black and white sketch of the lower face of a person. The title and soundtrack lends itself to impress that the author plans to be bold and maybe even brazen as she presents her own body in this work; this turns out to be true. Clicking the banner leads to another sketch, this time of a woman’s naked body drawn in stark white over a black background. The drab picture seems to objectify her by putting her on full display and labeling her body parts with purpose and little care for what they mean to her. With no clear beginning or end, it’s to the discretion of readers on how to start – which body part to click on first. Each section contains anecdotes and half-formed recollections of how the woman grew up with and explored her body. Links embedded in seemingly irrelevant words or phrases lead to other parts or unnamed facets of herself to build a kaleidoscope – a wunderkammer – of her body. Although my Pinterest board is not nearly as intricately woven, I strived to reflect a similar mood that Jackson gave using fragmented scandalous photos and drawings of women. Faces drawn with perfect proportions, a half-formed portrait, a mesh of organs wedged into a torso and numerous women bared on display emphasizes some of the struggles women may feel growing up in an objectifying environment.
Jackson, Shelley. “‘my Body’ – a Wunderkammer & (Shelly Jackson).” ‘my Body’ – a Wunderkammer & (Shelly Jackson). N.p., n.d. Web. 24 June 2016.