Excerpts from:  
                      Race and Representation: 
                  The Production of the Normal 
                by Maurice Berger
                 
                catalog published by Hunter College Art Gallery, 1987 
                  His tall, well-proportioned body is graceful and athletic. 
                    His face, with its square jaw and high cheekbones, is perfectly 
                    symmetrical. He is at once average and ideal. Modeled 
                    from an averaging of the measurements of 
                    thousands of "native white" men from many parts of the 
                    United States, he is a composite of available data translated 
                    into three dimensions. A model of "normal" perfection, 
                    his name is, appropriately, Norman. And along with 
                    his perfect sister Norma, he stands as a testament to the 
                    "character" of the American nationality. Designed by Dr. 
                    Robert Latou Dickinson, who drafted the proportions and 
                    posture of the figures, and crafted by Abram Belskie, 
                    Norma and Norman recall the psychotic enterprise of the 
                    Nazi geneticists who searched for statistics to prove their 
                    claims of Aryan superiority and beauty. Dickinson and 
                    Belskie's enterprise, however, was neither irrational nor 
                    motivated by bigotry; instead, their project underscores 
                    the indifference of science and culture to matters of race 
                    when fulfilling a blind ambition to determine "truth:” 
                    The imperative to be normal, to fit in, to integrate 
                    into society's mainstream often feeds racial bias, a need 
                    that has provoked a reexamination of the question of 
                    Norma and Norman forty years after their appearance in 
                    Natural History magazine. The artist Izhar Patkin's collage 
                    series Norman: The Average American Male (1981) 
                    resounds with juxtapositions that shatter the 
                    complacency of Norman's perfect world. Posed in a 
                    range of passive positions - standing, sitting on a chair, 
                    sitting on the floor, crouching, kneeling, sleeping - Norman 
                    is now vulnerable; he is robbed of his pedestal and 
                    his fig leaf, the affectations of artifice and purity that had 
                    signified his social removal. Superimposed on Norman's 
                    anonymous face in Men From Mars (1982), for example, 
                    is a photograph of bizarre freaks - pathetic midgets 
                    touted by their greedy circus promoters as "extraterrestrial" 
                    creatures. Patkin questions the perfection we 
                    expect from our cultural models. The image of the well adjusted, 
                    normal person advanced by the media and the 
                    arts to motivate and tempt the late-capitalist consumer 
                    must now compete with the Others that populate our 
                    environment. The Norman series, in its travesty of Dickinson 
                    and Belskie's "Portrait of the American People," 
                    restates the extent to which even "innocent" representations 
                    sustain racist ideologies. From the perspective of 
                    representation, there will always be a threshold beyond 
                    which difference becomes intolerable. 
                    Central to a discussion of the rhetoric of racism is the 
                    reality that every representation - every painting, photograph, 
                    film, video or advertisement - is a function of 
                    "someone's investment in the sending of a message," 
                    Because the most successful representations are those 
                    which can be most easily apprehended, such rhetoric 
                    often collapses into stereotypes that meet the common 
                    need to simplify and organize meaning. For Umberto 
                    Eco, these "codes of recognition" help to order and inter- 
                    pret the world of information: "These codes [of recognition] 
                    list certain features of the object as the most 
                    meaningful for purposes of recollection or future communication: 
                    for example, I recognize a zebra from a distance 
                    without noticing the exact shape of the head or the 
                    relation between legs and body. It is enough that I recognize 
                    two pertinent characteristics - four-leggedness and 
                    stripes:" A zebra with three legs or with dots instead of 
                    stripes either would not be recognized as a zebra or, perhaps 
                    as likely, would be considered a freak, for what is 
                    not recognized is most often relegated to the realm of the 
                    alien, the foreign, the abnormal. Both scientific and cult- 
                    ural discourse reverberates with such distinctions: the 
                    behaviorist who maintains that stubbornness in children 
                    indicates pathology, the psychiatrist who proclaims 
                    homosexuality a disease, the geneticist who speaks of 
                    racial inferiority, the artist who portrays the lurid "exoticism" 
                    of the Other all justify their claims by asserting an 
                    equation between the abstract truth of the "normal" and 
                    its relation to the wholesome, healthy, and good. To 
                    respect what is recognized as normal is to belong to that 
                    comfortable majority which lives at society's center. To 
                    live outside this center is to exist at "risk:” 
                Notes 
                1. That Norma and Norman made their debut on the pages of an important 
                  American magazine in 1945 - when news of the horrific Nazi atrocities 
                  was filtering out of Europe - confirms the insensitivity of this  
                  relentless search for standards and ideals. They were reproduced for the 
                  first time in Harry L. Shapiro, "A Portrait of the American People," Natural 
                  history, 54 (June 1945), pp. 248 and 252. 
                2. For a discussion of this issue, see Victor Burgin, "Photographic Practice 
                  and Art Theory," in Thinking Photography, ed. Victor Burgin (London: 
                  Macmillan, 1982), pp. 39-83. 
                3. "Critique of the Image," in Ibid.  | 
              
                  
                    The Shape We're In 
                      Time Magazine, Monday, Jun. 18, 1945 
                       
                        How the average U.S. girl looks with her clothes off' was shown last week by Manhattan's American Museum of Natural History. The name of the girl is "Norma." She is a sculptured composite of 15,000 present-day U.S. women, aged about 18 (see cut). The museum's anthropologists exhibited her in Natural History to show the evolution of the U.S. female figure toward a taller, lustier type. 
  Norma and her male counterpart, "Normman," were modeled by Gynecologist Robert Latou Dickinson and Sculptor Abram Belskie. "That American look," observes Dr. Harry L. Shapiro, the Museum's curator of physical anthropology, has changed considerably since the 1890s. The modern girl is taller (5 ft. 3½ in.), longer in the leg, thicker in the waist (26.4 in.), and has slightly heavier hips (37.4 in.) and legs than the 1890 girl. But, thanks to a bigger bust (33.9 in.) and torso, her figure looks better proportioned, at least to the anthropologists. 
  Compared to the Greek ideal (e.g.., Aphrodite of Cyrene), Norma is relatively slim-hipped and less voluptuously curved; the trend in development of her figure seems to be toward the "high fashion" or dress-model type—a tall (5 ft. 7 in.) triangular shape with broad shoulders, very slender hips and long legs. 
  The male shape shows a similar trend: U.S. men are growing taller and heavier, have broader shoulders and narrower hips than their grandfathers of the 1890s. Anthropologist Shapiro believes there must be something in the American environment that produces tall men & women; the average U.S. height is now greater than that of any European country from which the U.S. people originally came.  | 
                   
                 
                    
                
                    
                      | Robert Latou Dickinson (1861-1950) was an American gynecologist and sex researcher. He has gained a modest reputation for having officially documented the largest penis to date (13.5 inches long, 6.25 inches around). An even larger (but unofficial) measurement was obtained in 1969 by Dr. David Reuben (14 inches long). | 
                     
                   
                  
                
                    
                      | In 1938 Abram Belskie's friend, the renowned sculptor Malvina Hoffman, introduced him to the eminent physician Dr. Robert Latou Dickinson. Dr. Dickinson had been a pioneer in the creation of medical models, which are used to teach students anatomy, procedure and diagnosis. The doctor knew that the effectiveness of such models relied on the interpretation of a sensitive sculptor. The doctor prevailed upon the artist, and the first fruits of their collaboration were displayed in the exhibit of Maternal Health, located in the World's Fair of 1939. Dickinson and Belskie together created thousands of medical models until Dr. Dickinson's death in 1950. | 
                     
                 
                 
                 
                
                  
                      
                      
                        
                          Black and White 1981 
40” x 52"   photograph, chrome coat paper, enamel | 
                         
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