VIRGIN BIRTH PROJECT

     I don’t have kids. But that doesn’t mean I don’t like them or am not fascinated by the miracle of birth. The linearity of birth and death compels many artists in the creative process. Usually this is metaphorical (the birth of an idea or death civilization) leaving the true birthing of a living being to those willing to put up with the uncertain, and often trying results. Couples unable to “do it” the old fashioned way spend thousands of dollars on sperm, eggs and expensive procedures in order have a baby. In a world where clueless teenagers do it all the time, how difficult can it be?

    The Virgin Birth Project is a piece I’ve had in the pipeline for years. It has taken various forms and has yet to be realized. One version was the proposed artificial insemination of my sperm into a willing participant who would be willing to certify she had never had sex—a virgin. If the female got pregnant and eventually gave birth I would then take over the raising of the child, selling “shares” in the process to collectors. The results of the “virgin birth” would essentially be the raising of the infant by an art world community effort. In another version I would purchase selected sperm and egg (erasing my DNA from the project) again finding an (over 21) virgin and continue in a similar vein. Although many ethical issues are raised, there would be nothing illegal about any of this.

    As I said, this has been in the pipeline for years, if not decades. At 67, I’m getting a bit long in the tooth to consider this project anymore. Even a version that involved a collaboration with my dairy farmer friend Scotty Key, replacing the human with the bovine, would be difficult to commit to. The Lion of Judah Cage is more appropriate for chickens than cows. Animal husbandry, utilizing artificial insemination as a matter of course, has replaced actually animal sex. Almost every livestock farmer has a place in the barn for a liquid nitrogen tank and a plenty of straws of sperm. It’s basic veterinary science. How many times have I shown up at Majestic Farm to find Sarah Budde talking on her cell phone, with the other arm up to her elbow in a pig’s vagina, squirting a turkey baster filled with boar sperm into an annoyed sow? Sure I’ll have a cup of coffee.

   I may come up with another version of this piece before I’m done, or just leave it on the shelf. It’s one of the dilemmas of conceptualism, to have more ideas than you have strategies for seeing them through. I don’t think I could even do it the old fashioned way anymore. I’m blowing more dust than  tadpoles. Sperm is cheap, but human eggs cost thousands. I know a few women who have frozen their eggs. One Aussie pop star (I won’t mention by name) once told me we could maybe make a deal for some eggs, but then I think she got cold feet and changed her mind. It’s touchy. Good art always is. I haven’t given up yet. Anybody know any virgins over 21?