All life is contained herein

"I always open medicine cabinets."
"I trust people not to do that."
"Big mistake!"
Kramer and Elaine, Seinfeld, episode 75, first broadcast 16 December 1993

Would I open my medicine cabinet to public scrutiny? Doubtful. Asthma is my only ailment, and with no embarrassing ointments or gels, pills or prescriptions, my medicine cabinet has little in it that would pique curiosity. And yet I would still be reluctant to share its contents. Why? Because despite the lack of weird substances, my medicine cabinet still reflects the ‘real me’, and that kind of knowledge is best kept for my nearest and dearest.

So all the more reason I am amazed that 15 members of the public have loaned their medicine cabinets and written personal essays for ‘Shelf Life’, the latest exhibition in the Wellcome Trust’s Two10 Gallery. Admittedly, lenders have been guaranteed anonymity, but even so it is a brave move to expose personal objects to public scrutiny, and the range and diversity of cabinets and contents is both educational and voyeuristic. And voyeurism seems to be common currency for entertainment these days.

The contemporary trend for spying was probably triggered in the mid-1990s by the Internet, with sites such as jennicam.com triggering a huge volume of traffic solely dedicated to watching a woman in her bedroom. Now several years after the rise of webcam voyeurism, augmented by the explosion of CCTV surveillance, television is dominated by ‘reality’ or ‘voyeur’ shows such as Big Brother, Survivor in the USA and any number of fly-on-the-wall documentaries.

So why do we do it? What is the attraction of peeking in someone else’s medicine cabinet or watching the daily machinations of Big Brother? Partly, it must be because it allows us to judge ourselves by comparing ourselves with others. By finding commonality in products we keep in our medicine cabinets, or shared experiences in Big Brother, we can breathe a tiny sigh of relief that we are indeed normal or at least not enormously out of the mainstream. And if we do feel a bit alienated and suffer from some unusual or obscure ailment, you can bet there’s always someone else out there who does too.

The reality of the volunteers’ medicine cabinets is complemented by the work of seven contemporary artists who have interpreted the theme of medicine cabinets both literally and metaphorically for 'Shelf Life'. The artists all refer - either directly or indirectly - to the themes of loss and memory that suffuse so many of the anonymous essays written by the owners of the ‘real’ cabinets.

The potency and power of medicine cabinets lies in the fact they not only contain products intended for bodily use - and thus signify the intimate, personal and sometimes painful - but because the odours and scents held within stimulate the autobiographical memory. Long after we have forgotten the face, the word, the event, or the image, the smells in our medicine cabinets will remind us of times long past.

'Shelf Life' runs at the Two10 Gallery, 210 Euston Road, London, until 12 January 2001. Admission is free.

External links

• 'Shelf Life': Online gallery