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Ex-CMU art prof entangled with Feds
Sunday, June 20, 2004

Former Carnegie Mellon University art professor Steven Kurtz called 911 from his Buffalo, NY., home May 11 to request an ambulance for his wife.

Paramedics, firefighters and police responded and found Hope Kurtz dead. Tests would show she suffered heart failure. Foul play was not suspected, and it would have been an open-and-shut matter but for one thing.

The emergency responders discovered a home laboratory containing bacteria samples, petri dishes and equipment to analyze DNA.

What authorities did next set the stage for an ongoing federal investigation with tentacles stretching to Carnegie Mellon University and the University of Pittsburgh.

Although Kurtz explained that the materials were for an upcoming art installation by his group, the cutting-edge Critical Art Ensemble, as well as research for a book, law enforcement was not taking the State University of New York professor at his word.

 
 
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Critical Art Ensemble

Critical Art Ensemble Defense Fund

   
 

Suspicions aroused, Buffalo authorities contacted the local Joint Terrorism Task Force, eventually leading to a federal search warrant executed by agents in hazardous materials suits, some of them from the Pittsburgh FBI field office.

For 36 hours, they traipsed through Kurtz's house. They confiscated scientific apparatus, computers, research books whose subjects reportedly included bioterrorism and biowarfare, and correspondence.

Then the local health commissioner ordered the residence off limits until samples of the bacteria found inside could be tested. They were taken to a state lab in Albany and analyzed that weekend.

Reports identifying the bacteria have not been made public, although Kurtz's supporters have identified them as three strains of what they say are harmless organisms. The house was reopened the next Monday, after the health commissioner deemed there was no danger to the public.

But it didn't end there. Last week, Kurtz's artistic collaborators were called before a grand jury in Buffalo, and at least one other person is scheduled to testify later this month.

Among those subpoenaed were Paul Vanouse, a former Carnegie Mellon research fellow, and Andrew Johnson, a newly hired Carnegie Mellon art professor. Vanouse declined comment as did Johnson, who said he had invoked his Fifth Amendment right against self-incrimination.

As is standard practice, the U.S. attorney's office in Buffalo would neither confirm nor deny an investigation.

The University of Pittsburgh has also been drawn into the case.

Robert Hill, vice chancellor for public affairs, confirmed that an FBI investigation was under way involving an academic staff member and said Pitt has turned over documents to the agency. He would not give details.

Hill said the FBI spoke with both the subject of the inquiry and at least one other academic staff member at Pitt. He would not identify either individual.

But Pitt professor Robert Ferrell, chairman of the human genetics department at the Graduate School of Public Health, acknowledged that he had been in contact with the FBI about the Kurtz investigation. Ferrell declined further comment, stating in an e-mail:

"Ordinarily, I am a very open person. I spoke with the FBI about this matter, but was advised that I might get a lawyer. Mr. [Efrem] Grail advised me not to talk to anyone. Since I don't know what the government is up to, I feel that I should follow his advice. Sorry, but this is a very weird situation for me."

Grail, of the Reed Smith law firm, declined to discuss whether his client had been summoned before the grand jury but said Ferrell did not break the law or university policy and was cooperating with law enforcement.

Not about terrorism
Regardless of what was found at Kurtz's house, the government's investigation is not about terrorism, said Paul Moskal, a spokesman for the Buffalo FBI office.

It's not about fears that items in the laboratory caused Hope Kurtz's death, he said, and it's not about artistic endeavor or the First Amendment.

Instead, Moskal said, it has everything to do with concern about public health and safety. After Sept. 11, 2001, Moskal said, first responders became more sensitive to anything out of the ordinary. A home laboratory with bacteria samples qualified.

"This group of people did exactly the right thing," Moskal said. "On the safety scale here, you have to assume the worst."

Kurtz's attorney, Paul Cambria Jr., doesn't accept Moskal's characterization of the investigation.

"All of that is ridiculous," Cambria said. "The government always says that. What are they going to tell you? It's about the First Amendment? The current administration, they don't even remember that the First Amendment exists. It's obviously about all of those things."

Moskal described Kurtz, whom he did not refer to by name, as cooperative when federal authorities descended on his house in moon suits, following the protocol for dealing with potentially hazardous materials. But Cambria said Kurtz initially felt "detained" and unable to walk away.

Moskal said Kurtz even turned over his house keys and gave authorities permission to look around. The FBI put Kurtz up in a hotel.

"I don't want to put the FBI in the light of being the social worker of the neighborhood," Moskal said. But "not to be lost in this was the fact that this person lost a spouse."

That's exactly why Claire Pentecost flew to be by Kurtz's side. A friend and fellow art professor at the School of the Art Institute of Chicago, Pentecost arrived in Buffalo the day after Hope Kurtz died to provide support.

She said the FBI had approached Kurtz a few hours earlier, telling him he was not under arrest, but that agents would not let them out of their sight all day.

"When I got here, the FBI picked me up at the airport with Steve in tow," Pentecost said. The agents began questioning her.

"They asked me kind of standard stuff like how long I had known him, could I explain the work of Critical Art Ensemble. ...They asked me if I had ever known him to advocate the overthrow of the U.S. government, to which I said, 'No, he doesn't think that way.'

"They asked me to characterize Steve's marriage. They asked me if I thought he could be a terrorist, and I have absolutely no doubt that he is not a terrorist."

The next day, while the two were in FBI headquarters in Buffalo, a lawyer they had contacted told them to leave, Pentecost recalled.

"They said, 'Oh, yeah, sure you can go,' " Pentecost said. "They were very, very nice to us, I'll say that."

Bacteria as art
From 1995 to 2002, Kurtz, 48, taught in Carnegie Mellon's art program and is remembered fondly by the school's head, Susanne Slavick. She described him as "brilliant" and "charismatic."

Slavick, whose partner is Andrew Johnson, the new faculty member who was subpoenaed to testify, described Kurtz's reputation as international in the field of "tactical media."

As a member of the Critical Art Ensemble, an artist's collective "dedicated to exploring the intersections between art, technology, radical politics and critical theory," according to the group's Web site, Kurtz helped design installations that call attention to social and scientific issues.

As for the use of bacteria or living organisms in art, Slavick said the phenomenon was becoming more commonplace -- strange, perhaps, to the uninitiated, but standard fare for segments of the arts community.

"All these artists are doing is investigating biology using the same parameters as pure science," said Murray Horne, curator of the Wood Street Galleries. "It's a niche at the moment, and it's very, very alive and it's going to grow more so."

In recent years, Horne's gallery exhibited transgenic artwork by genre pioneer Eduardo Kac of petri dishes with bacteria in them. The same artist was also involved in a project in which an albino rabbit was given a jellyfish gene that caused it to glow green under ultraviolet light.

In Kurtz's case, the equipment at his home was for a project called "Free Range Grain," according to an article Pentecost wrote for the Web. It "includes a mobile DNA extraction laboratory for testing food products for the presence of genetically modified organisms."

As for the bacteria taken from the house, no one can say with certainty what they were used for. But Pentecost said in that Web posting that they were for research on biological warfare and bioterrorism that Kurtz was conducting "to assess the actual danger these weapons pose and to bring U.S. policy on such threats into public dialogue.''

What crime?
What, if anything, did Steven Kurtz do wrong?

Cambria, his attorney, says absolutely nothing.

The FBI won't discuss what potential criminal charges it is exploring. But according to Cambria and Pentecost, who was called to testify before the grand jury, the subpoenas reveal the government is investigating possible violations of the U.S. Biological Weapons Anti-Terrorism Act, which makes it illegal to make, buy, sell, or possess biological agents for use as a weapon.

An expansion of the law under the Patriot Act lists certain people who are restricted from dealing in biological agents because of such things as mental illness, imprisonment, drug use and dishonorable discharge from the military.

"It appears that the government is looking in two areas. One is whether or not he's creating, using or possessing bacteria for terrorist purposes, which is patently ridiculous. That's one prong. And they've stated that the other prong is whether he and/or individuals ... unlawfully transferred the material to him," Cambria said.

Moskal, of the FBI, said the investigation had nothing to do with the Patriot Act. And even if it did, Cambria said, his client did not fall into any of those restricted categories.

"There is nothing that he acquired that he acquired unlawfully," Cambria said.

The case has led a global network of Kurtz's supporters to question whether the federal government is overreaching with post-9/11 zeal in an investigation of a legitimate and harmless artist, albeit one whose work with living organisms falls outside the mainstream. Some use adjectives like "Orwellian" and "Kafkaesque" to describe the situation.

The nation's artistic and scientific communities both are monitoring the case to gauge how the government's policies in the aftermath of 9/11 will affect their fields.

"Do we like the idea of the feds taking our art away? No. Who would?" said Nato Thompson, assistant curator of the Massachusetts Museum of Contemporary Art in North Adams, Mass. "It feels like this could easily have been anybody, any college-level biologist doing home projects."

Kurtz's supporters said the materials confiscated by the FBI were for an installation set to debut at the museum May 30. Now, Thompson said, there is an empty refrigerator awaiting materials for the exhibit that might never arrive, and a sign explaining their absence.

As for scientists, they are eager to see how the government defines "bona fide research," one of the acceptable uses of bacteria under the law.

"This is not an insignificant case for scientists," said Mark Frankel, director of the Scientific Freedom, Responsibility and Law Program for the American Association for the Advancement of Science. "It could have implications for how scientists might be treated or how the law might be interpreted or implemented."

It's Buffalo, too

When asked about the Kurtz case, Buffalo Acting Fire Commissioner Michael D'Orazio is quick to point out some history of his region.

He first mentioned the "Lackawanna Six," the group of Yemeni-American men from a Buffalo suburb who pleaded guilty to terrorism charges and training with al-Qaida before 9/11.

Then he touched on Oklahoma City federal building bomber Timothy McVeigh, who was from adjacent Niagara County.

Finally, D'Orazio noted that Buffalo is on the Department of Homeland Security's list of 30 high-threat urban areas in the country.

"Obviously," D'Orazio said, "we don't take this kind of stuff lightly."

"What really concerned us is that less than a month before, less than a block-and-a-half away, the president was in town to speak to first responders. I think that raised suspicions as well. If it was an overreaction, let the courts decide."



First published on June 20, 2004 at 12:00 am
Jonathan D. Silver can be reached at jsilver@post-gazette.com or 412-263-1962.