NORTH ADAMS -- Where a bustling laboratory would have unmasked the genetic secrets of tortilla chips and cereal, the room is quiet. The refrigerator is bare.
And the patrons who stream through the Massachusetts Museum of Contemporary Art are informed that one of its planned exhibits has been seized by the FBI.
The tale began last month in Buffalo with a frantic call to 911 when artist Steven Kurtz's 45-year-old wife died of cardiac arrest in her sleep. The paramedics who responded were alarmed by Kurtz's laboratory, where he kept a machine for analyzing the genetic makeup of food, along with various strains of bacteria.
Kurtz's work was confiscated. The exhibit he and his colleagues had prepared for MASS MoCA was canceled. And at least eight other artists have been called before a federal grand jury. Supporters who have created a defense fund for Kurtz say they believe he is being investigated for possession of biological agents.
Late last month, two artists who headed to MASS MoCA for an exhibit opening were subpoenaed by FBI agents in the hallways of the local Holiday Inn. "We're in North Adams, Mass.," said Nato Thompson, the exhibit's curator. "We don't get a lot of visits by the FBI."
Since the grand jury convened, artists around the world have condemned the investigation as an overzealous response to fears of terrorism and an attempt to stifle free speech. Protesters, carrying signs that read "Do Not Fear Art," and "Freedom is Knowledge," have rallied in San Francisco, Vienna, and Amsterdam.
At least eight other artists have been summoned to appear before the grand jury, which Kurtz's group, the Critical Art Ensemble, believes is scheduled to hear testimony at least through today. Kurtz, a professor at the State University of New York at Buffalo, has not been arrested. Since the grand jury process is secret, his supporters know few details about the federal investigation.
"We felt this was a giant misunderstanding, that they had mistaken his lab for a bioterrorist lab, that once they had looked into his record, they would realize that this was part of his work and they'd say, 'I'm sorry,' and things would go on," Thompson said.
Members of the Critical Art Ensemble suspect that Kurtz is being investigated because of three bacteria he had in his house. The group argues that those bacteria -- E. coli, Bacillus globigii, and Serratia marcescens -- are harmless and were purchased legally.
Dr. Alfred DeMaria, director of communicable disease control for the Massachusetts Department of Public Health, said the bacteria are common. "Those three organisms present very little risk," he said. "They're the kind of bacteria that's all over us, on us, in us, on surfaces."
The bacteria could cause an infection if they came in contact with an open wound or with people whose immune systems are compromised, he said.
Kurtz isn't giving interviews, and his lawyer, Paul J. Cambria Jr., did not return phone calls from the Globe. Authorities determined that his wife died naturally from cardiac arrest.
Kurtz is not the kind of artist whose work hangs above a fireplace mantle. The Critical Art Ensemble pokes around the nexus of technology and politics. Its exhibit "Free Range Grain" would have opened last month at MASS MoCA, with patrons bringing by food labeled "organic." Kurtz and his colleagues planned to analyze the food with a portable DNA extraction laboratory for genetically modified organisms and post the results.
Paul Moskal, special agent for the Buffalo office of the FBI, bristles at the notion that the investigation was overreaching. A federal judge agreed to issue the search warrant for Kurtz's house, he said.
"Certainly, these days we need to err on the side of caution," Moskal said. "This wasn't some knee-jerk reaction on the side of law enforcement."
Agents in white protective suits who lumbered through Kurtz's house and carted away evidence were hosed off when their work was done. Moskal said Kurtz cooperated with the investigation and gave authorities the keys to his house. While Kurtz was unable to return home for several days, the FBI agreed to put him up in a nearby hotel.
The agents even fed and gave water to Kurtz's cat, who was wandering freely in and out of the house, Moskal said. "The cat was not under house arrest," he said.
In North Adams, "Free Range Grain" would have been part of a larger MASS MoCA show called "The Experimental University," which examines ways to engage both artists and the public in complex sciences. Kurtz came to the show's opening in late May, even though much of his exhibit is still held by the FBI.
"To see this vast blank spot in the exhibit that should have been the Critical Art Ensemble's project, we all sort of stood around in dumbfounded disbelief," said Natalie Jeremijenko, a professor of visual arts at the University of California at San Diego.
In a museum filled with surreal exhibits and political statements -- one piece argues that North Adams is, in fact, Mexico City -- not all the museumgoers took the sign explaining the missing exhibit as literal truth. To clarify that Kurtz's travails were real, Thompson posted newspaper stories about the federal investigation.
Some patrons wandering through on a recent day looked puzzled as they read the explanatory sign in the empty gallery. "I just thought it was disappointing that I couldn't see what the government found so threatening," said Moira Boag of Manhattan. "It's art, for God's sake."
Kathleen Burge can be reached at kburge@globe.com.![]()