I noticed last week that the December issue of the magazine Seed has the short piece I mentioned I was working on a while back. I actually completely forgot about it, and just looked at it on the newsstand on the off-chance, and there it was. It is part of a larger cover story by Jonah Lehrer about science and art (which I’ve not yet read), with a number of other scientists giving their take. I was asked to contribute by picking a piece of art, and writing 100 (they said) words about how it connects to my science, Or I could talk about how a piece might have inspired me, or some combination of those sorts of things showing the intersection between science and art. It took me a while to come up with a short answer to this many-faceted and interesting issue. I actually did two completely separate pieces, before later focusing on one and polishing up the words for the magazine. and I’ll put the latter here (below), and later in the week the other will appear (probably over on Correlations). I’ll use the text I have here as I submitted it… I have not checked to see if it is identical to what appeared in the magazine yet. Go along and look at the magazine for the contributions from others. It is very interesting to see what pieces people chose, and why. What would you choose?
Tell us in the comments.
My choice:
Leonardo da Vinci, Study for the Virgin of the Rocks, c. 1485 (Click for larger view.) Leonardo da Vinci’s pencil study stunningly illustrates for me the key parallel between what an artist does and what I do. We’re striving for representation and expression, to capture some essential truth about our chosen subject with simplicity and economy. The piece firmly reminds me that my equations and diagrams are no more the world I’m trying to describe than the artist’s pencil strokes are the woman he drew. However, it shows me what is possible, despite that limitation. The woman that emerges from the simple pencil strokes is so alive that she stares into your soul. This is the lesson the piece taught me that continues to guide what I do: In capturing the universe, I must not confuse my equations with the real thing, but from the right ones some essential truths about nature will spring forth, transcending the mathematics and coming to life.
-cvj
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To add on… if I had to choose one work, I suppose I would choose “The Reading Girl,” which is a sculpture by Pierto Magni. (image- http://www.dtm.ciw.edu/ruedas/photos/washington/natgallery/readinggirl.html) It’s my favorite sculpture in the National Gallery of Art in Washington DC, in Zone 5 of the West Wing if anyone wants to track it down on their next visit. The detail is completely marvelous: standing next to this sculpture you can hardly believe that the chair isn’t actually made of wood, or that the pages in the girl’s book are not made of actual paper. I think science is a lot like carving a realistic statue out of marble because, while equations and models are not the real thing, they can leave you with a description so accurate that you are left with a very real depiction of the reality. And when you get that depiction, you cannot help but notice and be moved at the fact that that reality is incredibly beautiful.
I have a more personal motive here as well though. You can’t see it in the picture, but if you ever go see this statue in reality you will notice that the girl has a tear running down her cheek because she is so moved by what she is reading. And if I said I never felt anything but incredible passion on this subject, well, I’d be a complete liar.
Clifford:
Your encapsulation of modeling, Occam’s razor and incompleteness, as the parallels between this kind of art and theoretical science, was masterly!
I think I would have picked a Japanese painting, although I’m not sure which one. I once saw a painting that had a single branch in the foreground, and a waterfall way off in the distance. Other than some details on the branch (blossoms and whatnot), and two small outcrops on either side of the waterfall, the rest of the canvas was blank. Besides the inherent beauty and detail of the painting, I was impressed by how such a simple juxtaposition could create the illusion of great depth. That is, one felt like the tree branch was just a few feet away, while the waterfall was many miles off in the distance.
I’m not sure how I would relate this to my research, but the idea is essentially the same: that so much can emerge — in this case miles of depth — from just a few simple paint strokes.
Wow. I read that whole issue cover to cover when it arrived in the mail but never noticed your name attached with it! đ I do remember liking the da Vinci piece though, which is probably proof that I need to look at names more often.