Friday, December 11, 2009
Michele Brody
i was really inspired by her art work for i feel like she is dealing with a space in order to address technology and the environment.
michelebrody.com
Sunday, November 29, 2009
Friday, October 30, 2009
Tuesday, October 27, 2009
Sustainable Design
Saturday, October 10, 2009
in CategoryResearch Briefs | DateSep 21, 2009
Palustrine wetland with rooted emergent vegetation. Image credit, Howard Weamer.
Working in conservation, most of us have been trained to view biodiversity as an essential aspect of a successfully functioning ecosystem. But new research from wetland scientists at Halmstad University in Sweden challenges this common assumption. The study has provided evidence indicating that vegetative biodiversity in wetlands can actually inhibit nitrogen removal -- a desirable and vital wetland process. The study showed no support for vegetative biodiversity supporting ecosystem function.
One highly beneficial function of wetlands is their ability to remove nitrates from nutrient rich river water before it enters the ocean. For years, eutrophication has been a major environmental concern due to the fact that it causes numerous “dead zones” within our oceans. Wetlands filter out these nutrients preventing harmful algal blooms and preserving the dissolved oxygen for its rightful recipients: the aquatic fauna.
Methods
The study examined nitrogen removal (denitrification) and vegetative species diversity (Shannon diversity method) in 18 experimental wetlands. The researchers left six of those wetlands unplanted to develop freely. In six of the wetlands they added tall emergent vegetation (Phragmites australis, Glyceria maxima, & Phalaris arundinacea) and in the other six they added plantings of submerged vegetation (Elodea Canadensis, Myriophyllum alterniflorum, and Ceratphyllum demersum). An inlet pipe released water with 11 milligrams of total nitrogen per liter into the wetlands. Water escaping an outlet pipe was then tested for nitrogen concentrations. The wetlands were monitored over the course of 3 years.
Results
Although the unplanted wetlands initially had the lowest biodiversity, as the study progressed, the other twelve wetlands gradually became less and less diverse. Where the tall emergent species were planted, they ultimately dominated by outcompeting the previously established plants. While these wetlands became the least diverse, they contained the densest vegetation and the water leaving them contained lower nitrogen concentrations than the submerged vegetation wetlands (P < 0.001) or the free development wetlands (P = 0.002).
There are several explanations for these results: The tall vegetation wetlands (1) provided higher amounts of organic matter needed for the denitrifying bacteria, (2) offered more litter for the bacteria to attach to, and/or (3) contained dense vegetation that limited sunlight from reaching the water column, promoting anaerobic conditions necessary for the denitrification process.
Implications
While ecosystem managers commonly set a goal of species heterogeneity, low-diversity wetlands, dominated by tall plant life, seem to aid nitrogen removal. To eliminate detrimental nitrogen concentrations, managers may want to reconsider the common practice of thinning dominant species to promote biodiversity. This low-diversity may actually benefit ecosystem functioning!
--Reviewed by Evyan Borgnis
Weisner, Stefan, & Thiere, Geraldine (2009). Effects of vegetation state on biodiversity and nitrogen retention in created wetlands: a test of the biodiversity-ecosystem functioning hypothesis Freshwater Biology DOI: 10.1111/j.1365-2427.2009.02288.x
Fish and boxing gloveMeeting US goals for biofuel production will increase nutrient run-off to the Gulf of Mexico, making it more difficult to reduce the size of the gulf’s “dead zone,” scientists say in Environmental Science & Technology.
US energy policy dictates that 36 billion gallons of renewable fuel must be produced annually by 2022. But a task force led by the Environmental Protection Agency is also aiming to shrink the Gulf of Mexico’s hypoxic zone, a low-oxygen area that can reach 14,600 square kilometers. Excess nitrate from agricultural run-off is thought to play a large role in hypoxic zone formation, which kills and disrupts marine life each year.
The authors calculated the nitrate output of various crop combinations that could be used to meet the US biofuels mandate. Relying on crops for cellulosic ethanol, such as switchgrass, rather than corn would cut nitrate output by 20 percent, they found. But that still wouldn’t be enough to reach the EPA’s goal of reducing the hypoxic zone to 5,000 square kilometers by 2015, the team concluded.
To meet that target, the US will need to undertake an “aggressive nutrient management strategy,” they say. Possible solutions could include constructing wetlands or building buffer zones to intercept run-off. – Roberta Kwok
Source: Costello, C., Griffin, W., Landis, A., & Matthews, H. (2009). Impact of Biofuel Crop Production on the Formation of Hypoxia in the Gulf of Mexico Environmental Science & Technology DOI: 10.1021/es9011433
Image © MichaelUtech, iStockPhoto.com
Filed Under Marine, Socio-political issues |
in CategoryResearch Briefs | DateSep 23, 2009
Kawai Nui Marsh, sunset. Image credit, Jason Turse.A new study compares natural wetlands in Hawai‘i against those that have been restored and created. While all three wetland types had similar vegetation characteristics, natural wetlands had very different soil properties. These results indicate that wetlands created and restored as compensatory mitigation under the Clean Water Act may not adequately replace the function of natural wetlands lost to development.
The study is also important because it represents the first assessment of costal lowland wetlands in Hawai‘i. Invasive species dominated the vegetation cover in natural, created, and restored wetlands. According to the researchers:
"Our findings suggest that the vegetation of costal low wetlands in Hawai‘i needs more intensive management and invasive species control. These results also suggest that it may be difficult to use vegetation to locate ‘‘reference’’ sites for costal lowland wetlands in Hawai‘i due to the pervasive nature of invasive species regardless of wetland status. From a management perspective, however, there are a few sites (e.g., Lawai Kai, Nu‘u, Kamilo Point) that have mostly native vegetation and could be considered the least-impacted."
From a global perspective, this research adds to a growing list of studies showing that restored and created wetlands do not replace soil properties of natural wetlands. This study found that natural wetland had lower bulk density and pH and higher soil organic matter, silt, total nitrogen and total carbon versus created and restored wetlands.
The researchers list the likely explanations for the differences in soil properties:
1) The use of heavy machinery in wetland creation and restoration leads to compaction of soils, resulting in higher bulk densities.
2) Higher bulk density and lower soil organic may be an artifact of excavation into subsurface soil horizons that are compacted and have lower organic matter content.
3) Organic matter accumulation is a function of time, established vegetation, and hydrology. Organic matter accumulation is favored in natural wetlands due to the inhibition of decomposition caused by the long-term anaerobic conditions typical of natural wetlands.
4) The low pH and high total carbon and total nitrogen values observed in natural wetlands were likely the result of saturated soils, low oxygen levels, and subsequent inhibition of organic matter decomposition.
The study offers the following recommendations for wetland mitigation:
1) An effective method for reducing soil compaction of created and restored wetlands is to use a chisel plow to mechanically rip both the topsoil and subsoil layers, prior to planting.
2) Amendments such as compost, mulch, or other organic material have proven to be effective methods for increasing soil moisture.
3) Due to the greater similarities between the soil properties of natural and restored wetlands, it will likely take longer for created wetlands to develop functions characteristic of natural wetlands. Therefore, given the option between restoration and creation, restoration should be the preferred mitigation option in Hawai‘i.
--Reviewed by Rob Goldstein
Bantilan-Smith, M., Bruland, G., MacKenzie, R., Henry, A., & Ryder, C. (2009). A Comparison of the Vegetation and Soils of Natural, Restored, and Created Coastal Lowland Wetlands in Hawai‘i Wetlands, 29 (3), 1023-1035 DOI: 10.1672/08-127.1
* ShareThis
Dave Munger Dave Munger is editor of ResearchBlogging.org. He also blogs at Cognitive Daily. Each week, he writes about emerging trends
in research from across the blogosphere. See previous
Research Blogging columns »
Each year in April and May as farmers in the central US fertilize their crops, nearly 450 thousand metric tons of nitrates and phosphates pour down the Mississippi River. When these chemicals reach the Gulf of Mexico, they cause a feeding frenzy as photosynthetic algae absorb the nutrients. It’s a boom-and-bust cycle of epic proportions: The algae populations grow explosively, then die and decompose. This process depletes the water of oxygen on a vast scale, creating a suffocating “dead zone” the size of Massachusetts where few, if any, animals can survive.
The EPA has been working to reduce the size of the dead zone, with a goal of shrinking it to about 5,000 square kilometers—a quarter of its current size—by 2015. But a new study in Environmental Science & Technology shows that other efforts to preserve the environment may be exacerbating the dead zone. Kristopher Hite, a graduate student in biochemistry at Colorado State University, explains the implications of the study on his blog, Tom Paine’s Ghost.
The study examined the implications of a 2007 law that requires the US to annually produce 36 billion gallons of biofuels by 2022. Barring major biofuel production breakthroughs from sources like algae or microbes, most of this fuel will come from crops grown in the central US; the fertilizers and other agricultural waste they produce will flow straight down the Mississippi and feed the dead zone. Hite says the study, led by Christine Costello, found that meeting this goal will make it impossible for the EPA to reach its target reduction in the size of the dead zone. Even if fertilizer-intensive corn is replaced with more eco-friendly crops like switchgrass, the vast increase in agricultural production will cause the dead zone to grow unless preventive measures are taken.
So what can be done about it? The Society for Conservation Biology suggests that increasing the size of wetlands or other buffer zones around the source of the pollution—the farms themselves—could help.
Unfortunately, artificial wetlands have their own negative ecological side effects. As this post at Conservation Maven shows, some created wetlands are dominated by invasive species. Apparently, the heavy equipment used to build the sites also compacts the soil in a way that makes it more difficult for native species to flourish.
But not all human-made wetlands are bad. Conservation Maven also points to a Swedish study which found that less-diverse wetlands dominated by tall plants are actually more efficient at removing nitrogen from runoff than many other sites. So creating wetlands can be a very effective means of removing pollutants from water, even if local biodiversity suffers. The current pace of biofuel development, however, exceeds the capacity of available wetlands.
More on ecology at Researchblogging.org:
* The dangers of rhododendrons: A beautiful mountain shrub may contribute to landslides.
* What are the limits to growth? A 2008 study revisits a 1972 book that made dire predictions about the impact of human civilization on the planet.
* The water footprint of coffee: How much water does it take to make a cup of coffee? It depends on where (and how) the coffee is grown.
Hite remains an optimist, pointing to new technology that uses fungi to convert the cellulose in wood chips, corn stalks, and other agricultural “waste” into biofuels. If this can be done efficiently, we could eventually harvest several times more energy from the same amount of cropland. Even while acknowledging that we may still face problems like the Gulf’s dead zone, Hite believes that ultimately technology can help us prevent greater ecological disasters like global warming.
But should Hite even be making this case? How do we decide whether it’s ecologically sensible to produce biofuels or build wetlands? Some have argued that the advocacy of scientists like Hite and websites like Conservation Maven is misplaced. Shouldn’t scientists just be interested in giving us the facts, staying removed from policy decisions and letting the general public and politicians decide how to act? Doesn’t becoming an advocate introduce bias into the scientific process, potentially tarnishing results?
James Hrynyshyn is a freelance journalist and unapologetic environmental advocate who says that many of the best scientists, from Albert Einstein, to Carl Sagan, to NASA’s James Hansen, have also been important policy advocates. On his blog, The Island of Doubt, Hrynyshyn cites a May paper in Conservation Biology by Michael Nelson and John Vucetich, who argue that scientists’ advocacy positions can easily be separated from scientific truths. For instance, late in his life the great chemist Linus Pauling damaged his reputation by peddling vitamin C as a cure-all, but that didn’t take away from his earlier scientific contributions, for which he won two Nobel prizes.
More importantly, Hrynyshyn says, it’s unfair and unwise to restrict individuals—who are interested citizens as well as working scientists—from participating in the political process, especially when those individuals have knowledge and expertise that applies directly to important problems. Conservation biologists can both alert us to potential ecological disasters and offer insight into how to solve them. Why not tap their expertise to help form policy decisions?
There’s much more discussion of ecology—and ecologists’ role in creating environmental policy—at ResearchBlogging.org.
Tags
Monday, October 5, 2009
"My commitment is to revitalize ecosystems while providing pleasure and raising awareness that the vitality of any community and the continuity of its cultural heritage depends upon the health of the natural world that embraces it.
HUMBLE: [< L. humilis low, small, slight, akin to humus, soil, earth (see HUMUS)]
HUMUS: [L. earth, ground, soil < IE. * ghom-: see HOMAGE]
HOMAGE: [< L. homo, a man , IE. *ghom-, < base *gtheim-, earth, ground, whence L. humus, Gr. chthon, earth, OE. guma man]
More than many environmental artists, the work of Brandon Ballengée bridges the gap between research biology and art. He combines a fascination with fish and amphibians with the techniques of commercial art photography.
In 1996 Ballengée began collaborating with scientists to create hybrid environmental art/ ecological research projects. Since then he has had numerous exhibitions nationally and internationally in which he presents photographs and biological samples of the creatures he collects. He is involved directly with field research and uses the visual impact of science to engage the public in a discussion of broader environmental issues.
Originally from Alabama, Jane Ingram Allen has specialized in decomposable indoor and outdoor mixed media installations using handmade paper, found natural materials and native seeds. Her multi-part structures invite participation from visitors, schoolchildren, wildlife and the weather and are designed for museums, parks and unconventional sites throughout the USA, Japan, Philippines and Taiwan.
Jane Ingram Allen often works with artists, her son Chris Allen - a jazz composer and trombonist, and volunteers of all ages to create her site-specific installations. She often combines these with workshops to teach participants how to make handmade paper using locally available plant materials. Public projects have involved placing colorful bird sculptures representing a wide variety of species made from handmade paper pulp for temporary art installations along buildings in downtown Schenectady, NY and other locations.
Other projects such as "Disappearing Boundary" (1996) consisted of a fence made of fallen branches and handmade paper with wildflower seeds in it. The paper components were designed to dissolve in the rain over time, dropping seeds along a plowed line of earth beneath the fence structure. "The line of wildflowers that emerges will also gradually disappear as theyHow does art inform technology to progress?
How does technology inform art?
What resinates with artist when creating art about nature?
Why are artists drawn to environmental issues?
What experience do artist need in order to have a connection to nature?
Will science alone be able to solve the issues of the environment?
How will art assist in the aid of the environment?
Friday, September 4, 2009
ALEXIS ROCKMAN’S LATEST EXHIBIT PORTRAYS APSYCHEDELIC, POSTHUMAN NATURAL WORLD WHERE OUR FAILINGS HORRIFY BUT ULTIMATELY INSPIRE US.
CLICK FOR SLIDESHOW Blow Flies by Alexis Rockman. Courtesy Nyehaus
Alexis Rockman’s latest exhibit Half-life, up at New York City’s Nyehaus gallery through April 18, is a perverse kind of escape hatch for dark times. Lose yourself here for an afternoon and you’ll experience a happy, hallucinatory netherworld where the natural and the nonhuman persevere despite or perhaps because of the missteps of humanity. Of course, any kind of optimistic takeaway is probably accidental. Rockman is best known for his 2004 mural at the Brooklyn Museum, Manifest Destiny, which painstakingly depicts how global warming will capsize Manhattan and destroy civilization within 300 years. Rockman is eternally cynical about humanity; he sees his role as an artist as providing dark but beautiful reminders that we’re bound by a biological contract. Break the laws of nature, and we suffer, a Rockman painting says. As he told us in a 2004Salon with Neil deGrasse Tyson: “I guess I’m interested in bad news. That’s my role, because no one else was willing to do it.”
But Half-Life seems more ambiguously apocalyptic than Rockman’s previous work. The paintings, all gargantuan, wall-eating expanses, riff on the work of Morris Louis, a famous abstract expressionist whose canvases of rainbows and rectangles of color were, to many, the apotheosis of the free-thinking spirit of the West during the Cold War. Over Louis’s rainbows and rectangles, Rockman has laid his trademark, hyper-detailed biological forms — Adelie penguins, mosquitoes, mutant Gerber daisies, ants, rabbits. The two layers — the often-distorted natural world against wild streaks of color — suggest the hope of modern society and its ultimate failings. But neither side of the relationship seems to dominate. Abstract painting glorified “modernism, technology, and capitalism,” Rockman explains, but “obviously there’s a toxic, dark side to that.”
Related
The Sleep of Reason
Bruce Sterling on Rockman’s Half-life.
Seed Salon: Alexis Rockman + Neil deGrasse Tyson
The artist and astrophysicist in conversation.
In Gerbera Daisies, a rabbit and a flower draped in streams of yellow and hunter green is first ingested as transcendentally sunny, but a closer look at the canvas reveals that the bunny has three ears and the flower is not quite right. “In my mind, that had to do with mutation and pesticides,” says Rockman. “The idea of the perfect lawn.” Although the painting seems fundamentally critical of biotechnology, Rockman says that he believes that we’re biologically driven to strive for the perfect lawn because it reminds us of the savannahs we evolved on. Half-life suggests that we should embrace our good intentions while staring their mutant byproducts square in the face.
Design pioneer, neo-futurist, and novelist Bruce Sterling reflects on Half-life’s tug-of-war between human hope and failure in The Sleep of Reason, an essay the gallery commissioned to accompany the exhibit. In it, Sterling portrays Rockman as an alligator at a watering hole. “Though he is known for the searing clarity of his paintings, there are things below the waterline that he does not paint,” Sterling writes. “He decided, as an act of deliberate will, to maintain his amphibious ambiguity. An ambiguity about the boundary of man and animal. An ambiguity about the borders of nature and artifice. Of art, of science.”
Rockman started this series two years ago, before the current economic crisis. So while the work has an uncanny timeliness to it, it’s almost as if he had the foresight to know this moment would not call for another Manifest Destiny — or any other detailed illustration of our failings. Half-life has just enough of the good stuff, enough reminders of the beauty and hope of humanity to hang a life raft on.
SABELLA KIRKLAND’S LIFE-SIZE PAINTINGS OF EXOTIC, RECENTLY DISCOVERED SPECIES CAPTURE A WORLD CAUGHT BETWEEN THE JOYS OF DISCOVERY AND THE THREAT OF IMMINENT LOSS.
CLICK TO ENLARGE. NOVA: Understory. Credit: Isabella Kirkland
Throughout my career in biology, I’ve often cited the Australian gastric brooding frog as a marvel of evolutionary adaptation: The mother frog swallows her eggs, develops her tadpoles in her stomach, and regurgitates them at maturity. Discovered in the 1970s, this bizarre frog was unable to adapt to changes in its environment and was known to science for barely a decade before becoming extinct.
Artist Isabella Kirkland’s meticulous oil paintings revisit this bittersweet tension between discovery and loss. Each life-size panel in her ongoing NOVA series includes dozens of species, from mammals and birds to insects and plants, all of which have been discovered by science in the past 20 years. NOVA: Understory (2007) depicts a sunlit paradise filled with 58 of these exotic new species, from the Panay cloudrunner to the sharp-snouted bush frog of Borneo, all reflected in a detailed taxonomic key. Understory is a celebration of biodiversity and a tribute to the enlightening power of science, but there’s a snake in the garden. Several continents’ worth of species appear crammed together, predators beside prey, ominously evoking the untenable concentration of species into dwindling islands of habitat. Kirkland’s previous series, TAXA, memorialized species endangered or driven to extinction by human activities. Understory prompts us to ask, will these species be next?
In many regards, the message of Understory is reminiscent of 17th- and 18th-century cabinets of curiosities, rooms in which European collectors gathered rare and newly discovered specimens, arranging them in beautiful tableaux. Cabinets of curiosities demonstrated the wealth and power of their noble patrons and the successful imposition of taxonomic order on nature, and they served as tools for teaching and study. Just as curiosity cabinets were organized in idiosyncratic but logical ways that reflected the worldviews of their creators, Kirkland’s NOVA series groups together species from diverse geographic regions by habitat in order to emphasize their shared ecological plight. The branching tree at the heart of Understory, which resembles a phylogenetic tree or cladogram, reiterates the themes of order and commonality. And like the naturalists and collectors who filled the original curiosity cabinets hundreds of years ago, Kirkland, a former taxidermist, also traveled the world to study and sketch her subjects.
Understory also has much in common with the Renaissance-era Wunderkammern, or wonder cabinets, which predate curiosity cabinets and emphasized awe over taxonomy and logic. The viewer is delighted with sumptuous visual elements like shafts of stunning golden light, graceful birds and butterflies, and countless hidden treasures, including a suntiger tarantula, a green pit viper camouflaged by leaves, and a tiny Peruvian bird called Lulu’s Body-Tyrant. If these beautiful species have all just been found, the painting makes us eager to know what wonders we are yet to find.
So what is the lesson of Understory? Is it a wonder cabinet, bearing witness to the marvels of nature, or a curiosity cabinet, glorifying logical order and the power of science? Perhaps it transcends both. Biological specimens inevitably decay and fade; art, on the other hand, can preserve not just the body in stunning detail, but also the spirit, grace, and emotional impact of biological forms. The birds in Kirkland’s painting, for example, will remain vital, eyes sparkling and plumage unfaded, when their living prototypes are long extinct. And unlike cabinets of wonder or curiosity, art has the potential to make nature’s rarities accessible to a wider public.
By marrying biology and artistry, Understory conveys the reality of extinction in a way that may drive us to care if it might not already be too late. To paraphrase the poet W.B. Yeats in “Sailing to Byzantium,” Understory sings to us of what is past, and passing, and to come. It represents a moment that is likely to be brief: a moment when the euphoria of scientific discovery still outweighs the losses driven by our unrepentantly techno-optimistic culture. Can paintings like Kirkland’s motivate us toward change as extinctions accelerate? Or will Understory turn out to be a trophy of shame — a memorial to foreseen losses that might have been avoided? — Jessica Palmer is a biologist and artist. She blogs at Bioephemera for ScienceBlogs.
N CREATING HER NEW SERIES, PAREIDOLIA, ARTIST AND CHEMIST VESNA JOVANOVIC DETECTED BIOMORPHIC AND MEDICAL FORMS IN BLOTS OF INK.
New Mitosis; Vesna Jovanovic, 2009
I spent my formative years in the Mediterranean, where I was surrounded by unusual plants, insects, sea creatures, and rock formations. As an inherently curious and creative person, I began drawing and painting, as well as pressing leaves, collecting seashells, and storing various pods and seeds in jars. In addition to my established interest in pursuing art as a career, I eventually became seriously intrigued by science, particularly chemistry, and went on to pursue a double degree in art and chemistry as an undergraduate at Loyola University Chicago.
Art and science are generally considered very separate today; they have very different connotations, even stereotypes associated with them. Yet I find that my interest in these two fields stems from the same place: a deep curiosity about the world and the human position within it. Ironically, one of my biggest frustrations as an art student was the accuracy and precision that I could not let go of. I wanted to work more from the imagination, to leave some things to chance; I wanted to create opportunities for unpredictability and serendipity—for numerous “happy accidents.”
In 2002, I enrolled in an advanced drawing course at The School of the Art Institute of Chicago. This course took me in the direction that eventually led to the series of drawings that I am working on today. One of the assignments was to create an inkblot and then use it as a guide for drawing. Initially, I struggled with the imagery. I tried projecting landscapes, human figures, animals…but they all seemed forced. One day something materialized more unaffectedly and effortlessly. In the curved streams of spilled ink, I began to see flasks and rubber tubing.
I continued developing these drawings beyond my time at SAIC. I began experimenting with various types of papers and inks and a range of new methods of applying ink to paper (spilling, sponging, blotting, and even masking certain areas and then spilling more ink over them). As my drawings developed, my glassware and tubing began turning into veins, intestines, and neurons. This probably happened as a result of the organic nature of the ink; the curved lines and streams were becoming increasingly reminiscent of biomorphic forms. I eventually titled the series Pareidolia, a term used to describe the psychological phenomenon of recognizing specific, identifiable forms in otherwise random stimuli. Common examples of pareidolia are the recognition of animals in clouds or faces in wood grain, and it is the basis of the Rorschach test, the series of inkblots used by psychologists to gain insight into a patient’s mental state.
One of my more recent pieces, “New Mitosis,” [Shown Above] began as a spill of diluted black ink on the left side of a large (66cm x 101cm) sheet of watercolor paper, which I folded along the vertical axis to blot the ink and then pipetted six droplets of my favorite brown ink on top. The ink seemed to come from a batch with a factory defect: It looked more red than brown, had lumps of some sort of precipitate, separated into two liquids, and acted quite unpredictably when combined with other media (branching out, spilling unevenly, streaming in unexpected directions). If I had come across this ink before I began working on the Pareidolia series, I probably would have dumped the ink and bought a new bottle. But with time and experience I have learned the value of pausing to consider, at least for a quick moment, if anything could benefit from what appears to be a problem or mistake. I believe that it is these moments of apparent setbacks that are actually some of the most valuable in both art and science. They break the normal flow of events, introducing a junction that can lead to greater, more significant discoveries.
Once the ink dried, the translucent gray tone reminded me of glass, metal, and smoke. I began drawing imaginary devices with ball bearings, glass bulbs, and cables, choosing to leave the red droplets unresolved. The symmetrical nature of the inkblot gave the finished drawing the look of being stretched and split across the center of the paper. I also noticed that the untouched red spots obscured the scale of the image. Despite the glassware and tubing around them, the red spots suggested a microscopic scale, specifically a group of cells. This combination is what ultimately led to the title for the piece, “New Mitosis.” I imagined this scenario as a set of cells splitting with the help or intervention of some strange, mysterious equipment, and the piece began to inadvertently evoke questions about biotechnology and genetic research.
Science in our society is a key source of information about the world—conversely a source of awe, admiration, and fear (the way religion once was). Pareidolia conveys both the curiosity and fear that are often associated with scientific research; the chaos of spilled ink is seen in contrast with the detailed and calculated, yet absurd configurations of tubing and glassware drawn on top of it. In a sense, I have created my own Rorschach test—one that that had tapped into my deep-rooted attraction to the chemistry lab, both visually and conceptually. Ultimately, I find that science and art are complementary to each other and equally important in social significance and function. Science strives to provide answers about the world, while art strives to inspire questions.