Like many women in science of previous centuries, Anna Atkins (1799-1871) had the immense advantage of an educated father. John George Children was a prominent scientist and member of the Royal Society, and Atkins grew up in a house with a fully equipped laboratory. Children, a gentleman polymath, gave his name to a snake (Children’s Python) and a mineral (childrenite), but more importantly to Atkins, he was friends with two pioneers of photography - Sir John Herschel and William Henry Fox Talbot.
It was Herschel who pioneered the use of iron salts in photographic chemistry, inventing the now-familiar blueprint (or cyanotype). Shortly after Herschel’s invention of the blueprint method in 1842, Atkins used the method to document specimens of algae in a limited edition book, Photographs of British Algae. This book is both the first extant photographic work by a woman, and the first book produced entirely by photographic means.
To capture these images, Atkins did not use a camera: she employed what Talbot called the “photogenic drawing technique,” laying specimens directly on a plate of glass over a sheet of photoreactive paper, then exposing them to light. (Later, this type of print would become known as a “photogram.”) This method enabled Atkins to make large numbers of identical prints. She even used it to reproduce the introduction and title page of the book from handwritten calligraphy, instead of setting type in the conventional manner.
The New York Public Library has the entire book available online in digital form. The images are ghostly and delicate, relics of another era. As a watercolorist, I find them especially interesting: the deep iron blue pigment created by the blueprint process is Prussian Blue (PB27), my favorite watercolor blue - both for its patinated, weathered tone, and its moody depth, which has always reminded me of the sea.
The photogram method is still popular among contemporary photographers and artists; for a sampling, see the “rayographs” of Man Ray, the water images of Susan Derges, the empty bottle series of Susannah Hayes, body images by Tomy Ceballos, or go directly to this comprehensive list of photogram artists.
Hungry Hyaena has a thoughtful post on plagiarism, intellectual property, and the artist’s perspective on information saturation:
Artists are turning to the symbolic and the approximate in an effort to render experience comprehensible. Certainly this is an important, even vital process but it amounts to reductionism and, as such, there is some risk involved. What’s lost in an abridged reality?
Plagiarism, an issue both practical and philosophical, polarizes the art community. Copyrightprotects artists who support themselves by marketing exclusive reproductions of their work. Such artists are becoming increasingly vocal in defense of their rights
On the other hand, art is a tradition of responding to, appropriating, and reimagining visual influences. How unlike its inspiration must a painting be, to be “original?” What about references? Collage? Warhol and Lichtenstein? Fan art? In a modern context, what exactly is plagiarism?
Wouldn’t it be nice if you could just buy some favorable peer reviews for your latest paper? In the world of vanity self-publishing, Slate reports, you can not only buy praise, you can suggest improvements to your review.
Give your book instant credibility and attention with a book review by New York Times bestselling author, Ellen Tanner Marsh. . . From this marketing-style review, you can pull the most descriptive and alluring quote and place it on the back cover of your book and any other marketing materials you create.
Mmmm, descriptive and alluring. I wonder if she reviews blogs?
Update: Microsoft is now getting a hard time for buying reviews, too - although in this case, the reviews were to be part of Wikipedia entries. Ouch. To be fair, the blogger asked to edit the entries was an outside expert, not a Microsoft employee, and everyone knows Wikipedia is (unfortunately) rife with nonobjectivity. But that doesn’t make it ok. There is an implicit expectation of partisanship when a review is paid for. (Booksurge simply made those expectations explicit).
If the Microsoft whiz who thought this up had ever been involved in the scientific peer review process, including the extensive (but likely insufficient) precautions meant to prevent the backers of a study from exerting undue influence on the outcome, the problem should have been obvious. Perfect objectivity may be a chimera, but in science, its pursuit is required.
If I had to make a choice between Macs and Legos as commercial objects of devotion, I think my head would explode. I adore my Mac, I love my iPod, but as a child, Legos were my life. Even now, I still envision simple math problems as stacks of onesies, twosies, and sixers.
I always had suspicions that they’d turned me a little “science-y.” Now I have proof of their technological agenda! Check out their latest ad:
This is a screenshot from a wonderful anatomy learning tool, Artnatomy, by artist and educator Victoria Contreras Flores. It’s meant to teach facial anatomy in a Fine Arts context, but would work equally well in an introductory A&P course.
Teaching the facial muscles is a pain because they’re so small - you can’t really see them on a cat. On the human cadaver, they resemble thin sheets of jerky (well, they do! Sorry!) Plus, unlike the uncomplicated bicep, they function in some very complex facial expressions. Artnatomy shows you which muscles contribute to express an emotion like “irony” (above), which makes it much easier to remember each muscle’s position and function.
If you have a minute, though, check out the simulation of “pleasure.” There’s something a little odd about that one. At least to me.
It’s Edgar Allan Poe’s birthday today, so the poem of the week must be his. Sadly, Poe did not seem to have a cuddly relationship with science. He’s downright accusatory:
Science! true daughter of Old Time thou art!
Who alterest all things with thy peering eyes.
Why preyest thou thus upon the poet’s heart,
Vulture, whose wings are dull realities?
How should he love thee? or how deem thee wise,
Who wouldst not leave him in his wandering
To seek for treasure in the jewelled skies,
Albeit he soared with an undaunted wing?
Hast thou not dragged Diana from her car,
And driven the Hamadryad from the wood
To seek a shelter in some happier star?
Hast thou not torn the Naiad from her flood,
The Elfin from the green grass, and from me
The summer dream beneath the tamarind tree?
Ouch! But Poe doth protest too much; he was fascinated by science (and pseudoscience). He seems to have been well-versed in the scientific thought of his time, and wrote a long “prose poem” called Eureka which proposed a mechanism for the creation of the universe very similar to the Big Bang. It’s a strange experience, reading Poe on Newton!
Here’s a taste:
Discarding now the two equivocal terms, “gravitation” and “electricity,” let us adopt the more definite expressions, “attraction” and “repulsion.” The former is the body; the latter the soul: the one is the material; the other the spiritual, principle of the Universe. No other principles exist. All phaenomena are referable to one, or to the other, or to both combined. So rigorously is this the case — so thoroughly demonstrable is it that attraction and repulsion are the sole properties through which we perceive the Universe — in other words, by which Matter is manifested to Mind — that, for all merely argumentative purposes, we are fully justified in assuming that matter exists only as attraction and repulsion — that attraction and repulsion are matter: — there being no conceivable case in which we may not employ the term “matter” and the terms “attraction” and “repulsion,” taken together, as equivalent, and therefore convertible, expressions in Logic.
I said, just now, that what I have described as the tendency of the diffused atoms to return into their original unity, would be understood as the principle of the Newtonian law of gravity: and, in fact, there can be but little difficulty in such an understanding, if we look at the Newtonian gravity in a merely general view, as a force impelling matter to seek matter; that is to say, when we pay no attention to the known modus operandi of the Newtonian force. The general coincidence satisfies us; but, upon looking closely, we see, in detail, much that appears in coincident, and much in regard to which no coincidence, at least, is established. For example; the Newtonian gravity, when we think of it in certain moods, does not seem to be a tendency to oneness at all, but rather a tendency of all bodies in all directions — a phrase apparently expressive of a tendency to diffusion. Here, then, is an in coincidence. Again; when we reflect on the mathematical LAW governing the Newtonian tendency, we see clearly that no coincidence has been made good, in respect of the modus operandi, at least, between gravitation as known to exist and that seemingly simple and direct tendency which I have assumed.
In fact, I have attained a point at which it will be advisable to strengthen my position by reversing my processes. So far, we have gone on a priori, from an abstract consideration of Simplicity, as that quality most likely to have characterized the original action of God. Let us now see whether the established facts of the Newtonian Gravitation may not afford us, a posteriori, some legitimate inductions. . .
Bisbiglio d’Amaranto Adam Wallacavage, 2006
Mixed media, epoxy resin coated cast plaster with lamp parts
Welcome to Captain Nemo’s dining room!
I’ve capitulated, and created a new post category: cephalopodmania. Where else can I file the unique work of Adam Wallacavage? Check out his octopus chandeliers on his MySpace page or the Jonathan Levine Gallery. It looks like you can still purchase this fuschia beauty — if you have $10K in your renovation budget.
A few days ago, a friend complained to me that mythological and literary references have slipped out of mainstream culture. I think it’s often true of current art as well - historical or mythological motifs are shunned as stodgy, stale or a tad pretentious (oh no!). If so, someone didn’t tell Colette Calascione. Her portraiture ranges from vibrant pin-up interpretations of Leda and Persephone, to surreal reimaginings of old photographs and the Old Masters. A strong current of Victorian-style naturalism and the theme of gender identity unify her recent works.
When I was a graduate student, I fed crack cocaine to mutant fruit flies. I don’t think they really enjoyed it - they convulsed and died. But even so, I was moved by nostalgia when a friend sent me this fabulous YouTube video.
Just pretend it’s David Attenborough narrating, and enjoy!
You may have already seen this, because it’s been uploaded to YouTube several dozen times. It turns out there’s a story behind that. Check out this article by director Andrew Struthers on the wacky perils of internet film release.
Coturnix over at A Blog Around the Clock has just finished editing the new anthology of science blogging. Through the mercurial quickness of on-demand publishing, the book is available as a physical object through Lulu less than a month after its conception. Astonishing, really.
Some of the praiseworthy posts that were included:
I didn’t see a single post listed that wasn’t worth reading. The excellence of the science blogosphere is a little scary. The cover art is also outstanding - it’s like a DNA playground slide with happy molecules playing on it. Aw! Unfortunately I don’t know the name of the artist, but great work.
So why buy this anthology, rather than browsing the blogs? Well, I hope we all still enjoy reading traditional books better than a computer screen (especially when they run to 336 pages). It’s a way to support some excellent writers and a great project (though as I understand it, there’s little if any profit involved). So buy the book and drop by the blogs, and then everyone will be happy. And informed. Isn’t that what’s important? That’s what I thought.
morpho ishihara
watercolor on Winsor & Newton paper, 2007
The Ishihara pseudoisochromatic plate series is still the most common clinical test for colorblindness. Most Ishihara test plates are pointillist circles containing an Arabic numeral, which should be visible (if a little eye-popping) to a normal viewer, but only weakly visible or invisible to a colorblind individual.
Ishihara plate 12.
Those with normal color vision should read the number 16.
Those with abnormal color vision should not see a number
or read it incorrectly.
So what do butterflies have to do with Ishihara plates? Complex butterfly wing patterns, like Ishihara numbers or traditional television screens, are an illusion created by many small units of primary colors. When we interpret the dots as gradients, shapes and complex patterns, we use both color information and light/dark information about each dot. For colorblind individuals, the light/dark information is (mostly) normal, but the color information is off, and they have difficulty resolving a shape based on color alone.
The three general types of color vision deficiency are protanopia, deuteronopia, and tritanopia. In each condition, one of the three retinal systems that distinguishes the three primary colors of light (red, green, or blue) is compromised. Tritanopia affects blue cones and is quite rare. Protanopia and deuteronopia affect the cones that process red or green light, and are usually both called “red-green” colorblindness. Protanopes and deuteronopes still see red and green - they don’t find apples or tomatoes invisible, or black-and-white - but they can’t tell the difference between red and green. Instead, red and green shades (along with orange and yellow) appear as the same muddy ochre color. There is also a fourth, very rare type of colorblindness - total colorblindness, or monochromacy, in which all cones are missing (achromatopsia) or only one type of color cone is present. These individuals do not see “color” as we understand it at all.Most “colorblind” individuals are not complete protanopes or complete deuteranopes. They may have only a partial deficiency (protanomalia or deuteranomalia), and may not even be aware of it. The first paper on colorblindness was written in 1794 by a red-green colorblind scientist, Dalton (yes, the atomic theory dude). He compared objects of different colors and found that his observations differed radically from his colleagues’:
that part of the image which others call red appears to me little more than a shade or defect of light. After that the orange, yellow and green seem one colour which descends pretty uniformly from an intense to a rare yellow, making what I should call different shades of yellow.
Red-green colorblindness has been generally called Daltonism in his honor, but there was some question about the specific form Dalton had. In 1995, Dalton was finally proven to have deuteronopia - by DNA testing of his preserved eyeball. Eeuw! (Dalton himself had suggested it be saved for further study - now there’s a scientist for you).
The overwhelming majority of red-green colorblind individuals are men, because the genes for both red and green cone pigments are on the X chromosome. Thus, men inherit colorblindness from their mothers, who usually have normal color vision. Women can indeed be red-green colorblind, but they would have to be unlucky twice over, inheriting a defective allele on the X chromosome from both mother and father.
Although this painting was inspired by Ishihara’s plates, be aware it is not a valid clinical test for colorblindness. It’s a response to the aesthetics of the Ishihara test. But I was interested to see if the numbers would be visible to colorblind persons. Digital algorithms can approximate the different forms of colorblindness by altering the different channels of a digital image file. According to one such simulation, butterfly 1 should be quite difficult for a complete protanope or deuteronope, butterfly 2 less so, and butterfly 3 easiest of all - but harder for a protanope than a deuteronope. Tritanopes should be able to see all three numbers, as could a person with only partial red-green colorblindness. If you are colorblind, let me know what you see!
At least 1 in 12 individuals has a red-green color vision deficiency. Most artwork, websites, and advertisements will appear very differently to these colorblind individuals. Yet it is extremely difficult for an artist or designer with normal vision to anticipate how a colorblind person would see their work. It’s not as simple as rendering the artwork in greyscale, like a black-and-white TV, because the typical colorblind individual, with partial red-green colorblindness, does see an altered color spectrum. If you are not colorblind yourself, consider checking your web pageto be sure it’s legible to colorblind individuals. Technically, my blog is non-optimal for colorblind individuals, because I use red on black for links, and red can appear almost black to protonopes. But I’ve tweaked the red to make it orange enough that it should be legible. (If not, post a comment and let me know!)
Because each color pigment gene comes in several different versions (or alleles) and many of us have extra copies of the green pigment gene, even people with “normal” color vision may have slightly different combinations of functional retinal pigments, which could translate into seeing “red” or “green” or “blue” most strongly at slightly different wavelengths. If you’ve ever argued over whether a paint chip is “greeny blue” or “bluish green,” whether grape juice is purple or merely dark red, or whether a fallen leaf is light orange or dark yellow, you know that we don’t all categorize, or even see, colors identically. Working with Ishihara-style patterns stretched my ability to envision the dichromatic palette, but I still can’t imagine what the world is like for a complete deuteranope. Traffic lights, all the varieties of apples, strawberries, fall leaves, roses, red and green peppers, stop signs, blood: color vision is a gift.
A very sad story: a 28-year-old woman participating in a radio station contest died of apparent water intoxication. Basically, she consumed so much water so quickly that her body fluids were diluted, and her electrolytes (most importantly, sodium) fell below a critical threshold.
Many illnesses cause dysregulation of electrolyte concentrations; something as simple as diarrhea can put an individual, especially a child, at risk. Water intoxication in healthy individuals is much less common, but it’s not unheard of: it made news in 2005, in a fatal California fraternity hazing incident, and again last year when anti-hazing legislation inspired by the incident passed. It can also strike marathon runners, who may consume large quantities of water after sweating profusely enough to lose significant amounts of electrolytes. A 2005 New England Journal of Medicine study found that 13% of Boston Marathon runners had measurable post-race hyponatremia (low serum sodium levels); other studies obtained similar results. In 2002, a Boston marathoner died of hyponatremia.
Everyone who watches television commercials knows that you’re supposed to drink an isotonic electrolyte solution (eg., Gatorade), rather than water, to rehydrate during and after exercise. The multi-million dollar sports drink industry was founded on this idea, and it’s true - although the majority of people probably don’t work out hard enough to lose a significant proportion of electrolytes, and I’ve always found the taste of Gatorade more nauseating than dehydration. Yet few people seem to realize that pure water is not only inadequate for replacing lost electrolytes, it can be dangerous. After all, it’s just water, and aren’t we always being told to drink more of it? The answer is yes, within reason: you should drink at least a liter of water each day, more if you’re thirsty. As long as you don’t drink too quickly, have healthy kidneys, and urinate as needed, your body will flush the excess; dehydration is much more common than water intoxication! But beware of fad diets, or any other situation where you’re asked to drink huge volumes of water - especially if you’re low on electrolytes for any reason. Water intoxication is a perfect example of how too much of anything, no matter how innocuous, is bad for you.
More information: the Mayo Clinic on recommended daily water intake
This is the poster for the 2008 Australian and New Zealand Shakespeare Association (ANZSA) conference:
Possible topics might include, but are not limited to: Shakespeare and histories and theories of the body, representations of the body, the actor’s body, cultural appropriations, Shakespeare and the senses, phenomenology, embodiment and gender.
Pluses: it’s in New Zealand! Get thee to thy computer and write a proposal, if only so you have an excuse to go there and worship at the shrine of Peter Jackson.
Minuses: if Shakespeare weren’t already dead, I’d be very concerned for his health. I mean, he’s a marble torso with a dollop of entrails. Is it wrong that I find this just as disturbing as anything by Susini?
It’s all over the news now that the weather is abnormal and shockingly warm. Well, duh. Although it’s been unusually warm for months now, and 2006 was predicted to be the third-warmest year on record in the US, many news organizations waited until the end of the calendar year to report this, as if they thought a few last-minute frigid December days might lower the mean. (It actually got warmer).
Between repairing my back fence (victim of an abnormally rough windstorm) and waiting for my internet connection to revive (victim of a storm several hundred miles away), I ran across two poems that are not exactly about global warming, but seemed apropos.
The world’s wordless beauty’s
intact and can never be other than
intact no matter what
harm we perpetually do
and have done
and will I can I assure you everyone
do,
forever,
as they say
World’s wordless beauty, and the word’s
worldless liberty
The champagne shopping binge
is over
The check is about to arrive
and nobody knows how much it will be
I know I don’t give a shit not now
1.
Somehow a light plane
coming in low at three
in the morning at a local airstrip
hits a complex of tones
in its growl so I hear mingled
with it a peal of church bells,
swelling in and out
of audibility, arrhythmic, but rich and insistent, then,
through I try to hold them,
they dissolve, fade away;
only that monochrome
drone bores on
alone through the dark.
2.
This is one of our new
winters, dry, windless
and warm, when even the lightest cover is stifling.
A luxuriant flowering
pear tree used to shelter
the front of our house,
but last August a storm
took it, a bizarrely focused
miniature tornado never
before seen in this climate,
and now the sky outside
the window is raw, inert
air viscous and sour.
3.
I was ill, and by the merest
chance happened to be
watching as the tree fell,
I saw the branches helplessly
flail the fork of the trunk
with a great creak split
and the heavier half scar
down, catch on wires,
and hang, lifting and subsiding
in the last barbs of the gale
as through it didn’t know yet
it was dead, when it did,
and slipped slowly sideways
onto its own debris in the gutter.
4.
When Ivan Karamazov
is reciting his wracking disquisition
about the evils perpetrated
on children, opining whether
human salvation would be worth
a single child’s suffering,
you know he’s close to braking
down, sobbing in shame
and remorse, and I wonder
if he’d imagined our whole planet,
the children with it,
wagered in a mad gamble
of world against wealth,
what would he have done?
5.
What do I do? Fret
mostly, and brood, and lie
awake. Not to sleep
wasn’t always so punishing.
Once, in a train, stalled
in mountains. In snow,
I was roused by the clank of a trainman’s crowbar
on the undercarriage of my car.
I lifted the leathery shade
And across a moon-dazzled
pine-fringed slope
A fox cut an arc; everything
else was pure light.
6.
I wanted it to last forever,
but I was twenty, and before
I knew it was back in my dream.
Do I ever sleep that way
now, innocent of everything
Beyond my ken? No,
others are always with me,
others I love with my life,
yet I’ll leave them scant
evidence of my care, and little
trace of my good intentions,
as little as the solacing shush
the phantom limbs of our slain
tree will leave on the night.
.
