Archive for March, 2007
Struthiomimus and Tulip
oil on panel
David Dodge Lewis, Evolution Series
A series of still life paintings playing on the relationship between fossils and modern organisms, and featuring especially well-rendered flowers. The show opens March 28 at the Atkinson Museum, Hampden-Sydney College, Virginia (where David Dodge Lewis is Professor of Fine Arts), in conjunction with a four-day Biology Symposium.
The Evolution Series treats a topic fundamental to our understanding of life. It does so by celebrating fossils, the most important empirical evidence for evolution. Since fossils are often of bones, the paintings are eulogies, and the inclusion of flowers both emphasizes the fragile brevity of life and connects to present day rituals, like flowers at a memorial service.
- David Dodge Lewis
March 13th, 2007
This list is going around the science blogosphere. It seems de rigueur to comment on the choices and mark the ones you’ve read. This is a book meme I can support - although I was surprised I’d missed so many. I thought I was fairly well read in these genres.
The Most Significant SF & Fantasy Books of the Last 50 Years, 1953-2002
*1. The Lord of the Rings, J.R.R. Tolkien
2. The Foundation Trilogy, Isaac Asimov
*3. Dune, Frank Herbert
*4. Stranger in a Strange Land, Robert A. Heinlein
*5. A Wizard of Earthsea, Ursula K. Le Guin
*6. Neuromancer, William Gibson
*7. Childhood’s End, Arthur C. Clarke
8. Do Androids Dream of Electric Sheep?, Philip K. Dick
*9. The Mists of Avalon, Marion Zimmer Bradley
*10. Fahrenheit 451, Ray Bradbury
*11. The Book of the New Sun, Gene Wolfe
*12. A Canticle for Leibowitz, Walter M. Miller, Jr.
13. The Caves of Steel, Isaac Asimov
14. Children of the Atom, Wilmar Shiras
15. Cities in Flight, James Blish
16. The Colour of Magic, Terry Pratchett
17. Dangerous Visions, edited by Harlan Ellison
18. Deathbird Stories, Harlan Ellison
19. The Demolished Man, Alfred Bester
20. Dhalgren, Samuel R. Delany
*21. Dragonflight, Anne McCaffrey
*22. Ender’s Game, Orson Scott Card
*23. The First Chronicles of Thomas Covenant the Unbeliever, Stephen R. Donaldson
24. The Forever War, Joe Haldeman
25. Gateway, Frederik Pohl
*26. Harry Potter and the Philosopher’s Stone, J.K. Rowling
*27. The Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy, Douglas Adams
28. I Am Legend, Richard Matheson
*29. Interview with the Vampire, Anne Rice
*30. The Left Hand of Darkness, Ursula K. Le Guin
31. Little, Big, John Crowley
32. Lord of Light, Roger Zelazny
33. The Man in the High Castle, Philip K. Dick
34. Mission of Gravity, Hal Clement
*35. More Than Human, Theodore Sturgeon
36. The Rediscovery of Man, Cordwainer Smith
*37. On the Beach, Nevil Shute
*38. Rendezvous with Rama, Arthur C. Clarke
39. Ringworld, Larry Niven
40. Rogue Moon, Algis Budrys
*41. The Silmarillion, J.R.R. Tolkien
42. Slaughterhouse-5, Kurt Vonnegut
*43. Snow Crash, Neal Stephenson
44. Stand on Zanzibar, John Brunner
45. The Stars My Destination, Alfred Bester
*46. Starship Troopers, Robert A. Heinlein
*47. Stormbringer, Michael Moorcock
*48. The Sword of Shannara, Terry Brooks
49. Timescape, Gregory Benford
*50. To Your Scattered Bodies Go, Philip Jose Farmer
*Bold/asterisk: I read it, and remember what it was about!
Italic: I tried to read it and got bored before I finished . . .
Plain: I didn’t read it, or I read it, but promptly forgot the point.
I don’t read much in these genres now - I mostly choose nonfiction. There’s just not enough time in one’s life for all the books one ought to read. Almost all the books in bold, I read before entering college (except for Wolfe, Stephenson, and of course, Rowling - “we didn’t have Harry Potter when I was a kid; nor did we have email, cell phones, or TiVo. It was a dark and dreary age, and we all walked barefoot in the snow to school 6 miles uphill both ways!”)
My first read from this list was LOTR (third grade). I was incredibly lucky to read the “original” 20th century fantasy epic before stumbling on any of its derivatives, and at a formative age, too. It was no coincidence that my college English thesis was on medieval lit, and cited Tolkien. . .
I think the best single novel from this list (that I’ve read) is probably Ender’s Game. Whatever you think of Card’s politics, that is one fine book. But the entire Book of the New Sun is one of the best works of fiction I’ve ever read. It’s the one I’d recommend most - if you like a challenge. Not one of the friends I’ve given it ever finished the first book, so be warned.
Via The News Blog, and many others
March 13th, 2007
Language Log: Foolish Hobgoblins
It’s been many long years since I was an English major. That’s my standard justification when I get sloppy and split some infinitives, or use “which” when I ought to write “that.” I put punctuation inside and outside of quotation marks as it suits me, and use British spellings on a whim. As long as my meaning is clear, and it doesn’t violate my aesthetic sense, I just don’t feel strongly about consistency. This Language Log post summarizes my attitudes pretty well. It’s a relief to hear from such a qualified source that I’m not completely alone in my negligence.
I’ve wondered if some of my linguistic laxity derives from my science training - not only through lack of writing practice, but through an elevated tolerance for uncertainty. In science, there is no conclusively “right” answer. You always consider several possible models, and although eventually experimentation narrows these possibilities down, in the meantime you must respect them all. In short, in the absence of good evidence, you shouldn’t arbitrarily prioritize one hypothesis over another. I feel the same way about language. When the meaning is plain, and several alternatives are used by equally good writers (whether from different historical periods, different countries, or different academic cultures - the Language Log post gives a number of good examples) I don’t feel there’s good reason to prioritize one usage over another.
In genetics, you learn to look past variation that isn’t relevant to the issue under investigation. Every gene exists in multiple versions, or alleles, but only some of those alleles have significantly altered functions. The rest are pretty much equivalent. The RNA codons GCA and GCG both encode alanine, so I don’t particularly care which is used in a gene, because I get the same protein either way. It’s like a regional variation in pronunciation: if we all understand what’s meant, why nitpick?
![codon[1].gif](http://bioephemera.com/wp-content/uploads/2007/03/codon%5B1%5D.gif)
Two representations of the RNA codon table. Sources: (1), (2)
When discussing equivalent codons, I dislike the adjective “degenerate.” I prefer “redundant” because “degenerate” has negative connotations (an example) that can mislead students. Reserving several ways to encode a given amino acid does not make the genetic code less effective or elegant - in many ways, it makes the code more robust. Moving up a level, genetic diversity is the basis for evolution, and for the health and stability of ecosystems. When you see subtle variation as beauty and bounty, it’s harder to arbitrarily winnow it out - even in the names of Strunk & White.
Of course, not all variations are equally optimal in all contexts. Sometimes, there are valid, utilitarian reasons to prefer one usage over another. Different species tend to prefer different codons for certain amino acids and express those codons more efficiently - a significant concern for genetic engineers who are “transplanting” genes from one organism into another. A cloned gene may be less effective in its new host, if the host has different codon preferences; some tweaking to match those preferences may be required to optimize the gene’s performance. In this case, the preference for one codon over another isn’t arbitrary - it improves the gene’s function in its new context. Anyone who has submitted an article to multiple journals, and had to reformat the citations each time to meet each journal’s unique specifications, knows exactly how this process works.
Codon preference was part of a long-running patent dispute between several biotech companies, including Monsanto and Dow, whose researchers used the Bacillus thuringiensis (Bt) toxin gene to create pest-resistant corn and cotton crops. Optimizing Bt toxin production in the new host plants required tweaking the cloned Bt gene to match the host’s preferences. Like the construction “y’all” - melodious in a Louisiana accent, but not so pleasant in a Boston accent - the Bt toxin allele native to Bacillus wasn’t the best choice for cotton, a dicot plant. The Bt gene had to be edited so it would read fluently in a “dicot accent.” (The patent dispute focused on the methodology used to do this. Among other issues, the meaning of the phrase “codon preference” was disputed. See a summary of the long-running dispute here. Patent writing, like genetic engineering, has tighter linguistic constraints than blogging, and little tolerance for inconsistency).
The bacterial Bt allele wasn’t the best choice for a dicot plant like cotton, but it still worked. Similarly, when choosing among variants of spelling, pronunciation, or phrasing, different writers may make different choices because more than one variant works. If one variant is sometimes more effective than the others, that actually argues against enforcing consistency, because the best choice will depend on context. That’s why many black-and-white rules intended to enforce consistency, like Conservapedia’s insistence on Americanized spellings, seem silly to me. Is consistency really that big a virtue? If so, I’m an unrepentant sinner. And Conservapedia will no doubt agree.
PS. I was pleasantly surprised to see as I posted this today that two books about the consistency issue are reviewed in today’s NYT, one
by Ben Yagoda:
His book, an ode to the parts of speech, isn’t about the rights or wrongs of English. It’s about the wonder of it all: the beauty, the joy, the fun of a language enriched by poets like Lily Tomlin, Fats Waller and Dizzy Dean (to whom we owe “slud,” as in “Rizzuto slud into second”).
and one 
by David Crystal:
When he’s not being cranky, Crystal is fascinating and insightful, often funny. He’s especially good on the Middle Ages. When printing came to Britain in 1400, English was a merry old mess. Choices had to be made, he says, and typesetters were often the ones making them. “If a line of type was a bit short on the page, well, just add an -e to a few words.” And if it was too long? Just “take out some e’s.”
More books for my Amazon Wishlist!
March 11th, 2007
my apologies for the lateness of this post - although it is still Friday here on the West Coast. I’ve been without a computer most of this week, but I had to post SOMETHING for PZ Myers‘ birthday. So I’ve mashed up two of his favorite things: Charles Darwin and a cephalopod. I hope you had a wonderful day, PZ, and thanks for all the inspiration!
March 9th, 2007
Some Nights
hemlock, acrylic, and crayon
Charlie Brouwer
AAAS News Release
This is beyond ironic. I walked right past this exhibit inside the AAAS (American Association for the Advancment of Science) headquarters in DC this afternoon. I didn’t even know it was there! I left AAAS, went directly to the airport, flew back to the West Coast, and checked my blog feeds - where I found this news release. Argh!!
Honestly, my whole week has been bizarre (fairly equal amounts good and bad, so far). Sorry for the lack of posts - things really have gotten away from me, I haven’t slept in a few days, and I’m beyond incoherent. You wouldn’t want to read anything I’d write right now.
March 8th, 2007
In Search of Meaning #5; In Search of Meaning #1
Acrylic
Lylie Fisher
Like art, particle physics deals with the invisible. One portrays emotional and spiritual experiences; the other studies unseen matter and energy. Science is the voice of the rational mind, and art is the reverberation of questioning.
-artist Lylie Fisher
These images are from “In Search of Meaning,” a series of eleven paintings based on the 1960’s bubble chamber particle physics experiments at Stanford University. Fisher selected original photographs from the experiments, and painted glistening jewel-toned colors in the negative spaces between the tracks left by charged particles.
I’m very fond of spirals and circles, and I really like this series. I also like this comment by Richard Lander, UC Davis physics professor: “the original photographs were always beautiful to the physicists. . . they’re beautiful in themselves.”
Fisher’s paintings are currently at Stanford’s SLAC (the show opened March 1; I’m not sure how long it will last).
Pop art | The San Diego Union-Tribune
February 6 audio interview with Lylie Fisher and Richard Lander, from Capital Public Radio, Sacramento
March 5th, 2007
Darwin’s God, by Robin Marantz Henig
I thought I’d hit my biology vs. religion saturation point some time ago, but today’s NYT Magazine has an eclectic, lengthy article on the biology of belief that is worth reading. The little details in this piece will ring true to any scientist, and Henig’s tone is, refreshingly, more pensive than provocative:
Atran says he faces an emotional and intellectual struggle to live without God in a nonatheist world, and he suspects that is where his little superstitions come from, his passing thought about crossing his fingers during turbulence or knocking on wood just in case. It is like an atavistic theism erupting when his guard is down. The comforts and consolations of belief are alluring even to him, he says, and probably will become more so as he gets closer to the end of his life. He fights it because he is a scientist and holds the values of rationalism higher than the values of spiritualism.
This internal push and pull between the spiritual and the rational reflects what used to be called the “God of the gaps” view of religion. The presumption was that as science was able to answer more questions about the natural world, God would be invoked to answer fewer, and religion would eventually recede. Research about the evolution of religion suggests otherwise. No matter how much science can explain, it seems, the real gap that God fills is an emptiness that our big-brained mental architecture interprets as a yearning for the supernatural. The drive to satisfy that yearning, according to both adaptationists and byproduct theorists, might be an inevitable and eternal part of what Atran calls the tragedy of human cognition.
March 4th, 2007
ScienceDaily: Why ‘Wanting’ And ‘Liking’ Something Simultaneously Is Overwhelming
“Sometimes a brain will like the rewards it wants. But other times it just wants them.” - Kent Berridge
I once tried to explain to my physiology students that the desire circuit of the brain differs from the pleasure circuit. Not only did I become tongue-tied trying to differentiate between “liking” and “wanting,” I don’t think they believed me. I can’t blame them, because it’s counterintuitive. Why would you want something you don’t enjoy? But a new Journal of Neuroscience article backs me up: wanting something does not necessarily mean you like it.
In daily life, we don’t consistently differentiate between liking, wanting, enjoying, and desiring. We know subtle differences exist, but we tend to ignore them. When I tried to discuss this topic with college freshmen, I think I was doomed from the start - teenagers not only conflate “want” and “like,” they tend to mix in “need” as well! (I remember a few trendy toys I “wanted” desperately, and swore I “needed,” but hardly used, once I had them. The grass is always greener. . .)
On a more serious note, drug addicts don’t necessarily “like” drugs more than non-addicts - they may even find the drugs less enjoyable, if they’ve built up a tolerance to them. But addicts clearly want drugs much more than non-addicts do. Why?
Addiction depends on dopamine, which is often called the “feel-good neurotransmitter” because it mediates pleasurable responses to stimuli like sex, drugs, and food. The addictive potential of a drug is related to how much it increases the pool of extracellular dopamine (meth spikes dopamine levels higher than food, sex, or crack). These dopaminergic pathways are part of the brain’s “reward center” (really, more of a system of circuits than a single center), originally identified in those classic experiments involving rats, electrodes, and levers (and even a few human case studies; see this Damn Interesting post for an overview).
For the past few decades, researchers have attempted to clarify how these pathways generate reward-seeking behavior. At first it seemed dopamine release directly caused the sensation of pleasure. But other evidence suggested dopamine release did not, in itself, cause pleasurable reactions; perhaps dopamine was needed for learning to associate a stimulus with pleasure. The most recent studies, including this one, suggest that dopamine mediates an incentive to seek out the pleasurable stimuli. (Even more confusing, reward pathways may also be involved in aversive responses to negative stimuli - presumably why addictive drugs sometimes cause anxiety, distress, paranoia, etc).
About a decade ago, Kent Berridge suggested that “liking” (pleasure) and “wanting” (incentive) are distinct reward center impulses that can be assessed separately, and that dopamine is primarily involved in “wanting.” To investigate, he exploited the observation that food rewards like sugar elicit typical “liking” behaviors across mammal species. As it turns out, a rat (or ape) noshing on sweets makes appreciative, lip-smacking facial expressions similar to a human baby’s. These indicators are an objective way to assess how much a subject likes a food, independent of how much the subject eats, or the subject’s own subjective impressions of his/her enjoyment.
A human infant, orangutan, and rat display “liking” facial expressions
in response to sucrose, and “disliking” expressions in response to quinine.
Figure from “The Neuroscience of Natural Rewards: Relevance to Addictive Drugs” (2002)
Ann Kelley and Kent Berridge
J Neurosci 22 (9): 3306-3311
In the Journal of Neuroscience study described in this ScienceDaily article, Berridge and Kyle Smith chemically activated a specific “hotspot” in the nucleus accumbens (NAc) of rats. The rats responded in two ways: by “wanting” to eat more food, and by demonstrating more “liking” responses. The researchers then isolated the two behaviors, by activating the NAc while simultaneously inhibiting a different brain area, the ventral pallidum. The rats still ate the increased amount of food, but they no longer showed the extra “liking” responses. Their impulse to eat was motivated by something other than liking the food.
The diagram at the top of this post summarizes the researchers’ hypothesis about the dopaminergic circuits involved. “Wanting” is mediated by an output from the NAc to the hypothalamus, but the “liking” circuit goes through the ventral pallidum, where it can be blocked experimentally. The two impulses are thus independent and separable, even though the same brain centers are common to both. (In previous work, they had shown that directly stimulating the ventral pallidum could modulate both “liking” and “wanting” food, or modulate “wanting” only, depending on the chemical stimulus used).
Unfortunately we don’t know what the rats are thinking. Like a teenager, they may believe they like the food, just because they want it! That sort of rationalization makes it difficult to do human studies on this topic (though some are trying). The obvious relevance of these circuits to addiction and appetite are strong motivations to devise methodologies for human subjects.
I think this kind of research could be particularly important to understanding binge eating - the most common eating disorder in the US, affecting about 3% of the population. In binge eating, the reward system is way off: the hunger drive, the pleasure of eating, and the desire to eat have apparently become decoupled. Not surprisingly, a variant of the dopamine-4 receptor has already been implicated in binge eating, seasonal affective disorder, and winter weight gain.
Binge eaters literally eat until they feel pain: a classic example of how humans can intensely “want” something that we won’t enjoy. The next time you find yourself craving something, ask yourself why, and see if your answer satisfies you. If you won’t really like what you want, you just might rethink what you need.
March 4th, 2007
Electron Micrograph
Volker Steger
Oops! Poor invertebrates. Volker Steger’s Insects-Meet-Windshield Micrographs (via Boing Boing).
Check out Steger’s entire website of photography (lots of science!) here. I was so impressed, I ordered his book, Buzz![]()
.
Two more interesting links:
The Scientist article: Nina Katchadourian experiments with “reality” television - starring zoo animals.
Cai Guo-Quiang has a wild sculpture installation depicting an aerial pack of wolves (reminiscent of Nancy Graves’ camels!)
March 3rd, 2007
Anna Journey, a VCU graduate student, recently discovered a previously unpublished poem by Sylvia Plath. That venerable arbiter of literary taste, Jane Magazine, calls it “a gorgeous sonnet about feeling blah”.
If you’ve read AS Byatt’s Possession (or seen its lightweight film adaptation), you know that finding an unpublished text by a significant literary figure is a career-making, or at least publication-making, stroke of luck. Indeed, Journey has an essay forthcoming in Notes on Contemporary Literature about the poem, and she deserves congratulations for not only finding it, but recognizing its significance.
Before I give my opinion about it, here’s the link to read the poem:
“Ennui”
Sylvia Plath
Blackbird, an online journal of literature and the arts
Personally, I’m on the fence about this poem’s publication. It was an early work. Plath had time to publish it if she chose - but she never did. There is no record of its submission. It’s not that posthumous publication is wrong. Literary executors saved and published important works by many important writers, most notably Emily Dickinson. I don’t care if Emily wanted her poems kept private; I’m selfishly glad we have them. However, I don’t think “Ennui” lives up to Plath’s standard of published work, and if Plath chose to leave this one out of her body of work, I respect her decision.
On the other hand, it’s data. As a scientist, I abhor the waste of useful data. If this poem gives insight into Plath’s career and writing process, it’s valuable. So I guess I do want it published: as data, not art. But that distinction seems too subjective to be remotely valid.
The editors of Blackbird (and Plath’s estate, which gave publication rights) also considered Plath’s intent. In their Introduction, the editors suggest Plath may have intended to publish “Ennui”, because she labeled it with her contact information - evidence I think is pretty weak. The editors also justify their decision in terms of Plath’s legacy and reputation:
Few poets in the English language have been more widely read, or more wildly misinterpreted, than Sylvia Plath. Alternating waves of readers have seen her as a writer of courage, then as a figure of self-absorbed weakness. The meanings of her poetry and of her life too often have been evaluated solely in the light of her death. Some readers have even subscribed to the familiar notion that it was madness that drove her to create her most memorable work, madness that made it possible, a notion that is as anti-intellectual and anti-feminist as it is inaccurate. No poet of the twentieth century worked harder to acquire the craft, skill, and knowledge necessary to create poetry, and the triumph of the later work can be fully appreciated only in light of those early efforts in educating herself and the ambitious writing program which she set for herself when she was young. . .
In publishing Sylvia Plath’s “Ennui,” Blackbird wishes to recognize and celebrate the disciplined hard work she put into her early writing, work that made possible the astonishing achievement of her later poems, such as those in Ariel.
I do respect that. What I don’t get is the following:
Another, entirely different poem titled “Ennui,” less polished and rather slight compared to the poem published in Blackbird, is also included in the archive at the Lilly Library and labeled as “Ennui (II),” but we’ve not reproduced that work here, as it seems Plath had wisely rejected the idea of publishing it herself.
So basically, they released the unpublished poem they liked better as “art,” but preserved both as “data.” Hm. Maybe my gut instinct wasn’t so far off after all.
Regardless, “Ennui” is a solid poem. Many well-anthologized poets have done much worse in their early years. My (least) favorite example is Keats’s ghastly drivel below. I wish we could un-publish it. What was he thinking?
“Woman! when I behold thee flippant, vain”
John Keats
WOMAN! when I behold thee flippant, vain,
Inconstant, childish, proud, and full of fancies;
Without that modest softening that enhances
The downcast eye, repentant of the pain
That its mild light creates to heal again:
E’en then, elate, my spirit leaps, and prances,
E’en then my soul with exultation dances
For that to love, so long, I’ve dormant lain:
But when I see thee meek, and kind, and tender,
Heavens! how desperately do I adore
Thy winning graces;—to be thy defender
I hotly burn—to be a Calidore—
A very Red Cross Knight—a stout Leander—
Might I be loved by thee like these of yore.
Light feet, dark violet eyes, and parted hair;
Soft dimpled hands, white neck, and creamy breast,
Are things on which the dazzled senses rest
Till the fond, fixed eyes, forget they stare.
From such fine pictures, heavens! I cannot dare
To turn my admiration, though unpossess’d
They be of what is worthy,—though not drest
In lovely modesty, and virtues rare.
Yet these I leave as thoughtless as a lark;
These lures I straight forget—e’en ere I dine,
Or thrice my palate moisten: but when I mark
Such charms with mild intelligences shine,
My ear is open like a greedy shark,
To catch the tunings of a voice divine.
Ah! who can e’er forget so fair a being?
Who can forget her half retiring sweets?
God! she is like a milk-white lamb that bleats
For man’s protection. Surely the All-seeing,
Who joys to see us with his gifts agreeing,
Will never give him pinions, who intreats
Such innocence to ruin,—who vilely cheats
A dove-like bosom. In truth there is no freeing
One’s thoughts from such a beauty; when I hear
A lay that once I saw her hand awake,
Her form seems floating palpable, and near;
Had I e’er seen her from an arbour take
A dewy flower, oft would that hand appear,
And o’er my eyes the trembling moisture shake.
A greedy shark? A lamb that bleats for man’s protection? Gag!
I need to go read some Plath as an antidote.
March 2nd, 2007
Pleistocene Skeleton
Steel, wax, marble dust, and acrylic
Nancy Graves, 1970
Smithsonian Museum of American Art
Last fall I visited the newly renovated Smithsonian Museum of American Art. One of my favorite pieces was this sculpture by Nancy Graves. It’s made of steel, but coated and painted to resemble excavated bone.
It’s hard to explain why I singled this piece out - after all, it resembles any old skeleton in any number of natural history museums. But unlike the typical frenzied, kid-thronged dinosaur exhibit, the Graves sculpture was alone, at one end of a completely vacant gallery (except for myself and one of the Smithsonian’s many silent guards). It felt like I was discovering something for the first time. Yet it wasn’t authentic. It was neither “pleistocene” nor a “skeleton.” It had never been alive, and it wasn’t a history of anything, except the artist’s own imagination.
Pleistocene Skeleton
Steel, wax, marble dust, and acrylic
Nancy Graves, 1970
Smithsonian Museum of American Art
Apparently Graves’ contemporaries weren’t sure what to make of her work either. They knew she was good: in 1969, at the age of 28, she held a solo show at the Whitney (the first woman to do so). It consisted of three life-sized camels - built from the inside out, of acrylic, hair, wool, and paint over wood and steel armatures. According to the Time review,
More than a few museumgoers suspected that Nancy Graves’ camels were part of an ingenious put-on, particularly since the Whitney was handing out extraordinarily pretentious brochures in which Miss Graves was quoted as proclaiming that “these camels do not find their organization in the real world but are the result of my experience. I cannot imagine or perceive a camel until it is completed.” It sounded rather as though she were kidding the highbrows who insist that great art must be abstract. Since the abstract artist—by definition—depicts shapes for which no exact models exist in the visible world, he sometimes refers to his work as “not perceived until completed.”
Miss Graves, however, when approached directly, maintains that all she cares about is camels. “There’s as much possibility for fresh invention in making a camel as in making a human figure,” she says. Come to think of it, since nobody else has done much using the camel as a subject, there is probably more. (Time, “The Camel As Art,” 1969)
Camel VI, VII, VIII
wood, steel, burlap, polyurethane, animal skin, wax, oil paint
Nancy Graves, 1968-69
Graves worked continuously until her death in 1995, and her output was bewilderingly diverse. Prior to encountering “Pleistocene Skeleton,” I had never seen her earliest pieces. Her sculptures from the eighties look radically different - brightly colored abstract assemblages hardly reminiscent of natural history museums. So I was surprised to discover that one of her key influences was Clemente Susini, whose work she encountered at La Specola while on a Fulbright. (See my previous post on Susini here).
From an interview between Graves and Emily Wasserman:
The Museum of Natural History in Florence, Italy (where I lived and worked during 1966) contains the wax-works of an 18th-century anatomist, named Susini. What I saw there was a man whose total obsession was circumscribed within a very academic situation. That is, he was trying to define human anatomy in terms of drawings, and their reproduction in wax. The results were art, even in terms of that socio-historical period, although they were not recognized as such–they were not just copied cadavers. Visually, it’s the most emphatic thing–the attempt to be rigorous about whatever the problem was, was much more thorough and complete than most artists usually are…the significance of this for me was that Susini had produced a complex body of work from a single point of origin. (Artforum, 1970)
I love Graves’ description of Susini’s work. It reflects the central tension in scientific art (or art inspired by science) between accuracy and interpretation. Is it art or not? And why? “Pleistocene Skeleton” invokes that question, but doesn’t answer it.
Graves would continue to draw from natural history throughout her career. The fossil theme continues in her sculptures “Variability of Similar Forms,” “Fossils Incorrectly Placed,” and “Inside-Outside;” she would also create paintings based on geologic maps of the sea, moon, and Mars, and even her abstract sculptures included casts of natural materials. According to Michael Brenson, “while late American modernists were trying to build toward a future that would erase the past, Ms. Graves was involved in a wilder artistic project no less radical in its implications. She was re-creating evolution” (NYT, “Sculptures by Nancy Graves at the Brooklyn Museum,” 1987).
More on Nancy Graves:
Nancy Graves Foundation
National Gallery
Article at Answers.com
March 2nd, 2007
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