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After
the paint floating in the pan is has been manipulated into a design,
paper treated with an alum solution is lowered onto the surface.
When the paper is picked up, most of the paint adheres to it,
since it is chemically more attractive to the paint than is the
liquid bath.
I used much of this beautiful paper
to make paper polyhedra.
I love crystals. When I was doing macramé in 1970, a large
hanging composed entirely of knots in cotton cord, I saw how different
knots aggregated into different shapes, for instance, a helix.
I realized that it was similar to the way the various crystal
shapes develop depending on their differently-shaped atoms.
I wish I had the skills to
grow wonderful crystals. I have learned to mimic crystallization
by hand by engraving a 2-D design of closely-spaced lines onto
Plexiglas using a rotary power tool, lines which catch the light.
I also apply paint to the Plexiglas and carve through it. Lit
from behind, my works gleam like stained glass.
I gravitated to this new medium
after dyes in my batiks and shiboris faded. Pigments are far more
colorfast than dyes, and will stick to Plexiglas if it is sanded
to give it “tooth” to hold the paint. The paint needs
an additive. I use Golden liquid acrylic paints diluted with liquid
acrylic medium and GAC 200, an additive for inflexible surfaces.
I select pigments that are translucent. Opaque black gives me
the drama of complete darkness, and the exposed plastic, created
with lines engraved through the paint layer, gives me something
brighter than white—a great dynamic range.
Figure 8 An
Essential Mystery: Life Creates,
acrylic paint on 1/8” Plexiglas with
engraved lines: 45 in. diameter circle.
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(detail
showing crystalline effect) |
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“Biocrystals,” a 1977
article in the Scientific American [11] inspired my painting
on Plexiglas, An Essential Mystery: Life Creates.
“Biocrystals” discussed chemistry at the boundary of the
inorganic and the organic, the mineral and the one-celled protist,
the dead and the living. Very intriguing! For resource materials,
I used D’Arcy Thompson’s drawing of a radiolarian (minus
the projecting spines), and a micrograph from “Biocrystals”
showing crystals building a single strut. As described earlier, I
drew the “crystals,” line by line, with the power tool.
It took weeks, but the thrilling effect lured me on. I learned too
late that the crystal structure I had chosen to copy was not of the
silicon dioxide (silicate) found in radiolaria, but calcium carbonate.
The painting raised questions
in my mind, —soap bubbles' familiar shapes are guided by the
mathematics of minimal surfaces. The overall lattice of the radiolarian's
crystal structure bore a striking resemblance to bubbles. How could
biological growth processes mimic them? A rather new conjecture is
that the organism exudes bubbles to form the scaffold for crystal
formation. Deciphering how is an active area of research in materials
science, some of which has been done since the completion of this
painting. Moreover, scientists show us that the crystals formed by
microorganisms are very fine, forming rounded shapes, not the coarse,
jagged struts shown in my painting. They have a strength unmatched
by those that grow inorganically.[12] We humans are trying to emulate
these structures to produce stronger industrial materials.
Jacob Bronowski observed,
“There are only certain
kinds of symmetries which our space can support, not only in man-made
patterns, but in the regularities which nature herself imposes on
her fundamental, atomic structures." [13]
My next painting, An
Essential Mystery: Number Governs Form, treats the idea
that number relationships underlie all that we see. The notion that
these are fundamental in nature goes back at least to Pythagoras.
The discoveries made by the interplay of observation and mathematics
continue to this day.
Computer scientist Rudy Rucker, reflecting upon the work
of Stephen Wolfram, goes further:
“But in The Lifebox, the Seashell, and the Soul I’m arguing
that we do best to think of computation itself as fundamental. Under
this view, logic and mathematics are invented after the fact to explain
the observed patterns of the world.[14]
The massively complex computations
found in nature, constantly in motion, are deterministic yet revealing
something no one would be able to guess. Rucker describes them as
“never-repeating lace.”
In the late 1980s, I saw a demonstration
of cellular automata by Rucker that elaborated on Mathematician John
Horton Conway's Game of Life. Like the Game, it appeared to be a miniature
universe generated on a computer grid that evolved as we watched.
A few simple rules generated families of patterns, some of which had
surprising behaviors. Rucker had enabled a high-resolution, multicolored
grid that displayed pulsating patterns in real time, something unheard
of on a personal computer of that era, by installing an additional
computer chip of his own design. When the designs were symmetrical,
I had the sensation of seeing a Persian rug being woven. When asymmetrical,
they appeared like fast-growing lichens.
Figure 9 An
Essential Mystery: Number Governs Form,
acrylic on Plexiglas, 45" diam. (and
detail showing carving and paint application on Plexiglas) |
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In
An Essential Mystery: Number Governs Form,
the circle represents a geode, with amethyst crystals pointing inward.
At the center is a much-enlarged Scotch thistle blossom. With both
subjects, I used actual specimens to guide my work. The thistle
disintegrated into thistledown.
Amethyst is a type of quartz,
whose crystal form is hexagonal in cross section, with six equal
rectangular faces. In nature, of course, slight misalignments of
atoms in the crystal lattice are commonplace. I took great pleasure
in studying the actual specimens and trying to capture their regularity-with-variety.
Engraving the lines with a power rotary tool enhanced the crystalline
effect. As I mentioned, the plastic had been sanded to accept the
paint, making it look frosty. When one looks head-on through a quartz
crystal, it is quite transparent, but less so when looking at the
oblique faces. My quartz-crystal illusion was greatly enhanced when
I polished the plastic on certain areas to restore transparency.
Crystal forms are determined
by the atomic properties of their elements. Crystals grow not only
in ways determined by the shape of their atoms, like Lego toy pieces,
but are constrained by the binding forces between atoms. Some elements
like carbon take different forms, diamond and graphite, depending
on the binding forces.
When it comes to living things,
relatively recent investigations in the physical sciences show that
pattern-generating processes, ones that develop through time in
an excitable medium, may play a role in generating som biological
patterns. Belousov’s 1951 experiments with oscillating chemical
reactions, ones that spontaneously produced spirals and target shapes
in motion (the BZ reaction), touched off a new line of inquiry,
as did a 1952 paper by Alan Turing on morphogenesis that suggested
hypothetical chemical reactions giving rise to patterns of stripes
and spots. In biology, these relate to “a fibrillating heart’s
pulses, the stripes on leopards, and more...all bear a resemblance
to oscillating chemical reactions as well as other patterns called
Turing patterns that develop through time.”[15] The oscillations
are kept going by an interplay between chemicals that activate or
inhibit.
The new light this throws on
evolutionary theory is worth exploring in some detail. When we say
an “eye” pattern forms on a moth’s wing because
it serves to scare away predators, what kind of explanation is that?
How could variations of shuffled genes through dim recesses of time
have turned up that particular card? But experiments with oscillating
reactions produce similar patterns! DNA code for a simple pattern-generating
recipe using the very nature of the materials at hand is straightforward.
Natural selection then favors the particular “eye” configuration.
There is no “DNA map of a scary eye” as such.
Philip Ball, in The Self-Made Tapestry, elaborates on recent,
sometimes controversial, research:
" [T]hese processes suggest
that there are certain ‘fundamental’ structures of organisms
that are not at all determined by the arbitrary experimentation
and weeding out that evolution is thought to involve. Instead, these
structures have an inevitability about them, being driven by the
basic physics and chemistry of growth. If life were started from
scratch a thousand times over, it would every time alight on these
fundamental structures eventually. Within the parlance of modern
physics, they are attractors—stable forms or patterns to which
a system is drawn regardless of where it starts from....[I]f the
protagonists of this concept turn out to be validated, that would
not by any means bring Darwin tumbling from his pedestal. There
is absolutely no question that natural selection operates in the
real world and that it has produced the tremendous variety of organisms
with which we share the planet....No one argues, meanwhile, that
nature’s palette is not constrained by the rules of physics
and chemistry. If the formation of patterns by symmetry-breaking
proves to pose limitations of evolutionary choices, that will add
just one more nuance to Darwin’s towering achievement."[16]
I painted Number
Governs Form in 1993. I would later learn of Brian
Goodwin’s work (How the Leopard Changed its Spots: The
Evolution of Complexity, 1994) and Philip Ball’s book,
1999. However, it was already well known that the thistle is the
product of a recursive growth process that produces thorns on the
flower at regular intervals that fit the Fibonacci series of numbers.
These numbers are also found in measurements relating to the “Golden
Rectangle” of geometry.
As well, the Fibonacci numerical
patterns observed in a sunflower spiral and elsewhere are associated
with a “Golden Angle” of 137.5æ, the angle at which
a succession of sunflower seeds form or leaves are offset in a spiral
along a growing stem.[17] The sunflower spiral can be replicated
by an experiment with magnetic droplets that repel each other.
For a plant to place the next
seed or leaf, it need not “know” the correct angle:
The dynamics of growth cause it to keep “discovering”
it.[18] Experiments are being done with plant hormones to explain
the stop-and-start process of stem development that gives rise to
these relationships. The hormones inhibit leaf development as the
stem grows. When the stem is longer, hormone concentration diminishes,
and leaf development resumes. Now, to discover the peculiar mathematical
relationships that develop!
The Fibonacci spiral is a rich
template for generating designs. Recently, I used several permutations
of it to convey an idea that has held me in its grip since 1975,
that “all knowledge is one.” In 1990, E.O. Wilson wrote
Consilience, which shows the connections he sees between
all branches of knowledge.[19] Therefore, I have named my fourth
and most recent version of this piece, completed in 2004, A
Vast Consilience
Figure 10 A Vast Consilience,
2004, acrylic on Plexiglas, engraved lines: 48 in. square
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The
areas of knowledge that I selected to present were:
• the astronomer (who probes the farthest reaches of the universe)
• the biologist (and others who explore the extremely small)
• the artist or composer, who delights in new pattern configurations
• and the mystic blessed with a emotional appreciation of the
Whole.
The center of Vast Consilience shows an eclipse, because the whole
pattern is unknowable—not by us, not by the culture as a whole,
nor by people in a future epoch. It is interesting that both the Greek
words logos and cosmos have the idea of an underlying order of the
universe imbedded in them.
Of course, how we explain what
little we can observe is always under question. Geologists, who can’t
“repeat the experiment,” operate with multiple working
hypotheses, hoping that evidence will surface that eventually proves
one theory more nearly correct than another. Worse, physicists are
confronted with the Uncertainty Principle: Measuring light as a wave
is imcompatible with measuring it as a particle, yet it appears to
be both.
Since I think in metaphors, I
felt light was a good analogy for The Divine. It manifests itself
so differently to people of various temperaments and through the lens
of different cultures. Like light, it is more than any of its descriptions,
indescribable.
In Divinity,
I used a moiré pattern to represent the indescribable Divine.
Making the moiré was simple, but tedious; the result magical:
When two grid-like patterns are superimposed, a third pattern results.
The effect is like the crests and troughs, cancellation and reinforcement
patterns, of two sets of waves crossing each other.
For this project, I chose to create
a cruciform pattern by superimposing two designs, spots and radiating
stripes. I applied the two patterns to two layers of plastic by adhering
plastic film to mask portions of the design and spray painting it.
I hung the painted layers independently, one in front of the other.
One could move them, making the moiré pattern shift dynamically.
Figure 11 Divinity,
1980, acrylic on Plexiglas, flanked by batik panels: 30 X 90 in. triptych. |
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To
the left I created a strong but static cruciform pattern based on
the moiré, one that I named "God" and executed it
in batik. To the right was a dynamic but less distinct interpretation,
“Tao.” I did this piece in 1980, after misreading a sentence.
It said, “The Tao is a web.” I read, “The Tao is
a verb.” Suddenly, the Judeo-Christian-Muslim God, and even
the Greek “cosmos” (the underlying order, as I had understood
it) seemed static. The center moiré I think of as “Neither/Both/More.”
In this polarized world of loudly competing religious doctrines, Divinity
is a plea for tolerance.
Another person studying patterns
in nature would pursue different paths, but any inspire a deep connection
to the universe larger than ourselves. In the 1970s, for example,
Peter S. Stevens and the Philomorph study group at Harvard listed
various shapes like spirals and showed why they tend to recur at different
scales. They found the wonder of a few pattern types manifesting themselves
throughout the universe, in galaxies down to the smallest crystal
structures.[20] Even some viruses are in the shape of Platonic solids!
George Johnson writes in Fire
in the Mind,
"Imagine that instead of 92 elements, a continuum. In place of
neatly arranged cells, Mendeleev’s table would become a continuous
band. But if the energy levels of electrons are not continuous [quantum
theory], if only certain values are allowed, we can explain why the
same forms keep turning up in nature."[21]
In a recent work,
Catastrophe, I murdered a previous painting on Plexiglas
by stretching a wrinkled cotton sheet over it and pouring rubbing
alcohol (an acrylic paint solvent) on it. I pulled the cloth up, and
found a portrait of an explosion that took relatively little effort
to revise. Post-Katrina, this is how I expressed the “perfect
storm.” The prototypical avalanche triggered by just one additional
grain of sand, so familiar in chaos theory, is discussed in Ubiquity:
Why Catastprophes Happen.[21] Its author, Mark Buchanan, shows
that phenomena like earthquakes happen continually. On a Bell curve,
both the miniscule and mammoth ones rest at the extreme edges, that
is, are very rare. Moderate ones are common. Which kind will be triggered
by the “last grain of sand”? It’s utterly unpredictable,
he declares.
Figure 12 Catastrophe,
2006, acrylic on Plexiglas, engraved lines: 45 in. circle |
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Some
argue that such unpredictability is not only more artistically intriguing,
but closer to the true nature of reality. I would argue that even
different catastrophes have their pattern “signatures,”
just as one can distinguish “modern jazz” or “kletzmer”
from surprising combinations of improvised notes.
It is fashionable to denigrate “scientific truth,”
because so much remains unknowable. The “unknowable” is
the subject of my work, Divinity. However,
I believe that physical and mathematical rules for pattern generation
have great explanatory power, taking us beyond, for instance, the
“random process of evolution” to explain the beauties
we observe. We should not abandon our search for truth and universality!
My curious eye has attracted me
to certain patterns in nature; learning about them plunged me ever
deeper into fundamental questions about how they arise, and which
have to do with the very fabric of space and time themselves. The
study of patterns in nature is profound.
References and Notes
1. Gyorgy Kepes,
The New Landscape in Art and Science (Chicago,
Paul Thobald & Co. 1956)
2. Nathan Cabot Hale, Abstraction in Art and Nature (New
York: Watson Guptil, 1980), p.13.
3. Benoit Mandelbrot, The Fractal Geometry of Nature (W.H.
Freeman, San Francisco, 1983 ed.) p. 5.
4. For example, Loren Carpenter, Vol Libre, a 2-minute computer
animation classic (1980).
5. Peter Stevens, Patterns in Nature (Boston: Atlantic Monthly
Press Book, Little, Brown, 1974).
6. Ray Pestrong, “Nature’s Angle,” Pacific Discovery,
Vol. 44 #2, p.14.
7. Ernst Haeckel, Art Forms in Nature, (NY, Dover __, orig.
pub. 1913),
8. Itsuo Sakane, “Wrinkled Mountain Ranges,” Kagaku
Asahi, Vol. 49 #1, p. 70. (2/1/89)
9. David Huffman, lecture at Stanford math department, 1982 or 3.
10. Douglas Hofstadter, "The Music of Frédérick
Chopin: Starling Aural Patterns that also Startle the Eye,”
title of "Metamagical Themas" column in Scientific American,
Apr. 1982, p. 16: "...[P]henomena perceived to be magical are
always the outcome of complex patterns of nonmagical activities taking
place at a level below perception. In other words, the magic behind
the magic is pattern."
11. Shinya Inoue and Kayo Okazaki, “Biocrystals,” Scientific
American, April 1977, pp. 82-4.
12. Philip Ball, The Self-Made Tapestry: Pattern Formation in
Nature (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1999), p. 42-3
13. J. Bronowski, The Ascent of Man, (Boston: Little Brown
& Co. 1973) p. 174
14. Rudy Rucker, The Lifebox, the Seashell, and the Soul
(New York: Thunder’s Mouth Press, 2005) p. 10.
15. Tapestry, p. 69
16. Tapestry, pp.102-4.
17. Patterns in Nature, pp. 159-66
18. Tapestry, pp. 104-9.
19. E.O. Wilson, Consilience (NY: Knopf 1998)
20. Patterns in Nature, pp. 3-4.
21. George Johnson, Fire in the Mind: Science, Faith and the Search
for Order (New York: Vintage Books, 1995), p. 43.
22. Mark Buchanan, Ubiquity: Why Catastrophes Happen (NY:
Three Rivers Press 2000) p. 44-7
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More works by Myrrh
using patterns in nature may be seen
HERE
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