Artists statement

or: Why do they call it the college of science and arts anyway?

 

     Given my background, it is perhaps no surprise to find the influence of science in my art. Yet as a practicing scientist, I saw “art” as something that arose purely from the abstract imagination. There were no concrete steps or identifiable processes to creating “art”. From what I could tell, as much as I enjoyed shop classes in high school or dabbled in painting and drawing as a child, I had no real artistic talent. As a quick scan of my C.V. will show, I also have no artistic credentials.

    

     Still I have long held the notion that in addition to logic, the best scientists exhibit a certain art in their profession. On one hand, they are bound by the rules of math, physics, and chemistry. However, like a fine chef, the best experimentalists do not merely follow recipes dictated through dogma, but rather seem to have an intuitive sense about what will work and what will not. They have access to the same published information as everyone else and yet they combine that information in new ways to generate innovative ideas.

 

     Now as a practicing artist I see a certain benefit to applying the scientific principles I have learned to my new profession. This approach allows, nay mandates one to look at a piece of art that wows the imagination, one that makes you say ‘how on earth did they do that?’, and break it down into discreet, surmountable tasks. On one hand, this would appear to limit the free expression one normally associates with art. But on the other hand, this allows for a degree of experimentation within a technique to push the boundaries of what has been done. This doesn’t have to be on the scale of the Sistine Chapel, but I think you understand what I mean when I mention it.

    

     Eventually the similarities between my science and my art became greater than the differences. I set out in science to work simultaneously with my hands and my mind, yet became lost instead in bureaucracy and politics. Let me assure you that the life of a scientist and the life of an artist are very, very different. But what drives my art is still the same desire to work with my hands and to solve logical puzzles. In short, to enjoy what I do. The pieces I create are often unique not so much because they arose from pure abstract thought, but because the technical and logical challenges that went into the finished product ensure that for all intents and purposes, they are irreproducible, even by me.

 

     In summary, I try to take an eclectic approach to art, as to science. I see what is available and interesting and true, combine the best ideas in new and interesting ways, and then leave the rest for another day.