Answer I
Have you ever been moved by science like art did or have you ever been fascinated by art like science did?
Growing up, my interests pretty much revolved around science and art. At one point, they became two wildly different yet fundamentally similar potential career paths. To me, they are both opportunities to engage in the uniquely human endeavor of creativity and the pursuit of some kind of 'truth'. I think choosing science over art is usually perceived as the more so-called practical route. However, my decision was engrained in emotion.
Whenever I work on a piece of art, I can see the finish product in my head. I can pick at each and every little detail and visualize other pieces which might have inspired a certain kind of shading, a color scheme, how thick or thin a line is, how harsh an area of contrast might be. I can imagine how many layers and the different mediums I might need to use, which parts I should practice before attempting, and what ideas I should leave open for modification. It all feels very mechanical. Refining each skill feels robotic yet satisfying. Finishing the piece feels like filling in a gap; taking something that was previously very real only to me and making it tangible.
Although science stands upon classic rules of engagement both in principal and practical execution, I've always felt somewhat intoxicated with childlike wonder. Of course there are the hours of rote protocol, troubleshooting, and scouring the literature. However, for me, the real science happens when you sit down (or stand in the shower, stare at the ceiling for hours on end, daydream on the bus) and try to imagine how all this information fits together. What are the implications if this is true: how does this affect development, different disease states, even evolution? It's a vast and endless playground for the mind. It moves my entire world everyday.
Answer II
Here is a response that bears on your question, but is not a direct answer. I once conducted and moderated a monthly discussion series I called "Sophia", in which I put people in conversation who would not normally find themselves talking. One discussion was between a retired theoretical physicist and a Native American sculptor, and they talked about "going into the darkness and the moment of discovery". They explored their years of preparation for their tasks, their training, but then their ultimate necessity to "let go" and be able to just let some kind of deep, unconscious process take over when matters got to the really serious part of their endeavors - the moment of discovery (for the scientist) or true creation (for the artist) - the "Aha!" moment. And when they described their feelings of that moment, and of that process, so much was identical. It was one of the more fascinating encounters in the series.
I'm not sure this would be true of all scientist and artists, by any means. However, I have been in the art world for 30 years, and my avocation is science, so I have been around many people in both fields. I do find a great deal of overlap in the personalities involved in both endeavors to the extent that they are both drawn from the margins of our culture. Largely, both artists and scientists were the "weird kids" in school. This creates certain kinds of adaptive behaviors in children that tend to play out as adults (I know - I was one, too) - and inevitably affect how not only lives, but work, are performed, because those things are inextricable.
And of course, both fields deal with the BIG QUESTIONS, at least potentially, and with questions of order. And as many scientists have noted, notably physicist Murray Gell-Mann, a significant scientific criterion is beauty - ironic that in recent years, much art has cast it aside (!).
Answer III
Splendid question. I am into scientific research and I appreciate Renaissance art. To excel in either fields, I believe, one requires a blend of creativity and perspective. I shall demonstrate my point further by giving examples of accomplished artists of renaissance period.
It is our perspective towards art that makes us pursue its significance scientifically. Essentially, science is an investigation of a mystery and art is an interpretation of it. Let me start with the name of Jesus and we shall see how science and art blends.
'Jesus Before the Caïf', by Giotto (1305). The ceiling rafters show the Giotto's introduction of convergent perspective. Detailed analysis (right panel), however, reveals that the ceiling has an inconsistent vanishing point and that the Caïf's dais is in parallel perspective, with no vanishing point. Geometric analysis (towards right) reveals that Giotto had implemented the idea of convergent parallels without the use of an accurate vanishing point. The rafters in the ceiling all converge in a convincing fashion, but geometric projection exposes the failure to converge accurately. The deviation is scarcely noticeable in the original fresco, so Giotto had a good eye in this instance. The minor misconvergence is, however, sufficient to document that Giotto did not use a vanishing point in his construction of the ceiling. His dramatic evocation of depth in this picture was therefore based on either a non-geometric construction principle or a different form of construction that did not involve the use of vanishing points.
Masolino's 'St. Peter Healing a Cripple and the Raising of Tabitha' (1425). Note the almost perfect convergence of the vanishing points for receding horizontals from all parts of the composition, from the front of the scene all the way to streets in the far distance. Although the ground plane is rock-strewn earthen floor, almost all the receding horizontals in the buildings around the piazza conform accurately to a single vanishing point. This is more remarkable because they span the visible depth from the front edge of the picture to the narrow streets in the far background (where the convergence requirements are close to parallel). Only someone with a thorough commitment to the principle of central convergence could have achieved this global level of uniformity.
Advancing from the one-point perspective forms of early Renaissance art, Hans Holbein developed a sketch with an oblique perspective.
Detailed analysis of the archway in this sketch leads to the conclusion that Holbein used a sophisticated construction method for the elliptical curves and the converging details, with a few minor conceptual lapses. To do so requires an understanding of the projection of the semi-circular structures in the portico to oblique ellipses in the plane of the picture. This is a challenging geometrical construction, especially in the early 1500s. Even now, few artists would know how to generate the nested ellipses in the right configuration to match the intended structure.
Science has always influenced artists, and in turn, artists have reflected through their creations.
For example:
Raphael's 'School of Athens' (1510), depicting a host of ancient philosophers in a perspective setting. Plato (left center) is a portrait of Leonardo, passing his knowledge to his pupil Aristotle, whose outstretched hand forms the center of the composition. To Plato's right is Socrates, holding forth to a group of his pupils including the hero Alcibiades, Xenaphon, and Aeschines.Pythogoras is writing a book in the left foreground, while behind him areAlberti as Zeno and Tommaso Inghirami as Epicurus. In the center,Michelangelo as Democritus is writing at the table in front of a declamatoryParmenides, with Diogenes reclining on the steps. In the right foregroundEuclid (a portrait of Raphael's master, Bramante) stoops to demonstrate a theorem of a six-pointed star, while Ptolemy holds the celestial sphere andZoroaster with a gold crown holds the earth and looks back at Raphael's self-portrait in the black velvet cap, next to his colleague at the Vatican, the painter Giovanni Bazzi (Il Sodoma). Behind them are Heraclitus and possibly the blind poet Homer. In the far background over Aristotle's left shoulder are two figures closely resembling the portraits of the artists Masaccio (with the dark hair) and his master Masolino (with the white beard).
Although, I have answered from an art-perspective, these observations proves that science and art blend together.
In fact, Leonardo da Vinci's Principles for the Development of a Complete Mind states that we should study the science of art as well as study the art of science. To develop our senses- especially learn how to see. Realize that everything connects to everything else.
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