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Gallery

Affecting Perception: Interview + Gallery

[ 6 ] March 6, 2013

An exploration of art and neuroscience has taken over Oxford Castle’s O3 Gallery this month. The exhibition is titled Affecting Perception, and it features the work of artists “affected by neurological conditions, and contemporary art inspired by discoveries in neuroscience.”

The show was devised by an intrepid, forward-thinking group of recent graduates from the arts and sciences known as the AXNS Collective. Their eclectic roots and can-do spirit has yielded a first-of-its-kind show in Oxford, funded by grants that the AXNS Collective secured from the Wellcome Foundation and the Wates Foundation. You can click each featured artwork below to enlarge it and learn more about each artist, and then scroll down for our full interview with the show’s curators.

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ONLINE GALLERY

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INTERVIEW

Martha CrawfordCosima Gretton, and Rachel Stratton are the co-curators of Affecting Perception.

The exhibition seems to present the work of these artists in the context of that work being affected by their respective brain conditions, illnesses, injuries, or other neurological states we typically label as “dysfunctional” in some respect. What do we see across the board in this work, about how the art seems to reflect something about these inner states?

Cosima Gretton: It is hard to say there is a universal something that can be seen across the board in all the works. That is why they are interesting: each artist is differently affected, and has responded to and engaged with their condition differently.

With regards to the concept of ‘dysfunctional’ – while in some (Utermohlen) the dysfunction as a result of the condition can be seen in the progression of his work over the course of his disease, in others the condition adds to and informs the artist’s work. Cecil Riley, for example, paints his hallucinations, and JJ Ignatius Brennan’s migraine aura form the basis for his surrealist drawings. Jon Sarkin, one could argue, has in fact gained a function: prior to his stroke, although he had an interest in art he had never fully engaged with it, whereas now his post-stroke obsessive-compulsive tendencies generate a prolific output.

Perhaps what can be said across the board is that for each artist engaging with their condition through their art is cathartic in some way. For Utermohlen it was an attempt to understand what was happening to his mind as his Alzheimer’s disease progressed, and for Cecil Riley, painting his hallucinations (caused by Charles Bonnet Syndrome as a result of macular degeneration) seems to exorcise them. Jon Sarkin, Jason Padgett and George Widener have at different points all hinted at the fact that they cannot stop creating their art, and that creating provides a release from a kind of psychological tension.

Do you hope that viewing art in this context– the context of the brain, and its various states of function or dysfunction, healthiness or illness– can have an impact on how we view all art? 

Rachel Stratton: It is important to distinguish between looking at art through the lens of neuroscience in general and looking at art in terms of neurological conditions. Art history and art criticism are constantly looking for new contexts through which to discuss the art of a particular century, style, artist etc. and analysing art through the lens of neuroscience can provide this. In that sense it can impact the way we look at all art.

Looking at a person’s art through their altered brain function, however, is a niche branch of that neuroscientific approach and should only be applied when it fits the context. We were very careful, in our selection of artists, to only choose those whose works could be seen to convey characteristics associated with their condition. We wanted the science and the art to inform each other: the art to illustrate the altered brain function of the artist and scientific understanding of the said condition to offer another perspective on why the artist created the work they did. We were also careful with the way we framed the artists’ illnesses. For example, when looking at the work of William Utermohlen, an artist with Alzheimer’s disease we found that whilst his cognitive and spatial abilities were deteriorating his work became incredibly emotive and visceral, taking on a new poignancy. We wanted to highlight the commonality and difference rather than purely focusing on his cognitive decline.

This approach should not be applied universally to art because, in many cases, the art will not reveal anything about the illness and the illness will not illuminate our understanding of the art. However, I think as a collective we all feel quite strongly that people should not shy away from confronting an artist’s condition when the context permits it.  It can provide fascinating insight into an artist’s work and add a further dimension of understanding about the art.

In the early 20th century it’s been hypothesized that revelations in physics may have contributed to a culture shift in the arts, seen in the explosion of abstraction and cubism. We live in a time where the brain sciences are in a similar scientific spotlight, with major endeavors to understand the brain being announced on both sides of the Atlantic. Do you feel that 21st century neuroscience is contributing to a cultural movement in the visual arts, and how is that movement taking shape?

CG: Semir Zeki points out that 21st century neuroscientists are often treading old ground with the visual arts: artists have for centuries been using the tricks and techniques of the visual system to manipulate the viewer. Take perspective, object invariance, and colour constancy. For example, in many cubist paintings, such as those by Braque or Picasso, the artist provides all the viewpoints of an object within one painting, showing an understanding, almost half a century before it appeared in cognitive neuroscience, of the nature of object invariance. Neuroscience provides these discoveries with a neural basis, and often re-confirms what artists have known for a long time.

RS: There does, in recent years, seem to have been a flurry of activity around neuroscience and art that suggests that there is a particular zeitgeist at the moment. However, it is slightly different to the way that 20th century movements looked to Physics, perhaps a reflection of wider changes that have taken place in the art world. Early modernist movements such as Cubism used discoveries in geometry and physics to interrogate the visual arts. They appropriated these scientific principles with a view to exploring the fundamentals of painting and sculpture. In the contemporary context, it seems to me, that the lines of communication between neuroscience and art are much more fluid and run in both directions. Artists look to neuroscience and neuroscientists to artists. There is a greater move towards collaboration for the common goal of understanding more about the human condition and the world we live in rather than solely to inform the discipline of art. Nowadays art is less introverted and more outward looking, as are many other disciplines.

It feels to me, here in the U.S., that the U.K. is at the vanguard of this dialogue between the arts and sciences, with active sources of funding, artists, scientists and philosophers of all breeds involved in building a highly interdisciplinary culture at present. Do you sense that the culture in the U.K. is leading in this regard, and if so, why do you think that’s the case?

Martha Crawford: I am not sure if we are ‘leading’ in discovering this new dialogue but I do think that we are seeing a steep rise in interdisciplinary work between art and science in the U.K. Projects like ours and the Wonder Season at the Barbican certainly indicate so and more groups are cropping up whose main interest is the relationship between art and science and exploring this relationship.

In the last fifty years we have seen huge leaps and discoveries in science which have helped us understand more about ourselves, the world around us and our relationship with it. As all artists, scientists and philosophers are explorers in their fields, sharing the common quest to learn, discover and rediscover our place in this world, I think this marriage between sciences and the arts is a natural and inevitable move. Looking at the world through the lens of a different subject gives us more lines of questioning to follow. The more questions we can ask, the more we can learn.

The new dialogue is an exciting one as we can utilise it as a tool to increase public understanding of tricky issues and new discoveries. We still have an education system which separates people early into ‘scientists’ or ‘artists’. Although this in itself is an issue it does mean that interdisciplinary dialogue can give scientists and artists a way into a world they might previously have been excluded from.

What is original about your initiative with AXNS Collective that you feel hasn’t quite been done before? 

MC: Several elements of our project have not quite been done before and I think that this strengthens what we are doing substantially. The artists in the exhibition have never been exhibited in this way together. As far as we are aware this is the first exhibition which looks at a group of artists with direct reference to their neurological condition and asks what we can learn about said condition from their art. The response we have received so far and results of our own discussions could conclude that this is a brand new way of looking at neuroscience and conditions of the brain. We are taking the discussion out of a specialist forum and placing it in the public arena. This move is extremely important for this new area of interdisciplinary work as it will increase its longevity and ensures the continuation of innovative fieldwork.

I think the most exciting and original aspect of our project is the way we are asking questions about neuroscience and art. Our project has three platforms for discussion and for learning: the exhibition exploring the work of artists with neurological conditions and those who play with perception in their work; the community seminar series exploring the themes of the exhibition and the workshops and tours for local community groups and schools. This means we can include everyone and offer people with different learning styles and abilities a way into the conversation.

What do you, as curators, hope visitors take away from the exhibition?

CG & RS: The exhibition, seminars and workshops are public engagement exercises and we were clear from the start that one of the fundamental objectives was to make people more aware of different areas of the brain and how the brain works. We want people to leave a greater awareness of different neurological conditions and how they differ from psychiatric conditions. We have tried to make people think about the nature of vision and visual processing, and how it affects the creation and appreciation of art. We also want to make people think about the philosophy and anthropology of art production. We want people to question why we produce art in the first place and what function it fulfills.

Ideally we would like them to leave with more questions than they arrived with. We hope that the exhibition opens up new avenues of enquiry, and stimulates them to ask questions on the mind, the brain and creativity that they might not have considered before.

Gallery + Interview: Greg Dunn

[ 18 ] November 9, 2011

Greg Dunn is a visual artist and has a Ph.D in neuroscience from the University of Pennsylvania. It’s not so easy to tell at first glance whether Dunn is painting a branching pattern of a plant or that of a neuron. But maybe that’s the point. Dunn’s eye seems attuned to the dazzling beauty packed into the cellular architecture of each square millimeter of our nervous system, architecture that repeats itself all around us.

The neuronal imagery in Dunn’s paintings appears to draw some influence from the early 20th century drawings of stained neurons by foundational figures like Santiago Ramon y Cajal (find our essay on the young Cajal here). Yet Dunn’s work presents another clear influence, one that the artist himself discusses in the interview below. He is a deep admirer of a diverse range of pan-Asian artwork, and in his work this influence has made for elegant renderings of individual neurons and larger regions that exhibit both what Dunn calls the “raw and bold” quality of some Japanese and Chinese ink drawing traditions as well as their “simple, emotional, and direct” nature.

GALLERY

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INTERVIEW WITH GREG DUNN

1. Where do you interests in the brain and in pan-Asian art originate?

I’ve always been interested in psychology and philosophy, and I suppose that was where my early interests lay.  I’ve always been a pretty introverted person, so I spend a lot of time in my thoughts.  Suffice to say, I am often puzzled by whats going on in there!  As my scientific interests developed, I realized that really any biological system can be fascinating. However, what sets the brain apart is that it is the apparatus through which we experience the world.  Every single human activity has a neurological story to it.  If you’re a scientist because you want to understand yourself, as I am, then it doesn’t make sense to look any place else.

I honestly don’t remember when my interest in Asian art began, but I suspect that it may have been in reaction to overexposure to Rennaissance art on one Europen trip or another I took with my family as a kid.  In contrast to a lot of the art produced in Europe, Asian art was so simple, emotional, and direct. There was breathing room on the canvas, and the techniques were so raw and bold.  It is the kind of art that just punches you in the gut with its immediate, visceral impact.

2. How did your tastes for pan-Asian art and your interest in the brain merge? What is it about these techniques and aesthetics– particularly in Japanese scroll and screen painting– that fit your aesthetic interpretation of the brain?

Neural forms and Asian painting styles collide in a completely natural way, and I am so fortunate that I found this out for myself because it has led to a very satisfying career as an artist/scientist. Neural forms are naturally elegant and spontaneous, characteristics that also describe the more traditional forms of Asian sumi-e painting- branches, grasses, etc.  All that is required to connect the dots is the realization that you need to crank down your awareness to the micron scale to see that nature has very similar forms across different scales of magnitude.  The branching form of a dendrite is nearly identical to the form of a branching tree, a series of cracks in the pavement, the movement of rivers and streams as viewed from space, or a lightning bolt.   I wouldn’t be surprised if the form were represented on a cosmic level as well.  It is a fractal solution to the Universe.

3. First seen in slides and in medical imagery, do the images of neurons and glia in the brain change at all in your mind once you start working with their forms in an artistic setting? Do you have any examples of such a change?

My perception of the brain regions and the cells within them are always changing as I paint. This is because I’m always trying to walk a line between photorealism and interpretation.  Using photomicrographs as a hard reference  can be useful because it helps to hammer down the anatomy correctly, but it can rob the painting of sponteneity.  It also robs the painter of the almost meditative discipline of learning how to emulate the random movements and branching of neurons, a deceptively difficult skill.  The brain is always wanting to generate or pick out patterns in things, and it is a real challenge to try to avoid that tendency.

4. What has this artistic interpretation of brain structures done to your conception of the brain and its small units of processing? How has this artistic practice influenced your academic life, if at all?

It has really given me an appreciation for how utterly chaotic the microstructure of the brain is.  For clarity’s sake, I usually paint only a few neurons on a canvas to emphasize their form without obscuring it with too many lines, but the brain doesn’t look like that at all.  There’s a cliché in neuroanatomy about how each brain region claims only so much “real estate,” and that all of the processing units must be crammed into a very small space.  Put together 100 billion neurons, each making up to thousands of synapses with one another, and the evolutionary limit on head size and you’ve got one densely packed little organ indeed.  It is an unfathomable mess on the one hand, and exquisitely ordered on another.  If these realizations have affected my academic life at all, it is in what a difficult organ it is to study!  So heterogenous and complicated, it is a mighty challenge to understand the workings of just one neuron, let alone a whole brain full of them.

5. Do you believe the brain will ever understand itself, or is it vastly too complex to ever fully comprehend its own function, even through all the tools of modern science?

I had this conversation when I was just starting grad school with a friend of mine who recently finished his PhD, and it really stuck with me.  There are some astounding geniuses out there that are making huge progress for us all.  But one day, when imaging technology, data acquisition, supercomputing, etc reach the point when some of the really deep questions can be answered, I’m not sure how a human being can really grasp the avalanche of data.  Even if a brain could fully understand itself, it seems impossible to me that it would be through the mediums of graphs, tables, connectivity diagrams, and all of that that would be the inevitable output.  I’m personally not interested in that these days anyway.  For me, it seems that a more relevant and rewarding approach of self discovery lies in personally developing an intuitive approach to understanding the brain.  To understand my own brain I seriously practice meditation, the science of observing the mind.  That is where I will be spending my future years of scientific inquiry, and hopefully I’ll understanding something or other by the end of it all.

6. Beneath all, what do you find beautiful about the brain?

6. It is literally the most complicated object in the known Universe!  The tremendous knot of cells when connected in a certain way gives rise to a strange sense of “I” that is able to ponder and learn things about its environment.  It is an utter miracle, and is at the root of why we are conscious beings able to appreciate this world and all of its beauty. How can you not love it?!

For more information or to order prints, paintings, or to commission custom work, visit Greg Dunn’s website.

GALLERY: Elizabeth Jameson Spring 2011

[ 16 ] April 16, 2011

Elizabeth Jameson found her art when her own brain lost one of its most basic functions.

After suddenly finding herself unable to speak, Jameson was diagnosed with MS in 1991. She soon came to know the geography of her own mind through countless MRI sessions.

Jameson felt a hunger to step beyond her career as a lawyer and reinterpret this medical imagery, adding an artistic treatment to her brain scans in what has become a unique form of portraiture. Jameson writes that her MS inspires her “to create images that provide new insights into the brain and, at the same time, makes medical imaging and its representative humanity more accessible to both medical professionals and others who view these revealing pictures.”

Most recently, the Harvard Center for Brain Science commissioned the installation of four of Jameson’s paintings. We are proud to feature Jameson’s work in this exclusive online gallery as well as an interview with the artist below. Check out her previous gallery on this site for more images.

ONLINE GALLERY


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INTERVIEW WITH ELIZABETH JAMESON

How did you arrive at your present moment as an artist who is deeply engaged with her own brain and the brains of others?

I became fascinated by the brain when I suddenly lost my ability to talk. It happened when I was playing with my children at a local park.  I had no pain but, with absolutely no warning, I found I could not speak. The next week, surgeons removed a part of my brain in order to determine the origin of my aphasia. I was subsequently diagnosed with multiple sclerosis. Since then, in order to monitor the progression of the disease, I have spent many hours in the darkness of the scanning machine, during innumerable MRIs (brain scans).

My diagnosis and treatment gave rise to a keen interest in medical technology and inspired me to create images that interpret the medical images in a new light. For the anxious patient, the MRI images can appear ugly and frightening—a bunch of black and grey pixels spelling out their fate. I felt a strong urge to reinterpret these images—to use them to explore the wonder and beauty of all brains including those with a disease. My images create an artist’s view of imaging technology–one that is both accessible to those who view these revealing pictures as either subject or doctor and also one that, I hope, captures some of the feeling and emotions evoked by these kinds of medical images.

I discovered art after my diagnosis. Prior to this time, I was a civil rights lawyer.

Describe one or two of the works we see in the online gallery. Where is it derived from and what led you to select this particular imagery? How does the image of the brain– first seen through medical imagery– change once you start working with it?

My artwork derives largely from my own MRI or brain scans. My two favorite etchings, Valentine andEmerging, deal with the exquisite nature of the structures of the brain.

Emerging is a cropped image of my frontal lobe and inter-hemispheric fissure. In this image, my brain and the skull are emerging from  the quiet of my interior self and entering into the world outside. This image captures the mystery and magic of the brain and asks us to meditate on where the brain is going on its journey.

Valentine I is another cropped image – this time of my brain stem, cerebellum and corpus callosum.  I chose this portion of the brain because of its shape– the structure that echoes that of the human heart. I use warm and cool colors in my work to evoke the emotions that I feel when I immerse myself in the interior of the brain, and to express my happiness in discovering the image of the heart within the interiors of my brain.

What do you find beautiful about the brain?

I continually find myself humbled and awed by the layer upon layers of mysterious and imponderable structures that comprise the brain. I find beauty in its mystery.

Do you think the brain will ever understand itself, or is this organ too vastly complex to grasp its own workings?

I am comforted by the fact that I believe my brain knows exactly what it is doing. I have never felt that I needed to fight my disease or the repercussions of having an imperfect brain. Instead, I use my art to celebrate the brain. Without multiple sclerosis, I would never have thought so deeply about this incredibly vital organ. In fact, without MS I would never have discovered my passion for art.

You write that your MS inspires you to create images that provide new insights into the brain. What are the nature of these new insights? Are they insights that can only be achieved through art?

MRIs produce images of a brain that are naked and without emotional context, without passion or sadness, without all the frailties, humor, and idiosyncrasies that make us who we are. I feel I am enormously lucky that my art allows me to spend my time hunting for images where I can find beauty and sensuousness, as well as perplexing complexity.

More generally, do you see an ultimate division between the ambitions of science and of art, or do you feel they are exploring the same issues at their cores?

I really don’t know. I imagine scientists are trying to discover the mysteries of the brain, while I am trying to present and interpret the beauty in that mystery.  I like to think that we are all approaching the study of the brain with the same degree of humility and awe.

GALLERY: The Art of Neuroscience vol. III

[ 7 ] November 1, 2010

Neurogenesis– the creation of new neurons in the brain– was conventionally believed to only occur in the growing brains of infants and children.  In the 1960s, data started appearing that showed the birth of new neurons in adult, fully formed brains.  Now, 40 years later, adult neurogenesis is one of the more robust fields of study in the neurosciences.

Jason Snyder studies adult neurogenesis in Heather Cameron’s lab at the National Institute of Mental Health in Bethesda, MD.  Snyder’s research focuses on neurogenesis in the hippocampus, highlighting the role of these new neurons in such fundamental behaviors as memory formation and learning.

In his earlier days, Snyder was a student of electrophysiological techniques for studying the brain, and admired the simple, elegant aesthetic of the technology: “I remember pasting a voltage waveform on my bedroom wall because…those curves were beautiful!”

We’re delighted to have some exclusive images from Jason Snyder’s microscope.  He has a sharp eye for the compelling, unusual forms of brain tissue and uses a beautiful array of staining techniques to highlight young neurons and answer questions relating to neurophysiological results of neurogenesis.

In deciding how to crop these images and which colors to use to visually distinguish certain cells from the surrounding chaos of brain tissue, Snyder’s work toes the line between a hard science goal with great explanatory value and a more artistic mentality in the science’s visual presentation. The art and science go together: a stunning visual can make for a stunning revelation about the structure and function of cells and regions of the brain, and can emotionally move us with its sheer beauty, perhaps steering us towards a lifetime of studying the brain.

Enjoy the gallery below, which presents views of neurogenesis from different regions across the brain and at various magnifications. Jason truly embodies the pursuits of our Art of Neuroscience gallery series.

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For more of Jason’s work, check out his blog, Functional Neurogenesis.

GALLERY: The Art of Neuroscience vol. II

[ 2 ] October 26, 2010

Scenes of nature have often been inspiration for human works of art, from prehistoric cave paintings to Rubens’ country landscapes.  Now, modern technology has taken us from these large scenes  of nature – rolling hills and buffalo-speckled plains – to the imperceptibly small scenes of nature:  The microscopic inner workings of our body.  We have featured art by artists inspired by these tiny scenes, specifically the scenes in our brains, but in The Art of Neuroscience series we are featuring “art by scientists.”

In our second volume of The Art of Neuroscience, we’ll take a peek into another newly developed neuron-labeling method that yields some rather striking images while also helping to elucidate the architecture of the brain.

Fluorescent microscopy works by labeling cells with specific markers that cause them to glow certain colors when bathed in a special wash of chemical agents (fluorophores).  These “markers” are usually genetic markers, and by tinkering with the genome of a host animal, the markers – and thus the colors produced by cells under the microscope – can be altered.  Driven by a desire to map the vast web of neural connections in the mouse brain,  Jeff Lichtman and his team at Harvard developed a fluorescent staining technique affording them a sizeable palette with which to paint neurons.

The genetic system they used is called the Cre/lox system. Cre is an enzyme responsible for deleting sections of DNA that are adjacent to lox alleles.  By splicing in a handful genetic markers that are responsible for different fluorescent colors (green, yellow, red, etc) in various places near the lox sites, a game of genetic roulette was played – depending on the position of different fluorescent color-producing genes in relation to the lox enzymes, a myriad of colors would ultimately be produced in the target neurons (i.e. red green green yellow, red red red green, red yellow yellow yellow, etc).

Lichtman cleverly dubs the technique “Brainbow,” and explains its application to discovering neuron connections:

The ability of the Brainbow system to label uniquely many individual cells within a population may facilitate the analysis of neuronal circuitry on a large scale… This labeling appears well suited for visualization and tracing of large numbers of neurons and their connectivity…color differences between neurons provide a way to sort their processes while tracing through sections, to directly visualize their putative synaptic interactions, and to distinguish the neurons that converge onto a postsynaptic cell.

The gallery below shows a sampling of the lush, elegant views of neural networks provided by the Brainbow technique.

If Monet was a neuroscientist he would surely be partial to this cutting-edge method.

Images/Jean Livet, Tamily A. Weissman, Hyuno Kang, Ryan W. Draft, Ju Lu, Robyn A. Bennis, Joshua R. Sanes & Jeff W. Lichtman. “Transgenic strategies for combinatorial expression of fluorescent proteins in the nervous system,” Nature. Vol. 450, (November 2007), Pages 56-63.

GALLERY: The Art of Neuroscience vol. I

[ 0 ] September 9, 2010

In our first installment of The Art of Neuroscience, a recurring online gallery series here at The Beautiful Brain that will feature outstanding images of the brain produced by science, we are given a taste of a newly developed neuron-staining technique that reveals entire, glowing networks of neurons.  By using protein markers derived from the rabies virus, James  Marshel, Takuma Mori, Kristina Nielsen and Edward Callaway, of The Salk Institute for Biological Studies in California, were able to label the networks of neurons each cell relies on to manage its activity.  While neurons only have two destinies at a given moment – fire or don’t – they collect information from thousands of other neurons to make their decision.

The researchers were able to do this because of the nature of rabies – it follows a “retrograde” infection pathway, infecting one neuron and subsequently all the neurons giving it orders upstream.  By using striking fluorescent dyes, Marshel et al labeled the rabies proteins and illuminated these webs of neurons:

“Each single neuronal network exists in a tangled web of as many as trillions of connections between billions of neurons spanning the entire brain, confounding attempts to identify detailed circuits and relate circuits to functions in vivo. We sought to overcome this logistical barrier and facilitate the direct analysis of the fine-scale structure and function of single neuronal networks by developing and validating a robust and reliable technique to target a single neuron and its monosynaptic inputs for independent gene expression and detailed cell labeling (Marshel et al, 2010).”

Images/ Marshel, James H., Mori, Takuma, Nielsen, Kristina J. and Callaway, Edward M. “Targeting Single Neuronal Networks for Gene Expression and Cell Labeling In Vivo,” Neuron. Vol. 67 Issue 4, (August 2010), Pages 562-574.

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