Subject Matters? (#125)

What draws you towards a piece of art? Plus: A submission for SciArtSeptember’s weekly prompt, Horror.

Michele Banks

posted yesterday about the idea of accompanying art with explanation, e.g., the little cards that provide a curator’s notes to the genesis of the painting beside it. Embedded in this essay were observations over the battle between scientists and artists in providing these descriptions, and whether they help or hinder the overall experience of art. The artist would argue that one should let the viewer experience it cold without influencing how they take in the art.

This is usually my approach, be it in person or viewing works online; I sit with the work and mull it over first. I try not to read any accompanying description before the initial ingestion because that takes away the puzzle.

William Baillie, Painting, c. 1939. (Photo: Richard Warren, 2013). I saw this painting at the Perth Art Gallery while on holiday a few weeks ago.

Two descriptions of Baillie’s painting, as seen at the Perth Art Gallery in Scotland. The left is the official label from the curator; the right is from a local student, as part of an art project. Which interpretation resonates with you? (Photo: Bryn Robinson, 2024)

Except, in the cases Michele is discussing, it’s not just art. It’s science, and scientists get queasy about “uneducated” inferences.

In fairness, that’s a hard task for a scientist. You have it beaten into you over years of educational trials that you do not share claims without supporting evidence, lest you be judged a hack - and now these hippies want you to do just that with your data?! I mean, isn’t the point to communicate science?

Her essay notes the tension between scientist and artist and how it is a partnership rooted in collaboration, there are still fundamentally unique goals of each player that may turn out to be opposing forces. (Something I’ve touched on here.)

I think it’s an interesting question - whether preference and/or deference should be given to the art or the science - because I think it speaks to the ability to propagate SciArt as a continuing collaborative discipline. Originally, and as an extension of my work, I would have erred on the side of the scientist. I empathize with the scientist; they come by their inclination for ad nauseum description honestly.

But I have to admit that, lately - over the last six to eight months - I’ve felt a tidal shift. My fascination was with the scientific worlds unveiled through art: to learn about new fields of discovery through a row of beads or beads of icing on a cookie, it added layers of whimsy to the marvels of the human body, the environment, the universe.

Now? I find myself more being fascinated at the creativity of the content than the content itself. I scroll through the #SciArt feed on BlueSky¹ and pause to inspect brush strokes or individual threads. I marvel less at the specific subject matter and instead at the time and dedication poured into a piece. I reflect on the way a topic is interpreted by the artist, rather than the topic itself. Whether I look at a digital drawing of a fish or a piece of embroidery, decisions were made that I then try to untangle - the cerebral underpaintings of art.

At the risk of sounding like a snob, I’m a sucker for craftsmanship². That’s the tidal shift that now makes more sense to me in the context of this newsletter: the technique, the skill, the detail, the purposeful thought that goes into the creation of a piece that causes us to mine new, sumptuous depths of our individual and collective humanity.

What makes SciArt so attractive? Is it the art or is it the science? And, should art be accompanied with explanation, or should the scientists chill out in this case?

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This Week in SciArtSeptember: “Horror”

Of course, being September, it’s been time to peruse not just #SciArt but also the #SciArtSeptember thread. With the daily submissions, I am drawn to the means of production rather than the models themselves. The depths of humanity are never-ending!

Now in its’ fourth year, host Liz Butler has added weekly themes to the daily prompts: horror, science fiction, fantasy, folklore, and endings. Not wanting to have FOMO but deciding to be reasonable, I opted for the weekly stream.

One of several variants of the lovely Liz Butler’s prompt list for SciArtSeptember 2024. The weekly themes allow one flexibility in choosing to do a daily or weekly prompt - or, a combination of both. (Photo: Liz Butler, 2024)

It still gave me pause, though. What IS the difference between these genres? I decided to put the question out to better minds on the Substack ether for input, which yielded insight from familiar faces around the Campfire:

It sounds like it’s a whole other debate! But, slightly clearer on the mutually inclusive categories, I began preparing my weekly contributions.

I decided this year to do primarily drawing for Horror, Science Fiction, and Fantasy (using a Kraft paper sketchbook that gives nice contrast to both black and white inks), with Folklore being the theme of the monthly Campfire poem. It’s been a hot minute since I’ve sketched, but it did rekindle the flame and has sparked a larger project I’ve since started mapping out.

For the first week of SciArtSeptember, I give you: Horror!

Humbly submitted under the “Horror” weekly theme for SciArtSeptember, I present to you the Goliath birdeater - a fist-sized tarantula that, well, eats birds. I decided to defuse the horror by leaning into a bit of humour via advertising. And what would a Goliath birdeater with a discerning palate endorse? (Photo: Bryn Robinson, 2024)

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To check out the previous years’ submissions to SciArtSeptember:

• 2022: Women in STEM

• 2023: Bird photography

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1. Where I migrated since the despotic takeover of Twitter; I refuse to call it by a single letter.

2. Despite not being able to proclaim any firm footing in a particular craft.