ARTISTS TALKING

# 1 [14 April 2008]

Some background:

I've never done a residency, but I am very excited.

Cranfield Univeristy appears to be as parched artistically as the proverbial nun, there is no art and design courses here just business, engineering and technology. And just post-grad. It all seems very serious. Oh and then there's the defense arm. http://www.cranfield.ac.uk

I (heart) technology. 

I dislike journals.

I officially started the residency in December 07, and it's been hit and miss for a few months (some overwhelmingness leading to paralysis, some illness ending with wellness, my collaborator's Japanese awayness now being back-ness) but it's about the get back on track. My adrenal gland is telling me that.

I have 80 days over 10 months to create some work that explores nanotechnologies in some way, to organise and deliver some talks about art&science/science communication/public understanding of..., and to learn. Learn about working in an academic environment, learn about nanotechnology (which is vast, I need to rein that in), learn about not living in a metropolis anymore, learn about the taking a packed lunch in or face the perils of eating badly like a student (ingredients not technique), learn about the gloriously fast superJANET (the main reason academics stay academics) http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/JANET, learn learn learn...

I am in the right place, a regular Dr Suess style Brainsville.

"She thought so hard about what they said, that immediately her feet marched her straight to her bed. With the weight of the think and the thunk and the wunk, her brain undisputedly felt like it had shrunk."

# 2 [18 April 2008]

Nano. What? Where? I think I missed it...
Really bloody small. Really. Tiny. More than tiny. Too tiny in fact. Too tiny to see or even be seen directly. A nanometer is a billionth (1,000,000,000th) of a meter, and the human eye can't see much below 10,000 nanometers. It's hard to guage something as tiny as a nanoparticle - as hard to comprehend as the (possibly infinite) enormity of the universe. "To put things in perspective, if the world were scaled down so that people averaged 100 nanometers tall, the Earth would be about 76 cm in diameter" (from http://www.nanotechproject.org/topics/nano101/intr...).

So from an artist perspective I'm wondering how I'm going to get to grips with something that can't be gripped unless you own some nano-tweezers, had nano fingers to squeeze them and special nano eyes that could see things that can be smaller than a lightwave. The technologies the scientists use to 'see' the work they are doing with nanoparticles are advanced precision hardware and software systems that 'feel' the particles and show either a digitised representation of them, or simply a screed of numbers to be deciphered. More computers than chemicals.

It also raises the question of how much scientists trust the equipment they use; how far could a minor software bug derail research findings?  One small error in anyone of the thousands (probably more) of functions called in one of the software applications would be pretty hard to notice. In the normal scale world a real bug in the lab would completely mess up results, but they are easy to spot (they are ones that don't bother with lab coats and plastic overshoes).

While I'm browsing around peeking in the clean rooms and looking at the labs, I'm wondering how much job satisfaction you would get from working with such non-physical things, things that are on the edge of theory and reality. But also how exciting each step would be when you validate a paper-based assumption with a real world experiment. It must be addictive to push it to the next level, is this why many scientists are so dedicated and immersed in their work - the 'it-must-be-just-around-the-corner' carrot?

"I looked around but couldn't see. My eyes said no, they said to me "We will not zoom we will not phroooom we cannot nanoooom inside this room, from this perspective it will not be, those particles will never be clear to me (or me - for there are two of these eyes you see). There is no way we will, by looking or cooking or crooking or hooking be able to focus on those tiny things. Bring me some tech and then we'll begin."

# 3 [13 June 2008]

Scientific Papers 

I have been reading scientific papers for months. And there is no let up in sight, because once you start gaining the knowledge you want more and more and more...

Hey! "This science speak is very dense. Very tense. It's very straight. It's like a fence. We want to understand we want to try. We want our neurons to fizzle and fry, and trigger and sigh, and connect and fly. But fact figure graph and equation? Come on per-lease we need a vacation. Can you make somethings soft like honey, a scientific tale that is gooey and runny? And ideally short and incredibly funny? We'd like to see it if you do, we'd like to look, and look we would. We'll even listen watch sniff or feel. So come on 'artist' do your thing help us suck some knowledge in..."

# 4 [25 June 2008]

Secrets

There was a big gap between the eager start of this blog and then any further entries as I stumbled on the unexpected and the unwanted - the monsters of confidentiality and censorship. Breathe, two, three...

What happened was that it occurred to me whilst writing an entry about some VERY EXCITING and VERY EDGY and POTENTIALLY GROUNDBREAKING ideas TP (The Prof) had been discussing with me, that he may not want them published publicly, as it were, as they were so new and shiny. I was right and we agreed I should show him posts before I publish them. It seemed like a good idea at the time but I think it closed a mental door. Having my blog entries checked before publication removes the instantaneousness of the medium - the key thing about blogging - so instead I simply didn't write anything. It was a bit of a crippler. Now I am simply not including any potentially confidential info, but the experience made me wonder about protection of ideas in art and science. How limiting is it? Aren't we all about sharing, openness, swapping and inspiring? Open-source open-mind?

Well on the surface I suspect the answer for artists is yes, always, for sure, but underneath - what about those really great ideas, the ones that make you shake like a little pekingese dog? The ones that if you were driving (or operating machinery) you may cause an accident because you lapsed so deeply into your own head that you forgot you had limbs? The ones that snatch you from reality and ram you down a chute into Fantasyville where you are EL FROMAGE and creator of THE BEST ART EVER and the ideas are so amazing you can hardly think them. Should we publish and share this stuff?

When do we stop writing what we are thinking about and simply allude to it? And do you ever say upfront what you intend to do? Apparently Henry Wellcome once said "Never tell anyone what you are doing until you have done it" (check the ladies toilets at the Wellcome Collection building). But I am always telling people what I'm up to - what i want to do - what I'm thinking of doing. I can't help it, it's Artist Tourette's (or verbal diarrhoea, but I can never spell that). It's great to get feedback, but sometimes it backfires and you notice your ideas feeding others with no citation, reference or even casual acknowledgment. In art so what? 

Hmmm.

# 5 [24 July 2008]

The cartoons are a-coming

I am finally getting somewhere with a set of nanoparticle cartoons.

Part of the residency is to create some form of online journal with tales from nanoparticles. Nanoparticle perspectives if you will. The idea is to communicate in a simple and humourous way about the change in a material's properties when it is reduced to the nanoscale.

Take copper, for example, a lovely soft jam pan making metal that adorns pubs and caravans, and sea-sick passengers wrists. As a nanoparticle it becomes explosive - imagine an exploding jam pan, it would be lethal and very, very sticky. (BTW: have a search for the chemical symbol of a copper nanotube, it amuses the researchers no end.)

So I've been asking the research staff and PhD students at Cranfield University some questions: "If you were a nanoparticle which one would you be?" "What is the particle's greatest strengths and weaknesses?". On the basis of this feedback I'm creating a set of characters that will feature in the comic strips. It's easier said than done. Scientists are very particular about representation of fact, and for an artist who is used to using artistic license to the full (it goes with the job) this isn't very compatible.

How accurate do I need to be to conveying scientific concepts through artwork? How much can I leave for the viewer to fill in the gaps? How can I encourage anthropomorphism of these materials when to do so would give them characteristics they actually do not have? Does this matter?

I had a breakthrough with PJ who grasped what I want to do and even wrote who his particles' nemesis would be if it had one. Great.

"I am silver, I am bismuth, I am carbon, we are sub-tiny and not to be relied on, our behaviours will baffle the brainiest Prof and as for containment -we're always wandering off. Your Newtonian principles mean nothing, nitto, nada to us, and we don't go in for this gravitational fuss. We are Brownian, we bump and we turn, we stick and we burn, we have our rule set which you want to learn. You want to control us, make us collide, make us act, make us stand in line? You'll be lucky because try as you might (and try you will) our special properties will put up a fight."

# 6 [29 July 2008]

Building 52a, Zone A1, Position 068

I have just moved to a new desk space on Cranfield campus. The new building is a glass addition to an old hanger style building, which there are a few of here as there is a private airport on-site. It's very light and airy, standard grays with flashes of lime green, pink and yellow. I like it, even it's corporateness, as it's novel for me to be in a place like this. On the outside it's impressive to visitors but inside is pretty inflexible in terms of workspace - a small desk and a tiny cabinet each - but it's not to house artists, it's for academics so maybe that's all they need, and there are the labs upstairs which are ace and slightly sci-fi and smell just right. I doubt some of the format meets their needs but will have to remember to ask around. The great thing is that it is populated with people and that is what I need. People. Yip.

My old desk space was in an office halfway up the stairs. I had two desks, some shelves, a white board, lots of light, walls to put things on, spare tables BUT it was empty (and it smelled). SamNewPhD joined me in the room after a few months but the isolation was still there as we were cut off from the rest of the people in the building - we couldn't see them and they couldn't see us. I didn't spend much time there and came up with lots of reasons - TP wasn't in, I need to save fuel, I'm wasting 40 mins due to the drive, I work better at home, my dog chewed the front door handle off with me inside...

I realise now that when I was in there I felt like an item of storage stuck halfway up the stairs - like your Grandma's corner cabinet that is potentially valuable but doesn't fit anywhere. 

So today I am feeling excited as I have witnesses (even though they don't know it). Does everyone need an involuntary audience for their life?

# 7 [4 August 2008]

Purple Gloves

I know that having the chance to witness a nanoparticle experiment in the lab is a great opportunity to learn, so it's probably not really OK to be dazzled by something as simple as a pair of very purple latex gloves. 

More to follow...

(probably)

Very lovely gloves though.

"Are you really being serious? Taking it all in? Are you learning from the masters, or have you been off-topic on the gin? Because it seems to us, it appears to us, it looks to us, like - you are coasting flat out in neutral, clutch down, gear agnostic, mildly out of control. And we're not very impressed when the point of you being there IS NOT BEING ADDRESSED. On the surface, to the naked eye, you know -outwardly at least, it seems a little tiny bit like you are taking the p*ss."

# 8 [5 August 2008]

Hacking printers, losing brain

It occurred to me today that I think it would be possible to misuse the networked printing system across the campus by outputting statements from the printers to the people that use them. Most people always look at what comes out as they wait for their print.

I wonder if I could access all the printers on the network - my mac seems to sit outside of the PaperCut system anyway so it might be possible. Wouldn't it be nice if you found a bit of paper and it had a special message on it?

  500 pages that all say "I want to but I can't"

  "No one asks me about the weather" 

  Pictures of other photocopiers with their doors open. CopierPorn. 

Or maybe I will use this to promote the work when it gets exhibited. After a little test or two...

Sheesh. What am I up to? Is this what happens when your studio is an open-plan office. You start making photocopier jokes? From a storage cupboard to a Tatiesque workers greenhouse. I think I am missing my old studio. A lot.

# 9 [20 August 2008]

Art and Science Talk at Imperial

Yesterday I gave a talk to a bunch of post doc researchers at Imperial College. They were all scientists that had been and will be working with school children (ages 8-11) to enthuse about and teach science. The workshop was one of many organised by Wayne Mitchell (Cranfield Health) and he invited me to talk about how art can be used in the understanding of science. My work often manifests itself as abstracted representations of scientific processes so that made sense, and I really enjoyed thinking about the differences and similarities between art and science methodologies in preparation for the talk.

As there were only ten or so people in the workshop I decided to do something I usually do but backwards - I showed a piece of work called The Lake  (2005) and asked them to guess what it was without me explaining anything up front. No one guessed exactly what is was (a sound and animation work that was generated from 16 fish tagged in a lake), but it sparked an interesting discussion and some new ideas. This completely proved the point that presenting scientific data in a non-obvious manners sparks curiousity and wonder. Conveying complex systems and/or biological processes is possible in a way that is accessible (for want of another word) and allows each visitor to explore the concepts behind the work further to the depth they want to.

When The Lake was installed at Tingrith Fishery children of all ages loved it - I think this was because it gave them space to make up their own stories and theories about what the shapes were doing and why. Science enabling creativity :)

Two other people spoke at the workshop - my friend Dr Pink talked about his event organising org Rusty Promotions and a science communicator called Ian Dunne. Interesting both. I learned that sperm whales hunt by sonar, and when they find their prey (generally giant squid) they emit a super loud noise to stun the squid stupid and then attack. I've met people like that in East London.

Actually maybe not true about the whale after all: http://scienceline.org/2008/05/12/ask-locke-whale/...

(This article contains this quote "This was a a lovely idea killed by data". I think I've just found the title of the nano works.)

The Lake http://www.juliefreeman.co.uk/lake

Dr Pink http://www.rustypromotions.co.uk/

Ian Dunne http://www.ianbdunne.co.uk/

# 10 [21 August 2008]

Looking closer, seeing less

Yesterday I had a 2 hour session with Matt Kershaw and TP with an Environmental Scanning Electron Microscope (ESEM) which can enable us to view up to x5000.

ESEMs focus a beam of electrons in a scanning motion over a sample placed in a sealed chamber. A vacuum is created in the chamber and water vapour is added. The electrons penetrate the sample (a tiny amount, say 10 micrometers) and stimulate the ejection of other electrons (Secondary Electrons) from the sample, which are amplified in the water vapour environment. The secondary electrons are counted by an electron detector and this information is converted into an image viewed on a display. It's complicated and I barely understood, but that's the gist. The most important thing is that what we see on the screen is a combination of a hardware sensor and a software translation of moving electrons into a black and white image.

In preparation I made 8 cardboard slides each with pencil marks from the entire range of Faber-Castell pencils and then some. From 6H to 9B, plus charcoal and wax pencil used for writing on glass. Each slide was a different quality paper ranging from very smooth (professional tracing paper) to super rough (crepe paper). So 8 different papers, 20 different pencils, 3 different marks per pencil = 480 samples. In 2 hours. I didn't really think that through and we managed to look at about ten, plus some marks made ad hoc on a little aluminum stub (so we could tilt the sample - my slides were too big).

I was hoping that the equipment would reveal landscapes of graphite and clay, boulders of charcoal, great crevices formed torn by the hardest pencils, sprinklings of dusty rubble at the edges of lines, mountains made by single dots.

Mostly when we mark with pencil on paper it's a purposeful action, a dynamic set of movements that build a bigger picture. In using the equipment I was interested in looking closer at the pencil mark to see how complex the simplest of artistic processes is from a very close-up perspective, whether the dynamic nature of making the mark was clearly apparent in the debris left behind, and if it would even be recognisable as a pencil mark.

I hadn't considered the interaction between pencil and paper, or the elemental ingredients of the samples.

More following...

"As I prepared my samples thoughts nudged at me, what would they look like, what would we see, what if we discover, something new, something free from the norm, something quite beautifully strange? What if this pseudo-experiment is so out of the range that the magic we find is the first of it's kind? And the thoughts they went on and I let them, I let them push the excitement along. I wondered if the scientists feel this, if this is what they get, when they prep for the next most amazing experiment yet..."