SUPERSENSORIAL: Experiments in Light Color and Space

Posted on February 28, 2012 by TJK

About a year ago I was covering a Socratic seminar for a fellow teacher who was out for an extended period. He’d hurt his back and couldn’t comfortably sit or stand for any length of time. It was an unexpected new responsibility for which I hadn’t had time to adequately prepare…but all that’s really quite irrelevant to the subject of this post. By the time I took over his class the students had already come to the conclusion that neither black nor white are colors, and had moved on to discussing the nature of grey. I encouraged them move beyond their well-reasoned, circular arguments and to actually do a little research into color theory, the physics of light, the structure of the eye, and the neurological processes that influence our perception of color and light. In the end, I think we ended up at an impasse with certain students maintaining that grey was simply a shade and not a true color, some insisting that grey is most definitely a color since we also must consider the non-monochromatic hues, and a few claiming that they still weren’t convinced that any of us could say for certain that what we all called grey was in fact grey.
I wish that the new exhibit,“Supersensorial: Experiments in Light Color and Space”, had been at theHirshhorm Museum while my students and I were having this dialogue. We may not have gotten any closer to agreeing about the nature of grey, but we would certainly have had a much more interesting conversation about color, light and how our experience of an environment or object can be totally transformed based on our perceptions. Some of the young philosophers would doubtless have asked the same questions I heard from exhibit-goers:

“Are the walls white?” or “Wasn’t that little room more pink the last time we walked through?” as they walked through Carlos Crus-Diez’sChromosaturation room, where the viewer is immersed in an environment lit by three sets of fluorescent lights (blue, magenta and green). As one moves through the space the distinct colors of the overhead lights begin to meld and morph. The walls, floor and ceiling change hue–pink becomes orange, blue fades to lavendar and then deepens to violet–and the viewer’s sense of the environment becomes less concrete even as it intensifies.

Moving from Cruz-Diez’s saturated interior space, the young sages would have encountered an entirely different sort of environment (object?) that would almost certainly have elicited similarly profound, but very different discussions of vision, sensation, movement and perception.

Jesus Rafael Soto’s Blue Penetrable BBL sits, or rather hangs, like some beep blue decontamination unit in the antiseptic white white room. Resembling something out of Woody Allen’s 1973 comedy thriller Sleeper, Soto’s environment adds a tactility to the disorienting visual effect of light bouncing off hundreds of hanging blue tubes that dissect the participants field of vision. The piece creates a vibrating effect in the room, like silent static on a blue and white screen. Walking through, or watching others walk through the blue nylon baleen shadows and light play funny games.

Much less disorienting is Helio Oiticica‘s Cosmococas. The opium den inspired environment felt more like an attempt to recreate a scene from a late 60s animated Spider Man episode than an experiment in light and perception. Although it might have been interesting to talk with our philosophers about how placing this installation in a museum might have affected our experience differently than placing it, say, in the basement of their grandparents early 1970s ranch house. And whether we would have reacted differently if the images flashing on the wall were scenes from World of Warcraft or Call of Duty.

Julio Le Parc‘s Light in Movement (shown above) also might have given us some interesting points of reflection–both literally and figuratively. Using only two spotlights, and some small silver mirrors in a darkened curving room, Le Parc makes some interesting points about reflection and perception. A grid of small silver mirrors hang from filament, catching the beams of light from the spotlights and reflecting them much larger on the curving wall behind the occupants of the room. A large mirror at the front of the room allows us to see a 360 degree view. Small movements in the hanging grid are reflected and translated as big arching, and spinning starlike lights on the back wall. Our thinkers might have found any number of metaphors to talk about the distorting effect of reflection. Any of which would likely have taken us beyond our simple discussion of grey.

As a teacher, I found Supersensorial… a befitting title for this exhibit. Science and art meet in this exhibit to create interesting environments that should elicit discussions and explorations beyond the typical “what do you think the artist was trying to say” lessons that too often are the basis for a visit to the art museum. Forcing us to interact with art, and the environment, in different ways, Supersensorial opens a world of possibilities for interdisciplinary investigation.

WFR: or a meditation on good teaching

Posted on February 23, 2012 by TJK

One morning about two months ago I was sitting in a classroom at the Shaver’s Creek Environmental Center just outside State College Pennsylvania, learning basic anatomy. Later that afternoon I found myself in a snowy wood assessing injuries to a hiker who had fallen and suffered a broken leg and serious head injury. Four or five of my classmates–most in their early to mid twenties–worked feverishly together to splint and stabilize the disoriented patient, secure him in a litter and carry him out over a creek, up a hill, and back to the classroom where we’d started our day. Meanwhile, others tended to the broken and twisted limbs of the patient’s fellow hikers. Once the straps were taken off, the limbs unsplinted and the bone wax washed away, we debriefed our first multi-patient rescue.

Our patients were our classmates. The falls, the broken bones, the confusion and the evacuation were all a test, planned by John Clancy our SOLO Wilderness Medicine instructor–a heck of nice guy. At Shaver’s Creek, I was one of about 14 people taking part in a ten-day Wilderness First Responder (WFR) course. WFR is the basic certification required for most people who work as backcountry trip leaders, mountain guides, river guides, ski patrollers, and in a variety of other environments where one is responsible for the safety and overall well-being of others in a wilderness setting. It also provides a really good set of skills (both medical and leadership related) for anyone who spends a significant amount of time outdoors, or without quick access to medical aid.

Since returning from Shaver’s creek I haven’t had to splint any limbs, stabilize any spines or apply direct pressure to any arterial bleeds. But I feel better knowing that if I were put in that situation I’d know what to do. I would undoubtedly be nervous, and my dressings might not come out as perfectly as John made sure they did during my training. Nevertheless, I know enough now to do more good than harm–which I’m not sure would have been the case before I became a WFR. Most importantly, what John taught through a combination of lecture, demonstrations, conversation, hands-on practice and scenario simulations over nearly two weeks has made an indelible impression. His combination of instruction strategies–along with his flexibility in letting us find our own best ways of grasping concepts and performing procedures–made John perhaps one of the most effective teachers I’ve ever had in a technical course like this.

Most of us don’t go into the world thinking that we’ll encounter the worst case scenario. I think if we did we might not travel very far out into the world, actually. That doesn’t mean that we shouldn’t be prepared for the things we may encounter, whether on a city street, suburban cul-de-sac, or backcountry trail. My WFR class reminded me of the importance of being present, the value of observation, the benefit of listening closely and the reward of taking responsible risks. It also reminded me what really good teaching should be like. After each eight hour day of my WFR training I walked back through the woods to the cabin in which I was staying. Tired, but charged, I noticed new things on each walk. Rather than being dazed and confused, I felt curious and observant. And maybe that’s the biggest gift of a teacher like John: he gets you to look carefully at the environment around you, gives you the confidence to act on what you see.

Power Generating Roads of the Future

Posted on February 23, 2012 by TJK

Another great idea

Do-It-Yourself Drones on the Kojo Show

Posted on February 22, 2012 by TJK

Do-It-Yourself Drones: New Civilian Uses for Unmanned Aircraft.

Once a useful technology is developed, people will find all sorts of new and interesting uses for it. Unmanned drones have changed the nature of the battlefield. Now new civilian uses are being found for drone technology. From crowd surveillance and land surveying to ecosystem monitoring and investigative journalism. Do-it-yourselfers and commercial interests are taking drones to new heights.

This afternoon’s discussion on The Kojo Nnambi Show explored the new eyes in the sky, and the legislation that’s making it possible.

The Art of Distraction….. or Maximizing the Unfocused Mind

Posted on February 20, 2012 by TJK

Hanif Kureishi’s opinion piece in yesterday’s New York Times, “The Art of Distraction”, extolls the virtues of the unfocused mind. The mind that looks beyond–or away from–the task at hand to discover new and interesting things. Kureishi distinguishes this state of mental meandering from the more harmful tendency to close oneself off to learning, to discovery, and (really) to the enjoyment of distraction. A state that happens, as he notes, too often when the educational system, and all the other “responsible” voices feeding our ego tell us that we are failing because we lack the lazer-like focus necessary to achieve.

As a teenager, in particular, I wanted to be good at things, to shine, but like the Ritalin boy, I fell badly behind at school, finding myself not only unable to learn but at the bottom of my class. I walked out of secondary school, and a semi-skinhead violent street culture, with three “O” levels, feeling as if I’d been badly beaten for five years. Fortunately I could tell myself it was still the late ’60s, I was a rebel and didn’t fit in — no one with any imagination could.

When I consider that wretched period now, I can see I wasn’t enjoying a creative distraction, a vacation from the drudgery of a bad education, but was enduring a tantrum. Having shut myself off, I was suffering from a form of intellectual anorexia — the refusal to be given anything, to take anything in. As a result of that self-stymieing, I lost hope and believed I’d never catch up or achieve anything. It was a short period in my life, but I haven’t forgotten that early deficit. Sometimes I wonder if I’m still compensating for it.

Meaningful achievements and important discoveries often occur, he points out, when we’re looking somewhere else–when artful distraction and openness to diversion become productive, even inspiring pastimes.

As we as a society become desperate financially, and more regulated and conformist, our ideals of competence become more misleading and cruel, making people feel like losers. There might be more to our distractions than we realized we knew. We might need to be irresponsible. But to follow a distraction requires independence and disobedience; there will be anxiety in not completing something, in looking away, or in not looking where others prefer you to. This may be why most art is either collaborative — the cinema, pop, theater, opera — or is made by individual artists supporting one another in various forms of loose arrangement, where people might find the solidarity and backing they need.

Tinkering with Tomorrow: DIY in the Future Tense

Posted on February 16, 2012 by TJK

Well here you have it: the wonks at the New America Foundation have officially caught the do-it-yourself (DIY) bug. Thanks to publications and websites like MAKE magazine and Instructables.com the DIY ethic is increasingly attracting mainstream attention. Across the country, and around the world, groups of really smart people are forming to think about and make really cool stuff–like the Capitol Region’s own HacDC. And now the Beltway intelligentsia are starting to take note of the profound social and economic effect the DIY movement will have on the future. I also happen to believe that the DIY movement holds incredible potential for informing educational reform–but that is a discussion for another time.

On February 29th the New America Foundation, Slate and Arizona State University are sponsoring Tinkering With Tomorrow: Will the DIY Movement Craft the Future?.

From the website:

New technologies are making it easier than ever to turn an idea into a reality. 3D printers, open-source software, hackable products, and collaborative communities have turned traditional tinkering into a full-scale “maker movement” that allows – and encourages – everyone to tap into their inner entrepreneur. Can this movement usher in a new age of innovation? Will hackers have a profound impact on the economy? And if so, are we prepared for it?

The agenda is packed with more really smart people talking about really interesting things. I’ll be attending, and if you’re anywhere near Washington, DC on the 29th you should check it out, too.

What Words Can’t Convey: Illustrations Promote Scientific Understanding

Posted on February 15, 2012 by TJK

Humankind has long used illustrations to represent complex ideas and concepts. When words just can’t quite convey our meaning images often becomes necessary. From cave paintings to modern-day microscopy our ability to understand and influence our environment has relied on our evolving ability to create read images.

To quote the National Science Foundation (NSF):

Some of science’s most powerful statements are not made in words. From the diagrams of DaVinci to Rosalind Franklin’s X-rays, visualization of research has a long and literally illustrious history. To illustrate is to enlighten.

How many people would have heard of fractal geometry or the double helix or solar flares if they had been described solely in words? In a world where science literacy is dismayingly rare, illustrations provide the most immediate and influential connection between scientists and other citizens, and the best hope for nurturing popular interest. Indeed, they are now a necessity for public understanding of research developments.

To that end the NSF and the journal Science have created the International Science and Engineering Visualization Challenge. You can see these and other images (as well as some of the winners from previous years) at the website. Categories include, photography, illustration, video and even interactive games. We’ve come a long way from the cave wall. I wish I’d had images like this when I was studying biology in high school. Stained potato cells just don’t give you the whole picture.

Filicide Among Deciduous Trees: Those Leaves Didn’t Fall… They Were Pushed

Posted on February 12, 2012 by TJK

Walking through Rock Creek Park on a late afternoon in mid-February you’ll notice many beech trees (and a few oaks) still clinging to dry and faded, tissue-paper-thin leaves. While other deciduous trees in the woods push their leaves to the ground every autumn in an annual act of paternal rejection, certain members of the Fagaceae family cling to their brood through the long cold winter.

Make no mistake, the leaves littering the forest floor did not, upon losing the greenness of youth and taking on the spectacular colors of maturity, leap to ground, voluntarily returning to soil. They were pushed. If you don’t believe me listen to Robert Krulwich, reporting for NPR on “Why Leaves Really Fall Off Trees”.

What made me think of this piece was a walk in the woods last week where I came across a familiar beech tree. I pass this tree nearly everyday as I drive through the park, run the trails or ride my bike down Park Road toward Pierce Mill. The hanging branch in this picture split from the large beech you see to the left during a storm almost two years ago. As the tree shed its leaves that first autumn, I noticed that the leaves–wilting, but maintaining their clorophyll green color–clung to the detached branch long past the time the their dried-up, golden-brown siblings had been pushed to the ground. They stayed through that first winter, and by the time the canopy was again green, the leaves had turned brown and crisp. They still, however, clung to the branch hanging upside down high above the path.

Now, two Februaries after the wind tore this big branch from the tree, the leaves have turned black. Though dry and molded, they continue to hold onto the dead branch–seemingly waiting for the wind (or decomposition) that will finally bring the whole big branch to the ground, leaves intact. That likely won’t happen, however. The solid thick beechwood branch, though unable to push these last leaves off, will still hang in the tree for some time after the wind, rain, and sun have stripped the last leaf from the branch.

In the NPR piece posted above, Peter Raven, president of the Missouri Botanical Garden, explains why, when shutting down food production for the winter, trees shed their leaves. Of course, we know it is in part to protect against high winds and heavy snows clinging to the leaves–a situation that as we saw in the Northeast this winter can cause limbs to crack and snap. But Raven also notes that green leaves, left attached to a tree over the long cold winter could feasibly, on a warm sunny day, begin photosynthesizing. As the food producing leaves draw fluid through the outside layers of the tree just below the bark, a quick drop in temperature might just freeze all that water, killing the entire tree in the process.

Pushing the very leaves that have nourished it all spring, summer and into the fall to the ground becomes a matter of survival for most deciduous trees. So why do some beeches and oaks hold on to their leaves? They’re no longer capable of producing food, and they would best be returned to the soil where they can decompose, providing nourishment to the tree in a new way. Scientists aren’t really sure. All they know is that the abscission cells that like scissors cut the leaf from the tree don’t seem to work all that well in trees of the Fagaceae family. Maybe, though, it’s because the ghostly pale leaves and the soft dry rustling caused by a cold winter breeze in a beech forest such as Rock Creek Park are just too beautiful for nature to pass up.

Camouflage: Art Meets Science Again

Posted on February 9, 2012 by TJK

The other day I was out with my sons and their friend, walking through Rock Creek Park. When we reached a little grassy field along a hillside trail William, my youngest, decided to test our powers of observation.

It’s a game both my boys love to play, and one that they have raised to the level of performance. The casual passer-by often takes little enough note of the obvious, let alone the animals, objects, and even young boys hidden in plain site. Observation, I think, is the connection between the naturalist and the artist.

William’s game reminded me of an exhibit we saw a while back at the Smithsonian American Art Museum. Included in this exhibit of artists sketches and journals were the notebooks of American artist and naturalist Abbott Handerson Thayer (1849-1921).

Working in the late 19th – early 20th century, Thayer has since become known as the father of camouflage for his writings on countershading and high-difference patterning. Ideas that would later be adapted by Norman Wilkinson to provide what still, to the untrained eye, seems like a counterintuitive camouflage patterning for British naval vessels.

What Thayer and his colleague George de Forest Brush noticed was not, as you might expect, that animals that closely mimicked the patterns of nature–the ones that best matched the color and texture of their surroundings–had a distinct camouflaging advantage. Of course, similarity in color and texture does help disguise potential prey, and assists the predator in stealthy attack. But by studying optics and applying the artistic concept of countershading, the two determined that the real secret to camouflage is to break up the patterns in order to confuse the viewer. The way the white belly of a fish or frog for instance serves to break up the hard lines that distinguish its shape. The effect, rather than to completely hide an animal from its predator, or a ship from its enemy, is to confuse the viewer. To break the pattern of recognition.

My son’s game works on the same principles. The idea, of course is to hide, to become invisible. But becoming invisible is only really fun if someone sees you doing it.

When we look at the natural world, or at art the disruption of our view often results in misrecognition and at times mild confusion. With art as with nature, close observation is necessary to distinguish the patterns, to see the connections, and eventually for the object to to become recognizable and meaningful–whether it’s food for the belly or the mind.

Corvidae Corvus

Thoughts on Learning: observe, ask questions and create

Monthly Archives: February 2012