A number of eminent personalities have supported this effort: René Berger, writer and honorary president of the arts department at the University of Lausanne; Jean Dausset, Nobel laureate in medicine and modern art connoisseur; Frank Popper, specialist in philosophical questions relating to art and technology; Ilya Prigogine, Nobel laureate in chemistry and author of books on aesthetics.
The text also received input from specialists in their respective fields: Marianne Clouzot, artist; Philippe Comar, artist and professor at the École Supérieure des Beaux-Arts; Françoise Gaillard, professor of philosophy at the University of Paris VII; Antoinette Hallé, curator of the Musée de la Céramique at Sèvres; Bruno Jacomy, engineer, associate director of the Musée des Arts et Métiers; Elaine Koss, deputy director of the Art College Association; Bernard Maitte, specialist in the history of science and knowledge; Sarah McFadden, art historian and an editor of Art in America.
This book would not have been possible without the generosity of those who lent their iconographic documents as a courtesy—artists, photographers, museums, librarians, publishers and corporations.
The author would like to thank Tereza Wagner and Michiko Tanaka who literally carried this project within UNESCO. She is immensely grateful to Donny, Serge, Muriel, and Josh for their unconditional support, and wishes to thank all those who contributed directly or indirectly to realize this project.
—Eliane Strosberg, December 2014
1. The art and science dialogue
While the interaction between artists and scientists is often fruitful, a true dialogue was not always easy to establish. To begin with, dictionaries offer several definitions of “art.” One describes art as a form of “science or knowledge.” Another suggests that “art is a series of means and procedures tending towards an end.” In some dictionaries, the concept of beauty appears in only fifth position as an element in art. Needless to say, creators do not depend on such descriptions to define who they are and what they do.
Many consider that works of art should be appreciated for their intrinsic value or their innovative vision of the world. In the past, art served religion, magnified the power of patrons, reflected skills aiming at producing elegant objects. Nowadays it is used mainly for self-expression, and even as therapy.
When it comes to the word “science,” most dictionaries offer a description which seems, at first glance, quite obvious. Science is the knowledge of the laws of nature. In other words, it embodies all studies which carry a universal meaning and which are pursued by research methods based on objective and verifiable facts.
However, we should bear in mind that for centuries, metaphysics, theology and philosophy prevailed; science, too, was once nurtured by beliefs. Concepts such as “method and objectivity” have appeared only recently, and to some, science still remains mysterious.
Divergence and convergence
According to the mathematician and philosopher, Bertrand Russell: “In art, nothing worth doing can be done without genius; in science, even a moderate capacity can contribute to supreme achievement.” Such a strong opinion deserves a few comments.
Whereas the artist often tries to stir emotions, the scientist has to convince. Art looks into the “why;” science also raises the question of “how.” For the Cubist painter Georges Braque: “art provokes, while science tries to reassure.” Science, working towards collectively recognized and precise objectives, tries to remove ambiguities, which art accepts and even emphasizes as inevitable in the realm of subjective experience.
Symmetry patterns found in different cultures, Peter Stevens, 1981
During Antiquity, artists produced these schemes in their decorations. Not until the nineteenth century were mathematicians able to analyze and duplicate such motifs.
It is commonly thought that everyone has the ability to appreciate art, while science is accessible only to some. What is more, scientists and artists generally consider themselves very different from each other. The “left brain/right brain” hypothesis reinforces this notion. It states that scientists, whose tasks are primarily logical and analytical, mainly use the left side of the brain; the right side, seat of intuition and imagination, would be more developed in the artist.
Despite, or perhaps because of their differences, artists and scientists are bound by a mutual fascination: opposites attract. Is it that the artist’s need to draw from science merely expresses an urge to use whatever means are available to serve his art? Maybe the scientist’s search for convergence simply stems from an inclination to create coherent models to explain the world.
Together, art and science develop innovative concepts, often using the same subjects to the same end. Giving birth to ideas and forms is what makes an artist or a scientist. To scrutinize the cosmos, examine nature or study the brain, are explorations common to both. Following parallel paths, art and science are in many ways mutually enabling.
Cubist painting, for example, might be said to anticipate in certain respects the theory of relativity. In architecture and the performing arts, however, science and technology often work as catalysts.
“Who is ahead of whom” is irrelevant, because the other always catches up in the end. Paul Valéry, the French writer, felt that: “Science and art are crude names, in rough opposition. To be true, they are inseparable … I cannot clearly see the differences between the two, being placed naturally in a situation where I deal only with works reflecting thinking matters.”
Aesthetics and method
The word “aesthetics” designates a branch of philosophy concerned with the “science of beauty” in nature and art. Beauty and discipline are important for both artists and scientists. The latter readily admit that logical reasoning is sometimes overestimated, citing the imagination as an integral part of their creative process.
Scientific theories may take years to develop, during which time aesthetic consideration plays a major role. “A beautiful theory killed by a nasty little fact” said Thomas Henry Huxley, a biologist and science popularizer. Many scientists find their greatest satisfaction in aesthetic contemplation and describe their research as a quest for beauty. Masterpieces such as Aristotle’s Physics or Newton’s Optics seduce first and foremost by the elegance of their logic.
Some of the most famous artists, on the other hand, frequently place discipline and method above aesthetic consideration. Bach, a brilliant manipulator of “ready-made formulas,” considered himself a craftsman and reportedly said: “I have to work very hard; whoever works as hard will get as far.” Beauty did not seem to be the only goal of his music, which was composed from “divine mathematics.” Igor Stravinsky’s approach to music was extremely painstaking and structured, too. He portrayed the musician as “a craftsman whose materials of pitch and rhythm in themselves harbor no more expression than the carpenter’s beam or the jeweler’s stone.”
Painters can be equally disciplined. Thus this remark by the Post-Impressionist Seurat: “To see poetry in what I have done … No, I applied my method and that’s all there is to it.” As for Matisse’s preoccupations with his huge compositions, they seem to be matched by the mental gymnastics of scientists deeply absorbed in shaping their hypotheses. Guided by formal rigor, he stated: “A moment comes when each part has found its legitimate relationship, and from there on, it would be impossible to add a single line to the image without having to start the painting all over again.” Braque even said: “I love the rule which corrects emotion.”
Although science aspires to objectivity, scientists are not always more objective than artists. Galileo deliberately ignored Kepler’s work, and Pasteur did not immediately adhere to Darwin’s. The need to test established knowledge, the thrill of exploring a new domain, the hope of discovering a new order, all compel scientists to accept the same basic challenge: to reveal what no one has expressed before, and thus leave their mark.