The history of Nano Art begins with
the invention of the electron microscope.
Its powers of detailed magnification would impact not only the world of
the scientific community, but eventually the world of art as well. Unlike normal microscopes, which use
traditional lenses to focus photons (visible beams of light) toward and object,
an electron microscope operates by speeding up electrons inside of a vacuum,
and then focuses those electrons into a beam using electromagnetic lenses. This
may sound more technical than incredible at first, until one realizes that the
wavelength of electrons are around one hundred thousand times shorter than
those of a photon. It is this very
difference in wavelengths that gives the electron microscope up to
approximately four thousand times better resolution than normal light
microscopes, and would reveal to researchers a vast wealth of new insights.
Although it would be some time before microscopy at the nanoscale would emerge
from the realm of the nearly invisible to the much more spacious confines of
contemporary art galleries, Nanoart has recently been gaining steam from its
formidable beginnings to a truly revolutionary new art form. As we discuss Nanoart here, you will read the
name Cris Orfescu many times, as he has created the primary website online for
promoting Nanoart, and been a huge contributor to its success since its
inception. An effort has been made here
to reach beyond Orfescu’s influence, as it is quite pervasive and at times
cult-like, but as with all art movements, it can take time for them to develop
beyond their points of origin.
Before
we delve further into how Nanoart got started, let us take a moment and discuss
more about how it actually became possible.
First, we will travel back around eighty decades ago to The Institute
for High Voltage Technology in Berlin, Germany, circa 1931. German electrical engineer Ernst Ruska was
busy constructing the world’s first electron lenses. By using a series of these lenses, Ernst,
along with his Electron Research Group leader Max Knoll, succeeded in creating
the world’s very first electron microscope by 1933. However, it wouldn’t be until 1986 when Ernst
would finally be awarded a Nobel Prize for his incredible invention.
Shortly
after Ernst and Max invented the electron microscope, a Romanian cell biologist
from Moldavia by the name of George Emil Palade (1974 Nobel Prize winner) was
getting down to business with the financial support of The National Cancer
Institute director Herbert Gasser.
Palade, who was described by the U.K.’s The Independent as “The most influential cell biologist ever,” [1] was
also the most notable user of the electron microscope after its inception. His images and research in relation to cell
fractionation, and his discovery of the ribosomes of the endoplasmic reticulum
of our cells that he brought forth in 1955, were part of the reason he was able
to revolutionize the molecular cell biology that we use today. Palade would later go on to receive the
National Medal of Science in the field of biological sciences “For pioneering
discoveries of a host of fundamental, highly organized structures in living
cells,” [2] according to then President Ronald Reagan at a White House ceremony
held March 12, 1986.
Nano Art
pioneer Cris Orfescu, founder of nanoart21.org,
has claimed that Palade was “One of the first nanoartists in the history,
probably without his intention to create art.” [3] It is for that very reason
than that those images are not works of art.
Just like the tribal masks of the indigenous peoples of faraway lands
can be displayed in museums for their uniqueness in appearance and for their
cultural relevance, those objects, as well as Palade’s and others’ images, are
not works of art. Although they are
found to some to be very beautiful and very unique in their appearance, and
although they may require a great amount of time and money to manufacture or
produce, they are in artistic terms and at best, only to be considered as
precursors to an art form. Palade’s
images were created by him and by others not for the sake of creating beautiful
works of art to be displayed in homes or galleries or even on sidewalks. These images were rendered solely for the
sake of the scientific community and for the knowledgeable benefit of humanity,
as well as for the progression of future research in the field of cellular
microbiology. Perhaps Orfescu felt that
it was necessary to include the images of Palade’s research groups as works of
art to support his own field’s artistic merits.
Or perhaps he did it to add credence to his own work as being both acts
of scientific research and works of art.
There is nothing wrong with giving credit to the works of great men, but
it is inappropriate to categorize them in a way that is inherently false by
definition. Orfescu’s intentions make sense for the sake of promoting a
credible art form, but his application lacks the very rigor often attributed to
the scientific community. Perhaps this
is due to the difference in approach between the arts and the sciences. Scientists are always keen to give credit to
others for the foundational work behind their research (often for fear of being
ostracized but also out of general respect for their peers). Art however is often associated with notions
of inspiration and appropriation.
“Nothing is original,” [4] according to artists like Jim Jarmusch, and
therefore questions of origin and legitimacy run a slippery slope.
The most
likely reason for Orfescu’s misstep is because he was first and foremost a
scientist. Access to electron
microscopes can be difficult to obtain.
They are very expensive to build and also cost a lot to maintain because
of the amount of energy they require, as well as the application processes
needed to prepare specimens for electron bombardment (you cannot use living
specimens, and they have to be coated in a conductive material in order to be
properly recorded). In addition, the
type of electron microscopes used to take higher resolution images are often
located underground or in special buildings that are equipped to cancel out the
magnetic fields that are produced naturally and unnaturally here on earth. These magnetic fields tend to interfere with
the electrons recording the image surface after their release. For these reasons, scientists are often the
only ones with access to such devices.
Images could only be appropriated second-hand by artists eager to share
their beauty with the world, unless of course that artist was a scientist as
well. The very emergence of the Nanoart
field seems to have relied heavily on scientists like Orfescu, who holds an
appreciation for the arts. He has had
some help outside of the lab of course.
World famous artist Gerhard Richter
has also been working in part on some appropriated nanotech works since 2000,
when he made his piece Erster Blick. Kristian Hvidtfelt Nielsen, with the aid of
the words of Dietmar Elger, provides some profound insight into his work:
Despite the non-photographic origin of the image depicted in Ester Blick,
the catalogue raisonne states that the image is “based on a photograph taken by
physicists at the University of Augsburg” [12].
Similarly, German art historian Dietmar Elger confirms this intuitively
realistic, photographic perception.
Commenting on the newspaper article’s assertions about the visible
atomic “details” in the image, he writes:
The photographic depiction, however, only shows
cloudy shapes; thus, the newspaper reader can discern no such “details.” The reader’s expectation to find the
elementary structure of our world revealed to him in the image is disappointed.
To Gerhard Richter, however, the image
proved a confirmation: The attempt of
the physicists from the University of Augburg to offer an interior view of the
atom generated with the aid of microscopes produced a photographic image of the
interior of the atom that reveals itself as nothing but uncertainty [13].[5]
It is this very uncertainty and blurring which pervades and
often defines many of Gerhard Richter’s works, and as such the very world of
everything nano seems to fit right in with him conceptually, and in this
instance, quite visually as well. The
inner realm of atoms have only been recently brought into better resolution,
but the challenges and hurdles required to enhance that resolution are
enormous, and the more solutions we find, the bigger the questions become in
the grand scheme of unifying theories, such as Einstein’s Relativity and
quantum physics. We simply cannot
underestimate the scope of small things in this day and age.
It wasn’t until September 20, 2007 that the First International
Festival of Nanoart was held in Kotka, Finland.
It was hosted by the Kotkan Valokuvakeskus Gallery from May 4 to May
26. This was the first gallery show to
be entirely dedicated to Nanoart, and featured the nano works of 15 different
artists such as Cris Orfescu, who curated the show, as well as others such as Carol
Cooper, Chris Marshall, and Dolores Glover Kaufman. Most of the works displayed were digitally
altered, because electron microscopes are unable to capture color due to the
lack of photonic involvement (which would reveal light spectrum color). As a result, electron microscope images
require the digital or painted application of color if there is to be any
present in the work. Generally, Nanoart
is broken down into two categories, the first being nanolandscapes. Nanolandscapes are generally the most common
type of Nanoart, as they simply require the electron microscope imaging of
objects at nanoscales, which can then be digitally manipulated or simply
rendered for color in Photoshop. The
other category is nanosculptures. This
category is perhaps the most challenging of the two, as it actually requires
the artist to find ways to control and alter matter at the molecular as well as
atomic scales. This is often achieved
through the application of chemicals and the use of physical processes. [6] After the Kotkan
Valokuvakeskus gallery opening, Nanoart would finally take the stage in the art
world, and encourage a broader range of applications and execution, in addition
to gaining a great deal of popularity among scientists that had previously worked
with electron microscopes, and felt they could do more to expose the beauty of
the images they were revealing to the world.
Cris Orfescu later went on to create the website nanoart21.com, which holds annual
competitions in Nanoart. These
competitions involve artists, and scientists as artists, who can either submit
up to 5 images of their original work, or if the artists do not have access to
an electron microscope, they can be given 3 “seed images” to work with. [6] These images have been previously taken
by scientists and put up for grabs for whoever wishes to manipulate them, and
no authorship is given to the scientists after their appropriation. This is of some interest, as pointed out by Kathryn D. de Ridder-Vignone in her book, Public Engagement and the Art of
Nanotechnology, as she contemplates, “This move to erase the
identity of the scientist or the origin of the science raises questions about
the role these images play as art that promotes and communicates science. Does
art serve as a tool of science education or communication when the artists’
powers to create and comment on the science are limited by the science itself?
Perhaps separating the work of scientists from the work of artists is a way to
give these artists the space and power to contribute on their own terms.” [7] I feel a need to point out that it is not of
as great a benefit to the artists or the scientists to separate themselves in
light of the end-product produced by these images. I am sure many scientists or research
students are fine serving out their terms as lab-rats cranking out images and
handing them over to databases, but when it comes to artistic endeavors such as
these, one of the things that appear to be missing in the rise of Nanoart is
the cross-communication between scientists and artists that allow a dialogue to
grow into a public discourse for study and future engagements. What Orfescu has done is created a website
dedicated to cranking out nanoworks, which holds little in regards of actually
helping to fill in the sparse void of interactions between artist and
scientist. If anything that void is expanding
due to the separation of the images from the scientists that took them, and the
artists that are appropriating them. The
lack of any communication between the two is also depriving both image taker
(scientist) and image appropriator (artist) from a wealth of information that
could be potentially invaluable if they were willing to cross-pollinate between
their respective fields, which leads us to our next artist, because she
participated in an endeavor which did exactly that.
Switzerland based artist Isabel
Rohner has been included in the book, artists-in-labs:
Processes in Inquiry (lower-casing intentional), for her sculpture,
installation, photo and performance work at the Centre for Microscopy at The
University of Basel (ZMB) in 2004.
Rohner’s project proposal was described by her as follows: “Wounds – or
the Search for a Cybernetic System. The
project is a research work on how art and science can meet and find new ways of
collaboration. My research would use the
approach of histology (especially from the perspective of the cell as smallest
autonomous unity of life in an organism) as a starting point.” [8] One of
Rohner’s works involved her having a dermatologist at the Cantonal Hospital in
Basel remove a skin sample from her body.
She then had the skin sample preserved and prepared and had an image
made of it with the use of an electron microscope to form a cellular self-portrait. Rohner’s work is important for the same
reason artists-in-labs is important. Both can help to further propagate and reinforce
the bridge that covers the divide between the realms of art and science. Writer of artists-in-labs,
Jill Scott, had this to say about the endeavor in her introduction to the book,
“As the title ‘artists-in-labs: Processes of Inquiry’ suggests, distinctive and
unique process of inquiry might be emerging from the new roads artists are
building into scientific research. This
book not only substantiates the need for more critical analysis about the roles
of the artist and the scientist in the lab context, it presents related essays
about the creation of a viable interface from international contexts… Placing
artists into scientific environments can not only provide education and new
knowledge for the artist, it may also ‘open up’ science towards more
collaborative potentials in the future.”
[8] Notice the emphasis on ‘open up.’
Her wording lends to the size of the divide that currently exists
between artists and scientists. It can
be difficult to carry the language and practices of one realm into the language
of the other, part of the reason Orfescu made the mistake of calling Palade’s
images works of art. It also points out
the importance of the construction of a framework within the Nanoart community
in order to help propagate more prosperous future interactions.
It is
one thing for a scientist turned artist to simply take an image with an
electron microscope and distort it digitally, or for even for an artist in a
lab to do the same. It is another thing
entirely for an artist to make a discovery in technology through their desire
for inquiry and play. But that’s exactly
what British-Australian artist, researcher and member of Artist Pride, Boo
Chapple did in a collaborative piece with student William Wong at the
University of Western Australia’s SymbioticA lab last year. Chapple (known for her work with performance,
installation, strange inedible food-hybrids and research driven works) got the
inspiration to make audio speakers out of bone, and SymbioticA was the best
place to go about doing it, as it is, “the only research
facility in the world devoted to providing access to wet labs to artists and
artistically minded researchers.” [9] At first, Chapple’s work doesn’t
sound nano-related, but according to a paper presented by the Leonardo special
section Nanotechnology, Nanoscale Science and Art, Chapple was in fact creating
a way to narrate in a gallery the work she had done in the lab in order to
build her ‘bone audio speakers’ that would enhance the piezoelectric vibrations
from the nanoscale to one that was audible enough for us to hear. By doing such, she was able to aid us in
realizing the degree to which our observations
of the nanoscale are made possible through instruments and devices. [9]
Chapple and Wong were able to successfully raise the sound generated by the
slices of bone they used via a stethoscope.
This was necessary, since the bones were determined to have a frequency
response range of about 300-3000 Hz – not quite on the upper audible end of the
20-20,000 Hz that we humans normally hear at.
According to an article by Fast Company Magazine, Chapple knew
based on her scientific readings that bone had piezoelectric qualities, such as
generating an electric charge when physically stressed. The very shape of an object with
piezoelectric qualities can be subject to change if it is exposed to an
electric current, which is why piezoelectrics are a vital part of small
actuators and sensors for system environments.
They went on to note however, that the speakers probably
would not be very successfully on the market due to being made of once-living
animal bones. [10] Although
the work does not deal with nanoscales visually, the audio component, which was
originally executed in the lab with a laser interferometer, is quite innovative,
and the project serves as a crucial demonstration of how artists can impact science
just as much as scientists can impact the arts. [Article by Christopher Mims,
August 2, 2012. Copyright
© 2013 Mansueto Ventures LLC. All rights reserved. Fast Company, 7 World Trade
Center, New York, NY 10007-2195]
In
conclusion, Nanoart is an incredible and relatively new art form, having only
been around for but a few decades. It
can be exciting to make observations of the microscopic landscapes revealed to
us by artist and scientist alike, and there is something to be said about
taking the world of the very small and revealing it to the giants that are too
large to see it with unaided eyes.
Nanoart, like science, can be a beautiful and humbling experience,
revealing to us just how vast our world is at all scales. But perhaps the
most exciting aspect of Nanoart is the interdisciplinary interactions occurring
between artists and scientists. When two
broad fields like science and art are able to come together, it’s like an
explosion between two planetary bodies.
That explosion can result in many different ways. It is possible that if communications linger,
both may continue on their separate paths, feeling bruised from the lack of
proper mixing of ideas. But if artists
and scientists with the help of the proper facilitators, can learn from each
other, and find ways to fuse their different backgrounds, a whole new world can
form, leading to an abundant wealth of new ideas, such as with Boo Chapple’s
bone-speakers, or the joint research done with Isabel Rohner and the
researchers at The University of Basel.
It is by working together, sharing credit where it is due, and bouncing
ideas back and forth that something truly interesting is able to emerge and
grow from these interactions.
[2] The National Science Foundation. http://www.nsf.gov/od/nms/recip_details.cfm?recip_id=266 (accessed February 16, 2013)
[5] Nielsen, Kristian Hvidtfelt. “Nanotech, Blur and Tragedy in Recent
Artworks by Gerhard Richter.” LEONARDO,
Vol. 41, No. 5, MIT Press, 2008 (Footnote references [12] and [13] contained
within and italicized are those of the author)
[6] Orfescu, Cris. Nanoart21.org (accessed February 17, 2013)
[7] D. de Ridder-Vignone,
Kathryn. “Public Engagement and the Art
of nanotechnology.” LEONARDO,
Vol. 45, No. 5, MIT Press, 2012
[8] Scott, Jill.
“artists-in-labs: Processes of Inquiry.” Springer-Verlag/Wein and HGK
Zürich, 2006.
[9] Mims, Christopher. “Bone-Rattling Sound: New Speakers That Are
Made From Bone.” Fastcompany.com. (accessed February 17, 2013)
[10] Spector, Tami I. “Nanotechnology,
Nanoscale Science and Art.” LEONARDO, Vol.41, No. 4, MIT Press, 2008
