Partnerships - Rebecca Cummins
In this presentation, rather than discuss "BIG" Science ?I will address "little" science. And instead of discussing "Partnerships" in the formal sense, I will be addressing "relationships".
Scientific collaboration or what I might describe as "interactions" can occur on a range of scales. Both artists and scientists have numerous decisions to make as to the nature and intensity and divisions of responsibility, outcomes and intellectual property involved.
To date, the associations I have had with scientists have occurred on a modest scale in direct relation to a problem or issue I was grappling with in an exhibition piece. The installation currently on exhibit in Converge: Where art and science meet resulted from a more involved working relationship with two physicists here in Adelaide, Dr. Margaret Folkard and John Ward, which I will describe in more detail later.
Trained as a painter and photographer, my work had been moving towards extended photographic practice, incorporating computers, video and installation elements. In the early 1990's, I was highly influenced by images of 19th century inventions.
Favourites are The Machine for Sensational Emotions (an anti-gravity ride proposed to the city of Paris in which a windowless bullet-shaped room would drop from the top of the Eiffel Tower into a pond below) and The Natural Flying Machine (large birds holding a human rider aloft). These proposed devices from the 19th century and earlier seemed to embody almost folkloric possibilities ?the enticing notion that there could be "ghosts in the machine" and that there are other, almost domestic or intimate ways of interacting with technology.
I began to explore the sculptural, experiential and sometimes humorous possibilities of light and optical phenomena in installations that frequently feature obsolete technologies, often in combination with newer media technologies such as video, photography and digital imaging.
I could say that my first scientific collaborators were deceased (I recently completed a dissertation entitled Necro-Techno: Examples from an Archaeology of Media). The work of French physiologist E.J. Marey I found especially compelling, especially his photographic rifle of 1882, designed in his quest to quantify movement. The photo-gun was a "loaded" object; it was beautiful, powerful, ridiculous and unexpected.
Marey's photographic gun could be seen as the first in a lineage to a modern day chimera - the Gulf War "slam-cam" or missile born camera (previous works of mine had addressed the vocabulary of the Gulf War in a computer monitor installation). With the "slam-cam", the armchair viewer could watch the path of the destruction in real time. Paul Virilio has written extensively about the "armed eye" and the connections between war and cinema - the photographic rifle makes explicit these shared metaphors. My installation, To Fall Standing, 1991 emphasizes these associations through performances of suspension and collapse and extends them into the shooting gallery context.
Following this exhibition, I began to acquaint myself with the history and construction of pre-cinema optical devices.
The camera obscura gave me the opportunity to nurture the metaphor over the mechanism. When Cornelius Dribbel, a Dutch scientist-engineer-magician introduced the delights of the camera obscura to Constance Huygens in 1622, Hugens wrote enthusiastically, "It is impossible to express its beauty in words. The art of painting is dead, for this is life itself, or something higher, if we could find a word for it." While painting has obviously not died, Huygen's enthusiasm for the camera obscura's power as a direct experience is what also appeals to me.
I am intrigued by the immateriality of light and the devices that make its mediation possible - by the exquisite clarity and direct relation to life provided by optical experiences. Travelling and site-specific camera obscuras followed (the Upward Mobile Home, Tamworth by Stetson Family Restaurant Bus, Bimbi stables).
Site-specific camera obscuras included an homage to Giovanni Battista Della Porta, a 13th Century Italian scientist who was the first person to write extensively about the camera obscura effect in Natural Magick. The Giovanni Della Portaloo featured a portable toilet converted into a walk-in camera obscura. Throw Away Camera enlisted a garbage bin as a panoramic camera; viewers placed their head in the refuse opening to view the image inverted on the screen inside.
Several other projects involving optics required consultation with physicists, such as Liquid Scrutiny: Paranoid Dinner Table Devices, which referred to a camera obscura goblet from 17th century Prague described in 1642 by French mathematician, Pierre Herigone, in his book Supplementum Cursus Mathematici. A lens and mirror at the base of the stem projected a real-time image onto the ground glass screen in the cup of the goblet- it was an ingenious device for observing others closely without their knowledge. In Liquid Scrutiny, a twenty foot long table of excavated periscope/camera obscura versions of these small, silver surveillance devices are available. By participating, we are reminded that the desire to observe others secretly is not a 20th century phenomena introduced during the electronic age.
In 700 Million Miles an Hour: Journey Through the Center of the Earth?a proposed installation conceptualizes a live image relay between central Australia and central London (Piccadilly Circus) by camera obscura / fibre optics relay - through the centre of the earth. I consulted with 5 physicians on a functional diagram and images that would describe the transfer (in .043 seconds over 12,000 miles)(ignoring the earth's molten core).
Fast forward through a number of works until we come to this most recent piece, entitled The Rainbow Machine, which represents a more complex relationship with two physicists.
I wanted to make rainbows but was unsure how to create a reliable context for the phenomena. To my great fortune I met John Ward and Dr. Margaret Folkard of Sundials Australia, Adelaide. Their experience as gnomists and physicists, their zany, infectious humour, boundless curiosity and energy for experimentation and for life made them the perfect collaborators for such a venture.
An initial proposal described a sidereal mount that tracked the sun and enlisted mirrors to reflect light. The final device is more akin to an aestheticized showerhead ?but it works! A steel apparatus suspended three meters above the ground sprays a wall of water 1.5 x 3 metres, which allows viewers to see full-spectrum primary and secondary rainbows anytime the sun shines. With early morning and late afternoon light, the rainbows appear high in the sky. At mid-day, circular spectrums are formed on the ground. The key was in determining the optimum droplet size and height of the apparatus to create rainbows whenever the sun hits it. Further steps involved experimenting with various sources of artificial light to create rainbows in darkness. Finding a satisfying formal solution was another challenge.
What happens at the point of intersection for these two various disciplines?
The scientists I've worked with seemed to enjoy the challenge of working with simple optics towards an end that they normally didn't consider in their daily work. I really appreciate the shared speculative nature of our inquiries ?their approach to problem solving and their curiosity I have tremendous respect for and learned a great deal from.
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Ironically, the explanation of the workings of the rainbow were historically seen as a symbol of the estrangement between science and art. Along with Aristotle, Descartes and Thomas Young, Isaac Newton is the scientist most closely associated with the rainbow for his explanation of its colours in the 1660s. This profound discovery was not universally celebrated, however. During an infamous dinner party of writers in 1817, the poet Keats toasted: "To Newton's health, and confusion to mathematics". In Lamia he wrote: "Do not all charms fly at the mere touch of cold philosophy", bemoaning this ability to "unweave a rainbow" (Boyer, 1959). Keats' words are often quoted to epitomize the split between science and poetry.
Gerhard Richter said, "Art serves to establish community. It links us with others, and with the things around us in a shared vision and effort." These links are an aspect of the process of art-making that I value highly: it has certainly occurred during correspondences and interactions with scientists near and far.
What are some of the issues inhibiting cross-disciplinary exchange? I imagine that different intentions will always be an issue.
I asked John and Margaret questions I hadn't posed until preparing for this panel. I asked them why they did it ?and they said because I asked them to. And they said they want to continue to work with me because it was fun ?that they enjoyed making their knowledge in physics accessible and understood on another level and in an alternative sphere.
While they had no desire to get involved in the conceptual or formal end of the process, they were quite excited by actually making the rainbow machine happen. They drew up a contract whereby they would open their facilities and research expertise to me, but the intellectual property outcomes would be mine.
It was a terrific experience working with John and Margaret - and I've since called on them for their expertise on other projects. They aren't interested in true collaboration. Their major focus will continue to be the development of a solar water purifier that dramatically extends the efficiency and salvage capabilities of conventional solar stills, but they are happy to work with me on any project where I can provide them with very clear technical requirements.
A definite issue in collaborative situation is deciding what kind of relationship you want to have ?whether it is one of joint speculation and mutual discovery or not. Generally, my experience has only been of taking an idea to an expert in the area for consultation and feedback ?and I am grateful to all who engage with the idea and manage to extend it with their own expertise and knowledge of the limits or parameters of our investigation.
There does seem to be tremendous potential for truly collaborative, evolving experiences, while those situation seems rare.
I am involved in a joint proposal currently with artist / composer Paul DeMarinis; in Singing in the Rain he encoded water with sound ?when the water hits a hard surface (in this case, an umbrella) ?the sound is articulated and we hear the tune, Singing in the Rain. When combined with The Rainbow Machine, you could enter the rainbow with an umbrella ?and it would sing to you!
I am looking forward to establishing partnerships with industry and science and have recently begun to work at a research University ?the University of Washington in Seattle where the potential for interdisciplinary collaboration is great.
I will continue to explore the potential for involvement with science and technology as a vehicle to extend curiosity, poetic fantasy and perceptual experience.
For in any work, it is the experience ?what we can learn and share seems as important as the end product. My interactions with scientists have certainly expanded my horizons and I can only hope that our meetings have also added to theirs.
Paul Virilio, War and Cinema: The Logistics of Perception, trans. Patrick Camiller, (London: Verso,
1989). Virilio also notes that Marey placed his chronophotographic invention in the service of
French military research into movement (10).
AK Wheelock, Jnr., 'Constantijn Huygens and Early Attitudes to the Camera Obscura', History of Photography, 1, 1977, pp. 93-103, in Martin Kemp, The Science of Art: Optical themes in western art from Brunelleschi to Seurat, Yale University Press, New Haven, 1990, p. 192.
Gerharad Richter in Gerhard Richter: The Daily Practice of Painting Writings 1762-1993: Ed by Hans-Ulbrich Obrist trans from German by David Britt, MIT Press, Massachusetts Institute of Technology, Cambridge Massachusetts and Anthony d'Offay Gallery, London, 1995. p. 61.
© Rebecca Cummins 2002