The eureka moment is a sudden understanding of something that has been previously thought about. The term was first coined by Archimedes, a Greek mathematician and all-round utter genius.The word comes from the ancient Greek language, εὕρηκα heúrēka, meaning "I have found (it)". Supposedly, Archimedes was bathing when he realised that the volume of water displaced must be equal to the volume of the body part he had submerged. This discovery prompted him to consider buoyancy a method by which the volume of irregularly shaped objects could be quantified, previously been considered intractable. Archimedes was perhaps predisposed to such eureka moments, also approximating Pi and generally astounding his contemporaries.
Painting by Pierre-Henri de Valenciennes - Cicero discovering the tomb of Archimedes
So, for all of us wannabe-scientists, how can we claim our own eureka moment if it is that easy? I've just listened to a programme on BBC Radio4 about the convergent evolution of ideas, which suggested that scientific discovery might be, in a sense, inevitable. The concept of convergent evolution of ideas predicts parallel emergence and expression of the same idea. This can be seen clearly in agriculture, where, for example, the Chinese came up with very similar methods of rice cultivation as the Mexicans did with maize cultivation at similar points in history, despite being completely geographically isolated from each other. Camera and compound eyes are also an example of convergent evolution - infinitely complex but arising in different species independently. Could language, currently unique to Homo sapiens, arise again completely independently in the future in another species? Similarly, Darwin and Wallace both came up with theories of evolution based on natural selection at around the same time, with Darwin just pipping Wallace to the publishing post.
Shared scientific genius, or is the key in the beards?
"There is grandeur in this view of life, with its several powers, having been originally breathed into a few forms or into one; and that, whilst this planet has gone cycling on according to the fixed law of gravity, from so simple a beginning endless forms most beautiful and most wonderful have been, and are being, evolved." On the Origin of Species, Darwin
And how does this apply to domains other than science? Is art inevitable? Fashion? Music? Potentially so, argues the Radio4 programme, quoting a Professor at MIT who has studied the wealth of convergent forms in music across cultures. However, as they also point out on the programme, one expects that if Newton hadn't existed, one would have still come up with the concept of gravity, but it is near impossible that someone would have written Hamlet had Shakespeare not been alive. Where do the conception of ideas in science and art converge and deviate?
Is the conception of ideas in Fashion inevitable too? Is there a shared evolution of ideas in arts and science? Could designers have similar ways of thinking to scientists?
So while the world's news organisations await expectantly for categorical proof of the presently theoretical Higgs Boson particle from the laboratories of CERN, should we actually be sitting back and awaiting the inevitable? It is certainly a strange way to think about science and the pursuit of knowledge, but I think I'll conclude for now that a lot of groundwork and thinking is necessary in either case. No eureka moment yet, but perhaps it is in the pipeline...
In September 2010 I blogged (here) about photography involving smoke, clouds, dust etc. as I was transfixed by the elegance of the shapes and different resonances of the images. I have continued to be transfixed by such provocations, and thought it high time to blog again...
Mark Mawson's collection of photographs entitled Aqueous Fluoreau is "inspired by the vibrant colours that brighten up everyday life". I love the vivacity, but I also find that the thicker the smoke (forgive my naivety of the precise materials and methods) becomes, the more menacing it seems. The contrast between the lithe, thread-like elements and the blanket-like thick smog creates an uneasy balance in the images that somehow makes them captivating.
One of my favourite places in the world in Port Meadow, an expanse of grazing land that hugs the North and West borders of Oxford. I row on a section of the Thames known as the Godstow stretch, which borders this picturesque meadow, and the sense of space it breeds looking into the distant spires across the meadow feels wonderful. It sounds trivial, but rarely do I find myself with such a lot of sky surrounding me, and the variation in weather and cloud formations mean it is never dull.
A horse on Port Meadow, one of the troop of grazing animals giving height to the vast expanse.
This is a photo I took on my phone one morning when I arrived at rowing. The sketchy image doesn't do it justice by any means, but the sunrise was beautiful.
Smoke signals probably conjures up an image of native Indians sitting around a fire communicating with neighbouring tribes. Right? But smoke signals have also been used, and are indeed still used today, in many other cultures and circumstances. For instance, in Ancient China, soldiers communicated with each other along the Great Wall by sending smoke signals. They could communicate about impending attack along distances of up to 750km in just a few hours! In 2006 the Chinese authorities also used smoke signals along the Great Wall to alert the population of the dangers of drugs, which coincided with the execution of several prominent drug traffickers. I wonder what those people who hadn't heard of the significance of the 2006 signals thought, and how they interpreted the smoke?
Another use of smoke signals in current society can be seen at the Vatican, where smoke issued from the building indicates whether secret ballots by the College of Cardinals have been successful in electing a new Pope (white smoke) or have failed and must be re-drawn (black smoke). I remember seeing news channels during the last papal election holding continuous coverage of the pipe out of which the smoke would be expelled, ready to catch the moment the second it arose!
I couldn't resist including some images of the cardinals (above) in their striking arterial blood-red regalia and uniform comportment, alongside an image of the black smoke signalling a failed ballot (below).
The brand Alexander McQueen has often used smoke as an obscuring and ethereal accompaniment in advertising. Take a look at some of these images. This is why Sarah Burton won Designer of the Year at the recent British Fashion Awards.
Long Live the creativity of Alexander McQueen clothing.
Good question. I last posted in January of this year, and since then I have, lived. 'Living' you say, isn't everyone living? In my opinion, this is not the case. Living is learning, and learning comes in many forms.
Formal education is certainly one of these forms, and in honour of this esteemed treadmill, I have studied in great depth and duration. An Oxford education is demanding. It requires intellect, certainly, but also the ability to go without sleep for a stretch of time deemed normal only for Maggie Thatcher. You must produce essays with production-line efficiency, execute elegant formal attire and witty conversation at the drop of a hat, and occasionally raise your eyes to the skyline and appreciate the surroundings with an air of bewilderment and hint of charm that is quickly eclipsed by the next essay deadline or tutorial.
Left: Our library skeleton, rumoured to be an ex-student who overdosed on cheese and port
Right: Our college ducks, a charming duo of drakes.
Kintsugi is the Japanese art of mending broken objects. Yet, instead of simply fixing objects, they aggrandize the damage by filling the cracks with gold in an attempt to retain or increase the aesthetics of the object. This analogy has often been used to suggest that the process of mending broken things increases their worth or beauty. I strongly believe that the process of learning from the things that don't go quite so well, from the pots that fall off the shelf and break, is the most formative experience of all. I shan't go into my falls from the shelf in the past year, but I assure you that my intention is to fill in any cracks wisely. I detest the notion that 'everything happens for a reason' but I attest to the belief that some good can be salvaged from any event.
Image of Japanese ceramic mended with kintsugi technique, from the Freer Gallery
Challenge: can I pick a song that encapsulates my last year?
The National, Fake Empire
Tiptoe through our shiny city
With our diamond slippers on
Do our gay ballet on ice, bluebirds on our shoulders
We're half awake in a fake empire
I would say that this song exemplifies much of my time - trying to extract meaning from within files and files of banality and superficial details. I also like the image of people walking around in a dream-like altered state of consciousness, and the prospect of us drones waking up to our fake empire. It then all gets a bit Matrix-y and Inception-like. Would we know if we were dreaming? Is reality only a notional concept? Ah, headache.
Over the past year, I have read... a few novels, and not nearly as many as I would like. Including, Never Let Me Go by Ishiguro (wow), Consciousness Explained by Dan Dennett (my conclusion: philosopher's can't answer questions of science), Dead Man's Grip by Peter James (as entertaining as you can expect from a crime novel), and I forget the many others for the moment. I've also read what has felt like a googolplex of academic articles, enough to destroy a small forest in paper-weight. I am certainly destined to return ironically in another life as a tree or a recycled artist to pay penance for my crimes against the environmental effects of printing so much. (Although in fairness, this term I have often printed articles double-sided and two-pages to each A4 side, reducing the text to a magnifying-glass necessity.)
My sincere apologies to trees, the climate, and the environment. It is all in aid of furthering my knowledge so that I can discover the NCC, win a Nobel Prize and save mankind. #Promise.
I'm currently reading Man Booker-winning novel The Sense of an Ending by Julian Barnes. Despite having a whole shelf of Barnes' novels at home, I have shamefully never picked one up. Although I'm actually only on page 87 of about 150, Barnes' use of language is great and he distils jolly sentences with deeper meaning that evades you and then taps you across the back of the head like a sharp aftertaste. Two basic tenets of the novel seem to be discussed early on, one concerning the passage of time and the second concerning the subjectivity of history of which I will transcribe: (Disclaimer - I usually wouldn't talk about a novel until I had read and finished it completely, but let's throw caution to the wind and I'll try and post again when I finish it!)
page 3. "We live in time—it holds us and molds us—but I’ve never felt I understood it very well. And I’m not referring to theories about how it bends and doubles back, or may exist elsewhere in parallel versions. No, I mean ordinary, everyday time, which clocks and watches assure us passes regularly: tick-tock, click-clock. Is there anything more plausible than a second hand? And yet it takes only the smallest pleasure or pain to teach us time’s malleability. Some emotions speed it up, others slow it down; occasionally, it seems to go missing—until the eventual point when it really does go missing, never to return."
page 12. "That's one of the central problems of history, isn't it sir? The question of subjective versus objective interpretation, the fact that we need to know the history of the historian in order to understand the version that is being put in front of us."
As the novel recounts the history of a retired man named Tony, I guess that these two concepts will be important in understanding his musings. To be continued...
I have been watching The Killing (Forbrydelsen in Danish, and I would suggest you stay a barge-pole length from the apathetic US version of the drama). It is long and drawn-out, but fiercely gripping and very well-made. If anyone is short of a Christmas present for a friend or relative, a box set of the drama will be a wise investment (or even better, a replica Sarah Lund jumper!) Series 2 is currently airing on BBC4, and is on my to-do list.
I have been wearing whatever I have been able to afford on my student loan! However, I did adopt a Barbour jacket for my birthday this year, which I've fallen completely in love with. It has a Liberty print lining, which you can choose to show off on full by turning up the cuffs or collar, or let it flash opportunistically at passers-by. Yes, you might call it old-fashioned, but as my Mum says, you can never go wrong with a classic.
Some of the prints you can select from.
P.S. It is good to be back, and I am still on my hot tin roof.
