some thoughts on science & art

This paper was originally written to fulfill a class assignment in Humanities,
University of California, Berkeley, May 1964

by way of introduction:

One hardly needs to argue to support the claim that the sciences and the arts are somehow related. Indeed, they both deal with ‘understanding’, ‘creativity’ and ‘discovery’. Their historical periods of development can be correlated, and in essence, they are both intellectual activities, fusing the world with the mind.

But of scientists and artists, many arguments brew. Attempts at comparing their methodologies and their ‘common search for truth’ have not invoked any substantial basis of similarity. We suspect that methodologies reflect deeper principles and that ‘ a common search for truth’ makes sense only under a common definition of what is acceptable as truth. Consider, however, a statement which is more of an admission than a profound insight; the viewpoint of the scientist is just not quite the viewpoint of the artist. In the following pages we will show just how strong this admission really is. It will essentially allow us to define a ‘pure scientist’ and a ‘pure artist’, and from their respective viewpoints to deduce some things about the artist-scientist relationship.

The form of our development will be essentially experimental. We will state an hypothesis, draw some conclusions, and compare theory with reality to support our deductions.

Is this ‘experimental’ approach acceptable? Might we not be prone to experiment in the manner of an artist, or alternately, the manner of a scientist? Clearly we might lean one way or the other, if the relation seems essentially scientific or essentially artistic. But the relation is both, therefore neither ‘area’ approach is uniquely correct. But our ‘experimental’ procedure holds our interest as a logical means of considering the relationship explicitly.

Our hypothesis will only hold for ‘ideal’ scientists and artists. Our scientists and artists will be defined, not as persons but as minds. Our conclusions will follow abstractly, and only then be compared with the ‘data’, the writings and works of real scientists and artists. Although our assumptions may be over simplified, and our conclusions too broad, the adventure of the try should prove worthwhile.

thoughts

Both the artist and the scientist deal with the concept denoted by ‘world.’ For our general arguments we must not rely on any particular notion of the world, such as whether it is experimentally determinable or Hinduistic, completely subjective or completely objective, or anywhere in between. However, we must assume that a normal person has both senses and memory. A person perceives, and through his powers of perception, and with the help of his memory, he is able to arrive at notions of orderings, or relations (e.g relative position, etc) between some of the objects of his world. The notion of perception is unrestricted. Pain, taste, dreams, emotions — all that a person is conscious of, are perceptions. Besides this initial ordering, we assume, or rather admit, that this ‘raw material’ can be considered in a multitude of ways. These further considerations are, for the first part, speculative attempts at further orderings, attempts which give rise to all the philosophies, arts and scientific descriptions conceivable.

We assume the person, or rather the mind of the speculator, to be quite simple. That is, we assume that any particular person, although not lacking in intelligence or rationality, has only one manner of considering his perceptions. This assumption will allow us to develop the notion of a ‘pure’ or ‘classical’ scientist or artist, a person with, in some sense, a singular viewpoint. We have only to reflect on how each of us views a given notion in a different manner to substantiate this assumption.

We will use the term reference frame to denote a very general type of viewpoint. By so doing, we will be able to characterize the artist and the scientist each in a basic way, while still allowing different viewpoints to be held within the respective frame.

For example, different viewpoints can be held by different ‘pure’ scientists, all of whom, nevertheless, think within the same scientific ‘reference frame.’

Now we define the causal frame as the frame in which one searches for an understanding of their world in terms of explicit cause and effect relations between the basic events perceived.

We similarly define the implicit frame as the frame in which one searches for an understanding of their world, but does not require that his conceived relations be explicit relations.

We further define analytic and synthetic thought as the reasoning processes used in the causal and the implicit frames respectively.

With these definitions in mind we can now state our hypothesis:
     The causal viewpoint (or frame) is necessary to give rise to scientific thought and description.
     The implicit frame is necessary to give rise to artistic thought and description.

This is an interesting conjecture, for it implies that the reference frame limits one’s modes of thought about a subject, and that these limits are sufficient to explain the difference between the artist and the scientist. To what extent do these frames imply limits? And what are the consequences if one’s thoughts are so constrained? We will consider these questions for each frame independently.

However, before continuing, we should reemphasize the dependence of the arguments we will use, on our earlier assumptions. We assumed that a person in a particular frame only thinks with whatever freedom is allowable within that frame, and of course the person must be rational. The importance of assuming rationality is obvious, for the limits must be deduced from the premise. Therefore, the limits are logical limits, and so can be applicable only if the person considered reasons in a fashion that is logical, i.e. he is rationally constrained. This is assured if the person thinks only within the general frame and if the deduced limitations are fairly broad.

Consider now the causal frame. By definition, if one in it tries to understand an event, he will look for a cause and try to establish an explicit cause-and-effect explanation. We do not, by definition, limit either the events he can consider or the causes he can conceive.

Consider first, as the simplest case, a physically isolated person (i.e. mind) in a causal frame. The fellow may dwell as a hermit in a desert, or be a mystic living alone in the mountains. As a result, his knowledge of the world in which he lives consists only of that which he gleans for himself.

If he is only contemplative, his thoughts may lead him to an understanding, which in a broad sense is ‘religious.’ The mountains, trees, sky, grass around him, as well as dreams and visions (or hallucinations) can be linked by chains of thoughts and made purposeful, or meaningful under a cause of a God or gods.

But suppose this fellow, rather than stopping at the development of an all encompassing religion, wishes to test his ideas. If such and such is the cause of an event, can he reproduce the event by reproducing the cause as an event of yet another cause? What is the relation of a shadow to a stone? Move the stone. Does the shadow remain behind? A cloudy sky; no shadows. Or rather, perhaps, just shadows of the clouds covering all the earth. “For what we commonly call a shadow can be nothing but air deprived of light.”1

If our fellow goes on and tries to understand the world, more or less from the ground up, he finds that one portion can be considered more easily than the other. If he thinks and tests within a casual frame, he becomes aware of subjective and objective events. The objective events comprise the portion that can be committed to testing.

Consider for a moment now, a chap who is much more sociable. He is aware of his own perceptions, and the perceptions described by those around him. Again, if he thinks within a causal frame, he becomes aware of subjective and objective events. He can test his own ideas, with much the same results as our long experimenter. He will find that some relations lend themselves to being tested, other events do not. This person can also accept a ‘religious’ teaching which explains the cause of all. But still, portions of the world remain subjective, others objective.

A person has seen a ghost, the father of his father, walking from his grave near the willow stand. Have others seen him? What is the cause of his appearance? Many explanations can be given, but still by no means can one prove its existence or cause its reappearance. And so the vision much be considered subjective.

The objective portion assumes a unique importance. ‘Reality’ becomes the set of perceptions that the majority of the people claim in common. It follows that a causal understanding of an event can be deemed to contain a correctness or truth, which in basis is just explicit agreement between many trials and observations.

Two severe limitations confront the causal thinker. First, truth, to him, depends on agreement and consistency within his reference frame, and agreement depends on testability and correlation. Therefore, he may tend to throw out as meaningless or unimportant, anything that is non-objective. He cannot understand what he cannot analyze and explicitly formulate. This indicates the second limitation: ‘truth’ must be limited to what is communicable, for if it is not, the formula is not yet explicit and understanding is not yet complete. We will consider these points more, when we consider artists and scientists explicitly.

However, can similar limitations be found for the implicit frame? By definition, in the implicit frame, the conceived relations (one’s understanding) do not need to be explicit relations.

At first, this definition seems to be much too general, for are not all relations either explicit or not explicit? Furthermore, if the first frame is associated with scientific thought, doesn’t such a general definition of an implicit frame, seem to define all non-scientists as artists?

In answer, the substitution of ‘not necessarily explicit’ is most general and necessary. Second, all non-scientists do not become defined as artists, since the implicit and causal frames are not sufficient to allow all possible basic viewpoints. The possibility of a third frame is apparent. One may consider a frame in which explicit relations are required, but which need not be causal in nature. Many philosophies can be placed in this frame. And it is in this frame that non-causal reasoning can give rise to the logic of mathematics. We will not develop the reasoning for this assertion at present. However, its plausibility is clear on reflection, and will be assumed to hold for later discussions in this paper.

Now, if we relax causality, we claim we can define the frame associated with mathematical logic. If we further relax the condition of explicitness, we reach the implicit frame of, we will show, the artist.

As before, our friend is not limited in this ‘raw material.’ All that he is conscious of is worthy of his consideration. We assume immediately that this person lives in society, or at least is aware of objectivity and subjectivity. However, all that he considers may attain equal importance in his understanding. Most importantly, emotions, which are subjective elements, remain as proper entities. Their basic nature remains undifferentiated from the elements the fellow in the causal frame considers as objective. A logical distinction of primary and secondary quantities does not exist.

The causal person can know love, sense beauty, feel pleasure with himself and his work. But these quantities are subjective, separate from that which he many explicitly order. If he tries to understand (in his sense of understanding) these former quantities, he can only do so by demonstrating that ‘happiness in a reaction: neurons, glands, stimulus create it.’ This he can understand, but happiness as a ‘truth’, as something explicit, existing in itself, of course not.

The person in the implicit frame is not so logically limited, or else he does not have such good, critical insight (depending on your own viewpoint).

If all of conscious sensation is ‘primary,’ how is understanding delineated? How is understanding expressed? And what is the ‘truth’ implied in the understanding?

Our implicit friend, upon climbing a hill, sees much the same view as our causal person. But besides the town, the road, the hills and beyond on to the mist and sky, he senses a mood, the spirit of the blues and haze and scattered light. This, to him, is a real part of what lays before him, and secondly, part of himself. If he is to understand anything, the understanding must also be of the spirit, the mood, the feeling invoked by the view.

Yes, the light is reframed by the dust and pollen. Yes, the shadows produce the strange patterns. But these explanations are not complete, for the refracted light, the shadows’ shapes do not explain the beauty of the melancholy mood I also perceive.

The ocean reflects
My mood he said.
But that’s of little wonder,
For all man’s moods
Are derived here, from the primeval sea
From which he’s come.

Now, since this frame does not require relations to be explicit, the understanding may not be explicit in the same sense. An understanding which is personal and not easily communicable is logically allowable.

With some hope of clarity, we claim that a person in an implicit frame can understand if he can identify himself with the essence of his perceptions. Understanding reflects personal identification. Expression involves synthetic description that is artistic creation. Although the artistic reason has been synthesized, it nevertheless is possessed of truth, but a truth that is different than what the causal observer calls truth. The artistic truth that is, to be understood is not explicitly formulable and not reached or defended by analytical logic. Rather, it can be described indirectly. The notion of this truth involves the answer to the question: what allows man to appreciate the creations of beauty by others? …to sense the feelings of the tragedians of other cultures? …to explain the creation of music and the similar part it plays in a divergence of cultures? …to recognize, in a definite sense, the majesty in the music of Mozart or Vivaldi? …to understand Indian, Chinese, African music; that is to be able to identify oneself in part with something they express?2

This something reflects a similarity of mental worlds, independent of historical time and the objective differences of various cultures. In the domain of the artist, this something is spiritual. It is the soul of man, or his immortal essence.

So far we have shown that if one assumes a causal frame and requires testability of possible relations, one finds that the world is composed of objective and subjective quantities: That the subjective can only be understood as causal response to the objective. Understanding requires formulation, and formulation gives rise to truths that must be communicable in an explicit fashion.

If one assumes an implicit frame, and does not wish to recognize a logical primary and secondary nature among his perceptions, then understanding requires identification, and identification gives rise to a truth, not formulable, but rather recognizable as that of the immortal; the emotional essence of man.

Deductive speculation is fine up to a point, but to fully verify our conclusions, we need to study the works, the writings, the creations of scientists and artists throughout history, a formidable job. We attempt a lesser feat, one which also allows expansion and clarification of our conclusions. How does an artist describe the Arts, or a scientist the Sciences? We recognize these persons are not the simpletons of our assumptions. Still, do their descriptions reflect the limits we have drawn?

Equally important, are their descriptions time and culture independent? Our definitions and hypothesis have been made with respect to persons, as independent minds. Now, most certainly, the person’s works and his viewpoints reflect his environment. But the implicit and causal frames are not products of the environment; rather, it is within these mental frames that the environment is to be reckoned.3

We will quote, without comment, from the writings of several scientists. The reader may ponder, as the quotes are read, if their writings reflect a duality of reality; i.e. the subjective and objective. Do their concepts of truth involve testable statements, formulable and communicable in an explicit fashion?

Second, there are quotes from the works of mathematicians, for the mathematician, we claim, holds a mental position between (or perhaps in common) with the scientist and the artist. Is this claim satisfied in the quotes?

Next, the artists. Do they link the subjective and objective, the spirit and the material, as parts of one whole? Is truth, to them, less formulable but personal, associated with an understanding which requires personal identification?

Consider the causal thinker, as a contemplative speculator. The philosophy of Epicurus dates to approximately 300 B.C. It was rewritten, expanded and expressed with a lyrical beauty by the Roman Titus Lucretius Carus (100-55 B.C. approximately) in The Nature of the Universe.

This dread and darkness of the mind cannot be dispelled by the
sunbeams, the shining shafts of day, but only by an understanding
of the outward form and inner workings of nature. In tackling this
theme, our starting-point will be this principle: Nothing can ever be
created by divine power out of nothing. The reason why all mortals
are so gripped by fear is that they see all sorts of things happening on
the earth and in the sky with no discernible cause, and these they
attribute to the will of a god. Accordingly, when we have seen that
nothing can be created out of nothing, we shall then have a clearer
picture of the path ahead, the problem of how things are created and
occasioned without the aid of the gods.4

The second great principle is this: Nature resolves everything into its
component atoms and never reduces anything to nothing. If anything
were perishable in all its parts, anything might perish all of a sudden and
vanish from sight. There would be no need of any force to separate its
parts and loosen their links. In actual fact, since everything is composed
of indestructible seeds, nature obviously does not allow anything to
perish till it has encountered a force that shatters it with a blow or creeps
into chinks and unknits it.5

In some sense, Galileo Galilei deserves the place of ‘father’ of modern science methodology, for experimentation divorced science from pure philosophy.

Galileo keeps harping on how things happen, whereas his adversaries had a complete theory as to why things happen. Unfortunately the two theories did not bring out the same results. Galileo insists upon ‘irreducible and stubborn facts’, and Simplicius, his opponent, brings forward reasons, completely satisfactory, at least to himself. It is a great mistake to conceive this historical revolt as an appeal to reason. On the contrary, it was through and through an anti-intellectualist movement. It was the return to the contemplation of brute fact, and it was based on a recoil from the inflexible rationality of medieval thought. In making this statement I am merely summarizing what at the time the adherents of the old regime themselves asserted.6

Galileo’s I Saggitore, which appeared originally in 1623, contains a section entitled Two Kinds of Properties.

I think, therefore, that these tastes, orders, colors, etc., so far as their objective existence is concerned, are nothing but mere names for something which resides exclusively in our sensitive body, so that if the receiving creatures were removed, all of these qualities would be annihilated and abolished from existence. But just as we have given special names to these qualities, different from the names we have given to the primary and real properties, we are tempted into believing that the former really and truly exist as well as the latter.7

Through our perceptions, and by experimentation, we are able to learn the relations between the ‘real objects’ which exist independent of our senses. Although we jump to modern astronomy and cosmology, we see this, Galileo’s thought, against expressed by H.P. Robertson, former professor of mathematical physics at the California Institute of Technology.

As of the present no one model can lay exclusive claim to being the best representation of the actual universe. The choice sways from one to another as we choose to emphasize now one, now another set of partial observations, or as new horizons bring new knowledge. But the faith of science in the rule of law and the uniformity of nature bids us continue the search, confident that if we ask the right questions, and as we produce the means to answer them, all the parts of the puzzle will fall together into a consistent picture of the universe which portrays truth in the only sense in which science can sanction the word.8

Rudolf Carnap, a physicist and philosopher, stated the following in his article “Elementary and Abstract Terms.” (1957)

The development of physics in recent centuries, and especially in the past few decades, has more and more led to that method of construction, testing, and application of physical theories which we call ‘formalization’, i.e., the construction of a calculus supplemented by an interpretation…In consequence it becomes more and more possible to forego an ‘intuitive
understanding’ of the abstract terms and axioms and theorems formulated with their help.9

By his own claim, G. H. Hardy is a pure mathematician. In 1940 he wrote in The Mathematician’s Apology:

A MATHEMATICIAN, like a painter or poet, is a maker of patterns. If his
patterns are more permanent than theirs, it is because they are made with
ideas … The mathematician’s patterns, like the painter’s or the poet’s,
must be beautiful; the ideas, like the colors or the words, must fit
together in a harmonious way. Beauty is the first test: there is no
permanent place in the world for ugly mathematics.

George David Birkkhoff (1884-1944) was among the leading mathematicians of this period. His fancy carried mathematical thought to aesthetics. From Mathematics of Aesthetics:

Many auditory and visual perceptions are accompanied by a certain
intuitive feeling of value, which is clearly separable from sensuous,
emotional, moral, or intellectual feeling. The branch of knowledge
called aesthetics is concerned primarily with this aesthetic feeling and
the aesthetic objects which product it…
The typical aesthetic experience may be regarded as compounded of
three successive phrases: (1) a preliminary effort of attention, which is
necessary for the act of perception, and which increases in proportion
to what we shall call the complexity (C) of the object; (2) the feeling of
value or aesthetic measure (M) which rewards this effort; and finally (3)
a realization that the object is characterized by a certain harmony,
symmetry, or order (O), more or less concealed, which seems necessary
to the aesthetic effect.11

M = O/C

Arts and math, these two become associated as creative subjects. Henri Poincaré, a genius of mathematics, in his Mathematical Creation indicated that
mathematicians have much in common with the artist.

It may be surprising to see emotional sensibility invoked apropos of mathematical demonstrations which, it would seem, can interest only the intellect. This would be to forget the feeling of mathematical beauty, of the harmony of numbers and forms, of geometric elegance. This is a true esthetic feeling that all real mathematicians know, and surely it belongs to emotional sensibility. Now, what are the mathematical entities to which we attribute this character of beauty and elegance, and which are capable of developing in us a sort of esthetic emotion? They are those whose elements are harmoniously disposed so that the mind without effort can embrace their totality while realizing the details. This harmony is at once a satisfaction of our esthetic needs and an aid to the mind, sustaining and guiding. And at the same time, in putting under our eyes a well-ordered whole, it makes us foresee a mathematical law. Now, as we have said above, the only mathematical facts worthy of fixing our attention and capable of being useful are those which can teach us a mathematical law. So that we reach the following conclusion: The useful combinations are precisely the most beautiful, I mean those best able to charm this special sensibility that all mathematicians know, but of which the profane are so ignorant as often to be tempted to smile at it.12

Is this expressed emotional sensibility, which accompanies the discovery of new order, similar to the artist’s feeling upon creating a work? Igor Stravinsky, in 1947 while holding the Charles Eliot Norton chair of poetics at Harvard, gave a series of lectures Poetics of Music in the Form of Six Lessons.

Inspiration, art, artist — so many words, hazy at least, that keep us from seeing clearly in a field where everything is balance and calculation through which the breath of the speculative spirit blows. It is afterwards, and only afterwards, that the emotive disturbance which is at the root of inspiration may arise . . . Is it not clear that this emotion is merely a reaction on the part of the creator grappling with that unknown entity which is still only the object of his creating and which is to become a work of art? Step by step, link by link, it will be granted him to discover the work. It is this chain of discoveries, as well as each individual discovery, that gives rise to the emotion — an almost physiological reflex, like that of the appetite causing a flow of saliva — this emotion which invariably follows closely the phases of the creative process.13

What is the domain of the artist; does he link the subject and objective, i.e. the spirit and the material as parts of one whole? Stravinsky:

For myself, I cannot begin to take an interest in the phenomenon of music except insofar as it emanates from the integral man. I mean from a man armed with the resources of his senses, his physiological faculties and his intellectual equipment. Only the integral man is capable of the effort of higher speculation that must now occupy our attention. For the phenomenon of music is nothing other than a phenomenon of speculation. There is nothing in this expression that should frighten you. It simply presupposes that the basis of musical creation is a preliminary feeling-out, a will moving first in an abstract realm with the object of giving shape to something concrete. The elements at which this speculation necessarily aims are those of sound and time. Music is inconceivable apart from those two elements. To facilitate our exposition, we shall first speak about time. The plastic arts are presented to us in space: we receive an over-all impression before we discover details little by little and at our leisure. But music is based on temporal succession and requires alertness of memory. Consequently, music is a chronologic art, as painting is a spatial art. Music presupposes before all else a certain organization in time, a chronology — if you will permit me to use a neologism.14

But this organization is not strictly ‘reasoned’ (i.e logical) order:

If we take reason alone as a guide in this field (the phenomenon of music at its origins), it will lead us straight to falsehoods, for it will no longer be enlightened by instinct. Instinct is infallible. If it leads us astray, it is no longer instinct. At all events, a living illusion is more valuable in such matters then a dead reality.15

‘Reason alone’ is replaced by poetic sensibility. Juan Ramon Jimenez, the Nobel Prize winning poet (1956), the creator of Platero and I, has written

Life holds nothing which suggests these gentle sunsets of my soul. Intelligence, give me the exact name of things! Let my word be the thing itself, newly created by my soul.16

Vincent Van Gogh was first an individual, and later a half-mad painter. As a young artist in 1882-1883, he claimed “one has to suffer for art.” This became his life’s creed. Art must reflect one’s character; this was his goal.

The world only concerns me insofar as I have, as it were, a certain debt
and duty because I have walked on the earth for some thirty years and
feel from sheer gratitude that I should leave some remembrance in the
way of drawing and painting — not made to please this or that thread, but
in which a genuine human feeling is given utterance. This work is there-
fore my aim.17

It seems to me that the duty of a painter should be to attempt to put an
idea into his work.18

A century earlier Goethe wrote in Shakespeare Ad Infinitum:

The highest achievement possible to man is the full consciousness of
his own feelings and thoughts, for this gives him the means of knowing
intimately the hearts of others.19

Again we jump in time: Dylan Thomas in On Poetry from Quite Early One Morning wrote:

And there is this to be said, too. Poetry, to a poet, is the most rewarding work in the world. A good poem is a contribution to reality. The world is never the same once a good poem has been added to it. A good poem helps to change the shape and significance of the universe, helps to extend everyone’s knowledge of himself and the world around him. . . What’s more, a poet is a poet for such a very tiny bit of his life; for the rest, he is a human being, one of whose responsibilities is to know and feel, as much as he can, all that is moving around and within him, so that his poetry, when he comes to write it, can be his attempt at the expression of the summit of man’s experience on this very peculiar and, in 1946, this apparently hell-bent earth.20

We cannot expect real scientists and artists, as human beings, have only those viewpoints allowable in our defined frames. Still, from the quotes, it seems as if their thoughts do reflect these limits to a reasonable extent. Are we therefore correct in saying ‘the artist is fundamentally different from the scientist, and their differences can be explained in terms of their basic frames’? Not entirely. As persons, both the artist and scientist wish to gain understanding. As persons, they both try to express their understandings, that is, they are both creative, and in creativity is reflected their important similarity. For as creators, scientists, mathematicians and artists all stand on common ground.

Discovery, invention and creation. There are contexts in which one of
these is more appropriate than the other. Christopher Columbus
discovered the West Indies, and Alexander Graham Bell invented the
telephone. We do not call their achievements creations because they are
not personal enough. The West Indies were there all the time; as for the
telephone, we feel that Bell’s ingenious thought was somehow not
fundamental. The ground work was there, and if not Bell then someone
else would have stumbled on the telephone as casually as on the West
Indies.

By contrast, we feel that Othello is genuinely a creation. This is not
because Othello came out of a clear sky; it did not. There were
Elizabethan dramatists before Shakespeare, and without them he could
not have written as he did. Yet within their tradition Othello remains
profoundly personal . . . The Elizabethan drama would have gone on
without Shakespeare, but no one else would have written Othello.21

…is a theory ever deep enough for it to be truly called a creation? The
power which the scientific method has developed has grown from a
procedure which the Greeks did not discover: the procedure of
induction . . . The man who proposes a theory makes a choice — an
imaginative choice which outstrips the facts. The creative activity of
science lies here, in the process of induction. For induction imagines
more than there is ground for and creates relations which at bottom can
never be verified.22

A man becomes creative, whether he is an artist or a scientist, when he
finds a new unity in the variety of nature. He does so by finding a likeness
between things which were not thought alike before, and this gives him a
sense both of richness and understanding. . . it engages the whole
personality in science as well as art . . . To me, William Rowan Hamilton
drinking himself to death is as much a part of his prodigal work as any
drunken young poet; and the childlike vision of Einstein has a poet’s
innocence.23

Can there be scientific creation? Bronowski claims ‘yes’, the nature of the Theory of Relativity reflects its author. But is this necessarily true? If the theory relates to the object, how can it be personal? If indeed, a statement is a scientific truth, or at least an explicit, logical truth, does it not admit to the possibility of more than one discoverer? Yes, and no. In sum, scientific ‘discovery’ on the level of Newton and Einstein is fully identical with artistic, synthetic thought, such as Othello. Both the scientist and the artist seek to understand; this we accepted as axiomatic. Creation involves (to over simplify the issue) the forming and expressing of this ‘understanding’. We have not had to claim that the scientist must mentally seek his understanding differently from the artist. The scientist seeks to build a model, isomorphic to his notion of objective reality, to illustrate the relationships of reality. As personal attempts, they are identical. As final results they differ, for the artist’s creation remains personal, implicitly reflecting his own soul. The scientist’s creation can not remain personal for if it is perfectly constructed, it must be an explicit formalization, with a beauty which rests on the fact that the theory itself rests securely, impersonally on stated premises and logical constructions. In this sense, a scientific creation is a ‘discovery’, for once the premises are ‘discovered’, could not anyone else derive the same conclusions logically and test their correctness objectively?

If artists seek to understand, what in heaven’s name is modern art? We allow Bronowski to answer our question in part.

One of the values of which science has made natural to us is originality; as I have said earlier, in spite of appearances science is not anonymous. The growing tradition of science has now influenced the appreciation of works of art, so that we expect both to be original in the same way . . . As a more important result, the way in which the artist looks at the world has come close to the scientist. Abstract sculpture often looks like an exercise in topology, exactly because the sculptor shares vision of the topologist.24

Perhaps it would be equally correct to state: the way in which the artist looks at the world has come closer to the scientist, from the standpoint of accepted values. That is, in our runaway world of change, the old implicit truths, the old implicit values of the human being are under question. So art will copy the forms of science, and the creations of technology, because they reflect whatever values, whatever spirit bewildered modern man seems to hold. Order is sought; the abstract is composed.

BIBLIOGRAPHY

  1. Bronowski, J. “The Creative Process”, Scientific American, 199, No. 3, Sept., 1958. P. 59-65.
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  3. Galilei, Galileo. “Two Kinds of Properties.” Philosophy of Science. P. 27-33.
  4. Jimenez, Juan Ramon. Platero and I. A Signet Classic. The New American
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  5. Knuttel, Gerard. van Gogh. Barnes & Noble Art Series. New York. 1961.
  6. Lucretius. The Nature of the Universe. The Penguin Classics. 1960.
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  12. Whitehead, Alfred North. Science and the Modern World. A Mentor Book.
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