Art, Science, or Something in Between

In May 1919, Arthur Eddington flew to Principe to grab 5 images of a solar eclipse. Eclipses are rare, breath-taking phenomena that inspire awe in imagery, songs, and celebration. They call for pause when day briefly gives way back to night, but with a brilliant glow embracing the moon and the stars scattered like freckles across the sky.

(Wikipedia)

These images were not for that purpose. Instead, they were meant to document star locations, to act as data in proving Einstein’s theory of relativity.

Now, imagine, for just one moment the world in 1919. World War 1 had ended only months before. This idea of relativity turns Newtonian physics on its head. And you are summiting up the cliffs with expensive equipment to prove or disprove this theory.

Most of us know Einstein’s name. Fewer of us know Eddington’s, but this was a critical piece of science.

“Art” as Proof

Take a good look at Eddington’s image. From an artistic standpoint, the sun is mostly centered with good use of space. This space, however, is deceptive, as the key data points – stars – are critical to measuring.

The practices that often make art “good” also tend to have a lot of science and math behind it. Just put on Coltrane if you want to hear physics and math in motion. And often, breakthroughs in science rely on polymaths who aren’t afraid to put a little (or a lot) of art into their science. Einstein had the piano. Da Vinci is known as both an inventor and an artist. To see, understand, and think is a sensory experience.

Maria Popova of BrainPicking’s nailed it in her note about the arts:

Since the dawn of civilization, artists have been the great sensemakers of humanity, framing for us what matters in the world by interpreting, reflecting on and amplifying the cultural concerns of the era.

Eddington’s images provided a clear geographic representation of stars. When placed over a night image, the differences become clear. The fabric of space bends with the sun, pulling the stars closer to it and shifting them from their normal spots. The visual is critical for measurement and communication to the public.

Data Visualization

What we see, we can often measure. Sometimes, the numbers come from the world, such as counting objects or weights. Other times, they’re derived, such as a rank or index of things based on another number or set of numbers. Sometimes, they’re subjective, like pain scales or sentiment ratings – a composite of a score we hope to ascertain, but something that will differ widely from person to person and culture to culture.

Data visualization lets us showcase these numbers, sometimes, returning them to their original forms.

Other times, we further abstract them, using semantically meaningful charts to showcase a particular facet.

Here’s the rub, though. If I go back to Maria Popova’s quote about art, she talks about sensemaking and capturing what’s important via interpretation, reflection, and amplification.

I make sense of the world with data. I interpret, reflect, and amplify so much with my work. It’s how we find the signal from the noise.

Data visualization does not fit in a tidy box in art or science. It relies on the mess of synapses of the human mind, the individual streaks of personality we all bring to this. Decisions are easier when they fit into a tidy box, but that hardly describes the work I find I’m often doing.

I need the science for the method, the measurement, and some of the predictable patterns that allow others to more easily replicate what I’ve done. I need art to find the way, to see what doesn’t yet exist, and to convey what does as I see it. Both items expand my ability to understand the world. Without each in balance, I am lost.