String Theory

I was chatting up a storm with my bunch of nerdy pals. We do not eschew any topics, including sensitive topics like politics and religion.  Nothing is too sacred with us. Pun intended.

What started our conversation was the topic of consciousness.  None of us have any erudition in this field.  This is something that everybody seems to understand yet few could use concrete words to define.  Perhaps we all have different words or interpretation or ideas for what consciousness is but we assume that everybody is on the same page.  Is it awareness?  Is it the mind?  A feeling, a cognition, life itself, an introspection or is it the same thing as the soul?  What is a soul by the way.  Pilot of a plane caught on fire reports to the tower "we are declaring emergency and there are 109 souls on board", is that it?

Some of my friends would borrow from psychology to describe what consciousness is, while most would sweep it under the neural science category.  I took a more pragmatic approach.  I learned that all living things is nothing more than a factory churning out products, utilizing raw materials and sending signals to regulate the different stations.  Life depends on energy exchange via the ATP cycle and nerve signals requiring action potentials to propagate. Hence we have specialized and differentiated cells to perform specific functions of  absorption, immunity, visual, auditory, olfactory, reproductive functions.  et cetera, et cetera.  To put it bluntly, in my humble opinion, we are nothing but the result of trillions of test tubes pouring each other with chemicals. These chemicals form the infrastructures of our body and allow ion exchange to form electrical signals.  Our sensory inputs perhaps elicit certain chemicals to be formed, i.e. dopamine, oxytocin, endorphin, and along with sensory signals form experiences that we perceive as real.  To me, consciousness is the manifestation of chemicals and electricity.  Whatever our consciousness conjures up, is just a summation of all of the above.  I wonder if someday we are advance enough to send these packets of chemicals and electrical charges from one individual to another, could we share consciousness?  Believing reality is real could be the biggest scam. Our dreams could be so vivid that we believe they are real, until we wake up that is.  Oh yes some people called dreams the subconscious.  So called "altered states" achieved by using drugs or biologicals (psilocybin for example) are just reactions to chemicals that disrupt our normal production and distribution of chemicals.   So when I die, my chemical reactions come to a screeching halt, and my "reality" ceases to exist (except that my hair and nail would continue to grow for a day or two, creepy, right?), whereas just a few moments before I take my last breath, it was still real to me.  So is consciousness merely a state of awareness, or does it also imply intelligence, reasoning, morality, ethics?  Does the size of our brains have anything remotely to do with consciousness?  Does an imbecile have less consciousness than a genius?  Does consciousness include the ability to plot and manipulate and backstab others?

An interesting segue regarding the role played by chemicals in our body is that according to the famous psychologist Jordon Peterson, aggressive lobsters posses a higher level of serotonin.  He also stipulated that serotonin endowed lobsters attain a higher status in the hierarchy of lobsters, and they strut a better body image i.e. more frequent raised claws.  Serotonin by the way is a chemical that carries signals between nerve cells and is responsible for mediating the moods of a person, so we believe.  A class of drugs called SSRI (selective serotonin reuptake inhibitor) of which Prozac is an example, works by propping up the level of serotonin in our bloodstream by delaying its metabolism back into the system.  

Seeing a person go through puberty, watching animals in heat or simply witnessing the a person high on drugs definitely offers a strong argument of how chemicals shape life.  Naysayers would say this is too simplistic.  Something as abstract as consciousness surely cannot be defined by chemical terms.  Well we are all aware that sunlight is made up of 7 colors.  So how easy is it to mix the 7 colors to form the white color.  I am not talking about painting the colors on a disc and spinning it to get the white color.  That's cheating because we are exploiting the latency in our optic system to mix the colors in our brain.  That latency is what fooled us into thinking the frames in a movie strip actually move smoothly.  We know we are watching a movie, yet we cry, we laugh, we swear.  Are we manufacturing our own reality?  Is this consciousness? 

It is impossible for us to mix the exact amount and intensity of the different colors to form a white color.  Truth of the matter is that white is not a color, it is simply a state when all light are reflected and our brain perceive that as white.  All "color" cause certain spectrum of light to be absorbed.  Thus whatever "color" we choose to mix will always absorb some light and a total reflection i.e. white could never be achieved.  Can the color white actually be not "real"?

The conversation naturally turned to whether afterlife exists. Whatever a person's religious belief, we all subscribe to the fact that all things decompose and breakdown when dead and all the ingredients of life are returned to earth.  And if mother earth is a miniscule grain of stardust in one of those 30 trillions of galaxies then are we not all children of this vast universe, and not just earth.  Unto dust thou shalt return has real secular meaning.  The enormity of our universe is beyond comprehension.  The Hubble telescope can see light from 10 billion years ago.  James Webb does even better, about 13.5 billion years ago.  In other words, someone from one of those far galaxies waved at us, and 13.5 billion years later, we see it.. It took light that long to traverse that distance.  If this is not mind boggling, I don't know what is.  

By this time, all the members in our nerd group had enlarged pupils, and our voices approaching the soprano tessitura.  We all became very animated, saliva spouting from zeal and interjections.  It was only natural to invoke the existence of other dimensions.  The Outer Limits anthology was non-fiction as far as we were concerned.   

When the topic of other dimensions were brought up, the String Theory took the limelight.  String Theory came about when particle physics wasn't able to adequately describe nuclear force, gravitational force.  Thus instead of particles we have strings that dance through space and depending on how they are vibrating, are able to confer mass and gravitational force by yielding different particles.  Mind you we are talking about subatomic structures, before the existence of atoms. String Theory and black holes often seem inseparable.  Anyways none of us in the group are physicists but the idea of the obscure "strings" is so "far out", to coin a sixties slang.  What is especially "far out" and tantalizing is the fact that the String Theory necessitates additional dimensions to function.  It's been suggested that there are 10, 11 dimensions.  For me, anything more than 4 dimensions (length, width, height and time) is beyond my comprehension by my feeble brain, yet that notion of other dimensions and multiverse is so "far out".

The Outer Limits lived on for another day.

I might be misrepresenting or conflating about topics that I am not an expert in, but the reason that I am geeking out is that I find the topic so mystical and inspirational that I want to do a painting about "strings".

I painted the "strings" using some cheap gold acrylic hobby paint.  I picked the roughest and stiffest brush I could find and I painted on gold speckled Xuan.  The native gold speckles on the paper helped to set the stage of my cosmic background.

With that, I randomly tapped on the paper.  Then I found the footprint of that brush to be a bit too big and not wriggly enough for my "strings".  I found a very skinny brush, one with just a few bristles and that worked out nicely.  The long thin bristles were flexible and twisted and turned freely facilitating a more string-like line.

In my mind this was the state just after the big bang. Matters as we know it hadn't been formed yet.  

We had "strings".  Through the interactions of the gravitational forces these strings impart, fingers nebulae began to form?  These fingers were depicted as void spaces in my painting.  I wrote them in using a regular round brush and my alum solution.  I was hoping the alum solution would act as a masking fluid such that brushstrokes done with alum solution would remain clear of subsequent colorings.  

In my mind, the strings would clump together like ripples and the resulting strands would propagate like fingers in a flames.  So I fashioned a bunch of ripples and flames.  The gold speckled Xuan took on the alum solution in a weird way.  The trek appeared black, in reality it was just how the paper looked when wet.

After the alum solution dried, they were no longer visible on the paper, only my gold color "strings" were visible.  My next step would be to reveal and expose my fingers nebulae.

Gazing out the window

I was learning about mental illness, being bipolar in particular, and creativity.  It was interesting to note that some of the renowned artists were afflicted with varying degrees of mental illness.  When I read about song writers, singers, entertainers dying from drug overdose or getting into trouble for dabbling with illicit drugs, my first reaction is the "chicken and egg" debate.  Which one comes first.  Is there any possibility that drugs actually free a person's constraint and enhance creativity?  Perhaps altered perceptions lead us to fresh plots?  Or are drugs just a way of life because it is fashionable. The state I am residing in has legitimized and legalized psilocybin, for medical use of course; as they put it.  Can "visions" be a valuable adjunct to creativity too?  Where is the line between a freak and a genius.  I know, these are harsh terms. 

In a way I believe those of us who paint are inherently dissatisfied with reality.  I mean why else would we paint a version that is different from the true, real object.  And then there are those of us who do abstract work.  Are we under the influence of colors and forms and lines and patterns, and not necessarily an identifiable and addressable object?  How do elephant trunk and chimpanzee hands produce works of art?  How does our gestalt work?  Can drugs or our mental state make a difference?

Before I get myself into too much trouble, I do want to stress that I am not suggesting mental illness is the same as drug use.  The only overlap perhaps is that somehow brain chemicals are involved, be it endogenous or exogenous.  It is a delicate task, just like mixing and obtaining a perfect color or hue, we need to find an auspicious balance of norepi, dopamine and serotonin.  There are so many feedback loops involved when it concerns our body and mind and we are understanding just a little more each day, certainly more than the days of lobotomy and electric shock therapy.  When your car engine is not getting the correct inputs, it can surge, sputter or simply quit on you.  And just like the internal combustion engine, some aren't happy unless they are run at 9,000 rpm, and some hum along merrily at just 100.  We are all different.

The names like Robert Schumann and Vincent van Gogh often come up as artists who have endured mental health problems.  I am not a great fan of Schumann's music but because of what I've learned about the person I have decided to look at his works with less myopia.  Ultimately I am still not quite a fan, but I do find his Piano Quartet very endearing, specially the Andante movement.

If we don't know about the lives of these great artists, we might think that everything is roses with them.  One might even say "I would do anything to be just like them," if one is an aspiring artist.  Atlas, only if we knew.  Are we really willing to pay that price knowing what they had endured?

I've heard a saying which basically states "We might find a Shangri-la when we look across a window, but once we stand right next to the window, what we see is life itself, with all its musings." 

     隔窗而望是世間桃源   臨窗而立是歲月人生 

Not everything is as what it seems, and the grass is not necessarily greener on the other side.

I have found the inspiration for my next painting.  A person standing by a window, gazing out.

I have in mind a high contrast, black and white brush painting.  I believe a stark black and white painting allows for more freedom of participation from the audience and evokes more empathy.  I also want to position my window strategically such that the proportion or the geometry will be pleasing to look at and helps to frame the protagonist.  I want my actor to ponder and see what is outside the window.

Life!

Just like paring food with wine, I am pairing my painting with the third movement ( Andante ) from Schumann's Piano Quartet, my newfound love.  I just love those long phrasings and conversations between the instruments, even from the viola, I might add.  I love it more than his Piano Quintet; such intimacy.  Listening to that music helps to give me context when I am doing this painting.

I am going to set the tone of the painting by writing the words of the above mentioned saying on the walls in the painting.  These words would be graffiti-like if you will, crass and territorial, but they serve as a dogma for my thought process.  I have a mental image of these writings obscured by the darkness inside the room eventually, either completely or partially, but metaphorically at least.  I haven't decided yet.  Just as they defaced the wall, they are in turn consumed by darkness. They shall resurface when light returns.  It is a cycle, as in life.  I'll cross the bridge when I get there.  For now they shall help to keep the mood playful.  This could be a dark painting, literally and figuratively.  I don't want to be too depressed; but pensive, for sure.  

Next comes my protagonist.

Years ago I did a painting "Going Home" and in that painting I tried to describe backlit tablecloth and sunlight filtering through drinking glasses.  I am trying to study my "light" again with this painting. Also, I am going to be using a female figure as my person of interest.

I am making corrections to the contrast to make her features more vivid.  More enigmatic perhaps. 

I am also dolling up the graffiti a bit by giving the words a shadow.  In the end these words might not be visible anymore but for now it is fun to play with the effects.  As graffiti should.

I am now beginning the process of placing her in this dark room by painting in the wall that she is standing against.  In the process, the negative space of the bridge of her nose and lips are defined by the dark wall.  Her hair too is now nicely fashioned.

The wet ink causes rippling in the fibrous Xuan, and the undulating paper actually adds another dimension to the painting.  Almost like a starburst coming in from outside the window.  Is this a sign?  I just wished that I could keep that effect in place after the paper is dried.

If I stop now and crop my paper properly, I might have a painting on my hands already? High contrast, interesting layout, half white, half black, framing my pensive actor.  Lots of blank spaces for the audience to fill in.  

Should I stop?