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The Science of Selling Yourself Short
13 years ago
A world that loves it's irony...
We live in a new age of reason, of enlightenment. Science grows and changes daily, faster than we are sometimes able to keep up with. We now can store data on mere atoms, we have the start of levitation technology in quantum locking, it's a fantastic time to be alive (despite the disparaging government problems).
And yet I'm a little sad.
It's stated that science is truth and truth is all, and I do believe the first half of that. It's a matter of fact that truth is not all, and not because lying is a positive trait. It's that art is not truth, not always truth. It is exaggerated, simple things turned into grand emotions, a balled fist becoming a fight sequence.
I get the feeling there's a lack of imagination these days. No, not a lack of imagination. A lack of its use. You can say that scientists, academics and the like, are creative in their ways of problem-solving, and that's true. But we live in a culture that is slowly losing its gods and monsters, it's heroes and villains of epic renown. Even urban legends are going by the wayside, as a world that thirsts for facts is going to experience.
There are vestiges of pure, unfettered imagination still left around. Doctor Who, countless bits of zombie media, video games. But even these are tainted, however small, with this air of finding out the truth. There was a time we could sit and wholeheartedly believe that the TARDIS would show up in our front yard. There was a time the plot of a video game did not end up being that it's all some giant government conspiracy.
Do I lament these things in context? No. They make great plots, they make topical plots. I lament the loss of wide-eyed wonder. We look at the flower, and we talk of the pollination, of the stamen and the seed. We no longer look at the flower and think of Narcissus, or of why the forget-me-not acquired its name. Today, we do not want to think of the myths, they don't concern us. We want the facts.
Facts are good.
Facts are all.
Facts kill romanticism.
Despite popular belief, you can, in fact, be a scientist and a romantic. You can both discover how the rain falls, and compare the rain to the tears of angels. You can both know why the ingredients in a dish work together to break down amino acids and proteins, and appreciate the artistry of a dish, with its colours and textures, like an edible Renoir.
I call for an age of wide-eyed scientists. Of artistic academics. Of romantic explorers. I call for the poetry of DNA to be exalted alongside the importance of it.
And yet I'm a little sad.
It's stated that science is truth and truth is all, and I do believe the first half of that. It's a matter of fact that truth is not all, and not because lying is a positive trait. It's that art is not truth, not always truth. It is exaggerated, simple things turned into grand emotions, a balled fist becoming a fight sequence.
I get the feeling there's a lack of imagination these days. No, not a lack of imagination. A lack of its use. You can say that scientists, academics and the like, are creative in their ways of problem-solving, and that's true. But we live in a culture that is slowly losing its gods and monsters, it's heroes and villains of epic renown. Even urban legends are going by the wayside, as a world that thirsts for facts is going to experience.
There are vestiges of pure, unfettered imagination still left around. Doctor Who, countless bits of zombie media, video games. But even these are tainted, however small, with this air of finding out the truth. There was a time we could sit and wholeheartedly believe that the TARDIS would show up in our front yard. There was a time the plot of a video game did not end up being that it's all some giant government conspiracy.
Do I lament these things in context? No. They make great plots, they make topical plots. I lament the loss of wide-eyed wonder. We look at the flower, and we talk of the pollination, of the stamen and the seed. We no longer look at the flower and think of Narcissus, or of why the forget-me-not acquired its name. Today, we do not want to think of the myths, they don't concern us. We want the facts.
Facts are good.
Facts are all.
Facts kill romanticism.
Despite popular belief, you can, in fact, be a scientist and a romantic. You can both discover how the rain falls, and compare the rain to the tears of angels. You can both know why the ingredients in a dish work together to break down amino acids and proteins, and appreciate the artistry of a dish, with its colours and textures, like an edible Renoir.
I call for an age of wide-eyed scientists. Of artistic academics. Of romantic explorers. I call for the poetry of DNA to be exalted alongside the importance of it.
That's mostly metaphor, but I just think there's less wonder and more clinical fact these days.
I think you're close to the mark, but aren't exactly atop it. I believe that there are passionate, caring scientists out there who aren't robotic slaves to logic and data. The problem is that your average lab researcher has a strong and long-storied vocabulary used to communicate with other scientists, engineers, and researchers, but not one for communicating with a blue-collar worker who digs ditches to put food on the table. What we need is more Carl Sagans, more Bill Nyes, more Mr. Wizards, more Mythbusters: those men and women who take the ineffable mysteries of science and present them in a way that your average person can grasp.
For instance: there's a foundation in Britain that offers grants to screenwriters who weave science into their tales: their most recent recipient constructed a work where the audience is shown a man and woman's relationship and how it varies across multiple determinant realities created by quantum uncertainty. Does the audience leave the theater with a better understanding of the structure of subatomic particles? No. But if performed well, the audience will walk away with questions in their head about the nature of reality and the meaning of conscious decisions in a multiverse where anything is possible. I'd say that's what we need: more artistic works that incite inquisitiveness and reflection in people.
And hopefully then, coupled with the rise of science and technology in pop culture, we'll see art and science start to fuck like angry, beautiful rabbits once more.
But I think it kind of talks about exactly what you're referring to here, that sort of feeling... he attributes it to something natural here, but I totally agree that it's real, and I'm sure there's no way to convey it without feeling it.
http://www.daylightatheism.org/2007.....immanence.html
Not that I don't totally fecking love the fantastic art done with dorky characters, but I don't know if they have the aching emotion that something by Van Gogh or Kahlo had.
and that's a fact. :P
(<3)
and that's a fact. :P
(<3)