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BIOPHILES
The sciences are solitary, focused pursuits. The decision to immerse oneself in these fields is an outgrowth of human spirit and acute interest in the workings of our universe.
My images aim to uncap the philosophies and worth of those who quietly study the underpinnings of our world, bringing more of it to us. While creating these portraits I have met astoundingly dedicated, knowledgeable people with endless drive, perseverance and intelligence: botanists who promote native plant restoration, scholars in astrophysics, ornithology, herpetology, entomology, pollution control specialists and educators, one of whom writes a popular children's science column. Some are ferocious activists; many have helped create legislation to prevent further habitat destruction... my sister Elizabeth, an aquatic toxicologist, among them.
Many scientists and environmentalists are compelling writers and able draftsmen, using these skills to document and communicate. As an avid reader of their articles and books, I'm moved by the enthusiasm I find and the great writing itself.
In his "biophilia" hypothesis, internationally esteemed sociobiologist Edward O. Wilson defines biophilia as "the urge to affiliate with other forms of life". He and his colleagues offer that humans have an innate affinity for the natural world, probably a biologically based need integral to our development as individuals.
The first world I knew, Staten Island in the 1960's, harbored such marvels as redwing blackbirds, cardinals, snow, raspberries, blackberries, spider webs, bullfrogs, cicadas, shooting stars, possum, Queen Anne's Lace and milkweed. Walking through the woods, my mother could name every plant, bird, tree and flower. Occasionally, on warm nights we would go out into the back yard and look at the constellations. It didn't bother me that Orion's dots didn't connect to make him look even vaguely like a hunter, or that Sirius bore little resemblance to a dog. I knew better than to expect celestial cartoons; the mystery and math of a midnight sky was enough, but I let my mother trace the lines from star to star, pointing.
The reportage of writing and drawing were natural inclinations. At twelve I began making the hour and forty minute commute into Manhattan from Staten Island's south shore to attend New York City's High School of Art and Design. Immersed in painting, sketching, learning about art and art history, the parameters of my adolescents' molten planet became more viable as my commitment solidified. I brought my French easel on long bicycle trips to paint in the overbearing sun, and to isolated deteriorating boardwalks in February... the sensory additives of weather were my accomplices. Structure and reason emerged by brushstroke.
The cerebral isometrics of painting have been part of my regular routine for much of my life. By addressing the tenacity and generous gifts brought by those in the sciences, I take both dialogues to canvas.
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