When I read headlines like these, I imagine a bunch of scientists huddled around a table with a great big jigsaw puzzle in front of them. The “missing piece” feels like some neatly carved shape ready to fit neatly into a space made just for it. Science then feels like a multi-player virtual jigsaw, open to anyone across the globe, a race to find the same piece sometimes, with a combined goal of finishing the picture to neatly fit that on the box. The problem with this metaphor of a jigsaw puzzle is that the process of science is rarely neat and the findings even less so. They almost never fit into some existing known empty space between four corners. They almost never click magically like a lock and its key. No, that’s not really a fitting metaphor either. Science is messy. Worldwide cooperation within and across political boundaries is a constant struggle. Races are staggeringly competitive and not everyone starts at the same line. Science is not so much a puzzle as it is a collage. Yes, a riveting, constantly evolving combination of layers and underlying patterns that may appear mismatched on occasion and yet somehow blend together to tell a story. Sometimes more than one story even, for perspectives differ to some extent. The pieces and their places are not pre-decided, the corners and edges are flexible, and there is often room enough to add layers for the unknowns as they become known. A collage is dynamic. It allows for change, for building on existing knowledge, for learning and growth. Much thought and reflection goes into deciding which next magazine cut-out adds the most to the whole. What makes the story more comprehensive? What makes it more abstract? How to choose what makes the most sense? Side note: Before you ask “but why should it make sense?” and conflagrate this metaphor into an art vs. science thing, I will state that 1) Art and science have inspired each other since the beginning of time and often use similar creative processes; and 2) We want science to “make sense” and art to “speak to us”; I like to believe these responses are essentially the same, they create a similar sense of “feeling settled”, of comprehension, either by logic (science) or by relating to it (art). The greatest scientists are artists as well. - Albert Einstein I made collages as a child as part of school work (remember the brown paper scrapbooks?), of animals and fish and mountains and boats. I loved cutting and sticking things, and of course peeling off dried glue as if it were skin. Admittedly, I also collaged as a teen, of an actor that I am now grossly embarrassed by and an alt-metal band which is still one of my favourite bands. But, along with other traits lost to adulthood, like fast metabolism, I lost this one too. I’ve since rediscovered my joy in cutting and sticking things and the parallels between the process of collaging and science-ing. I also make postcard-size collages to snailmail to friends around the world; it reaches them faster than the scientific peer-reviewed publication process! That science requires creativity is not new information. Designing ecological experiments within constraints of time, space, money, and the unpredictability of nature and wildlife, requires innovation. The ability to think out-of-the-box. To brainstorm and develop ideas, throw them out and come up with some more, go out to the field, nature throws it out, come up with more ideas still. To troubleshoot on the spot, think on your feet, and change direction. To listen to your intuition at the right time. To spend time in the field observing with keen focus the workings of the natural world, to be patient and allow yourself to be inspired. All of this requires spirited dedication and openness, to learn from mistakes and improve, to figure out the mess, to draw meaning from the patterns beneath the mess. I’ve often wondered why I feel drawn to Jackson Pollock’s art, especially the drip painting style he is most known for and I now know why. At first glance, it just looks like a giant abstract mess, a seemingly random smattering of paint and brush strokes (see panel at the top of this page). It is not, in fact, a madman scrambling on the floor throwing paint on a canvas at random. Each sweep of the arm, each throw of paint, choice of colour and canvas size, were conscious decisions Pollock made towards building layers that together paint a story, that inspire further wonder and thought. I am unable to appreciate most Abstract Art, I just don’t get it. But Pollock’s “abstractions” resonate with me in much the same way as an experimental study design clicks and makes sense. Maybe reporters and science writers will come up with new metaphors to galvanize the thrill of scientific discoveries. If they still want to use the puzzle thing, well, it might be more fitting if it was a 3D puzzle with multiple permutations and combinations, allowing for a few different outcomes and not just the one on the box. Either way, I'll be here cutting and sticking things, making collages and running models with combinations of variables to see which makes the most sense, which best explains or mirrors our observations of the world, which one is the best fit (statisticians will get this pun). Not perfect, not neatly cut, but the best fit given a set of constraints. May we continue to be puzzled by the the mysteries of the world. May we remain open to new findings even as they challenge old learnings. P.S. I love jigsaw puzzles.
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