Tag: art

Art and Science

The two Alka Seltzer tablets fell out of my hand, landing in a glass of water.

A subtle hissing sound rose from the glass. The circular tablets disintegrated into a fine powder as the water transformed into tiny bubbles.

It was like the homemade volcano model I showed off to my parents and teachers back in second grade.

Only I wasn’t 8 years old anymore, looking for an A. I was an adult, looking to ease the burning sensation in my throat.

And that would demand a Part 2 of this experiment. It would require me to ingest the contents of this bubbling glass, so that they could neutralize the acid in my throat.

So, without hesitation, I gulped down the concoction. And within a minute or two, my discomfort dissipated.

This was the power of modern medicine. A vivid testament to the wonders of science.

But it might not have been possible without art.

You see, this whole Alka Seltzer setup is unique. Most other medical remedies come pre-prepared, making them far simpler to consume.

This posed a problem when Alka Seltzer first hit the market. The extra work of dropping tablets into full water glasses threatened to scare away consumers. And without robust sales, the product line would be doomed.

So, the makers of Alka Seltzer turned to advertising. Marketers invented the jingle Plop Plop, Fizz Fizz. Oh, what a relief it is.

There was precious little science behind this rhyme. It was mostly artistic expression. But it worked wonders.

Consumers added Alka Seltzer to their cabinets, followed the instructions from the jingle, and saw the desired results. This pattern continued for decades, until I was the one dropping tablets into a water glass on my kitchen counter.

Art and science had come together. And we all reaped the benefits.

There’s a poignant scene in the film The Dark Knight.

Batman is interrogating The Joker at the Gotham Police Headquarters, and the masked crusader asks why the sociopathic villain wants to kill him.

I don’t want to kill you, The Joker replies. You complete me.

This exchange encapsulates the relationship between art and science. They find themselves in the same venue time and again – and at tension with each other.

Take cooking. Many are drawn to the art of it, and TV shows – from Diners, Drive-Ins and Dives to The Bear – have only furthered that perception.

But there’s a heavy dose of science in cooking as well. Ingredients meld, char, evaporate, or congeal, resulting in palatable textures and flavorings.

The clinical precision of these changes has helped countless chefs notate their recipes and share them with the masses. And the members of those masses have been able to whip up reliable meals as a result.

Yet, this scientific contribution to cooking is all but forgotten by most. It’s constantly overshadowed by the glitz that often comes with meal preparation.

Whether it be Hibachi’s tableside acrobatics, elaborately plated desserts, or surprise menu specials at five-star restaurants, people go wild for the art of cooking.

It’s flashy. It’s notable.

But it’s only part of the picture.

I am putting these words on the page. And you, dear reader, are taking them in.

This is the process of writing. Of sharing testimony through the written word.

What should we make of this process? Is it an art or a science?

Many would lean heavily toward art. The trope of authors crafting novels in secluded cabins remains prevalent. The Michelangelo of the Moleskin moniker still sticks.

Yet, if you were to ask an author about their process, you’d likely get a measured response. One filled with rules, patterns, time management hacks, and much more.

Many writers, as it turns out, don’t sit around waiting for inspiration to strike. They take a scientific approach to their craft, mixing artistic talent in along the way.

I know this, because I am one of them.

As I write this, Ember Trace has been running for close to a decade. For more than 450 weeks, I’ve shared a fresh article with you, dear reader.

This venture has been my passion, and my pleasure. But make no mistake, it’s entailed plenty of work.

Such efforts cannot be chalked up solely to artistic expression. On finding a dose of inspiration and putting it on the page.

No, a great deal of the credit goes to science. On uncovering what works best for topic generation, article length, and literary style. On determining which days and times work best to type away on my computer. And on replicating that successful formula, over and over.

There’s certainly some art involved. But my work is built on a foundation of science.

As such, I bristle a bit when I’m labeled a creative. And I roll my eyes when others say they’re too left-brained to do what I do.

It’s not that they cast me on the wrong side of the divide. It’s that they put me on one side to begin with.

Writing is not art or science. It’s both.

I could keep going. I could bring up more examples of disciplines we consider to be strictly art or science. And I could share how we’re mistaken.

But I’m not going to do that. Your attention is much appreciated, dear reader. And it’s worthy of something far better than an endless ramble.

I will pose a question though. Why are we so hesitant to accept reality?

It seems we can’t wrap our brains around the idea that art and science can co-exist. It’s too nebulous, too uncomfortable.

So, we focus on the inherent tension between them, and we seek to resolve it definitively. Even as such a quest is doomed to futility.

It’s high time we take a different approach. It’s time we look at that tension as an opportunity, rather than a threat.

Indeed, if we can manage the intersection between art and science in cooking, writing, and other disciplines, we can differentiate ourselves. We can get one step closer to mastery of those crafts. And we can stay one step ahead of whatever innovations yearn to commoditize them.

Leveraging the tension can do us a world of good. But only if embrace the mission.

Art and science might be strange neighbors. But they belong together.

Let’s put the wedge away.

Cooking Is Life

Those who know me best know that I love cooking. I cook multiple times a week for several reasons — including the financial benefits, the sense of control and the ability to avoid using dairy as an ingredient (as my body simply can’t handle it). But the main reason I cook is because I love it.

In fact, I remain mystified by cooking, even after all these years — although it hasn’t always been this way. In fact, the idea of preparing a meal initially terrified me. Cooking is equal parts art and science — and I’m equally bad at both. Add in a childhood fear of fire, and I kept my distance from the kitchen as much as I could.

However, once I started cooking, I discovered that it was much less complicated than I’d imagined it to be. Ultimately, you’ll find that cooking is dominated by three factors:

  • Seasoning
  • Heat
  • Time

Mastering the intersections of those three elements is the key to successful cooking. If you mess up one of these elements, your dish will pay the price. Then again, if you take the time and attention to ensure they’re all properly accounted for, you’ll likely be happy with the results.

Of course, the right ingredients, cookware and appliances are also crucial — but those who don’t farm, hunt or fish for the food they eat (or forge their own cast-iron skillets) don’t have full control over this part of the process. It’s up to us to make sure we get fresh chicken breasts or an adequate fry pan, but it’s also up to the supermarket or home goods store to ensure the right items are in stock. And raw ingredients don’t become a delicious meal until we evoke the magic of cooking, which comes back to seasoning, heat and time.

Still, there’s more to cooking than just the main elements involved.

  • Cooking is expression. Whether it’s a dish from a five-star restaurant or mama’s cookin’, you can bet that whoever prepared the meal put his or her own touches on it. This is where the art of cooking takes over. A cook can play around with the elements of seasoning, heat and time — while tinkering with the ingredients they use — to make a dish unique and memorable. Expression in cooking provides variety, making a meal both palatable and exciting.
  • Cooking is adversity. You can’t be afraid to try new things in the kitchen, and you can’t be afraid to fail. Recently, I spent two hours trying a new recipe for the first time — and I failed miserably. My reward was an hour spent cleaning up the mess I caused in my kitchen, and then two days of eating the edible remnants of my culinary disaster for dinner. It sucks, but you own it, and you learn from it.
  • Cooking is commitment. It doesn’t matter if you’re preparing a Thanksgiving feast or warming up a can of beans — cooking takes some degree of effort. Taking ownership of that responsibility meal after meal shows devotion and can help define character.
  • Cooking is love. When you prepare a dish, you care about how it comes out. On some level, there’s empathy at play each time you turn the dial on the stove or preheat the oven. Whether you’re making dinner for others or simply preparing a meal to the standards of your taste buds, you’re passionately devoted to making your culinary creation worthwhile.

Success. Failure. Art. Science. Expression. Uniqueness. Excitement. Adversity. Responsibility. Character. Commitment. Devotion. Empathy. Love. Empathy. Passion. These are all concepts that are key in cooking, but they transcend our daily lives as well. With that in mind, one thing is clear.

Cooking is life. Go on and get the most out of it.