Published: January 28, 2009 04:45 pm      

WRITE ON: The Artist and the Scientist

One sunny Sunday, an artist had set up his easel in a big city park and was painting a group of trees. The artist had been to art school and had learned to draw very well. So he sketched in pencil a very accurate image of the trees.

A scientist happened to stroll by and look at what the artist had drawn. “That’s quite good,” he told the artist. “Yes, that is definitely what those trees look like. You’re doing an outstanding job.”

“Thank you,” the artist said without looking up from his canvas. “With any luck, I should be able to finish this painting by this afternoon.”

“Well, that’s excellent,” the scientist replied. “I’m on my way to a lecture on the biochemistry of aspirin.”

“That’s good,” the artist said, trying to concentrate on his work.

“Did you know,” the scientist continued, “that aspirin comes from two of the trees you’re painting? Its main ingredient is in birch bark and willow leaves.”

“Yes, yes,” the artist said, wishing the scientist would leave him alone. “That’s somewhat interesting.”

“Salicylic acid, that’s what drives the curative power of aspirin. Johann Buchner first isolated the chemical in 1828. It relieved pain but irritated the mouth and stomach.”

“Don’t you have a meeting to go to?” the artist inquired, becoming a bit irritated himself.

“Yes I do. But I thought you’d like to know that humans chewed birch bark and willow leaves and the leaves of the myrtle bush to relieve pain. It was Felix Hoffmann at the Bayer Chemical factory who first synthesized acetylsalicylic acid, which retained the healing power of aspirin but reduced the inflammation it causes.”

“Look,” the artist said, turning to face the scientist, “I don’t give a rat’s patootie about chemistry! I’m just trying to paint a nice picture here. Stop annoying me!”

“No need to get upset,” the scientist replied. “I just thought you’d be interested in the medicinal qualities of the trees you’re painting. After all, people took aspirin for 150 years before John Vane discovered how it works. He got the Nobel Prize in 1971 for his work.”

The artist, temperamental by nature, was getting angrier by the moment. “Well listen, my friend, you’re giving me a headache,” he said testily.

“No need to get upset, my good fellow. I’ll be going to my lecture. Sorry if I disturbed you.” The scientist walked away and the artist calmed down and continued his work.

Late that afternoon, as the artist was putting the finishing touches on his painting, the same scientist again passed by. The scientist gazed at the

artist’s work. Alarmed at what he saw, he exclaimed: “My dear boy, what have you done? Your painting doesn’t look anything like those trees.”

“I paint in the abstract expressionist mode,” the artist explained. “I don’t paint like a camera. I paint what the trees say to me, not just what they look like.”

“Well,” the scientist replied, “it’s quite a disappointment. Your pencil sketch was so accurate but this--” he said pointing at the canvas—“this looks like the work of a madman.”

The artist turned to face the scientist. “Maybe if I shove my paintbrush up your nose you’ll quit bothering me.”

Things were about to turn ugly when a clergyman who was witnessing this encounter stepped forward. “Gentlemen please!” the minister said. “Let’s calm down and not create an ugly scene. I heard what you were arguing about and I’d like to offer a suggestion if I may.”

The artist and the scientist stopped arguing and turned to the clergyman, who continued: “Can’t we stop for a moment and think of the hand the trees came from in the first place? Are you not both looking at the same thing without appreciating that it was God who created Nature which in turn created those trees? You artists draw upon Nature for inspiration. You scientists explore the benefits to mankind Nature provides. I don’t wish to intrude, but I think that some reflection on the source of your subjects might be like aspirin for the soul. I bid you peace.” With that, the clergyman walked away.

“I’m sorry,” the scientist said to the artist. “He’s right. I shouldn’t have distracted you from your work.”

“That’s okay,” the artist replied. “I shouldn’t have flown off the handle at you.” They shook hands.

The artist offered to buy dinner for the scientist. Over their meal, they discussed art and science and became friends. The scientist, his eyes freshly opened to non-representational art, bought the canvas the artist had painted.

“We owe that clergyman a debt of gratitude,” the scientist said as they parted. “I learned to appreciate your art.”

“And I am grateful to know about the healing powers of the trees I painted,” the artist said in return. “I wonder what the clergyman got out of all this?”

On the other side of town, the clergyman stepped before his congregation at an evening prayer service. “Today,” he began, “I witnessed the hand of God reach down and enlighten an artist and a scientist. Let me share this miracle with all of you.”

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