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Fragile Viruses
Viruses are scary enough as small micro-organisms that we cannot see with the naked eye, but artist Luke Jerram takes these deadly microscopic agents, and blows them up, literally, as glass sculptures.
Instead of the usual cartoons found in textbooks, these viruses can be examined from various angles, to understand their structures better. Great detail is put into each piece, making the glass sculptures practically exact replicas. Aesthetically, the work is beautiful, and few would even know that what they are admiring are the structures of an HIV virus, E. coli or even Smallpox. 
The sculptures allow viewers to better understand, or at least to finally see for themselves, what attacks their immune (or other) systems, and especially what causes them to be sick. Of course, this does not mean that it will be easier to fight a virus if you know what it looks like, but for science, the sculptures are a great learning tool to understand the virus’ structures, and possibly even to recognize them better when looking under a microscope.
-Anna Paluch
Fragile Viruses
Viruses are scary enough as small micro-organisms that we cannot see with the naked eye, but artist Luke Jerram takes these deadly microscopic agents, and blows them up, literally, as glass sculptures.
Instead of the usual cartoons found in textbooks, these viruses can be examined from various angles, to understand their structures better. Great detail is put into each piece, making the glass sculptures practically exact replicas. Aesthetically, the work is beautiful, and few would even know that what they are admiring are the structures of an HIV virus, E. coli or even Smallpox. 
The sculptures allow viewers to better understand, or at least to finally see for themselves, what attacks their immune (or other) systems, and especially what causes them to be sick. Of course, this does not mean that it will be easier to fight a virus if you know what it looks like, but for science, the sculptures are a great learning tool to understand the virus’ structures, and possibly even to recognize them better when looking under a microscope.
-Anna Paluch

Fragile Viruses

Viruses are scary enough as small micro-organisms that we cannot see with the naked eye, but artist Luke Jerram takes these deadly microscopic agents, and blows them up, literally, as glass sculptures.

Instead of the usual cartoons found in textbooks, these viruses can be examined from various angles, to understand their structures better. Great detail is put into each piece, making the glass sculptures practically exact replicas. Aesthetically, the work is beautiful, and few would even know that what they are admiring are the structures of an HIV virus, E. coli or even Smallpox

The sculptures allow viewers to better understand, or at least to finally see for themselves, what attacks their immune (or other) systems, and especially what causes them to be sick. Of course, this does not mean that it will be easier to fight a virus if you know what it looks like, but for science, the sculptures are a great learning tool to understand the virus’ structures, and possibly even to recognize them better when looking under a microscope.

-Anna Paluch

(Source: artandsciencejournal.com)

2 Photos
/ Luke Jerram anna paluch science art viruses virus biology glass sculpture art and science journal
Inner Beauty
Our biological identity as art?
DNA 11 is a company that takes an individual’s DNA and transforms it into a print, which may be the most personal form of art. The minimalist composition of the image is a reflection of our complex cellular composition - our self-portrait.
Founders Adrian Salamunovic and Nazim Ahmed, best friends and innovators, wanted to create the most personalized art possible. Sending in your DNA, which is merely a cheek swab sample, gives you the options of having your DNA transformed into either black and white or coloured ‘portraits’. Lip and finger print ‘portraits’ are also options. Have a significant other? You can send up to four DNA samples to create a series of identity works. 
It may be a business and not an actual artist, but the concept of taking our literal, biological identity, and transforming it into an aesthetic piece, out of context, is pretty cool. Whether as a conversion piece or just out of love for your own being, the DNA 11 images are a creative alternative to the typical self-portrait or family photo.
-Anna Paluch

Inner Beauty

Our biological identity as art?

DNA 11 is a company that takes an individual’s DNA and transforms it into a print, which may be the most personal form of art. The minimalist composition of the image is a reflection of our complex cellular composition - our self-portrait.

Founders Adrian Salamunovic and Nazim Ahmed, best friends and innovators, wanted to create the most personalized art possible. Sending in your DNA, which is merely a cheek swab sample, gives you the options of having your DNA transformed into either black and white or coloured ‘portraits’. Lip and finger print ‘portraits’ are also options. Have a significant other? You can send up to four DNA samples to create a series of identity works. 

It may be a business and not an actual artist, but the concept of taking our literal, biological identity, and transforming it into an aesthetic piece, out of context, is pretty cool. Whether as a conversion piece or just out of love for your own being, the DNA 11 images are a creative alternative to the typical self-portrait or family photo.

-Anna Paluch

(Source: artandsciencejournal.com)

dna dna 11 biology identity anna paluch art science art and science journal
Wildlife: Queer Zoology
Humboldt Magnussen invites us into “Wildlife: Queer Zoology” by asking that we don animal masks he has painstakingly silkscreened. Caribou, Penguin, Walrus, and Giraffe – the masks suggest we adopt new animal identities for the opening evening, adorn ourselves with new costumes that challenge the boundaries of nature and culture.
The show questions the rhetoric of queer sexuality’s natural- (or unnatural-)ness. Responding to right-wing-evangelical claims that queer sexualities and non-gender-conforming identities are unnatural, Magnussen’s exhibition features the work of seven artists who challenge this notion.
Alexis Boyle’s coil of rope snakes refers to recent research finding that male snakes which emit both male and female hormones are seen the most desirable mates, attracting frenzied attention resulting in a tangled “mating ball.” This finding suggests that long-held ideas about sexuality among animals are perhaps more politically convenient than accurate. Boyle’s work reexamines queerness in both animal and human worlds by emphasizing the degree to which the gender binary is constructed by social norms, rather than hard science.Gustavo Cerquera Benjumea’s tongue-in-cheek sculpture plays the part of a good-luck charm (a dried llama fetus), designed to protect Videofag from homophobia and transphobia. A certificate of authenticity purportedly from the Bolivian and Columbian embassies accompanies it on the wall. Benjumea’s sculpture provides a complex mixing ground for preconceptions about both culture and sexuality, and hints at the magical, rather than strictly scientific, role of the animal.Danielle Nicole Smith’s high-femme bejeweled works look at the parallel spaces of domesticity and domestication, pairing an image of a kitten captioned “Lady Love,” aside a sparkly text collage spelling out her girlfriend’s affectionate nickname. Meanwhile, Corinne Teed’s labourious drawing and collage works represent ambiguous human and animal sexual behaviours. In Negotiations, Teed fills the necks of two deer, antlers entangled, with images of women wrestling in the nude. The work manifests a tension between violence and tenderness, competition and play, sex and dominance. Michael Rennick’s work refers to queer use of animal metaphor, with careful and precious paintings of individual animals (wolf, pig, otter, and bear) on underwear which has been subsequently ripped up by his dog. Mary Tremonte’s silkscreened hankies serve a similar function, charting queer self-identifying gestures through the language of the animal kingdom. Her serigraph prints document instances of queerness in the animal world, and include the story of Roy and Silo, two male chinstrap penguins at the Central Park Zoo who nested together in 1998, first caring for an egg-shaped rock, and finally hatching an adoptive egg. Together, the works in the show highlight the ecologies of queerness, and present scientific and inventive potential for worlds of human and animal identity not bound by dichotomy.-Alison Cooley
Wildlife: Queer Zoology
Humboldt Magnussen invites us into “Wildlife: Queer Zoology” by asking that we don animal masks he has painstakingly silkscreened. Caribou, Penguin, Walrus, and Giraffe – the masks suggest we adopt new animal identities for the opening evening, adorn ourselves with new costumes that challenge the boundaries of nature and culture.
The show questions the rhetoric of queer sexuality’s natural- (or unnatural-)ness. Responding to right-wing-evangelical claims that queer sexualities and non-gender-conforming identities are unnatural, Magnussen’s exhibition features the work of seven artists who challenge this notion.
Alexis Boyle’s coil of rope snakes refers to recent research finding that male snakes which emit both male and female hormones are seen the most desirable mates, attracting frenzied attention resulting in a tangled “mating ball.” This finding suggests that long-held ideas about sexuality among animals are perhaps more politically convenient than accurate. Boyle’s work reexamines queerness in both animal and human worlds by emphasizing the degree to which the gender binary is constructed by social norms, rather than hard science.Gustavo Cerquera Benjumea’s tongue-in-cheek sculpture plays the part of a good-luck charm (a dried llama fetus), designed to protect Videofag from homophobia and transphobia. A certificate of authenticity purportedly from the Bolivian and Columbian embassies accompanies it on the wall. Benjumea’s sculpture provides a complex mixing ground for preconceptions about both culture and sexuality, and hints at the magical, rather than strictly scientific, role of the animal.Danielle Nicole Smith’s high-femme bejeweled works look at the parallel spaces of domesticity and domestication, pairing an image of a kitten captioned “Lady Love,” aside a sparkly text collage spelling out her girlfriend’s affectionate nickname. Meanwhile, Corinne Teed’s labourious drawing and collage works represent ambiguous human and animal sexual behaviours. In Negotiations, Teed fills the necks of two deer, antlers entangled, with images of women wrestling in the nude. The work manifests a tension between violence and tenderness, competition and play, sex and dominance. Michael Rennick’s work refers to queer use of animal metaphor, with careful and precious paintings of individual animals (wolf, pig, otter, and bear) on underwear which has been subsequently ripped up by his dog. Mary Tremonte’s silkscreened hankies serve a similar function, charting queer self-identifying gestures through the language of the animal kingdom. Her serigraph prints document instances of queerness in the animal world, and include the story of Roy and Silo, two male chinstrap penguins at the Central Park Zoo who nested together in 1998, first caring for an egg-shaped rock, and finally hatching an adoptive egg. Together, the works in the show highlight the ecologies of queerness, and present scientific and inventive potential for worlds of human and animal identity not bound by dichotomy.-Alison Cooley
Wildlife: Queer Zoology
Humboldt Magnussen invites us into “Wildlife: Queer Zoology” by asking that we don animal masks he has painstakingly silkscreened. Caribou, Penguin, Walrus, and Giraffe – the masks suggest we adopt new animal identities for the opening evening, adorn ourselves with new costumes that challenge the boundaries of nature and culture.
The show questions the rhetoric of queer sexuality’s natural- (or unnatural-)ness. Responding to right-wing-evangelical claims that queer sexualities and non-gender-conforming identities are unnatural, Magnussen’s exhibition features the work of seven artists who challenge this notion.
Alexis Boyle’s coil of rope snakes refers to recent research finding that male snakes which emit both male and female hormones are seen the most desirable mates, attracting frenzied attention resulting in a tangled “mating ball.” This finding suggests that long-held ideas about sexuality among animals are perhaps more politically convenient than accurate. Boyle’s work reexamines queerness in both animal and human worlds by emphasizing the degree to which the gender binary is constructed by social norms, rather than hard science.Gustavo Cerquera Benjumea’s tongue-in-cheek sculpture plays the part of a good-luck charm (a dried llama fetus), designed to protect Videofag from homophobia and transphobia. A certificate of authenticity purportedly from the Bolivian and Columbian embassies accompanies it on the wall. Benjumea’s sculpture provides a complex mixing ground for preconceptions about both culture and sexuality, and hints at the magical, rather than strictly scientific, role of the animal.Danielle Nicole Smith’s high-femme bejeweled works look at the parallel spaces of domesticity and domestication, pairing an image of a kitten captioned “Lady Love,” aside a sparkly text collage spelling out her girlfriend’s affectionate nickname. Meanwhile, Corinne Teed’s labourious drawing and collage works represent ambiguous human and animal sexual behaviours. In Negotiations, Teed fills the necks of two deer, antlers entangled, with images of women wrestling in the nude. The work manifests a tension between violence and tenderness, competition and play, sex and dominance. Michael Rennick’s work refers to queer use of animal metaphor, with careful and precious paintings of individual animals (wolf, pig, otter, and bear) on underwear which has been subsequently ripped up by his dog. Mary Tremonte’s silkscreened hankies serve a similar function, charting queer self-identifying gestures through the language of the animal kingdom. Her serigraph prints document instances of queerness in the animal world, and include the story of Roy and Silo, two male chinstrap penguins at the Central Park Zoo who nested together in 1998, first caring for an egg-shaped rock, and finally hatching an adoptive egg. Together, the works in the show highlight the ecologies of queerness, and present scientific and inventive potential for worlds of human and animal identity not bound by dichotomy.-Alison Cooley
Wildlife: Queer Zoology
Humboldt Magnussen invites us into “Wildlife: Queer Zoology” by asking that we don animal masks he has painstakingly silkscreened. Caribou, Penguin, Walrus, and Giraffe – the masks suggest we adopt new animal identities for the opening evening, adorn ourselves with new costumes that challenge the boundaries of nature and culture.
The show questions the rhetoric of queer sexuality’s natural- (or unnatural-)ness. Responding to right-wing-evangelical claims that queer sexualities and non-gender-conforming identities are unnatural, Magnussen’s exhibition features the work of seven artists who challenge this notion.
Alexis Boyle’s coil of rope snakes refers to recent research finding that male snakes which emit both male and female hormones are seen the most desirable mates, attracting frenzied attention resulting in a tangled “mating ball.” This finding suggests that long-held ideas about sexuality among animals are perhaps more politically convenient than accurate. Boyle’s work reexamines queerness in both animal and human worlds by emphasizing the degree to which the gender binary is constructed by social norms, rather than hard science.Gustavo Cerquera Benjumea’s tongue-in-cheek sculpture plays the part of a good-luck charm (a dried llama fetus), designed to protect Videofag from homophobia and transphobia. A certificate of authenticity purportedly from the Bolivian and Columbian embassies accompanies it on the wall. Benjumea’s sculpture provides a complex mixing ground for preconceptions about both culture and sexuality, and hints at the magical, rather than strictly scientific, role of the animal.Danielle Nicole Smith’s high-femme bejeweled works look at the parallel spaces of domesticity and domestication, pairing an image of a kitten captioned “Lady Love,” aside a sparkly text collage spelling out her girlfriend’s affectionate nickname. Meanwhile, Corinne Teed’s labourious drawing and collage works represent ambiguous human and animal sexual behaviours. In Negotiations, Teed fills the necks of two deer, antlers entangled, with images of women wrestling in the nude. The work manifests a tension between violence and tenderness, competition and play, sex and dominance. Michael Rennick’s work refers to queer use of animal metaphor, with careful and precious paintings of individual animals (wolf, pig, otter, and bear) on underwear which has been subsequently ripped up by his dog. Mary Tremonte’s silkscreened hankies serve a similar function, charting queer self-identifying gestures through the language of the animal kingdom. Her serigraph prints document instances of queerness in the animal world, and include the story of Roy and Silo, two male chinstrap penguins at the Central Park Zoo who nested together in 1998, first caring for an egg-shaped rock, and finally hatching an adoptive egg. Together, the works in the show highlight the ecologies of queerness, and present scientific and inventive potential for worlds of human and animal identity not bound by dichotomy.-Alison Cooley
Wildlife: Queer Zoology
Humboldt Magnussen invites us into “Wildlife: Queer Zoology” by asking that we don animal masks he has painstakingly silkscreened. Caribou, Penguin, Walrus, and Giraffe – the masks suggest we adopt new animal identities for the opening evening, adorn ourselves with new costumes that challenge the boundaries of nature and culture.
The show questions the rhetoric of queer sexuality’s natural- (or unnatural-)ness. Responding to right-wing-evangelical claims that queer sexualities and non-gender-conforming identities are unnatural, Magnussen’s exhibition features the work of seven artists who challenge this notion.
Alexis Boyle’s coil of rope snakes refers to recent research finding that male snakes which emit both male and female hormones are seen the most desirable mates, attracting frenzied attention resulting in a tangled “mating ball.” This finding suggests that long-held ideas about sexuality among animals are perhaps more politically convenient than accurate. Boyle’s work reexamines queerness in both animal and human worlds by emphasizing the degree to which the gender binary is constructed by social norms, rather than hard science.Gustavo Cerquera Benjumea’s tongue-in-cheek sculpture plays the part of a good-luck charm (a dried llama fetus), designed to protect Videofag from homophobia and transphobia. A certificate of authenticity purportedly from the Bolivian and Columbian embassies accompanies it on the wall. Benjumea’s sculpture provides a complex mixing ground for preconceptions about both culture and sexuality, and hints at the magical, rather than strictly scientific, role of the animal.Danielle Nicole Smith’s high-femme bejeweled works look at the parallel spaces of domesticity and domestication, pairing an image of a kitten captioned “Lady Love,” aside a sparkly text collage spelling out her girlfriend’s affectionate nickname. Meanwhile, Corinne Teed’s labourious drawing and collage works represent ambiguous human and animal sexual behaviours. In Negotiations, Teed fills the necks of two deer, antlers entangled, with images of women wrestling in the nude. The work manifests a tension between violence and tenderness, competition and play, sex and dominance. Michael Rennick’s work refers to queer use of animal metaphor, with careful and precious paintings of individual animals (wolf, pig, otter, and bear) on underwear which has been subsequently ripped up by his dog. Mary Tremonte’s silkscreened hankies serve a similar function, charting queer self-identifying gestures through the language of the animal kingdom. Her serigraph prints document instances of queerness in the animal world, and include the story of Roy and Silo, two male chinstrap penguins at the Central Park Zoo who nested together in 1998, first caring for an egg-shaped rock, and finally hatching an adoptive egg. Together, the works in the show highlight the ecologies of queerness, and present scientific and inventive potential for worlds of human and animal identity not bound by dichotomy.-Alison Cooley
Wildlife: Queer Zoology
Humboldt Magnussen invites us into “Wildlife: Queer Zoology” by asking that we don animal masks he has painstakingly silkscreened. Caribou, Penguin, Walrus, and Giraffe – the masks suggest we adopt new animal identities for the opening evening, adorn ourselves with new costumes that challenge the boundaries of nature and culture.
The show questions the rhetoric of queer sexuality’s natural- (or unnatural-)ness. Responding to right-wing-evangelical claims that queer sexualities and non-gender-conforming identities are unnatural, Magnussen’s exhibition features the work of seven artists who challenge this notion.
Alexis Boyle’s coil of rope snakes refers to recent research finding that male snakes which emit both male and female hormones are seen the most desirable mates, attracting frenzied attention resulting in a tangled “mating ball.” This finding suggests that long-held ideas about sexuality among animals are perhaps more politically convenient than accurate. Boyle’s work reexamines queerness in both animal and human worlds by emphasizing the degree to which the gender binary is constructed by social norms, rather than hard science.Gustavo Cerquera Benjumea’s tongue-in-cheek sculpture plays the part of a good-luck charm (a dried llama fetus), designed to protect Videofag from homophobia and transphobia. A certificate of authenticity purportedly from the Bolivian and Columbian embassies accompanies it on the wall. Benjumea’s sculpture provides a complex mixing ground for preconceptions about both culture and sexuality, and hints at the magical, rather than strictly scientific, role of the animal.Danielle Nicole Smith’s high-femme bejeweled works look at the parallel spaces of domesticity and domestication, pairing an image of a kitten captioned “Lady Love,” aside a sparkly text collage spelling out her girlfriend’s affectionate nickname. Meanwhile, Corinne Teed’s labourious drawing and collage works represent ambiguous human and animal sexual behaviours. In Negotiations, Teed fills the necks of two deer, antlers entangled, with images of women wrestling in the nude. The work manifests a tension between violence and tenderness, competition and play, sex and dominance. Michael Rennick’s work refers to queer use of animal metaphor, with careful and precious paintings of individual animals (wolf, pig, otter, and bear) on underwear which has been subsequently ripped up by his dog. Mary Tremonte’s silkscreened hankies serve a similar function, charting queer self-identifying gestures through the language of the animal kingdom. Her serigraph prints document instances of queerness in the animal world, and include the story of Roy and Silo, two male chinstrap penguins at the Central Park Zoo who nested together in 1998, first caring for an egg-shaped rock, and finally hatching an adoptive egg. Together, the works in the show highlight the ecologies of queerness, and present scientific and inventive potential for worlds of human and animal identity not bound by dichotomy.-Alison Cooley

Wildlife: Queer Zoology

Humboldt Magnussen invites us into “Wildlife: Queer Zoology” by asking that we don animal masks he has painstakingly silkscreened. Caribou, Penguin, Walrus, and Giraffe – the masks suggest we adopt new animal identities for the opening evening, adorn ourselves with new costumes that challenge the boundaries of nature and culture.

The show questions the rhetoric of queer sexuality’s natural- (or unnatural-)ness. Responding to right-wing-evangelical claims that queer sexualities and non-gender-conforming identities are unnatural, Magnussen’s exhibition features the work of seven artists who challenge this notion.

Alexis Boyle’s coil of rope snakes refers to recent research finding that male snakes which emit both male and female hormones are seen the most desirable mates, attracting frenzied attention resulting in a tangled “mating ball.” This finding suggests that long-held ideas about sexuality among animals are perhaps more politically convenient than accurate. Boyle’s work reexamines queerness in both animal and human worlds by emphasizing the degree to which the gender binary is constructed by social norms, rather than hard science.

Gustavo Cerquera Benjumea’s tongue-in-cheek sculpture plays the part of a good-luck charm (a dried llama fetus), designed to protect Videofag from homophobia and transphobia. A certificate of authenticity purportedly from the Bolivian and Columbian embassies accompanies it on the wall. Benjumea’s sculpture provides a complex mixing ground for preconceptions about both culture and sexuality, and hints at the magical, rather than strictly scientific, role of the animal.

Danielle Nicole Smith’s high-femme bejeweled works look at the parallel spaces of domesticity and domestication, pairing an image of a kitten captioned “Lady Love,” aside a sparkly text collage spelling out her girlfriend’s affectionate nickname. Meanwhile, Corinne Teed’s labourious drawing and collage works represent ambiguous human and animal sexual behaviours. In Negotiations, Teed fills the necks of two deer, antlers entangled, with images of women wrestling in the nude. The work manifests a tension between violence and tenderness, competition and play, sex and dominance.

Michael Rennick’s work refers to queer use of animal metaphor, with careful and precious paintings of individual animals (wolf, pig, otter, and bear) on underwear which has been subsequently ripped up by his dog. Mary Tremonte’s silkscreened hankies serve a similar function, charting queer self-identifying gestures through the language of the animal kingdom. Her serigraph prints document instances of queerness in the animal world, and include the story of Roy and Silo, two male chinstrap penguins at the Central Park Zoo who nested together in 1998, first caring for an egg-shaped rock, and finally hatching an adoptive egg. Together, the works in the show highlight the ecologies of queerness, and present scientific and inventive potential for worlds of human and animal identity not bound by dichotomy.

-Alison Cooley

6 Photos
/ humboldt magnussen alexis boyle mary tremonte michael rennick corinne teed danielle nicole smith gustavo cerquera benjumea queer zoology videofag art toronto ecology sexuality nature biology science canada
Body of Constructs

The sculptural works of James Roper are assembled in a way that they almost look like exploding micro-organisms, frozen in time. His work Construct which is part of his greater installation work Chaosmos II (2011) and Into the Fold (2005-2008) seems to play on the ideas of chaos within the vast microbiological world. Many of Roper’s works focus on the complex structures of the human body, by assembling small triangular pieces, to create a spherical shape, which is then combined to create a larger shape. This process is reminiscent of fractals, starting from small basic shapes, evolving into a more defined concept.
The artwork is a burst of energy, a quality often found in the artists’ works. The spontaneity of composition and colour, play with possibilities; is this random representation of form, or could it be a leaf cell, a human cell, maybe even a rock molecule?
-Anna Paluch
Body of Constructs

The sculptural works of James Roper are assembled in a way that they almost look like exploding micro-organisms, frozen in time. His work Construct which is part of his greater installation work Chaosmos II (2011) and Into the Fold (2005-2008) seems to play on the ideas of chaos within the vast microbiological world. Many of Roper’s works focus on the complex structures of the human body, by assembling small triangular pieces, to create a spherical shape, which is then combined to create a larger shape. This process is reminiscent of fractals, starting from small basic shapes, evolving into a more defined concept.
The artwork is a burst of energy, a quality often found in the artists’ works. The spontaneity of composition and colour, play with possibilities; is this random representation of form, or could it be a leaf cell, a human cell, maybe even a rock molecule?
-Anna Paluch

Body of Constructs

The sculptural works of James Roper are assembled in a way that they almost look like exploding micro-organisms, frozen in time. His work Construct which is part of his greater installation work Chaosmos II (2011) and Into the Fold (2005-2008) seems to play on the ideas of chaos within the vast microbiological world. Many of Roper’s works focus on the complex structures of the human body, by assembling small triangular pieces, to create a spherical shape, which is then combined to create a larger shape. This process is reminiscent of fractals, starting from small basic shapes, evolving into a more defined concept.

The artwork is a burst of energy, a quality often found in the artists’ works. The spontaneity of composition and colour, play with possibilities; is this random representation of form, or could it be a leaf cell, a human cell, maybe even a rock molecule?

-Anna Paluch

(Source: artandsciencejournal.com)

2 Photos
/ anna paluch james roper fractal cells sculpture biology micro-organism human body art science art and science journal
God’s Prototype by Ian Crawley
As if ‘playing God’ artist Ian Crawley is taking found objects in nature, such as stones, sticks and moss, to recreate the human body. Humorously, the artist describes these pieces as what he imagined God’s first ‘sketches’ or prototypes of the human body would look like, with the materials that were available.
But this work isn’t focusing on Creationism or who (or what) created whom, but the connection we as humans have to nature. Reflecting on the natural-made versus man-made. These natural objects have always been used by humans to sustain them us nutrition, or protect them us weapons. Even though we now have processed foods and more advanced weaponry, there is still a need for natural objects. We need trees for oxygen, don’t we? Coexistence is the main theme in this work.
In the end, God’s Prototype is there to remind us that we aren’t above or below stones, sticks, and plants. We are part of the same level of natural objects, and though we’re made out of flesh and not leaves, we’re still as natural as a leaf or a rock. 
-Anna Paluch

God’s Prototype by Ian Crawley


As if ‘playing God’ artist
Ian Crawley is taking found objects in nature, such as stones, sticks and moss, to recreate the human body. Humorously, the artist describes these pieces as what he imagined God’s first ‘sketches’ or prototypes of the human body would look like, with the materials that were available.

But this work isn’t focusing on Creationism or who (or what) created whom, but the connection we as humans have to nature. Reflecting on the natural-made versus man-made. These natural objects have always been used by humans to sustain them us nutrition, or protect them us weapons. Even though we now have processed foods and more advanced weaponry, there is still a need for natural objects. We need trees for oxygen, don’t we? Coexistence is the main theme in this work.

In the end, God’s Prototype is there to remind us that we aren’t above or below stones, sticks, and plants. We are part of the same level of natural objects, and though we’re made out of flesh and not leaves, we’re still as natural as a leaf or a rock. 

-Anna Paluch

(Source: artandsciencejournal.com)

anna paluch ian crawley biology nature plants rocks art science art and science journal
Julia Buntaine
Bio-artist Julia Buntaine’s work juxtaposes the familiar with the unfamiliar - playful colors, subway maps, model high-rises, and simple wooden blocks. But look again and you see a world designed around aspects of biology and neuroscience. For Buntaine, this began as a fascination with psychology and mental illness that was broadened by studying biology in college. Her work aims to draw in those interested in the aesthetics of colors, maps, and shapes, but leave them with the same colorful and bright interest in neuroscience that Buntaine, herself, began with.
Her works have been inspired by fMRI images, circuit diagrams, and anatomical structures. One particular inspiration is the Brodmann map – a way of mapping the sections of the brain using color and numbers, making the brain look like a topographical surface that could potentially translate into a large space of land. Buntaine’s work brings this potential to life in her brain-city sculptures. Her pieces, such as those shown here, often use a biological shape made from diagrams depicting cities, thus symbolizing vast space inside the body and mind, and human-made achievements.
- Alinta Krauth
Julia Buntaine
Bio-artist Julia Buntaine’s work juxtaposes the familiar with the unfamiliar - playful colors, subway maps, model high-rises, and simple wooden blocks. But look again and you see a world designed around aspects of biology and neuroscience. For Buntaine, this began as a fascination with psychology and mental illness that was broadened by studying biology in college. Her work aims to draw in those interested in the aesthetics of colors, maps, and shapes, but leave them with the same colorful and bright interest in neuroscience that Buntaine, herself, began with.
Her works have been inspired by fMRI images, circuit diagrams, and anatomical structures. One particular inspiration is the Brodmann map – a way of mapping the sections of the brain using color and numbers, making the brain look like a topographical surface that could potentially translate into a large space of land. Buntaine’s work brings this potential to life in her brain-city sculptures. Her pieces, such as those shown here, often use a biological shape made from diagrams depicting cities, thus symbolizing vast space inside the body and mind, and human-made achievements.
- Alinta Krauth
Julia Buntaine
Bio-artist Julia Buntaine’s work juxtaposes the familiar with the unfamiliar - playful colors, subway maps, model high-rises, and simple wooden blocks. But look again and you see a world designed around aspects of biology and neuroscience. For Buntaine, this began as a fascination with psychology and mental illness that was broadened by studying biology in college. Her work aims to draw in those interested in the aesthetics of colors, maps, and shapes, but leave them with the same colorful and bright interest in neuroscience that Buntaine, herself, began with.
Her works have been inspired by fMRI images, circuit diagrams, and anatomical structures. One particular inspiration is the Brodmann map – a way of mapping the sections of the brain using color and numbers, making the brain look like a topographical surface that could potentially translate into a large space of land. Buntaine’s work brings this potential to life in her brain-city sculptures. Her pieces, such as those shown here, often use a biological shape made from diagrams depicting cities, thus symbolizing vast space inside the body and mind, and human-made achievements.
- Alinta Krauth

Julia Buntaine

Bio-artist Julia Buntaine’s work juxtaposes the familiar with the unfamiliar - playful colors, subway maps, model high-rises, and simple wooden blocks. But look again and you see a world designed around aspects of biology and neuroscience. For Buntaine, this began as a fascination with psychology and mental illness that was broadened by studying biology in college. Her work aims to draw in those interested in the aesthetics of colors, maps, and shapes, but leave them with the same colorful and bright interest in neuroscience that Buntaine, herself, began with.

Her works have been inspired by fMRI images, circuit diagrams, and anatomical structures. One particular inspiration is the Brodmann map – a way of mapping the sections of the brain using color and numbers, making the brain look like a topographical surface that could potentially translate into a large space of land. Buntaine’s work brings this potential to life in her brain-city sculptures. Her pieces, such as those shown here, often use a biological shape made from diagrams depicting cities, thus symbolizing vast space inside the body and mind, and human-made achievements.

- Alinta Krauth

3 Photos
/ art science biology neuroscience mental health julia buntaine alinta krauth
Living LEGOs

For anyone who has grown up around LEGOs, you know how much fun they are to build and play with. LEGOs’ versatility allows you to make anything out of them, with enough patience and imagination. You might also know how much it hurts when you step on one. In the case of one of Pelling Lab’s 2011 projects, however, if you stepped on these LEGOs, you just might kill them.

Pelling Lab, a ‘laboratory for biophysical manipulation’, has genetically modified these LEGO minifig sculptures to become ‘semi-living’. As viewed from the close-up image, the green fluorescent glow they emanate is actually a living skin, constructed from combining human cells with jellyfish DNA and altered to glow green. The intensity of the green light is due to the high density of cells that coat the LEGO figurine. The process used to fully grow these synthetic skins takes only a few weeks, and is ‘easily manufactured and modified’ by Pelling Lab for separate “scientific” purposes. Not only do these minifigs demonstrate the adaptability and applications of mixing artificial DNA, but also manage to anthropomorphize LEGO a little more by adding some real ‘life’ into them. 

To view the original webpage, click here.

-Lea Hamilton 
Living LEGOs

For anyone who has grown up around LEGOs, you know how much fun they are to build and play with. LEGOs’ versatility allows you to make anything out of them, with enough patience and imagination. You might also know how much it hurts when you step on one. In the case of one of Pelling Lab’s 2011 projects, however, if you stepped on these LEGOs, you just might kill them.

Pelling Lab, a ‘laboratory for biophysical manipulation’, has genetically modified these LEGO minifig sculptures to become ‘semi-living’. As viewed from the close-up image, the green fluorescent glow they emanate is actually a living skin, constructed from combining human cells with jellyfish DNA and altered to glow green. The intensity of the green light is due to the high density of cells that coat the LEGO figurine. The process used to fully grow these synthetic skins takes only a few weeks, and is ‘easily manufactured and modified’ by Pelling Lab for separate “scientific” purposes. Not only do these minifigs demonstrate the adaptability and applications of mixing artificial DNA, but also manage to anthropomorphize LEGO a little more by adding some real ‘life’ into them. 

To view the original webpage, click here.

-Lea Hamilton 

Living LEGOs


For anyone who has grown up around LEGOs, you know how much fun they are to build and play with. LEGOs’ versatility allows you to make anything out of them, with enough patience and imagination. You might also know how much it hurts when you step on one. In the case of one of Pelling Lab’s 2011 projects, however, if you stepped on these LEGOs, you just might kill them.

Pelling Lab, a ‘laboratory for biophysical manipulation’, has genetically modified these LEGO minifig sculptures to become ‘semi-living’. As viewed from the close-up image, the green fluorescent glow they emanate is actually a living skin, constructed from combining human cells with jellyfish DNA and altered to glow green. The intensity of the green light is due to the high density of cells that coat the LEGO figurine. The process used to fully grow these synthetic skins takes only a few weeks, and is ‘easily manufactured and modified’ by Pelling Lab for separate “scientific” purposes. Not only do these minifigs demonstrate the adaptability and applications of mixing artificial DNA, but also manage to anthropomorphize LEGO a little more by adding some real ‘life’ into them. 

To view the original webpage, click here.

-Lea Hamilton 

(Source: artandsciencejournal.com)

2 Photos
/ LEGO Pelling Lab biology life sciences cells cell culture art and science Lea Hamilton DNA

Roxy Paine’s Structural Systems

American artist Roxy Paine does not purposefully strive to create realism in his artworks, although his sculptures appear as genuine imitations of natural systems, whether arboreal, neurological, industrial, vascular or mycological. Paine’s organic forms arise from his meticulous study of growth patterns in nature and his adherence to such structural principles. One Hundred Foot Line (2010) is a tall, winding sculpture currently standing outside the National Gallery of Canada. Made of stainless steel pipes and resembling a lightning bolt, it examines the vertical extension of a tree’s trunk. If we were to eliminate all leaves, twigs and branches except those following the most vertical line of a tree, we would be left with this simple stem. One Hundred Foot Line is part of Paine’s Dendroid series, which explores the collision of vascular networks, tree roots, fungal mycelia and industrial piping. From this same series, Neuron (2009) is a piece that depicts a different type of branch: that of a nerve cell. The similar patterns in One Hundred Foot Line and Neuron remind us that all things in nature are linked in the way they are structurally formed. Paine’s interest in stainless steel arises from its use in oil, gas, food and pharmaceutical industries. This choice of material also further emphasizes a major theme in his work: the relationship between nature and the man-made in our modern world. Often, Paine’s sculptures are imposters to their surrounding environment. Conjoined (2007), which depicts two trees with intertwined branches, was exhibited among the trees of Madison Square Garden in New York City.  Is this what the tree of the dystopian future will look like, once our natural world has been eradicated? Paine remarks how nature is increasingly intruded upon by our technology, also extending this notion into the realm of the human body. In Distillation (2010), a vascular system made from the same welded steel branches takes over and entire gallery space. A pair of metallic kidneys is found among a network of pressure valves, cylindrical pipes, glass vials and bolts. Pieces of human and industrial purification systems seemingly work together here, forcing us to ask ourselves how both can truly coexist. -Meriza Martel-Bryden
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Hello, Stranger

Our identities shape us. Even our physical features can give away a lot of information about ourselves, such as, our level of vanity, how often we sleep, how often we exercise, and so on.

But what about a strand of our hair, or the gum we just chewed? Apparently, these insignificant little pieces can also give away a substantial amount of information about ourselves. Artist Heather Dewey-Hagborg creates 3D recreations of people’s faces, using DNA she finds on…old chewing gum and cigarette butts. It is incredible to think that these pieces of garbage, after a few moments in contact with our DNA, can still hold onto our genetic makeup, and then even recreate, albeit not an exact likeness, of ourselves. Almost as if the gum that you just spit out isn’t really gum, but a piece of flesh.

But more importantly; how is this even possible? The artist explains that while in her lab, she puts the DNA through a process called PCR (Polymerase Chain Reaction), which helps her to study specific areas of our genomes, called Single Nucleotide Polymorphisms. After extracting the necessary amount of data, she sends it off to a specialist lab, where strands of DNA are created from the aforementioned pieces of information. These strands of DNA are then fed into a 3D printing program, ready for printing!

There are still some things that the DNA-infested pieces of gum and cigarettes cannot tell us, such as the age of the anonymous person (she casts each model as a 25 year old), but it’s still chilling to see the portraits, wondering if you’ll stumble upon a neighbour, or friend.

Or maybe these portraits are truly anonymous, and aren’t even representations of real people; merely the artists own creations in a lab, like a biological puzzle.

-Anna Paluch

Hello, Stranger

Our identities shape us. Even our physical features can give away a lot of information about ourselves, such as, our level of vanity, how often we sleep, how often we exercise, and so on.

But what about a strand of our hair, or the gum we just chewed? Apparently, these insignificant little pieces can also give away a substantial amount of information about ourselves. Artist Heather Dewey-Hagborg creates 3D recreations of people’s faces, using DNA she finds on…old chewing gum and cigarette butts. It is incredible to think that these pieces of garbage, after a few moments in contact with our DNA, can still hold onto our genetic makeup, and then even recreate, albeit not an exact likeness, of ourselves. Almost as if the gum that you just spit out isn’t really gum, but a piece of flesh.

But more importantly; how is this even possible? The artist explains that while in her lab, she puts the DNA through a process called PCR (Polymerase Chain Reaction), which helps her to study specific areas of our genomes, called Single Nucleotide Polymorphisms. After extracting the necessary amount of data, she sends it off to a specialist lab, where strands of DNA are created from the aforementioned pieces of information. These strands of DNA are then fed into a 3D printing program, ready for printing!

There are still some things that the DNA-infested pieces of gum and cigarettes cannot tell us, such as the age of the anonymous person (she casts each model as a 25 year old), but it’s still chilling to see the portraits, wondering if you’ll stumble upon a neighbour, or friend.

Or maybe these portraits are truly anonymous, and aren’t even representations of real people; merely the artists own creations in a lab, like a biological puzzle.

-Anna Paluch

(Source: artandsciencejournal.com)

anna paluch heather dewey-hagborg 3d printing dna polymerase chain reaction single nucleotide polymorphism sculpture art sciecne art and science journal biology technology
Imagined Existence
The artist Rui Pimenta has created a series of work that incredibly resembles various forms of cells and life. By using artistic tools, such as paint, he recreates his own ideas of life, or at least the beginning of it. This representation of biological cells can seem revolting to some, and fascinating to others. We don’t know what life  these cells represent, because they are the creation of the artist.It is like staring at the essence of art; an art piece is created by an artist, given life. One can only imagine what evolutionary track this piece would take, if it truly was a biological element.Examples of some of Rui’s work can be viewed at the Galerie St-Laurent + Hill on 293 Dalhousie St.-Anna Paluch

Imagined Existence

The artist Rui Pimenta has created a series of work that incredibly resembles various forms of cells and life. By using artistic tools, such as paint, he recreates his own ideas of life, or at least the beginning of it. This representation of biological cells can seem revolting to some, and fascinating to others. We don’t know what life  these cells represent, because they are the creation of the artist.

It is like staring at the essence of art; an art piece is created by an artist, given life. One can only imagine what evolutionary track this piece would take, if it truly was a biological element.

Examples of some of Rui’s work can be viewed at the Galerie St-Laurent + Hill on 293 Dalhousie St.

-Anna Paluch

(Source: artandsciencejournal.com)

anna paluch rui pimenta cell biology art science galerie st-laurent+hill art and science journal

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