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Today I spent a long day in front of a different microscope, in a different room referred to as an Environmental Growth Chamber (EGC). Picture a room the size and shape of a walk-in freezer, but slightly warm instead of cold. The EGCs tend to elicit awe in undergraduates, whenever I take them on a tour of our building, probably because the undergrads have never before seen temperature-, humidity-, and light-controlled rooms. The rooms allow the students to imagine doing all sorts of the experiments that they consider to be Science, where Scientists wear white labcoats and subject animals to strange physiological conditions to advance the cause of medicine.
Admittedly, that does sort of happen in one of the EGC's, where a lab is studying the effects of oxidative stress on insect development and metabolism; the insects are reared in chambers that are maintained with different oxygen levels, and their physiological characteristics are measured. One of my undergraduate minions can tell you, though, that such research is not nearly as glamorous as it seems. She was quite happy to return to our lab's brand of science instead. [Perhaps that's because ants are cuter than cockroaches, though].
Anyway, today I sat in one of the EGC's because D kindly tipped me off to the fact that there was a better dissecting microscope in the room, and it wasn't being used. So I continued sorting fungus from brood for a good portion of the day, and managed to get three more colonies done. Now I only have four or five to go.
The downside of the EGC is that it is loud. I suspect the air-handling system. I couldn't hear my computer's sound system, even with the volume turned all the way up. So I'm feeling a little shell-shocked, on top of the day's usual visual fatigue.
--
Whenever I am in the middle of collecting this sort of data, part of my mind is free to wander and think. Aside from half-formed thoughts about the project I'm working on, I've been spending a lot of time thinking about art, lately. Mostly about how people choose to define themselves or not define themselves as artists. This takes the form of some fairly self-indulgent daydreaming, wondering what it would be like if I held an organized show of my artwork. A show would require, first and foremost, declaring myself to be an artist, and declaring the things that I make to be worthy of admiration and enjoyment as art (not everything I make is worthy of this title, by far, which is why the plan to hold a ceramics-smashing party still exists). A challenge in trying to assemble my imaginary show is that my creative energies manifest in a thousand small and fairly unrelated items; probably the main relationship they share is their general functionality in my everyday life, either as useful objects (a mug-cozy) or objects of beauty (a painting). The other relationship they share is evidence of my hands at work; I tend to minimize my use of complex machinery (exceptions: a potter's wheel, a power drill).
I wish I'd had a chance to visit the Museum of Craft while in Portland. I suspect it would have provided some nice context for the way my creativity manifests. In any case, this daydreaming is mostly caused by the fact that I've been out of ceramics for too long and am itching to get back to creating things. I cannot not create things; does that make me an artist by compulsion?
Admittedly, that does sort of happen in one of the EGC's, where a lab is studying the effects of oxidative stress on insect development and metabolism; the insects are reared in chambers that are maintained with different oxygen levels, and their physiological characteristics are measured. One of my undergraduate minions can tell you, though, that such research is not nearly as glamorous as it seems. She was quite happy to return to our lab's brand of science instead. [Perhaps that's because ants are cuter than cockroaches, though].
Anyway, today I sat in one of the EGC's because D kindly tipped me off to the fact that there was a better dissecting microscope in the room, and it wasn't being used. So I continued sorting fungus from brood for a good portion of the day, and managed to get three more colonies done. Now I only have four or five to go.
The downside of the EGC is that it is loud. I suspect the air-handling system. I couldn't hear my computer's sound system, even with the volume turned all the way up. So I'm feeling a little shell-shocked, on top of the day's usual visual fatigue.
--
Whenever I am in the middle of collecting this sort of data, part of my mind is free to wander and think. Aside from half-formed thoughts about the project I'm working on, I've been spending a lot of time thinking about art, lately. Mostly about how people choose to define themselves or not define themselves as artists. This takes the form of some fairly self-indulgent daydreaming, wondering what it would be like if I held an organized show of my artwork. A show would require, first and foremost, declaring myself to be an artist, and declaring the things that I make to be worthy of admiration and enjoyment as art (not everything I make is worthy of this title, by far, which is why the plan to hold a ceramics-smashing party still exists). A challenge in trying to assemble my imaginary show is that my creative energies manifest in a thousand small and fairly unrelated items; probably the main relationship they share is their general functionality in my everyday life, either as useful objects (a mug-cozy) or objects of beauty (a painting). The other relationship they share is evidence of my hands at work; I tend to minimize my use of complex machinery (exceptions: a potter's wheel, a power drill).
I wish I'd had a chance to visit the Museum of Craft while in Portland. I suspect it would have provided some nice context for the way my creativity manifests. In any case, this daydreaming is mostly caused by the fact that I've been out of ceramics for too long and am itching to get back to creating things. I cannot not create things; does that make me an artist by compulsion?
