Visual Interpretation of Theory of Evolution - an illustrated talk

04/09/11

My name is Helen Birmingham. I want to talk to you about Charles Darwin, and to try to explain the influence his theory of evolution has had on my artwork. Maybe I should just tell you a little bit about myself first - who I am, what my work is about, and why I’m interested in Darwinism v Creationism. I graduated from Kingston Polytechnic in 1984 with an honours degree in Fine Art Printmaking. My career from there took me into teaching and I taught art to GCSE and A level in secondary schools for a number of years, before opening my own craft workshops in Faversham, Kent, where I ran classes for adults and children in various craft subjects.




I have recently moved to Scarborough, and I’m in the process of setting up my own studio and a gallery in a property near the railway station. The influence that my move to North Yorkshire has had on my work is quite profound. This is from a series of work called "Time and Tide" which will hopefully form part of the first exhibition in my new gallery early next year.









I’ve begun to take inspiration from the local environment and I am interested in showing how ecological changes cause the disintegration of structures. The crumbling footprints of our direct ancestors if you like. The first major piece of work which I created after I moved to Scarborough was called Ebb and Flow and was selected as part of the East Coast Open earlier this year. It’s quite difficult to photograph successfully, but this one section of it. It shows the cliffs and the geological strata with fossils contained within the surface. The boxes, of which this is one, represent the seven days in a week and contain information from tide timetables and objects which I found on the beach whilst walking the dog. I very quickly learnt to live by the tide times in terms of walking, because as you know if you get it wrong there is no beach to walk on. The alternative title for this picture was “Tidal Prozac” because I feel more sane and alive here than I have done for a long time.

I am currently working on a major project for Coastival in February. Its called “Time and Tide - an Exhibition for Scarborough“, which will be exhibited at the Stephen Joseph Theatre.












So back to Darwin for a bit. 2009 was the 150th anniversary of the publication of “The Origin of Species” and I was thrilled to be selected to put on an exhibition as part of the University of Cambridge Darwin Festival which that year was also celebrating Darwin’s 200th birthday. So why the Darwin influence? Like everyone does at some point, I asked myself, where did I come from, why am I here and how do I fit in to the rest of the world. On a very superficial level I could say that my mother was an art teacher and my father a botanist, so that may go someway to explain an inherited interest in art and science.











I am very proud of this small contribution to botanical heritage. As I say my father was a botanist and also Treasurer of the Auricula Society and when I was in my twenties he developed this new variety of auricula - and named it after me - it is called Auricula Helen Barter, which was my maiden name, and it was described on Gardeners World quite recently as “perfection in a pot”. No wonder really then that ideas about familial links and inherited characteristics has been an influential factor in my life. But like many people I think was looking for something deeper, a shared belief, a sense of belonging. And for me, the theory of evolution became an awe-inspiring yet very comforting thought - what greater shared experience is there than being ancestrally connected to every other living thing.










As an artist I am obviously concerned with the visual, but the obsessive, almost compulsive quality of the work of a research scientist also appeals to my own nature. This piece is called “Research, Research, Research”. The line which I wrote to accompany it was Over and over and over, Deeper and deeper and deeper. Darker and darker and darker, until the only light shining is at the end of a microscopic tunnel. I am sure that you are all aware of the basic principles of Darwin’s theory. I‘d hate you to feel patronised - and I apologise in advance if this next bit is a bit basic - , but its where my “voyage of discovery” started, so I think its an important place for me to start today.












This is the sketch which Darwin first made in his notebook, in 1837 some 22 years before the publication of the Origin of Species. It shows a “branching tree”. Amazingly this simple sketch, under the words “I think“ formed the basis of such a revolutionary idea that it still provokes controversy today. The sketch shows the relationship between groups of organisms, with the trunk symbolising their common ancestry. Darwin hid this notebook and the image away for many years because he was well aware of the heretical implications of his thinking. In the Origin of Species, which was published in 1859, Darwin attempts to show the exquisite simplicity which underlies the world’s creation. I’m now going to use some of Darwin’s own words to condense the whole book and the theory of natural selection into one sentence.
I‘m afraid I‘m going to bypass questions like whether an acceptance of evolution precludes a belief in God, not because I don’t think I can argue the case, but that I don’t think this is the right forum or time for that discussion. Therefore, I hope we can agree to start with this statement.













It’s a sentence and idea which I am obviously very familiar with but take a moment or two to read and digest it because it forms the basis of the rest of my talk. Changes begin by pure chance . . . The definition of chance that I’m using is the force that causes things to happen without any known cause or reason for doing so - Luck if you like, or a mutation. The word “mutation” often has a negative connotation - but Darwin was saying that a chance mutation can have a positive or negative effect. The mutation that has a positive effect will continue to be reproduced or replicated in future generations. (As an aside, a mutation which proves to be of negative benefit would almost inevitably lead to extinction. Indeed Darwin says that for his theory to work, and numbers of species to remain constant, there must be as many as 12 extinct forms for every one continuation.) Changes begin by pure chance, and then if they prove to be beneficial they are perpetuated - On a purely philosophic level, it follows that if something is to change, then there must have been a something for it to have changed from. A similar conundrum to the question “if there is an end to the universe then what is beyond it?” But we have to start somewhere, - call it what you will - your starting point, your inspiration, your motif - the idea or image which stimulates your thinking. You could argue that for Darwin, the sketch of the branching tree was his motif, or starting point.














In terms of my work and my artistic endeavour, for whatever reason, that starting point was a particular pebble. Surprisingly I can’t tell you where or when I found it. I can’t really remember a time when I didn‘t have it. It must have been some time in my teens, and probably at a time which was emotionally formative, but as I say, for some reason this pebble became the departure point for my creativity.









The unique combination of lines on this pebble were scribed by nature over thousands of years. I liken the lines on the pebble to the lifeline scribed onto my own hand. It makes me realise that my own lifeline is relatively insignificant in comparison with the lifeline of my pebble. Looking at the historical context of the pebble took on importance to me. Isolated from its geological layers it has become an entity in its own right, but its existence is reliant on both its separation from, and connection with, its past. I see enormous similarities between the pebble’s historical context and my own. As an adult I have become physically separated from my creators, but my existence is inextricably linked to the past.














This piece of work attempts to describe in visual form the idea of separation from but connection with the past and you can see again the influence of the combination of lines from my pebble. It appears and reappears in my work time after time. Incidentally this was one of the first pieces of my work where stitch made the transition from craft into art. But that is whole other discussion. Suffice to say I wanted to find ways of combining surfaces in layers, but wanted it to be unselfconscious and for the process of layering to be highly visible.













I do want to talk about my work, but I don’t want to forget Darwin just yet. Darwin’s thinking was heavily influenced by the work of a geologist called Charles Lyell. Whilst on board the Beagle, on his own “Voyage of Discovery” he had a copy of Lyell’s book “Principles of Geology” which had been published in 1830. It was considered radical, but Lyell seemed to have identified that that the earth was shaped entirely by slow-moving forces still in operation today, acting over a very long period of time. Each action leaves layer upon layer of evidence in an ordered if incomplete sequence of geological strata. Darwin was frustrated with the daring, but persuasive idea of slow land movement and says that “the noble science of Geology loses glory from the extreme imperfection of the record.“ He even says in “The Origin of Species” that “the crust of the earth with its embedded remains must not be looked at as a well-filled museum, but as a poor collection made at hazard and at rare intervals”. Whatever his frustrations, this notion of slow-moving forces acting over a long period of time was the underpinning of the theory of evolution. On a personal level, this idea led me, as an artist, to think not only about what action I was playing on the surface, but also how I could record the history of those actions.

















We should just wave a cheery hello to William Smith here of course. He was not only responsible for publishing the first geological map of Britain in 1815 - known as “The Map the Changed the World” - but he was also responsible for the building of the Rotunda now called the William Smith Museum of Geology, here in Scarborough. It houses a fabulous and influential collection of fossil evidence which in turn provides evidence for the theory of evolution. William Smith’s thinking and geological surveys were well known to Charles Lyell and the Geological Society, which then in turn had a marked influence on Darwin‘s thinking.














One of the “eureka” moments in my artwork was the realisation that if forces are proportionate in macrocosm and microcosm, I have terrifying power at my command. For example this piece is a representation of a fault line - like the San Andreas Fault - which is an example of a catastrophic earth movement employing forces almost too vast for us to comprehend. The relief in this piece was created by adding layers and then heating, pushing and manipulating the surface in an attempt to replicate the earth movement. You can obviously see the motif of my pebble clearly evident as well! So then, I am the force acting on the surface of my artwork.













But how am I actually playing on the surface when I create a piece of mixed media work. What influence do I have, and what influences are chance? Am I replicating an action from nature. Is my action a second nature, in line with natural forces - for example: am I recreating sedimentation or layering, erosion, volcanic activity? My background in printmaking leads me towards the practice of making multiple images, but I am excited by the idea that no two images are truly identical. The chance or mutation I was talking about earlier comes into play in my printmaking. For example, if I use a relief printing block to create two images which to all intents and purposes are the same, slight alterations in the process of their making will inevitably create slightly different images. I may press slightly harder, the thickness of ink may differ slightly or there may be slight imperfections in the paper for example. I can then enhance the differences in these images by stitching, burning, or embellishing the surface - in a self indulgent process of artistic “natural selection”. I can pick out the changes or mutations which are beneficial to that piece of work, and enhance them.













So if I have established that I provide the force which acts upon the surface, the question is raised of HOW do I record the history of my action? If I chose to, how do I create that well-filled museum of evidence. The lack of which was Darwin’s enormous frustration with geological surveying. I can either retain one image for each stage of creation or I can accept that the history of the piece will be contained “layer upon layer” within the surface. As an artist I have the luxury of self-determination and modern technology allows me the freedom to stop time and capture a moment - almost at will - creating a complete “fossil” record of a piece’s evolution if that is what I choose to do. Quickly back to Darwin again. One of the phrases he uses in Origin of Species is: “natura non facit saltum”. This means nature makes no leap. In other words, each stage of evolution is barely distinguishable from its predecessor, but over generations, first and last may appear to have little relation to each other. In this example, the stages I have photographed no longer exist in reality, only digitally in the photographic image. The end result incorporates all 9 photographed stages within its surface.















Another way I might choose to record the evidence of evolution within my work is by choosing to repeat the motif but alter the processes and materials used. Here my chosen motif is Darwin’s tree which we saw in his sketch earlier. It appears very often in the work I did for the Cambridge exhibition and serves to illustrate this point well. I began with Darwin’s sketch and made an embroidery on hessian of the tree contained within an image of cell structure. Indicating that the “mystery of mysteries” - ie : where we came from - is contained within every cell of every living organism in the form of DNA. DNA is of course the genetic code of information which Watson and Crick discovered some 100 years after Darwin’s theory of evolution. Amazing that in 1953 this four letter genetic code was discovered and it vindicated almost everything Darwin had deduced about evolution.














So I then used a photographic reproduction of my embroidery as my starting point for several pieces of work, but altered the scale, the materials, the processes, the techniques or the colours and created a series of work which obviously has common ancestry - draws reference from its predecessors - but like the branches in Darwin’s tree itself, the results may bear “an immense gap of relation, the finest gradation of a rather greater distinction” depending on which branch I followed.














In what has become a very deliberate attempt to record change I can either accept that the stages of development are contained within the surface of the finished piece, or more often I want to meticulously keep every stage of a works’ creation as an image in itself, and then present all the stages of development as one piece of work. If you do not rely on modern technology and digital recording, keeping one version of each stage is a very challenging but rewarding way of working. Those of you familiar with reduction printing will recognise the process. I began this particular piece by creating 5 images of my pebble lines. I made them as similar as I could make them, given the fact that they were all created by hand with no tracing, photographic or printed element. One copy of stage one was retained, and further actions were played out onto the surface of the remaining 4 images. Thus creating 4 images as alike as possible. One evolutionary step away from stage one. One copy of stage two was retained and further actions were played out onto the surface of the remaining 3 images etc etc. I ended with 5 images showing the developmental stages which went to make up the last piece. Evolution in progress.

















Using this same method of working, I created the central piece to my Voyage of Discovery Exhibition. Really the culmination of the project. It is a piece of work entitled “Nascency” - meaning the initial stage of a developmental process, the beginning, birth, commencement, origin . . . I am really really proud to say that this work was purchased by the Head of Zoology at the University Museum of Zoology in Cambridge and it hangs in his office there. The Museum houses many of Darwin’s original specimens which were brought or sent back from his Voyage on the Beagle, and which he, Darwin, had catalogued and annotated himself. I’d like to show you the 6 stages of this piece one at a time.
















This is the first stage. It shows Darwin’s tree within a cellular structure, taken from the embroidery I showed you earlier. I have combined this with lines and textures which to me represented the confines and safety of the uterus and all its associated implications. You can then see an image an ammonite fossil or embryo which is wrapped around the image of Darwin‘s tree of life.















In this second stage, the embryo takes on a more significant role, The colour of the eye of the embryo draws you into the interior of the image - almost going behind the surface whilst the uterus itself becomes darker, more mature, riper.
















In this third stage, what was the uterus begins to disintegrate, turning into a ripening seed pod or nut. The texture describes something of the feel of autumn to me. Darkening, thickening, ripening - ready for the release of new life.
















Stage 4 shows a further disintegration of the structure, which begins to reveal the new layers behind the seedpod image. The colours in eye of the embryonic shape become more muted, and allow you to focus on what the immerging image may be.















Image five has the protective covering of the seedpod almost completely disintegrated, but the immerging image is still not completely readable. The fossil at the centre of the image and the remnants of Darwin’s tree form almost a hub which the rest of the image revolves around.















Until in this the final image, the protection of the past is sloughed, and the image of the emerging embryo becomes apparent, and takes on its own existence. It is still protected by the uterine wall, but its form and function has been established. Its existence is reliant upon its separation from the past, but also its connection with it.
















So the conclusion of my talk. I hope I have shown you that within my own “restless planet” I can be artist, creator and research scientist. I do have a dependence on others, but more importantly to me I have a self-reliance which transcends this. And I have ensured that my maternal DNA will continue after me. Darwin said that “not one living species will transmit its unaltered likeness to a distant futurity”. I hope that as well as my daughter, I will leave behind some evidence of my existence in the form of artwork and written thoughts, which may or may not inspire in the future. Mostly though I’d like to end by saying thank you to Charles Darwin.
Thank you for having the passion, belief and bravery to show the world the exquisite simplicity which underlies its creation.

So my talk begins and ends with a picture of Charles Darwin.