Quantum Compositions

"Science no longer is in the position of observer of nature, but rather recognizes itself as part of the interplay between man and nature. The scientific method ... changes and transforms its object: the procedure can no longer keep its distance from the object ... Every experiment destroys some of the knowledge of the system which was obtained by previous experiments.

...

Our scientific work in physics consists in asking questions about nature in the language that we possess and trying to get an answer from experiment by the means at our disposal. In this way quantum theory reminds us, as Bohr has put it, of the old wisdom that when searching for harmony in life one must never forget that in the drama of existence we are ourselves both players and spectators. It is understandable that in our scientific relation to nature our own activity becomes very important when we have to deal with parts of nature into which we can penetrate only by using the most elaborate tools.

...

Since the measuring device has been constructed by the observer … we have to remember that what we observe is not nature itself but nature exposed to our method of questioning. Our scientific work in physics consists in asking questions about nature in the language that we possess and trying to get an answer from experiment by the means that are at our disposal."

- Werner Heisenberg (1901 - 1976)

Postscript. At the end of my last post, I promised to explain what my recent series of "autumnal abstracts" (which I started in mid September) has to do with quantum mechanics (yes, quantum mechanics). The simplest explanation (sure to induce a mild groan in readers) is that since my left-brain "day job" is anchored on my being a physicist, physics in general, and quantum mechanics in particular, is never far from my thoughts 😉 But no, that's not the full explanation. The real connection is part whimsy and part serious (the serious part is expertly summarized by one of the founding fathers of quantum mechanics, Heisenberg, above). As I explained in my previous post, I've recently been "rewarding" myself after long work days by driving to a local trail that runs along a shallow leaf-strewn creek, and spend however much time remains before the sun goes down searching for intimate compositions of leaves, rocks, and reflections within the water.

For my first few outings, I had no issues. I would park myself on the little bridge I need to cross to get to the trail from where I leave my car, set up a tripod, and use a telephoto zoom to isolate patterns of interest. Here is a taste of what I see from the bridge:

Of course, I didn't limit myself to just standing on the bridge. I prowled around the area surrounding the bridge, and explored different perspectives made accessible by positioning myself somewhere along the left and right banks of the creek. And, indeed, in this way, I usually walked away with at least few decent keepers. But I also noticed that the best compositions (at least in my mind's eye) were always just beyond my reach. I needed to get into the water! And that's where quantum mechanics comes in ...

The solution was simple enough. I put on a pair of knee-high waterproof boots, tucked in my pants, grabbed a waterproof (well, water resistant) tripod, and started composing "up close and personal" in the water; or so I thought. I immediately ran into an unexpected "quantum mechanics"-like problem: after seeing some pattern of interest (say, some combination of leaves, rocks and reflections), I would naturally walk over to get a better look and see where to best anchor my tripod. But no matter how slowly I approached, invariably, the ripples induced in the water by my boots would dislodge one or more of the key elements of whatever pattern caught my eye. By the time I got to the original composition, the pattern was either gone and/or replaced by another only less than half as good. This happened over and over again, no matter how slowly - ever, so slooooowly - I walked toward some entangled leaves. A text-book (albeit, whimsical) example of the well-known, but no less mysterious, quantum mechanical "observer effect." The analogy actually runs a bit deeper: while observer-induced perturbations also happen in "classical" physics, the difference is that quantum mechanics does not allow the observer to reconstruct what the "true state of the system" was after observing it; the act of observing the state irretrievably scrambles it. Just as, in my case, "seeing and moving toward a" pattern of leaves irretrievably destroys it. (BTW, at the risk of overloading most readers of a photography blog, it is worth mentioning that entanglement - a subtle nod to which appeared in the phrase "entangled leaves" - is another inherently quantum behavior that is best left for a future post) 😊

Video-clip from my Photo Exhibit at the American Center for Physics

The opening reception of the Worlds Within Worlds exhibit (held at the American Center for Physics, One Physics Ellipse, College Park, MD, 20740, on Monday, November 16, 2009) was - by all accounts - a resounding success. This is due, in no small measure, to the curator Sarah Tanguy, who not only assembled an extraordinary physics-inspired collection of art, but quite an impressive spread of delicious gourmet-quality food and drink. Thanks Sarah! I was also impressed by how many people showed up. I honestly did not know what to expect coming in, but had assumed that since the exhibit is being held inside a physics building - let's be honest, not exactly the Guggenheim ;-) - attendance would either be light or nonexistent. "Perhaps a few stray physicists who have momentarily lost their way to the library?" I predicted to my wife (being myself a physicist I can truthfully assert that "absentmindedness" is almost always a genetic trait;-) Much to my surprise (though not my wife's, who is infinitely more optimistic about such things, and is - lesson here? - almost always right!) there were between 70 and 80 people at the opening, almost all of whom - as far as I could tell - appeared to have had actually planned on being there. Indeed, many wore fancy black ties and suits, so I felt a bit of place, decked out as I was in my day-job "standard" dark slacks and sweater. After schmoozing with attendees for about an hour or so (and nibbling on samosas, some fine cuts of tenderloin, and other assorted hors d'oeuvres), Cynthia Padgett - the only other artist of the three-artist exhibit present at the reception (Julian Voss-Andreae was unfortunately unable to attend) - and I were asked to say a few words in the main reception/banquet hall. Cynthia opted for a quick Q&A session with Sarah, which worked out well, as the audience - and I - learned something about her creative process. When my turn came, I pursed my lips, cleared my throat, performed a quick mental Ralph-Kramden-like hammana-hammana-hammana stammer, walked up to the lectern...and proceeded to kick off my talk with a reference to Poincare maps and multidimensional aesthetic landscapes (true... and likely the first and last time such topics will be mentioned during a talk on photography!). My wife was kind enough to videotape the entire proceedings, including my talk. I've included a ~7 min clip - that you can see by clicking on the image at the top of this blog entry - that discusses the origins of my "Micro Worlds" portfolio (three images of which are included in the Worlds Within Worlds exhibit" - however, in interests of preserving my readers' sanity, I've left out the part on Poincare sections and multidimensional aesthetic landscapes;-). At best, the clip shows that photographers can, if pressed, actually say something half-way intelligible about their photography; at worst, it demonstrates that they should stick to photography ;-) I'll let you, kind readers - and, if you are inclined to click on the link to the video - kind viewers, judge for yourself. The exhibit runs through April 10, 2010.