Collapsing Nature.

Between the Aesthetics and Method of Federica Di Carlo. 

 by Veronica Di Geronimo, July 2023

Veronica Di Geronimo: How did you become interested in science and what did spark the connection between art and science in your artistic practice?  

Federica Di Carlo: I would not talk about art and science connection or association; I often find the label of being a "scientific artist" misfitting, because when I embarked on my artistic journey, I didn't consciously decide to blend art and science, my focus was on investigating the influence of nature and its ensuing repercussions. There was not a defined point in my career when I chose to intertwine these two disciplines; it was more of a spontaneous condition, a propensity that I naturally gravitated towards, a sort of natural state that always characterized my way of being in the world. Also during my childhood, I wanted to understand the functioning of the world. I was deeply curious about the structure of ant colonies, light refraction, and I frequently asked my grandmother about the reasoning behind the sea's blue colour. 

To answer your question, I don’t believe I integrate art and science. We need to rethink the necessity of categorizing certain artworks as "science and art projects” and consider a reassessment of these linguistic formulas to reconfigure the art and science interplay much more like the nuanced languages. 

Your work has a strong aesthetic and poetic component, sometimes exploiting the fascination and surprise that science can evoke. Do you think mystery is a characteristic inherent to both art and science? 

I do not feel today's science is as mysterious as that of yesteryears. In my experience of working with scientists, I have observed that their work revolves mainly around hypotheses and confirmations, with few instances of real surprise. It seems to me that we are still anchored to the 20th century idea of the romantic scientist, the one who directly observed natural phenomena with naked eyes. It is an image that continues to capture the popular imagination but is not an accurate representation of contemporary scientific practice. Let's take for example the search for the Higgs boson at CERN: this enormous undertaking was a systematic exploration supported by well-founded theoretical frameworks. The investment needed in such an undertaking required a high degree of certainty in the results, which removed the element of mystery and serendipity from the discovery. In addition, today science is largely defined by technological advances that require a very structured and pragmatic approach. For this reason I believe art is much more mysterious. 

How does your collaboration with scientists begin?  

The method I adopt to work with scientists is perhaps one of the oldest: through direct engagement and interaction. Each collaboration I embark on with scientists starts with discussions and exchanges of viewpoints. This process of dialogue is crucial for establishing common ground and fostering mutual understanding between different disciplines. However, initiating these conversations often necessitates a form of translation, due to distinct terminologies, methodologies, and conceptual frameworks that define the barriers to effective communication. Therefore, both artists and scientists must strive to simplify and overcome prejudices coming from their disciplinary languages and relevant academic worlds. It is an essential part of the groundwork that allows the emergence of synergies among individuals, which is the first step I made for my projects.  

One of the most significant intellectual exchanges I had was related to my project “Come in terra così in Cielo”. After I spent two years capturing images of rainbows, during the cataloguing process I found an anomaly: some colors seemed to be absent. This observation led me to wonder if it might be a consequence of climate change. Thus, I reached out to a few experts. I quickly turned my hypothesis into a brief paper accompanied by pictures and sent it to a French atmospheric physicist and to Daniel scientist James Cziczo from MIT. The French scholar sent me a pdf with a classification of rainbows. Daniel, on his hand, replied 'Very interesting, see you in my office'. By coincidence I had to go to MASS MoCA in artistic residency, and I arranged a meeting with Daniel at the University. He told me it was an interesting point of view. I was very lucky because I found an open-minded person. 

This initial study of rainbows provided the input for other works. Cassandra's Eyes and Cassandra's Window are installations that predict the possible particle configuration of a more polluted future in which hydrocarbons, carbon monoxide, benzene and other harmful components replace water in the atmospheric composition. What role did discussions with physicists play in the process of 'exaggerating' the colors of light refraction? Why the choice of this title Cassandra? 

The choice of the titles for these projects came from the mythological figure Cassandra, who had prophetic abilities. Just as Cassandra's prophecies were often overlooked despite their significance, warnings and predictions from the scientific community about pollution and its impact on our environment are frequently dismissed or inadequately heeded. Concerning your question about the colour, I had a long conversation with Daniel to formulate some hypotheses. We speculated about the potential appearance of the rainbow in an increasingly polluted atmosphere, as it might be in one hundred years. According to one possible scientific projection, in future the atmosphere would probably create a red sky due to the absence of CO2, thus also changing the refractions of light. This was my starting point. I worked to create a partially realistic sky that, while strikingly beautiful, is impossible to witness firsthand due to the inability to breathe in such polluted environment.  

Over the years I realized that I do not actively seek beauty in my work. The aesthetic factor simply emerges, because the relentless rawness of nature has its own form of beauty, such as the sky in Milan, whose pollution leads to visually stunning effects.

The artwork Flow allows the public to witness the explosion of stars in real time using particle detection instruments. How did you come up with the idea of making cosmic rays visible to the public? 

Flow is a type of artwork that changes over the years, reflecting my own personal changes and evolution. Unlike my other initiatives, the inspiration for this project didn't come from a scientific discourse, but rather from my personal desire to redistribute my grandmother's energy in the cosmos. This led me to conceive an artistic expression to visually encapsulate the explosions of stars and the subsequent birth of new energies. Thus, I conceived and created a kind of large-scale cloud chamber working in a team with a scientist. The project developed during an extended period of experimentation. Together we wrote the software, built the prototype, and refined the aesthetic aspects. The physicists also used this as an opportunity to collect data over a period. It is interesting that my idea also became an educational project: a version of Flow was used in schools as a didactic tool.

Ti guarderò bruciare (www.tiguarderòbruciare.com) sheds light on the LGS-OR (Laser Guide Star) experiment, which is based on an interesting methodological process involving the re-creation of artificial stars from the dust left behind by the transit of comets. The idea of using waste materials for regeneration might be an interesting parallel with artistic research methodology. 

It was exactly this aspect that interested me. When Marco Faccini informed me about their work on the LGS-OR experiment, I was instantly fascinated due to the striking contrast with the International Thermonuclear Experimental Reactor (ITER) project, on which I was working on. The purpose of ITER is to construct a miniature sun on the earth, an approach that has an undeniable environmental impact. On the other hand, the LGS-OR experiment pursues a reconstruction of the stars through a research process that is remarkably free of environmental contamination. Inspired by the juxtaposition of these two scientific worlds and different operations, I made the decision to create an artistic film that narrates the two experimental realities. It was clear to me that the movie needed a symbolic guide.  I chose Urania, the goddess of astronomy. In ancient mythology, Urania embodies the harmonizing force that governs the cosmos, a testament to the underlying natural power that sustains balance in the universe. To effectively bring this symbol to life, I've decided that Urania will be personified by two real scientists who accepted my invitation to perform in my work.

We mentioned Cassandra and Urania. Do you frequently refer to mythology in your work? 

The connection to mythology in my work is accidental. I think it comes from my search for a deeper understanding when dealing with scientific concepts, which leads me to philosophical and historical explorations. This could perhaps be attributed to an inherently Italian perspective, which often involves a retrospective glance at our cultural heritage.

Speaking of research methodology, when you work directly with scientists, do you see parallels between the processes of artistic and scientific research? 

Yes, I think there are analogies. I often tell scientists that creating a work of art is an experiment that you do not know exactly where it will lead. Artists and scientists alike traverse uncharted territory, often venturing into unpredictable and risky areas. In both disciplines, it all starts with a flash of insight that might illuminate a new way of developing and exploring concepts. In addition, both fields face time constraints that can inhibit the research exploration. There is pressure for scientists to publish their findings in academic journals and for artists to create new works for exhibitions, this pressure can limit the ability to delve deeply into a subject The demand for immediate results and productivity leaves little room for unhurried exploration. Nowadays, researchers are often pressed for time. We forget that research time should be an unfettered exploration, similar to childhood moments when one could immerse oneself in the world of drawing without boundaries or constraints.

In your work, the potential of boundaries, intersections, and reactions emerges, both in terms of language and content. What role do interstices play in your research? 

It is in these intersections that my research takes place, seeking answers within established frameworks, but also challenging them, pushing their boundaries, and venturing into uncharted territory. It's in these grey areas, between black and white, that new perspectives and innovative ideas can be found. My work is often about the unpredictability and uncertainty that comes from being in the in-between.