Molecules as Art

Almost all of my immediate family and many of my closest relatives are artists in some manner; photographers, musicians, wood workers, painters, actors or more typically some combination. My middle name is actually Vincent, named after the artist Vincent Van Gogh. People who are aware of these facts, often express astonishment to learn I “turned out to be a scientist” and that I “didn’t go into something artistic”. But I don’t see it this way at all and have always viewed chemistry and drug design in particular as a very much artistic pursuit.

The medium in this case is just atoms and bonds, or if you wish to go deeper, bundles of potential and kinetic energy in quantum fields. A reasonable (albeit I think wrong) criticism of this perspective of molecules as art, would be that molecules do not qualify as art because they are often practical. The argument would go: chemists create molecules with a purpose and not just to look beautiful or to make a statement. In other words, there is often an element of intended functionality in the molecules chemists design and create – we want the molecule to be a molecular tool capable of doing something. But this argument is naïve in my opinion. For one thing, many works of art are functional and I would argue there is always some intention and thus function behind an act of creation, even if the intention is to have no intention. My brother makes incredible clay vases and pots – these are in every way practical functional art. Sometimes they are so beautiful you don’t even want to use them. Likewise, paintings or music can be used to make a social, political, or philosophical statement.

So then does art depend on a certain balance of practicality and aesthetics that the composition possesses? Or does it depend on the intention of its creator? Or rather as the saying goes is it “in the eye of the beholder”? Maybe it requires a threshold of agreement among a set of observers, which is a very fluidic and Wittgensteinian definition, and probably the most practical one. To be honest I’m not entirely sure how to objectively define art, but I am certainly comfortable saying that some works of art are more functional or practical than others – and I feel that molecules can certainly meet the definition of art.

Many drug molecules are aesthetically beautiful as well as functional. Furthermore, that functionality can enhance their beauty in a way that can be hard to articulate. For example, part of the inherent beauty of the LSD molecule to me, is the almost magical potency and powerful pharmacological action it possesses. In this way the aesthetics are actually influenced by the function. While many molecules are functional some appear less so and on this other end of the functionality spectrum, there are many examples of molecules that have been designed solely for their beauty or representative nature. For examples, see the structures of cubane, housane, basketane, and James Tour’s NanoKid molecules below. I don’t think anyone could convincingly argue that these structures do not constitute art. For more examples look up sulflower, ferrocene, and buckminsterfullerene.

There is also a more philosophical connection between the chemistry of psychoactive drugs and art that has long fascinated me. Let’s think about visual art or music for a moment. The intention of these compositions is often to affect the perception of the viewer or listener in some way, and as a result alter their mental or emotional state. That is, they induce a unique state of conscious experience in the observer or listener. Is this not the function, purpose and intent of psychoactive drugs? “Oh, but drug molecules work by altering our physiology”, you argue… True, but how do you think these other forms of art are able to affect us?! It is all fundamentally physics and biochemistry. The only real difference is the form, the composition takes and thus, uses to orchestrate the biochemical symphony that generates the inner subjective experience. The infamous LSD blotter art creator and collector Mark McCloud once said “what fascinates me about blotter, is like what fascinates me about all good art… it changes your mind!” [1]. This is an incredibly beautiful statement recognizing the art contained both on and embedded in the blotter paper. In a similar way I see psychedelic molecules as art and artists, beautiful structures of matter capable of turning your mind into a work of art.

There are many similarities between the classic visual arts and chemistry including how we choose to depict a molecule. The Nobel laureate chemist Roald Hoffmann has spoken and written a great deal on this topic [2,3] and I highly recommend his work on the subject. I now want to point out a few connections that I personally find notable.

Recognizability: Certain artists use specific colors, shapes, or aesthetics regularly in their work. As a result, their work or that directly inspired by it, is often easily recognizable. The paintings of Vincent Van Gogh or Salvador Dali for example are very recognizable. Molecules created by specific chemists can be recognizable as well. When I see the structures of certain molecules for the first time, I recognize immediately that the molecule was created by or directly inspired by one the greats; David Nichols, Alexander Shulgin, Paul Janssen, Papavir somniferum or Lophophora williamsii. For a medicinal chemist certain functional groups, scaffolds, sub-scaffolds, conformational restriction strategies, etc are similar to recognizable color, texture, and shape preferences by visual artists.

Novelty: There tends to be an element of novelty in the greatest art – great artists typically create entire new styles and aesthetics - but these are always built on the prior art in some way. In fact, this initial novelty is often what makes the work of these great artists so recognizable. Ultimately, we all take inspiration from one another and the past and the novel becomes the prior art. As a medicinal chemist I take inspiration from all the great chemistry artists I mentioned and many more. I also make a conscious effort to expose myself to as much of the prior art as I can – to me it is essential that this exposure is as diverse as possible. In other words, it is not just from within my little niche that I take inspiration. Crossing boundaries and disciplines is how you can best think outside the box and create something truly novel.

Creation: Once a piece of art (e.g., a painting, song, sculpture, or molecule) is created, it is hopefully, shared in some form and becomes available for everyone to enjoy and marvel at. Molecules are like this too. And yes, others can recreate or build on a painting, a song, or a molecule and that is often the point, but the composition came first from a creator, an artist or a collection of artists who composed matter or physical forces together in a new way. There is something magical about this act of creation- I love it and am driven by it – and that drive is probably hard wired into us all – humans are hands down the most creative life form on planet earth. I would argue that absolutely everything we consider unique about our species comes out of this creative drive. We are never satisfied with the prior art, we strive to change it, to improve or create something different and new. This never ending (I hope!) process continues on as the newly created art or molecules themselves become the source of inspiration for the next creation, which itself serves as a brief stepping stone between the past and the future.

The Process: Creating anything - whether a painting, sculpture, song, or a molecule, involves a process. As a kid I would help my dad work in his wood shop. I’d observe as he frantically mixed together lacquers, steamed wood, molded it with clamps, measured, cut, sanded, and chiseled away. Occasionally he would stop for a second to observe and take it in before grabbing a brush, some glue or a router and getting back to work. In its essence, this process of creation is very similar to what I do when designing a new molecule and especially when I am in the lab synthesizing it. The wood shop and the lab even have similar smells– maybe this is where my love for the aroma of ethyl acetate and toluene originated from. I also don’t think it is a coincidence that many musicians refer to the studio as “the lab”, acknowledging it as a place for the creative process to transpire. Great artists not only master their medium, but master the techniques needed to work with it. The techniques or processes of creation are themselves often called an art. For example, scientists often talk about the art of crystallization, purification, or synthesis. What I believe is meant by this is an acknowledgement of the skill but also a bit of wizardry that is required to carry out the creative process.

I see nature itself as a juxtaposition of art and artist; the canvas, medium and creator all in one. As an example, DNA molecules are most certainly incredible works of art. This beautiful double helical structure and nucleotide sequence encodes information needed for creating more molecular art in the form of either additional copies of DNA, RNA, and in other cases protein molecules. It is incredible that these compositions of matter can work together to create a functioning organism like Homo sapien, which itself can become an artist capable of altering that very DNA template from which it arose. In other words, a work of art, becomes an artist, able to alter its self by changing its creator. Just how far can nature, which include us all, push this Ouroboros-like relationship? Will nature one day be able to alter the basis structure of reality itself? And has this already happened? This strange metaphysical idea brings to mind the famous M. C Escher “Drawing Hands” which is shown below. This lithograph does a far better job illustrating this fascinating concept than I ever could. These are certainly captivating and challenging ontological questions. Then again maybe all those works of art I’ve been creating have gone to my head….

References

[1] WIRED. Inside the LSD Museum That the DEA Somehow Hasn’t Nuked. 

[2] Roald Hoffmann on the Philosophy, Art, and Science of Chemistry. Editors: Jeffrey Kovac, Michael Weisberg. Oxford University Press. 2011. 

[3] Roald Hoffmann, Vivian Torrence. Chemistry imagined: reflections on science. Smithsonian. 1993.

[4] M. C. Escher Drawing Hands. Lithograph. 1948

Also, an excellent book on the history of LSD blotter art is “Blotter: The Untold Story of Acid” by Erik Davis.