Wednesday, March 29, 2006

a single carrot, freshly observed (part 2)

So, (sorta) continuing where I left off in a pile of stones, with regard to the art of (or in) scientific writing ... What started out as a straight exchange of thoughts on the Lightman review, quickly devolved (on my end, naturally) when at some point in the email exchange, my friend mentioned, among others, some of ’s books as an example of “popular science writing.” I wrote in response that his work did indeed fall under the banner of being both artistic and scientific, and added, a bit facetiously, that part of his creative success might have had to do with his alleged frequent pot smoking. To which my friend responded:
The dope-smoking connection is probably empirical evidence for similar creative processes in the arts and sciences! If you can do art and creative aspects science while high, and especially effectively when high, but you can't do other types of work in an altered state, then that definitely suggests a commonality ...
And, well, a bit more scientific in nature than I dare go into here … but (yes, I always, eventually, bring it all back around) what this reminded me of was another Joshua Foer article that appeared in Slate where he used himself as a willing guinea pig for an experiment about creativity while under the influence. There’s nothing new in attempting to alter your conscious state in an effort to achieve a different perspective, but, what I liked about Foer’s attempt was his desired result. In the interest of science (always), Foer started taking Adderall, a drug usually prescribed to treat ADHD. Speed, essentially. I quite like the idea of amphetamines, a “cognitive” drug, as opposed to say, opium, or LSD. Basically Adderall and its ilk focus the individual’s brain, almost painfully, making it intent upon whatever the user is seeking to accomplish. Foer describes the effect, amusingly, as akin to having “been bitten by a radioactive spider”:
The results were miraculous … after whipping my brother in two out of three games of pingpong [sic]—a triumph that has occurred exactly once before in the history of our rivalry—I proceeded to best my previous high score by almost 10 percent in the online anagrams game that has been my recent procrastination tool of choice. Then I sat down and read 175 pages of Stephen Jay Gould's impenetrably dense book The Structure of Evolutionary Theory … When I tried writing on the drug, it was like I had a choir of angels sitting on my shoulders. I became almost mechanical in my ability to pump out sentences. The part of my brain that makes me curious about whether I have new e-mails in my inbox apparently shut down ... I didn't feel like I was becoming smarter or even like I was thinking more clearly. I just felt more directed, less distracted by rogue thoughts, less day-dreamy.
So, it makes complete sense that amphetamines would be a favorite of scientists (and students, etc.) as much as artists. What I am curious about the effect is, as far as the individual user responds, does it make the person better at things they are already good at or does it allow them to focus enough to be better at anything? Or a little of both? I imagine this would be difficult to gauge as most users are taking it to accomplish a specific task that they already have some affinity for and are seeking something they presume to exist inside themselves already.

Now, it’s no secret (certainly not here) that wrote On the Road while high on caffeine and Benzedrine (I can't imagine ...). What many might not know is that he did this specifically to write On the Road, he didn’t do it and then have the result be On the Road. That’s an important difference. What’s wonderful about him, as well, is how methodical he was in his spontaneity. All of his detailed preparation to achieve the effect of free-form. Take a look at his last requirement from his list of “”:
If possible write "without consciousness" in semi-trance (as Yeats' later "trance writing") allowing subconscious to admit in own uninhibited interesting necessary and so "modern" language what conscious art would censor, and write excitedly, swiftly, with writing-or-typing-cramps, in accordance (as from center to periphery) with laws of orgasm, Reich's "beclouding of consciousness." Come from within, out-to relaxed and said.
It’s incredible how close that is to Foer’s description of taking Adderall. What's interesting to me about Kerouac choosing speed is, it would seem to contradict his need for the free flow of ideas. Everything he writes in his "essentials" from the "set up" and the avoidance of structure, to the need for language without limit, I'd think would be blocked by having the mind pointed so much on the act, and yet, not so. And what of the resultant art? Is it more honest, as Kerouac suggests, by not being bogged down by our internal and external censors? And if so, how does putting the mind into extreme focus do this? And to what extent is the drug a part of the art itself—and could it even be considered a co-creator? Certainly it opens up avenues, but it doesn’t explain why some people need to use these kinds of “enhancements” to achieve the mental state that allows them to be able to create, where others don’t. And I don’t know the answers to these questions, but they fascinate me.

As for Sagan, I believe he was exceptional not only in his ability to work exclusively as a scientist and exclusively as a novelist, but also with the high level he was able achieve at both. He also had an acute awareness of where to draw the line when adding creativity and personality to science in order to effectively communicate, inform, and entertain (ie, ) on a “popular” level. I can’t think of anyone else right now that managed such a range, though I’m sure there are a few. As for Sagan’s use of pot, well, the choice suggests the need for the opposite effect of Adderall and Foer’s experiment, and that Sagan’s reason for using it was what my friend suggested above, that in this altered state he felt he was more effective than when he wasn’t (one could only assume he experimented and compared work he’d completed in both states before reaching any conclusion). I’d guess Sagan wanted assistance in freeing the more creatively inclined parts of a brain, that I’d also imagine, was dominated by science (I’m only assuming this, of course, he could well have used it for his scientific work, too).

Eh, but I do go on ... Haven’t even begun to touch on two of the other main topics I wanted to. Will (eventually, or perhaps continuously) go to additional parts of this, can’t not discuss the issue of memory and altered consciousness and of course, The Yage Letters. But I may need to slow down a little to gather it all better.

2 comments:

econoclast said...

The question is, was what he wrote any good? I'm sure we've all felt while under the influence that we've been having thoughts which if only we could remember them the next day might transform the universe. There was a guy who decided to test this by remembering to keep a pen and paper by his side while he toked. He did, indeed, have one of these great thoughts. And the next day he found out what it was: "This room smells funny".

duluoz cats said...

Ha! Well, yeah, I guess I think Sagan's work was good (Contact did tend toward the sentimental/spiritual/mystical a little too much for my taste, but those under the influence often fall victim to that). As for Kerouac, well, I think what he did with his use of controlled substances was interesting for just being so pointed, I'm not a huge fan, as I've said, but I do think the work was interesting, and good, yes, despite my opinion to the contrary.