X-Ray as Art

X-Ray as Art

Guest Writer: George Taylor

white Calla Lilly

In 2002, my “photography” took another unexpected turn when we acquired a digital fluoroscopy unit (a device that captures still and video X-ray images). We needed a moving target to simulate blood flow in the arterial system, so we put two fish in a bowl and took an X-ray movie of them swimming around. The resulting image was a lovely translucent yin-yang pattern formed by the two circling fish. 

I became fascinated by the potential of radiography as art and began experimenting. X-rays allow us to use highly sophisticated technology to create a photogram, one of the oldest and simplest methods of reproducing an image.

I began to image flowers on a whim. Whatever the underlying drive, one thing is for sure—I had an epiphany that day. When the first image appeared on the computer screen, I immediately recognized the haunting similarity between the plant and animal kingdoms. Radiographic images reveal, in stunning detail, the archetypal structures and patterns repeated with elegance and precision across every living organism, from the radial symmetry of the human brain to the unfurling splendor of a fiddlehead fern.  

I began a single-minded campaign to image just about everything I could fit under the X-ray machine—from endless varieties and configurations of plants and flowers to seashells. In a sense, I became obsessed with identifying and cataloging how structure, texture, color, and function move fluidly across boundaries, from plant to animal, from animate to inanimate—all with incredible grace, continuity, charm, and captivating beauty. Their inner structures, hidden from view in visible light, become their most striking features.

At times, these ordinary objects take on a new identity. A flower becomes a puff of smoke or an underwater creature, swirling with its partners in an aquatic ballet. A sand dollar becomes a delicate piece of lace, and an old handmade lace mantilla resembles the X-ray tracings of subatomic particles in a linear accelerator.

Finally, X-ray art has enabled me to use the same technology I have used for 40 years to detect diseases in children and to transform it into a means of revealing the inner beauty of nature.

To see more X-ray art, I invite you to visit my website <taylorimaging.net>, à browse à X-ray Art.

George Taylor, MD

Joanna joannaseibert.com

Silence, Secret Easter Garden

Silence, Secret Easter Garden

Langley in the Secret Garden at former College of Preachers

“What will your secret garden look like? The point is to begin slowing your life and focusing your attention. Listen, and in the quiet, you will hear the direction of your heart. The garden of silence is always there for us, patiently waiting.” —Anne D. LeClaire, Listening Below the Noise: The Transformative Power of Silence (Harper Perennial, 2009).

One of my favorite young adult novels is The Secret Garden by the American-English author Frances Eliza Hodgson Burnett, who also wrote Little Lord Fauntleroy and A Little Princess. The Secret Garden tells the story of an unloved ten-year-old English girl who, after her parents die, is sent to live with her grieving uncle in his remote country home on the bleak moors of Yorkshire. Her unhappiness, aloneness, and the heartache and isolation of those around her heal when she begins caring for and restoring a secret garden on the manor house grounds.

I watched the 1993 British film starring Maggie Smith with my daughter and granddaughters, and later saw the play with a granddaughter. This story resonates with the child within us, the creative part of us—the side we so quickly abandon for more pressing matters, which is a significant connection to the divine within us.

The Secret Garden also shows how nature’s sounds, smells, and sights can quiet and calm the grownup “wounded committee” in our heads—and heal and transform our inner child. We all should have a secret garden, a place to gently reconnect with the God within ourselves and the divine in each other. It is a safe place where the Spirit’s presence is more easily felt, as Psalm 32:7 says: “You are a hiding place for me; you preserve me from trouble; you surround me with glad cries of deliverance.”

Talking about our secret garden, our hiding place—often a place of silence—can be an opening to the divine within spiritual direction.

So many friends planted new gardens during the pandemic. Nurseries and garden centers were thriving. As we continue to plant and watch them grow, let us also contemplate our own secret garden, where a very holy part of us lives and grows. 

Anne Gornatti’s Secret Garden

Joanna. Joannaseibert.com. https://www.joannaseibert.com/

Celtic Spirituality and Nature

Celtic Spirituality and Nature.

Sunset Arkansas River Trail Stuart Hoke

"There is no creature on Earth”

There is no life in the sea

But proclaims your goodness.

There is no bird on the wing

There is no star in the sky

There is nothing beneath the sun

But is full of your blessing.

Lighten my understanding

Of your presence all around, O Christ

Kindle my will

      to be caring for Creation."—Phillip Newell, "Wednesday Morning" in Celtic Prayers from Iona: The Heart of Celtic Spirituality (Paulist Press, 1997).

The late Native American producer and musician Jim Wilson recorded the chirping of crickets at regular and slowed-down speeds, which is said to match "the average life span of humans." In the slowed-down version, the crickets seem to sing alleluias. (https://youtu.be/jk5gibBg-4g)  

It is an impressive sound of praise from nature. Unfortunately, to my knowledge, no one else has reproduced the sound in a way that allows it to be manipulated as such. Nevertheless, I often listen to the crickets' recording, hearing an angelic chorus outside in the night sky. 

There is no doubt that birds, especially in the early morning, seem to sing a new oratorio to Creation each day as the sun rises.

The stars at night are like fireworks from millions of miles away, reminding us of a spectacle beyond our comprehension.

The waves in the ocean are like a percussion instrument that keeps us attuned to Creation's steady, constant heartbeat—sometimes crashing like cymbals, occasionally tinkling softly like a triangle's ring.

 I also hear from so many pet owners that they have experienced unconditional love for the first time from their pets, especially their dogs.

The love and praise of God are all around us, especially in nature. Listen for them.

The pandemic was a time for listening and looking, while the noise and lights outside nature were considerably less. They are returning. Consider that time a respite in our lives, even for brief periods. It was a significant gift at great cost, so treasure each moment, each second, and remember those who gave and are still giving their lives. 

Remember that no matter what we do to stay healthy and safe, hearing the crickets and watching the Milky Way can always calm our bodies and promote well-being.

Song of the Builders –

On a summer morning
I sat down
on a hillside
to think about God –

a worthy pastime.
Near me, I saw
a single cricket;
it was moving the grains of the hillside
 
this way and that way.
How great was its energy,
how humble its effort.
Let us hope
 
it will always be like this,
each of us going on
in our inexplicable ways
building the universe.

–Mary Oliver

InwardOutward.org May 7, 2021

Joanna https://www.joannaseibert.com/