FRACTALS

Jackson Pollock knew how to paint realistically. Hollywood had a problem putting realism in motion. How do you show the fire and ice cascading apocalypse around futuristic characters bravely pushing ahead into unknown space, land, under the land, back to Atlantis or wherever futuristic folk must go? Fractals of course.

In 1968 at Boeing Aircraft in Seattle engineers designing experimental planes wanted to picture mountains behind the plane. A computer scientist, Lauren Carpenter took Benoit Mandlebrot’s fractals and built the same shape over and over, endless repetition until mountains and rugged structures took their place providing realistic landscape to show off the airplanes.

 “The history of fractals traces a path from chiefly theoretical studies to modern applications in computer graphics, with several notable people contributing canonical fractal forms along the way.” Wikipedia

George Lucas experienced a challenge. How to create the effect of incoming fire waves, volcanic eruptions threatening Luke Skywalker as he battled a white-encased, faceless enemy? Computer generated fractals supplied the answer and films have never been the same since.

The similarity of pattern colored shades of yellow to red to blue and our mind sees the volcano we never mastered for eighth grade science.  Today Kinect Star Wars game brings you into “iconic settings, characters and action, puts you in the Star Wars you know and love, and lets you unleash your inner Jedi.” All without measuring or rethinking a single dimension. The computer accomplishes the reiteration that has been lying in wait for us.

Here’s my point. Fractals have been in existence for millions of years without our knowledge.  Now we use them in antennae production, art, games, cancer research, map making, computer generation, and philosophy when discussing the idea of chaos. Take a look at http://www.coolmath4kids.com/fractals/index.html to see the Grand Canyon replicated in full fractal color and design.

Human beings did not create fractals, mountains, coastlines, Niagara Falls, geometry, and the list goes on. (Perhaps global warming and freezing in Iceland and Utah's Great Salt Lake could slide in here next to the Rocky Mountains.) Yet the temptation to take dictatorial ownership as if we played a causitive part is overwhelming as we discover what someone else put in motion.  And I believe that someone played around with the tools of his trade for millions of years with great enjoyment and will continue to do so for as long as he chooses.

So what else don’t we know yet?

FRACTALS

Jackson Pollock knew how to paint realistic figures and landscapes. He studied with Thomas Hart Benton who taught at the Kansas City Art Institute from 1935 to 1941. Like Picasso who created his own view of the world, Pollock rebelled against Benton’s traditional teaching and created the abstract expressionist movement.

What may look to us as random splatters from a self-indulgent painter takes a different perspective when we study fractals. Pollack’s reward was international fame and having his art compared to zoo productions by elephants and primates.

In reality his work represents nature’s principle of self-similarity, the whole looks like the part, or a fractal. In a fractal pattern each smaller structure replicates the larger form, perhaps not identically but enough that the repetition is visible and mathematically measurable. For example, the branching of a tree repeats from the trunk to the end of the branch. (Strike the tree with lightening and all bets are off.) Or the lacy repetition within a single snowflake. Or the ferns in my garden that are turning a lovely autumn red while exhibiting the self same design.

For years we thought the patterns in nature were outside math. A straight horizon could be measured and quantified. But a coastline or the rocky up-thrusts and crevices of a mountain could not except by measuring a baseline and height, thus forming a right triangle. We then need to butt the right triangle to a right triangle to another and so on. Rather ineffective and frustrating.

Fractals allow us to rethink dimension, reconsider the natural order around us. Is it random? Or is there a logical order we can’t appreciate without reconsidering our basic assumptions?

Researchers discovered that Pollock’s paint flinging and swirls followed patterns, shapes that repeated themselves on different scales. Furthermore, when the researchers experimented with a lawn sprinkler-type set up, the single color of the moment imitated Pollock’s patterns. And the patterns were fractals.

Physicist Richard P. Taylor of the University of New South Wales in Sydney, Australia has taken a mathematical look at Pollock’s work.

“The unique thing about Jackson Pollock was that he abandoned using the brush on canvas and actually dripped the paint. That produced trajectories of paint on the canvas that were like a (two-dimensional) map or fingerprint of his (three-dimensional) motions around the canvas.”

A creator moving around his creation drawing patterns, colors, dimensions only he could see. Interesting thought.

BUILD A LEGACY

 

Welcome to our favorite senior care blogger, Alice Kalso. The following was posted on her blog, A Boomer's Guide to Eldercare. Her title question, How Can I Help My Aging Parent Build a Legacy? is appropriate for all of us Boomers while we have the time and energy to consider and choose. You can comment to Alice at akalso@hotmail.com Alice writes: My short baseball career began--and ended--in second grade. A fly ball smacked me in the face. Specifically in the nose. Years later, though, I found myself editing a book on teaching baseball techniques to children. How did that happen? My husband's elderly uncle decided to build a legacy. And I wanted to help. Your aging parent is also involved in building legacy, says author David Solie of "How To Say It to Seniors." It's his or her developmental task. "Every day, every hour, whether they mention it or not, the seventy-plus age group is reviewing their lives," Solie says. Consciously and unconsciously, they ponder how and by whom they would like to remembered. For Uncle Dale, the legacy idea was simple. He wanted to publish a book that would help children master the fundamentals of baseball. He also wanted to honor his own grandchildren's accomplishments in the sport. So he gathered together a team that would help him with the task: sportswriters, baseball players, a graphic artist and more. Like all seniors creating a legacy, Uncle Dale is doing this in his time and in his way. When the product is finished, it will have his indelible stamp on it. Unfortunately, we adult children can miss the signs when our aging parents are trying to build a legacy. I know. My dad was a minister. After retirement he would "hint" from time to time that parishioners had suggested he publish his sermons. He suffered from Parkinsons and depression, though, and his inner voice was weak enough that we kids didn't get the message. His disparaging comments, "Probably no one will read them," didn't help the project to gather steam. Unfortunately, the sermons never were published. As I grow older, I'm trying to listen for the sounds of legacy. For example, my friend Don, in his mid 80s, has been writing letters to his grandchildren for years. "I write about what is important in life, and I encourage them to make good decisions," he says. Another friend, Tillman, builds legacy by reviewing slides of his years as a missionary to Zimbabwe, and telling stories of God's work in that land. When seniors create legacy, they repeat the same stories again and again in great detail, not so much for the facts as the inherent values. Solie urges us as their children to listen, really listen, and help, if we can. Even if we know more about commas than baseball. Have you picked up on your aging parent's desire to create a legacy? How have you been able to help?

 

JOKE FOR THE DAY

You must admit I don’t rant much so here is my Joke for the Day.

TDAmeritrade will mail me an Amazon gift card worth $2,000 when I deposit or transfer $1,000,000 to an account. If my accountant, whose desk is next to mine in our second bedroom, ever stops laughing long enough to remember our password, I’ll be rich!

I know. I’ll pledge $50,000 to Obama’s election campaign and the Feds will send me a million from the stimulus package. Sure they will. And Romney insists that he feels my pain like a chiropractor. Sure he does.

In Washington we have a Senator, who has been flying first class to his office in DC, and an Attorney General who upped his own salary, duking it out for Governor. They both protest concern for small business. Methinks they doth protest too much. I’d rather they lost my mailing address and phone number.

Profit is a dirty word to politicians whatever their party affiliation. There must be a magnetic quality to profit that attracts taxation like the Dirty/Clean sign clings to my dishwasher.  Ah, there’s the proof that I need to give more to WA State and DC! I can afford a dishwasher. Take the President out golfing.

Do they suppose I take on risk and work 12 hours a day because I’m stupid? Let me rephrase that.

The label “wealthy” only gets pasted on people who make more money than you and I do. Suppose you and I find an extra, legitimate $50,000 in our checking account. As if we all will happily give the extra money to the Feds to waste on surly NJ Postal workers and judicial junkets to Hawaii. Okay, your taxation rate is only fourteen percent. Is that you screaming I hear? But it was profit, sweetie. Think of the people in Chicago who can’t buy vegetables because you got the money. What do you mean you need a new car, a new roof on your house, dinner in a restaurant that doesn’t brag about how often they change their French fry oil? You have a car, house, credit card; ergo you are stinking rich. You don’t deserve to spend, save or donate to the Shriners money you earned, right?

Finally we are discussing the heart of this presidential and guvernorubial election. What is fair when it involves you giving up your money? Is redistribution of your wealth what this country is all about? And is wealth defined by a $40,000 income, $250,000 or do I remain “middle class” until my fictitious million appears with all its glorious zeros?

I don’t expect help from anyone of any political persuasion with my business which may turn a profit in spite of the government. But I feel better for ranting, just this once.

P.S. I made up the word, guvernorubial, so don’t try it out on your friends. It’s an inclusive word with a, e, i, o and a u for each of us. I could have said gubernatorial which also is vowel inclusive, but there must be some freedom left in this country, and it’s my blog.

 

ECONOMY

Thoreau’s mantra was “live simply” although his explanation was wordy, clause after clause piling up against the eventual period. Walden Pond was his experimental lab for two years, after which he struggled against bankruptcy. In his century Thoreau was a curiosity. Within the context of our contemporary culture simplicity is possible but not achievable without much thought.  Listening to the sound of a different drummer is a continual challenge and a learning experience. Eventually age accomplishes simplicity for us.

…”I was present at the auction of a deacon’s effects, for his life had not been ineffectual:

     ‘The evil that men do lives after them.’

"As usual, a great proportion was trumpery which had begun to accumulate in his father’s day. Among the rest was a dried tapeworm. And now, after lying half a century in his garret and other dust holes, these things were not burned; instead of a bonfire, or purifying destruction of them, there was an auction, or increasing of them. The neighbors eagerly collected to view them, bought them all, and carefully transported them to their garrets and dust holes, to lie there till their estates are settled, when they will start again. When a man dies he kicks the dust.”

Henry David Thoreau “Walden.”

We lived in Iowa in the late 90s and one of us got bit by the auction bug. If you make the mistake of dying in Iowa, your family will empty your drawers and boxes on the front lawn. Neighbors and strangers will congregate and wonder why you kept all that stuff.  My first bidding experience awarded me a cracked bowl. I didn’t care that I overpaid. I had raised my hand and stood my ground. Jenny’s bowl graces my front step filled with sedum, and dust.

Dr. Oz says that healthy eating leads to healthy living. If I switch from butter to I Can’t Believe It’s Not Butter--chemicals in a bottle, dairy farmers sell less of their cows’ production. And they sell out to mega corporations. This helps us how now, brown cow?

Two or three neighbors can share a lawnmower but there is a consequence; the hardware store sells one or two less mowers. When the sales at Home Depot decreases, the quarterly sales report is bad and investors sell the stock. And when the big box moves into a neighborhood they save the residents money, but they hold an unfair buying advantage over the neighborhood hardware store. Compromise: thank John for mowing our lawn.

So what is our response to Thoreau’s call for Simplicity? It will need to be individual and subjective, an on-going process.  I read Thoreau’s chapter, Economy, to be a judgmental and pompous affair. He denigrates those who choose to spend their lives farming and eating meat. He ridicules those who live in the village and attempt to earn their livelihood in the market place. He speaks with his chin raised and his voice a professorial pitch suitable to academic lectures. Time to bring “Walden” back to the library.

For my part, I currently practice simplicity by avoiding shopping which gives me a headache anyway. I shop infrequently and only when I have a specific purchase in mind. This is my story and I’m sticking to it. The exception is cruising art fairs. Eye candy.  Colors for the soul. I justify my careful spending by saying I am supporting local artists. Here are some of my favorite artists who have internet sources.

Frill.   facebook.com/frillstudio   Karen designs and sews incredibly beautiful handbags. She also does custom orders. I’m not a handbag person but could have taken home several. To my credit I bought only one. At this time.

four corners design.  Unique collages and montages Amy Duncan mounts on boards, glass, etc. then photographs for note cards and wall hangings. I bought “Hope.” http://fourcornersdesign.blogspot.com/

Original paintings by Janet Hamilton. I love to buy her greeting cards. www.JanetHamilton.com

BFF Snooter-Doots:  Fishee, Buggee, Foodie-Friends and more. Children of any age love the colorful, felted, ‘free-form’ knit toys. They’re light and can’t break in the mail.  www.snooter-doots.com

KaleidEscapes for those of you who share my fascination with kaleidoscopes.  www.lagravedesigns.com

And if you need a lovely gift for someone special, Sue Rena Curtis' handcrafted stained glass mobiles can be found at www.dancingglass.net   She created my Irene mobile.

And of course, Bienella skin care. www.bienella.com
 

Simply, wonderfully creative.

WALDEN POND

“Why should we be in such desperate haste to succeed and in such desperate enterprises?  If a man does not keep pace with his companions, perhaps it is because he hears a different drummer.  Let him step to the music which he hears, however measured or far away.”   

Henry David Thoreau. from the chapter, “Conclusion.” Walden.

 

I have read this quote through the years and wondered at the context. If you drop the initial question, then the appealing image of "different drummer" can be stretched to wrap around various shapes and purposes. Placing it in Thoreau's context, I suspect it is autobiographical.

Thoreau was writing before the Civil War and some 60 years following the Revolutionary War and with less than 20 years after the War of 1812. We tend to think that our federal government sprang into full-blown being with everyone on board. There was still divisive sentiment for and against England. Building in intensity was the slavery issue driving a wedge between the growing industrial north and the agricultural south. 

It was 1845 when Thoreau built a cabin on property owned by Ralph Waldo Emerson. Thoreau did not live isolated in his cabin near Walden Pond. He regularly hiked into town for dinner and conversation with friends. “…where I was well entertained, and after learning the kernels and very last sieveful of news, what had subsided, the prospects of war and peace, and whether the world was likely to hold together much longer….”

He stood on the stoop of the general store and watched the varied population march to the drummer of land development, mercantile expansion, and social progress. The legal system was developing and he occasionally walked on the wrong side when he refused to pay a tax or “recognize the authority of the State which buys and sells men, women and children, like cattle….” When released from the primitive jail, he returned to his woods to gather his dinner of huckleberries on Fair Haven Hill.

We loved living in New Jersey for 16 months exploring historical sites. New England states are compact enough that one can visit two or three in a day. In 2004 we passed Walden Pond, although Thoreau’s cabin is now a replica of the original. As Thoreau might have, we enjoyed coffee in a shop on a main street in Concord chatting with the proprietor. The visitor’s center provided us with a map to the North Bridge where the first confrontation of the Revolutionary War took place in 1775. On our return into town we found it curious that a group of locals were marching with signs opposing war, perhaps descendants of dissenters in 1775.

To commemorate those who challenged the British at the North Bridge, Ralph Waldo Emerson wrote a poem. The embattled farmers definitely fit Thoreau's description.

By the rude bridge that arched the flood,
Their flag to April’s breeze unfurled,
Here once the embattled farmers stood,
And fired the shot heard round the world.

The foe long since in silence slept;
Alike the conqueror silent sleeps;
And Time the ruined bridge has swept
Down the dark stream which seaward creeps.

On this green bank, by this soft stream,
We set today a votive stone;
That memory may their deed redeem,
When, like our sires, our sons are gone.

Spirit, that made those spirits dare
To die, and leave their children free,
Bid Time and Nature gently spare
The shaft we raise to them and thee.