This morning I had the distinct pleasure of breakfasting with Dr. Illana Gozes, Professor of Clinical Biochemistry at Tel Aviv University, Editor-in-Chief of the Journal of Molecular Neuroscience, and President of the Israeli Society for Neuroscience [ISFN]. She is here presenting her research on Plasticity and Memory with a poster called "PolyADP-ribosylation is required for long-term memory formation in mammals." The work, which she told me is "out of left field" [my favorite field!], has exciting implications for Alzheimer's treatment. One found protein is currently undergoing clinical trials.
Dr. Gozes kindly invited me to the gathering of the ISFN tonight at the Hilton Chicago. Unfortunately, I could only spend about twenty minutes noshing and mingling. Some Israeli scientists had put up their posters at the event, and I spoke to a fellow named Volodya Yakolev about his, called "Learning to recognize numerous images." There are many Israeli abstracts that interest me as topic for potential articles, especially "Exploring the brain mechanisms of courage," from U. Nili and Y. Dudai of the Weizmann Institute of Science. Have scientists finally discovered what the poor Cowardly Lion lacked? Can we prevent this horrible disorder in the future?!? After all, lions should be fiercely pensive or pensively fierce, as in the title photo of this blog and the statues in front of The Art Institute of Chicago that I offered in post seven.
After the Israeli gathering, I traveled to Spain. I mean, I traveled to the Hyatt Regency Downtown to meet with Dr. Javier DeFelipe, Professor at the Instituto Cajal in Madrid and lead author of the new book "Cajal's Butterflies of the Soul: Science and Art" [Oxford University Press]. I bought my copy today; it is a stunningly gorgeous work with two-hundred-and-eighty-eight indelible images. Anyone who is in need of content for their coffee table, this is it. The illustrations are just breathtaking, purely and simply and, of course, naturally. It is expensive, but invaluable. I highly recommend it; there is brilliant text as well. Dr. DeFelipe and I spoke for about twenty minutes before his presentation. He told me about the Instituto Cajal and their materials, and invited me to come to Madrid in order to investigate the "Legacy of Cajal" exhibit, which, although now homeless, includes letters and drawings. Apparently, there are now a couple of people excavating and translating Cajal's letters, which include correspondences with rival Nobelist Camillo Golgi. I was excited to learn that within the next three years there will be an English collection of Cajal's letters.
Dr. DeFelipe then gave an elegant presentation about Cajal's scientific art, or artistic science. Dr. DeFelipe quoted Cajal: "Only artists are attracted to science." The small audience chuckled, but this is not paradoxical, and that is precisely the point. I am currently one-hundred pages into Cajal's autobiography Recollections of My Life [The MIT Press]. In it, Cajal recounts his childhood obsession with art, which greatly disturbed his rigid, traditional father. In order to put an end to his son's untenable dream, Cajal's father solicited the opinion of the only "expert" around: a house-painter visiting the town of Ayerbe in order to whitewash the church's fire-damaged walls. Cajal timidly presented to the man his drawing of an Apostle. The house-painter proclaimed: "This child will never be an artist!" Cajal was eight years old. That gentleman was oh-so-wrong.
Moreover, Cajal made literary contributions to scientific language, coining numerous poetic, but truthful, names and descriptions of the human brain. He called our tangled web of neurons selva temerosa, or "dark and frightful jungle." Pyramid cells, which stand closely together in columns, the cells that I assume were the ones imaged in the Blue Brain Project movie I mentioned in an earlier post [Four] that I saw, he called las mariposas del alma: "butterflies of the soul." Thus, my favorite term and DeFelipe's title. Cajal called the little protrusions from dendrites, which Golgi and others dismissed as unimportant [but nothing is secondary in Nature, Cajal writes in Advice], las espinas, or "the spines," because they look like a rose's thorny stem. Que linda . . .
Dr. DeFelipe also made a memorable reference to Michelangelo. About his famous "Angel" statue, the Italian master said: "I saw an angel in the stone and carved until I set him free." So it is with our plastic brains, as well. As Cajal says in Advice, "man can be the sculptor of his own brain." I guess that we possess an Uncarved Block [P'U], to use a Taoist concept I learned long ago in a lovely book by Benjamin Hoff called The Tao of Pooh. It holds this potential for change in our brains, the plasticity that fascinated Cajal. Dr. DeFelipe will be sending me his own article from a few years ago in Nature Neuroscience called "Cajal and Plasticity." From his own disturbing educational experience, which I will relate in my next post, Cajal knew that, when treated rightly, the brain can be shaped over time. But he did not believe, theoretically, that the existing idea of the rigid reticulum would allow for such give-and-take. This was long before he became the first scientist to illuminate the material mechanisms, neurons, that facilitate the plasticity that defines our humanity. After learning about my specific interests, Dr. DeFelipe was adamant that I would love this particular article, which talks about all of this and more. I trust him. 
I had an excellent time in Chicago, although the conference events were difficult at times. Thirty-thousand people can overwhelm a novice, no matter how tall he is. Plus, I am now nearly broke. But I learned a lot, and that was my goal. Moreover, I leave here with renewed focus on my goal: to discover the secret to Cajal's clarified vision, and to learn how one might live an intelligent life in this world. Now I must procure a grant in order to facilitate this process.
My team of experts [sorry, I guess cable news has penetrated my vernacular], now includes Dr. DeFelipe, who has offered to guide me to certain materials and help me with a formal letter of support. I am very grateful for this. He also introduced me to his colleague Virginia, a visual artist herself. Along with her boyfriend Pablo, who now studies at the School of Visual Art in New York City and is preparing an exhibit on Cajal, Virginia prepared some spectacular content in Dr. DeFelipe's presentation and the book itself, I believe. I look forward to meeting Pablo back in NYC.
Also, sometime soon, I will be doing a podcast for a new series of neuroscience-themed content for the lay public that Noah is launching. More on that when there is more on that . . .
I will post next about Cajal's autobiography, which is fascinating. He is a more-than-capable writer; some of his rapturous descriptions of the outdoors are truly sublime.
Thanks for reading, Mom!
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