16. La psicología de los artistas & the Art of Translation

The other day I received a small package from Spain. It was the third edition of a work titled La psicología de los artistas, by Santiago Ramón y Cajal. It includes a number of pieces, including an account of Cajal's childhood as told by his brother [and fellow neuroscientist] Pedro, letters written by Cajal himself, and a literary essay concerning Cervantes's Don Quixote. To my knowledge, the content has never been translated into English. Therefore I am endeavoring to do so, starting with that essay titled "El quijote y el quijotismo," written in 1905 in commemoration of the publication of "the immortal book" [to use Cajal's words].

So far I have translated [roughly] roughly all of the first half: "El quijote." It is a fascinating piece from a refreshingly extra-disciplinary perspective written in the romantic style that captured Cajal's heart at a young age. Here is the first paragraph:

"Universally admired is the eminent moral figure of the noble la Manchan don Alonso Quijano el Bueno; converted to knight-errantry by suggestion of silly chivalresque books, he represents, as it has been said a thousand times, the most perfect symbol of honor and altruism. Ever Anglo-Saxon in nature, so given to imagining energetic and original characters, he invented a most exquisite persona of indomitable individualism and sublime self-denial."

Cajal considers "el Quijote," literally "the Do-Gooder," an archetype. In fact, one of the sections of the essay's second part is called "Representative Men. Men of the Species." A key word in the above paragraph is "suggestion" [sugestión], which is a most powerful notion. Cajal was fascinated by the popular pseudo-science of hypnotism—he even conducted his own investigative experiments on the topic—because of its apparent influence on the mind. Suggestion, then, is a weapon of falsity. Golgi and other proponents of the reticular theory were given to such convincing aspects of un-reality as ego and convention. Moreover, I love the phrase "sublime self-denial." Although it refers to Quixote's insane ignorance, it also has serious spiritual implications.

Now, what is most interesting about this essay in my opinion is that it is implicitly personal. Cervantes's classic was one of the treasures the teenage Cajal found in his neighbor's stash of romantic materials. But, then, Cajal objected to the author's treatment of his hero. Cajal was himself quite quixotic, and that quality would never truly leave him. In his autobiography, he refers at least twice to the famous character. By the time he wrote Advice for a Young Investigator, Cajal agreed that a combination of the temperaments of don Quixote and Sancho Panza. Indeed, Cajal calls one of the essay's sections "Salute to Sancho Panza," "prodigious incarnation of the tranquility and goodness of the soul." Though naturally an idealist, like his sympathetic literary hero, Cajal understood the necessary balance of healthy character. One must control "el Quijote."

This critical essay, which relies on a biographical and psychological reading, is an extremely insightful one in my opinion. So far, I think it is definitely worthwhile given the genius of its author. We'll see what happens when I finish translating and polishing.

Happy Thanksgiving!

15. Vision & the Brain

There has been a considerable gap between posts. I finished Recollections of My Life a while ago, but have been unable to write about the final part. As the author advanced his narrative to the time of his writing, old age, I was moved by his grace and humility:

"I have aimed that my life should be, so far as possible, in accordance with the counsel of the philosopher, a living poem of intense action and of secret heroism on behalf of scientific culture. Poor is my work, but it has been as intense and original as my slender talents permitted"[595].

Thereupon, I was motivated yet again to try to one day illuminate this man's life and work. Cajal's narrative is weak and at times boring; he would admit as much. But he is not a literary man. Perhaps a different treatment of the material would yield a different result. Scientifically, there is a staining method called the Ehrlich method. In Chicago, a man jokingly said "How wonderful, we have been graced by the illustrious Dr. Ehrlich!" A funny coincidence.

I will be reading Cajal's final two non-scientific books: Charlas de café [Café Conversations] and El mundo visto a los 80 años [The World Seen from 80-Years-Old]. They must be ordered from Spain and I am broke, but traveling for a freelance job next week. Patience is a virtue.

Over the last couple of weeks, I have been using a great resource that my father found for me. In a set of DVDs called "Understanding the Brain," from the series "The Great Courses," Vanderbilt University professor and neuroscientist Dr. Jeanette Norden teaches neuroscience. I am a third of the way through the course and feel that I have already learned a great deal about the anatomy and physiology of the brain. The last two "lectures" have dealt with the vision system. I was struck by this axiom:

"Vision is a construct of the brain."

As it turns out, the eye provides very little information to the brain. Although it has about 100 million photoreceptors, only one million neurons transmit to a place called the lateral geniculate nucleus [LGN], which projects to the visual cortex at Brodmann's area 17. [Blah blah, but writing helps me cement the knowledge]. There, and at other higher-order places, the brain begins to form a percept that we experience as "sight." What's more, I was amazed to learn that we technically have a constant blind spot, a gap in the macula [neural sheet at the back of the eye] where the optic nerve exits. The brain merely fills in that blank. Therefore, vision is an entirely personal and subjective experience.

I have said that one of my main questions about Cajal concerns his vision. How did he look at tissue from the brain and see neurons, whereas the rest of the field saw a reticulum? Well, the neuron was always there. He merely [merely, ha!] had developed a brain that could construct the proper percept. How did he develop that brain? I have ideas, but I will save those. Remember, though, that "man can be the sculptor of his own brain." And:

"A persevering and deliberate effort is capable of moulding and organizing everything, from the muscle to the brain, making up the deficiencies of nature and even overcoming the mischances of character--the most difficult thing in life"[4].

Finally, Dr. Norden discussed our perception of color. She said that there are no blue cones in the fovea, our main visual part [we are "foveate" animals, with high visual acuity] at the center of the macula. When we look directly at something "blue," it is our brain that creates the color. Blue, therefore, is a state of mind. But of course, Picasso and the jazz men understood this . . .



Thanks! And special thanks to DW [and AH] for helping to guide me through an eclipse. Literally, it can be quite formative, as Cajal explains of 1860. Metaphorically/creatively, the same.

14. Cajal & Goethe [Briefly, Again]

The two diverge at the end of the road:

"And it is useless to affirm, with Goethe and many modern thinkers, that the search for final causes has no sense; that our task is to determine the how and not the why"[456].

[See: the beginning of Faust I]

Although he admired the German genius, Cajal was a completely classical thinker. I believe he belongs to the school of thought, the Western branch of which was founded by Heraclitus. Lao-Tzu provides a relevant Eastern reflection, in my opinion. I will trace this swerving path of influence somewhere else. There is a distinct philosophical mode, nearly perfected in the intellectual practice of these great men.

I am meeting with an extremely talented artist tonight, Pablo García, to discuss ideas. With a grant from Spain, he is preparing a Cajal-inspired visual art exhibit while studying at the School of Visual Arts. I had the pleasure of seeing a few slides of his work in Chicago; it is wonderful. I look forward to talking to somebody who shares my passion for this material.

13. Confucius vs. Kerouac: A Brief Interlude

"The only people for me are the mad ones, the ones who are mad to live, mad to talk, mad to be saved, desirous of everything at the same time, the ones who never yawn or say a commonplace thing, but burn, burn, burn, like fabulous yellow roman candles exploding like spiders across the stars and in the middle you see the blue centerlight pop and everybody goes "Awww!'" -Jack Kerouac, On the Road

"The Master said, 'If you cannot manage to find a person of perfectly balanced character to associate with, I suppose you must settle for the wild or the fastidious. In their pursuit of the Way, the wild plunge right in, while the fastidious are always careful not to get their hands dirty.'"
-Confucius, Analects, 13.21

I find this juxtaposition to be perfectly hilarious. Next to Confucius, the wise grandfather, does not Kerouac seem the child? But the question is: childlike or childish, to use Friedrich Schiller's brilliant distinction from his essay called "On Naïve and Sentimental Poetry?" Here are lines from Schiller's famously inspirational poem, "Ode to Joy:"

45 Joyful as His suns are flying
46 Across the Firmament's splendid design
47 Run, brothers, run your race
48 Joyful, as a hero going to conquest.
49 As truth's fiery reflection
50 It smiles at the scientist

Cajal, the scientist, had a fiercely romantic heart, yet he succeeded in cultivating a more or less balanced mind. From Recollections: "ideas, like the white water-lily, flourish only in tranquil waters"[404]. I am finishing up that book, and will then post on the final section. I close with Confucius, on joy:

"The Master said, 'One who knows it is not equal of one who loves it, and one who loves it is not the equal of one who takes joy in it.'"
-Analects, 6.20