

It didn’t make sense that we would be separating science and art, or that we would be separating nature and human nature.

Science and art both seem to be throwing buckets of light into the dark corners of existence, and I was enthralled. Prefacing her reading, Ackerman reflected on how the intuitive sense that art and science are complementary rather than contradictory shaped her life, her work, and her orientation of being:Įver since I was a child, I wanted to be a nature poet - it’s just that what I meant by “nature” included everything from quarks to exoplanets to water bears and neurons. That cascading celebration of science through art animates the poetry of Diane Ackerman, who returned to The Universe in Verse for a second year to read her ravishing poem “The Consolation of Apricots,” found in her 1998 poetry collection I Praise My Destroyer ( public library). Le Guin wrote in her splendid case for subjectifying the universe: “Science describes accurately from outside, poetry describes accurately from inside. In his meditation on the complementarity of how art and science reveal the world, Schopenhauer likened science to “the innumerable showering drops of the waterfall, which, constantly changing, never rest for an instant,” and art to “the rainbow, quietly resting on this raging torrent.” Two centuries later, Ursula K.
