Art in science: a palaeontological perspective

Leonardo Da Vinci once said, “Art is the queen of all sciences.” What was he talking about? On what basis can art be considered a science, let alone the queen of them all? The idea runs contrary to modern conventions of STEM (Science, Technology, Engineering, and Math) versus the humanities, evidence versus imagination, and fact versus fiction. Yet there is always a connection between art and science—art is in science and science is in art. Our textbooks have illustrations, our museums have exhibitions, our academic journals have diagrams. Maybe it is time to give Da Vinci’s unconventional statement a second look. What is art, what is science, and what mysterious links do they share?

Both disciplines are wildly diverse. Science encompasses everything from the theory of general relativity to potty training cows (Dirksen et al. 2021), while art boasts being the crux of culture including works such as the Mona Lisa, the Sistine Chapel, and… public urinals (thanks, Duchamps). Both science and art have long and complex histories. Western science originated in the age of antiquity and continues to evolve in its structure and methodology today (Elshakry, 2010). On the other hand, humans have been creating artworks for up to 45,500 years! Since the earliest cave paintings, such as the prehistoric pig painting found on the Indonesian island Sulawesi, we have been eagerly illustrating the beauty of our natural world (Aubert et al., 2018; What was the first Art?, 2021). We have used art to communicate, tell stories, and pass down knowledge. Our curiosity and creativity have led us to create some of the most beautiful artworks and make some of the most important discoveries.

Art at the surface is a scientific tool and notably, it is a convenient one. For science to make a positive impact, researchers must communicate and express their findings. Art just happens to be a universal method for communication and expression. Particularly in the age of the climate crisis and in the face of other contemporary scientific challenges, scientists must endeavour to engage with the public and, you guessed it, art is engaging. Scientists can statistically analyse their way to brilliant ideas, but to visualise and communicate these ideas they often turn to art. In fact, when digging more deeply into the relationships between these disciplines, we often see that art provides a foundational platform for scientists to learn, to inform, and to inspire.

If we were to ask whether science or art is more important, it may be argued that scientific and medical advancements improve the lives and health of people. On the other hand, art inspires people, sparks creativity, and reimagines the world. Together, they are powerful. Perhaps science and art are two sides of the same coin.

We explore this relationship between science and art, using a discipline that studies the history of life on Earth, palaeontology! We provide examples and illustrations from both scientists and artists. We explore how scientists may incorporate art into their process to reach a variety of audiences. We hope this inspires an appreciation for the value of art in science as a key to unlock the knowledge preserved in the world around us.

To learn

When it comes to science, learning happens when we are engaged. There is more to education than that of course, but the fundamental message rings true—interest and connection is a great driver of discovery. Giving tangible forms to problems makes them more exciting to solve. Turning abstract concepts into pictures makes them easier to understand. Visualising helps us to make sense of complex ideas, and drawing can help us memorise it and make it fun (Wammes et al., 2019).

Sketching not only can help to characterise the form and function of extinct organisms, it marks the beginning of the scientific process, and arguably the learning process (Figure 1). It is a platform to brainstorm, when the truth is unclear and dead ends are plentiful (Shah, 2022). It allows multiple ideas to be explored and tested, helping scientists bridge the gap between raw intuition and polished theories. Students can use it to tap into their creativity and generate connection with the content.

To inform

From the early Miocene (19 –16 million years ago) to the late Pleistocene (2.3 – 0.2 million years ago) on what is now the South Island of New Zealand, there lived a large, flightless bird known as the Adzebill (Aptornis defossor) (South Island adzebill: Ngutu hahau: New Zealand Birds Online, 2013). Fossil evidence suggests that the Adzebill is related to the now extinct Madagascan elephant birds and the now endangered (at risk of extinction) New Zealand kiwis.

But… what did it look like?

Palaeontologists tend to begin their reconstructions with a skeleton, because that is usually all they have (Figure 2). Soft tissues are rarely preserved, whereas tougher materials such as bones have a greater chance of withstanding decomposition and eventually mineralising into fossils (Andrade, et al., 2023).

Sonia’s illustration of an Adzebill tibiotarsus (a bone in the leg) is anatomically accurate and detailed. Like all good scientific sketches, it contains a figure caption, a scale (e.g., $2 coin), and labels. The figure caption briefly describes the subject and orientation, the labels direct us to the most important features of the drawing whilst the scale bar allows us to grasp the size.

But what about a more complete image? Understanding and characterising the Adzebill anatomy in combination with some imagination can lead to an artistic reconstruction that brings to life the old adage ‘a picture says a 1000 words’ (Fred R. Barnard).

To inspire

This creative liberty is inevitable in art, yet scientists must strike a careful balance between imagination and accuracy. A touch of colour and illustration makes new discoveries intelligible and inspiring; however, too much artistic flair can create confusion. How far an artwork is allowed to deviate from reality depends on its purpose and its audience.

In 1947, Rudolph F. Zallinger created the Mural, ‘The Age of Reptiles’. This 33-metre masterpiece hangs in the Yale Peabody as a spectacular depiction of prehistoric life, which includes the Mesozoic Era (also known as the age of reptiles). Packed with awe-inspiring dynamism, it’s chock-full of all manner of plants and animals scattered across an ancient landscape, representing several hundred million years of time. But if we could travel back to each period represented in the mural to see the dinosaurs in their natural habitat, would this really be what we would see?

Probably not. While we would encounter abundant plant life, it’s less likely we would so readily encounter the dramatic scene depicted in Zallinger’s mural.

A Mesozoic forest landscape, though quite beautiful, presents a disappointingly barren vision in comparison to The Age of Reptiles Mural. You could walk for kilometres on end without spotting a massive sauropod, if you came across one at all (Farlow et al., 2010). What’s more, on closer inspection Zallinger’s work shows a group of early amphibians, called temnospondyls, and ancient mammal-like reptiles known as pelycosaurs walking side-by-side dinosaurs. These animals didn’t inhabit the same time periods! Including them was purely artistic freedom. Zallinger’s purpose was not to achieve scientific accuracy but to excite the imagination; and for that purpose, the more creatures the better!

The focus of modern palaeo-reconstruction has shifted away from pure artistic expression and towards scientifically accurate education. Rarely today will scientific art mix-and-match organisms from different time periods and geographic locations. A more subtle form of artistic liberty is taken instead.

In conclusion, art and science converge as indispensable allies in our quest to understand and appreciate the world. There is no “one size fits all” or one correct way of creating art for science. Both art and science are part of a whole, perhaps equally as important to one another in viewing, interpreting and making sense of the world around us. Through their distinct yet complementary mediums, they illuminate the complexities of our universe and inspire curiosity and wonder. Embracing their symbiotic relationship reminds us that diversity in expression enriches our collective knowledge, offering endless opportunities to connect, learn, and evolve together.

About the authors:

Sonia Vojnovic is a third-year student studying a Bachelor of Science and Advanced Studies majoring in Biology and Ecology & Evolutionary Biology at The University of Sydney (USYD). She has keen interests in the evolution of animal physiology, locomotion and vertebrate palaeontology, dance choreography, and art. She has been a volunteer with the Palaeontology Collection at the Australian Museum since June 2023.

Alex Sun has a Bachelor of Science with honours in Ecology from USYD. He has an interest in the environment, botany, palaeontology, and artistic drawings of prehistoric biology. Alex has been a volunteer with the Palaeontology Collection at the Australian Museum since January 2022.