Within the history and structures of Western academic thought emerge certain lines of demarcation. We cluster our collective learning and knowledge under the Arts and the Sciences. (I could add, were I inclined, the Letters, by which I mean literature and scholarly writing in the humanities — not just creative works, but the broader intellectual and cultural tradition expressed through the written word. But I digress).
So back to the Arts and the Sciences.
When one graduates from high school and then goes on to an institution of higher learning, such as a college, a university, or in some cases a trade school, such a student usually supplements their broad, general education with a focus on either the Arts (which may include music, drawing, sculpture, dance, painting, photography, film, theater, or graphic design), or the Sciences (which might include such areas of specialty as biology, chemistry, physics, oceanography, astronomy, geology, meteorology, mathematics, or statistics). (I am deliberately excluding any discussion of the Social Sciences, or what one colleague of mine refers to as the “bad sciences”).
We are often taught that the sciences are the “hard sciences” because of their exactitude. They involve precision, accuracy, and discovering why natural phenomenon works the way it does. What causes dew drops to form on leaves overnight? What are the chances of rolling a six with a fair die? What is water made of? What is a number? What causes the weather to change? What makes things move or stay still?
These are all basic scientific questions that have been grappled with in the past.
The arts are a very different animal. There really is no “exactness” per se with the arts. There is a virtual limitlessness, bound only by daring and imagination, with creating art.
To better understand the distinction between the arts and the sciences, consider this: Pythagoras “discovered” (or unraveled) the Pythagorean Theorem around the 6th century BC (although there is evidence that Babylonians understood that the relationship between the sides of a right triangle was known to ancient Mesopotamians more than 1000 years prior to Pythagoras, but again, I digress). But here’s the thing: if Pythagoras had not figured out that in a right triangle, the square of the length of the hypotenuse is equal to the sum of the squares of the lengths of the other two sides, someone else would have eventually landed on that verity. Someone would have eventually figured it out.
But no one would have ever “figured out” how to write Beethoven’s Ninth Symphony! That was a masterpiece that only Beethoven could craft – not Mozart, not Bach, not Verdi, not Chopin, and certainly not Leo Strauss, Albert Schweitzer, Aristotle, or Maimonides.
However, sometimes I wonder if the line of demarcation between the arts and the sciences really is as impermeable as we often assume. Perhaps there is a porous or semi-porous reality. I got to thinking about that during a recent exchange with one of my closest friends, DB. We were discussing why, despite our very different world views on politics, social issues, education, and even, to a degree, religion, we have managed to maintain and develop the warmest of friendships. (She affectionately refers to me as her “fun friend”.) DL is well-trained as a scientist. She has a scientific mind, yet she sees the artist in me.
I offered the following:
“When one looks ‘scientifically’ at the cosmos, and considers the order of, say, our solar system, it is difficult to resist the conclusion that an ‘Artist’ (capital ‘A’) was behind such ‘order.’ If one is studying astronomy, is it not apparent that there is an element of divine design of cosmic eloquence in the movement of the planets, the distance of our planet from the sun which just happens to be requisite for human life to thrive on earth, for a terrestrial atmosphere to sustain humanity? Is there not the hint of an artistic Hand in such mysteries?”
Perhaps there is art in science. Perhaps there is science in art.
