Another one of the cool things I learned about reading The Nature Fix by Florence Williams is what the physicist and painter Richard Taylor has called "Fractal Expressionism." Taylor's term is a play on Abstract Expressionism, the post-World War II American art movement characterized by the use of abstraction, rather than traditional processes, "to convey strong emotional or expressive content." Abstract expressionists include Willem de Kooning, Mark Rothko, Philip Guston, and Jackson Pollock. But Pollock alone makes up Taylor's category of Fractal Expressionism.
It took a physicist and painter to figure this out because "fractals" were discovered by the mathematician Benoit Mandelbrot in the 1970s while looking at a new form of geometry to describe the patterns left behind by the chaotic processes that underlay how natural systems, such as the weather, change with time. As Taylor describes it, fractals "consist of patterns that recur on finer and finer magnifications, building up shapes of immense complexity." Mandelbrot showed that the visual complexity of many natural objects, such as clouds and tree limbs, results from fractal repetition. And many aspects of human physiology are also built on fractals. As Taylor explains in another article, "fractals are so prevalent both inside and outside our bodies that they've earned themselves the dramatic title of being the 'fingerprints of nature.'" Not surprisingly, then, people are drawn to fractals. In fact, fractals of a certain dimension of complexity (measured by a D value between 1 and 2) actually have a physiological effect on people, putting them at ease.
And this is where Jackson Pollock comes in. Incredibly, his method created paintings, like Blue Poles, with D values in the exact range preferred by observers. In other words, Taylor says, Pollock "painted nature's fractals twenty-five years ahead of their scientific discovery" by Mandelbrot.
So, can anyone drip paint onto canvas, like Cassie and Mom did years ago, and produce a fractal expressionist painting that exerts such a draw on people that they are willing to pay up to $140 million for a single painting?
Sorry, but no. Taylor explains that "fractals are not an inevitable consequence of pouring paint but are instead the product of Pollock's particular technique." Contrary to popular belief, Pollock actually had a unique method that involved much more than just splattering blobs of paint onto a canvas. Rather, Pollock "developed a cumulative painting process of returning to his canvas regularly, building layer upon layer of poured paint." This ended up being very similar to nature's processes, such as the Grand Canyon being carved over eons by the Colorado River. Pollock seemed to understand this instinctively, as two of his more famous quotes are that "[m]y concerns are with the rhythms of nature" and "I am nature." (No one says Pollock was self-effacing.) So the next time you're looking at a piece of modern art and some philistine says "my kid could do that," you know the truth.
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I've made this zucchini bread multiple times since seeing it win a bake-off among a dozen recipes last August. Brad initially thought it was too sweet, especially with the crunchy topping made from sprinkling turbinado sugar on top, so I tried lowering the sugar in the bread itself, but that wasn't as good. In the latest testing, I went back to the original recipe, and we now agree it's perfect as is (even if it's not a work of art). And so simple to mix in one big bowl, as well as not having to wring out the grated zucchini. I've also made this with our gluten-free flour blend, adding in ½ teaspoon of xanthan gum, and it was fine, though not as good as with regular flour.
Zucchini Bread
Adapted from Deb Perelman via Smitten Kitchen
Time: 1:20 (18 minutes active)
Deb says that “it should be nonnegotiable” to wait a full 24 hours after baking to eat zucchini bread. Because the coating of raw or turbinado sugar makes the top crunchy, she suggests you store the bread in its pan, with just the cut side wrapped in foil, to retain the crunch.
2 large eggs (~57 grams each still in the shell)
140 grams (⅔ cup) olive oil or melted unsalted butter, or a combination
100 grams (½ cup) dark brown sugar
100 grams (½ cup) granulated white sugar
1 teaspoon (5 grams) vanilla extract
1 teaspoon fine sea salt
1¼ teaspoons ground cinnamon
⅛ teaspoon freshly grated nutmeg
¾ teaspoon baking soda
½ teaspoon baking powder
⅛ teaspoon freshly grated nutmeg
¾ teaspoon baking soda
½ teaspoon baking powder
370 grams (2 cups) grated zucchini (from 2 medium zucchini), grated on the large holes of a box grater and not wrung out
260 grams (~2 cups + 2 tablespoons) all-purpose flour
25 grams (2 tablespoons) raw or turbinado sugar
1. Place a rack in the center of the oven; heat to 350 degrees. Spray a 9-by-5-inch loaf pan lightly with nonstick spray.
2. Crack the eggs into a large bowl and whisk to break them up. Add the oil, sugars, and vanilla, and whisk until smooth.
3. Sprinkle
the salt, cinnamon, nutmeg, baking soda, and baking powder over the surface of the wet ingredients, and whisk until smooth.
4. Using a silicone spatula, stir in the grated zucchini. Add the flour and stir until just combined.
5. Scrape the batter into the prepared pan. Sprinkle the top with the raw or turbinado sugar. Bake until the bread is golden brown, springy to the touch, and a thin-bladed knife (like a paring knife) inserted into the center, and under the dome, comes out batter-free, 60 minutes or more. An instant-read thermometer inserted into the center should register ~200 to 205°F when the bread is baked through.
6. Transfer to a wire rack and let cool completely in the pan before slicing and serving (see note). Store leftovers in the pan, with just the cut end wrapped in foil, for up to 5 days.
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