Like a Venus figurine carved by our Upper Paleolithic ancestors, my female fertility figure is in a painted garden, growing her lineage from the shape of the double helix.
Science sparking my art
The science sparking my art.
Like all kids, I loved to draw and make and mess around in the mud. But the photographs of almost-human skulls on the pages of the National Geographic magazines in my childhood were the spark for a lifelong interest in paleoanthropology.
Fossils from the Great Rift Valley hinted at our ancient origins, but the story came in bits and pieces, heavy on speculation. Where do we come from? Will we ever really know? I wanted answers.
Most of us drift from creative play to serious work, but I kept drawing and making right through school, into college and graduating with a studio arts degree from the University of Minnesota.
I built an illustration and design business in Minneapolis with diverse clients and projects. Good work, steady work — but none touched on science.
On my own time, I tracked the progress of the Human Genome Project. Exciting stuff — and compelling. Here was a way to look at the age-old questions of human evolution with actual evidence. Bones and genes together were beginning to reveal stories of our species we thought lost forever.
As scientific discovery accelerated, attacks on expertise were escalating with the ‘intelligent design’ argument. It infuriated me. Even then, scientists were saying evolutionary perspectives are essential to understanding health, disease, and the future of medicine.
I followed every development, waiting and wondering — will scientists sequence everyone’s DNA? Could I get mine sequenced?
Catching the spark.
In 2005, an opportunity appeared: the Genographic Project — a non-profit research foundation and one of the first to offer DNA sequencing to the public. I ordered the kit, swabbed my cheek, mailed my sample, and waited. What ancient stories would my modern DNA reveal?
The report showing Northern European ancestry was no surprise. But the potential — genomics expanding the ancient human story with actual evidence — was exhilarating.
I had to be part of this. What could I contribute? As the attacks on science continued the moment felt urgent — I started to write and draw to explain the science of the magnificent genome.
It was exhilarating to be untethered from making art for commerce and start on a new path, art for science.
What I discovered.
My first body of work was the DNA Portraits. Artwork with a human face naturally captivates us, yet the portraits needed more. I wanted to explain the evolutionary science behind the data on the maps, so each portrait got a companion storyboard. You can read about the step-by-step process to make a portrait here.
It was an experiment: could art and story together communicate complex concepts in a more engaging way? Would the pairing elicit the same wonder I felt when learning my own genome story?
The gallery was crowded during the opening of the DNA Portrait Exhibit. Five portraits of people from diverse backgrounds — and their friends and family were in the mix.
I watched as they studied a portrait, read the storyboard alongside it, looked again at the artwork. Animated conversations grew all around. I overheard someone say, “Ah-ha, I get it!”
That was the confirmation. Since then I’ve experimented with new pairings — animated videos to explain complex concepts, art and story social media posts, printed books like “Decoding Plant Genomes.”
Even my less literal work — the fine art prints — comes with explanations of the science behind each image. A short story about genome engineering, genetic ancestry, mechanisms of evolution.
Why It matters.
We must be genome-literate to guide ethical applications and demand sensible public policies. Future generations are counting on us to get it right.
That’s why I went on a mission to show the beauty and value of our magnificent genomes. We’re all Genome Explorers now — and I plan to stay in the thick of it.