among chemical equations and descriptions of
lab experiments were fanciful watercolors of
elf-like creatures. Some held dripping candles
beneath bubbling beakers. Others peeked out
from behind glass tubing, or struck a wry pose
beneath descriptions of lab procedures. Parrish
had even written up his experiment results in
immaculate calligraphy.
I knew then that I had to know more about
this notebook. What drove Parrish to draw
what he drew? What other illustrations did the
notebook contain? Was Parrish part of a larger
history of chemistry-based art, or art-infused
chemistry? And most importantly, when could I
see the notebook in person?
I would have to wait ten years to answer my
questions.
Chemistry is not the first realm of science
that one would expect to produce good art.
When I think of SciArt, I think of disciplines
like paleontology and ecology that feature
charismatic animals or picturesque landscapes.
My mind drifts to the bird paintings of John
James Audubon, the lively dinosaur drawings
of paleontologist Robert Bakker, or the clear
diagrams in Gray’s Anatomy. And few science
artifacts are as full of SciArt as field notebooks.
In fact, Michael Canfield, of Harvard
University, recently wrote a book on the
subject. Field Notes on Science & Nature explores
the significance of the field notebook in the
history of science, showing how scientists in
different fields used their notebooks to sketch,
scribble, and record ideas.
The lab notebooks in chemistry, though,
aren’t in the same category. “Lab notebooks, at
least as far as my general perception indicates,
are much more stereotyped and fo