Zombies, Sibling Symmetries, and the Art of Going Rogue
On mountain detours, mathematical metaphors, and why going off-piste might just be the most creative choice of all.
Sunday, 22nd June
I write this surrounded by glass, sitting in the heart of a bowl of giant, snow sprinkled mountains.
I have gone rogue.
I am a bit of a stickler for structure, form and frameworks and this Substack was originally conceived to be a weekly articles three times a month based on a diary of my week, with a focus on getting my book published***, and the fourth week an update on my garden. So being week 3 in the cycle, this should have been about last week’s adventures in Revelstoke and, had I remained on track, you would have heard about:
the free, functional ferry - in reality the most breathtakingly beautiful ferry ride imaginable – taking us to soak in hot springs overlooking Upper Arrow Lake and the Monashee Mountains.
going for a walk in the woods next to the Jordan river, every hair on our bodies prickling and filled with primordial fear making loud yelping noises after my daughter informed us she had ‘forgotten the bear spray’.
visiting the Revelstoke Railway Museum and marvelling at the brilliant engineering and hideous human cost of building the Canadian Pacific Railroad.
you would also have heard about the extraordinary range of extremely delicious baked goods I sampled for you in the pursuit of research thoroughness.
However, on Thursday Suzy and I drove to Banff where she was due to catch a bus to visit a long lost friend in Edmonton. We had a great few days and I stored up lots of good things to tell you about including:
an unexpected gourmet lunch at a treasure trove of a bookshop in a town called Golden
parking in a rammed car park to share a view with a gazillion tourists of an admittedly stunning Emerald Lake whilst musing on how a functional, free ferry ride (see above) beat the experience hands down
being so wet and cold in the unexpected 3 degree June weather that we suffered (warmly) through a matinee of 28 Years Later (actually Suzy suffered through it. I left deciding being drenched by rain was preferable to watching our child hero drenched in blood as his arrow hit the throat of a slurping, slug like Zombie.)
being lucky enough to be in Banff for National Indigenous Peoples Day and spending an afternoon at the Indigenous artisans markets, listening to talks and conversation, watching - and joining – multi generational dancers.
But then, on Sunday morning, before she caught her 12:30 bus, I insisted on showing Suzy Banff Centre for Arts and Creativity.
And now we go off-piste.
Prosaically, the Banff Centre is a campus; a group of buildings ranging from spectacular to intimate in various architectural styles; studios, theatres, recital rooms, art gallery; recording studios; production facilities and on…
Poetically, and to me, it is a shining city of art on a hill. I say ‘to me’ because I have been here before many times. Not as a tourist. As an artist.
The first time, in 2003, was possibly the most bizarre:
I was a Professor of Film in Athens, Ohio and my brother, Andrew, a Professor of Mathematics at the Université de Montreal. Thanks to the innovative way he approached writing his research he had been invited to participate in the first ‘Mathematics and Creative Writing Workshop’ at the Banff International Research Station, which shares the campus of the Banff Centre for Arts & Creativity.
Andrew invited me to come saying it would be a great way for us to spend some time together and for him to introduce me to one of his favourite places in the world – Banff.
I pointed out that whilst I might qualify for the ‘creative writing’ element, the Math bit wasn’t something that by any stretch of the imagination I could contribute to. He said that’s why we were the dream team. My brother is very persuasive, Ohio University agreed to support my rather wooly ‘research’ proposal, and that is how, a couple of months later, I found myself in one of the most beautiful places on earth in the company of, amongst others:
· a topologist-geometer who wrote math related satire · an author on celestial dynamics · a writer on mathematical sculpture · a poet and professor of philosophy · an advocate and practitioner of ‘humanistic mathematics’
I did not have imposter syndrome. I was an imposter.
Following the obligatory ‘introduce yourself and your work to each other’ I wanted to leave just as badly as I wanted to leave the blood spurting zombie slug many years later. But I had skin in the game – my brother.
So I stayed. And marvelled at the genius – I do not use the word lightly – the genius of the company I had been parachuted into, the contemporary Leonardos and Sarrocchis. It was pretty marvellous seeing and hearing my brother being part of that company.
Andrew and I had agreed that, as I clearly couldn’t participate, I would be a sort of external ‘artist-in-residence’ writing something that commented on the week’s workshops.
Whilst most of the discussions went way over my head and out into the stratosphere, there were phrases - descriptions of algebraic structures, geometric applications – that were full of promise. After the day’s sessions - and the day’s outings to waterfalls, caves and mountain lookouts (there were a lot of perks) - Andrew and I would retreat to my bedroom so no one could see or hear us, and I would first quiz him on the meaning of a phrase I had heard, develop an idea for a poem around it and then quiz him as to whether it made mathematical sense. It was a pretty weird way to write poetry, but it was all I had.
By the end of the week I had three poems which I read, beyond nervous, at the final ‘sharing’. To my genuine amazement, and massive relief, the poems were received with genuine warmth that couldn’t entirely be due to alcohol as I read them quite early in the evening. The poems actually went on to be published in three consecutive American Mathematical Society Journals – one of the more, but not the most, whacky things on my resumé.
Before that week in Banff, I thought that what my brother and I did were impossibly different, that I was the creative one and he was the Math one and ne’er the twain shall meet. But that week I learned how arrogant that idea was. I also learned that I loved working with my brother, that finding ways to communicate in our different languages opened a world of possibilities. Which ultimately led to us co-writing a screenplay, performing live, musical performances and producing a graphic novel together –
Which is the whackiest thing on my resume.
Back to the future – arriving here with Suzy, showing her around, telling her about my mathematical poetry adventure, proved to be triggering. In a good way.
It reminded me of how ideas come from unlikely, impossible places. That if we – I mean if I - don’t take risks, go to uncomfortable even scary places, nothing interesting or exciting will ever happen. That doesn’t mean watching zombie movies, but it does mean grabbing the opportunities offered even if they seem too hard, too far away from what is known and understood – that is what mathematicians do, that is what artists do and that is what creativity is.
One of the poems:
A Ring is a Field if, and only if, all its Ideals are Trivial
And so I am now just one,
Divided neatly, cleanly,
Still whole, I think,
But merely a fraction of who
I was, before your manipulation.
The ring I twist and turn
I can’t remove,
It circles my finger
And I am trapped inside.
And so, you saw a clear field
Where three into two
Had a logic you allowed,
The inevitability of truth.
I twist and turn the ring,
Which retains its shape
Despite our division -
From the glory we were as two.
I always felt that we were
Part of the ideal, us two,
To me, the ideal was everything
To you, it was the triviality of zero.
I lose the ring, am forced into the field,
To learn how to live as one,
Or half, or maybe
Even two again.
***I had another rejection email this week. Still feeling positive that an agent bothered to actually write and say ‘no’.
From the Banff Arts Centre:
We recognize, with deep respect and gratitude, our home on the side of Sacred Buffalo Guardian Mountain. In the spirit of respect and truth, we honour and acknowledge the Banff area, known as “Minihrpa” (translated in Stoney Nakoda as “the waterfalls”) and the Treaty 7 territory and oral practices of the Îyârhe Nakoda (Stoney Nakoda) – comprised of the Bearspaw, Chiniki, and Goodstoney Nations – as well as the Tsuut’ina First Nation and the Blackfoot Confederacy comprised of the Siksika, Piikani, and Kainai. We acknowledge that this territory is home to the Shuswap Nations, Ktunaxa Nations, and Metis Nation of Alberta, Rockyview District 4. We acknowledge all Nations who live, work, and play here, help us steward this land, and honour and celebrate this place.