Cyborg Sea Anemone

Cyborg Sea Anemone © Glendon Mellow 2017, Shareable under (CC BY-NC 3.0)

Cyborg Sea Anemone © Glendon Mellow 2017, Shareable under (CC BY-NC 3.0)

This morning's sketch. Just a Cyborg Sea Anemone trundling along on the ocean floor in search of food. When coral reefs die you gotta go where the food is at and give up on the sessile lifestyle.

Desperate times, man, desperate times. 

Might paint this one in ArtRage later. 

Might paint this one in ArtRage later. 

It Begins


When I started my new full time job at Combustion Training earlier this summer, I treated myself to a new Moleskine sketchbook. if there's one thing I've realized, it can be hard for m to create when I'm worried about job hunting and paying the bills.

Time to start drawing and sketching daily again! Woke up at 6:30 today and scribbled this out. 


A Definition of Covfefe

One more entry into last night's meme-fest on the US President's bizarrely unfinished, long-published typo:

A Decade: The Flying Trilobite blog turns 10 today

As of today, The Flying Trilobite blog celebrates 10 years of surreal scientific illustration!

Please enjoy this embarrassing throwback blog banner. 

*shiver* there's a decent painting hidden somewhere under lens flare and Trebuchet. 

My sincere thanks to everyone who has popped in and out of my fine art, science communication, social media, and blog writing career so far. It's been appropriately filled with unexpected art and work opportunities, and even more surprising and wonderful friendships. And most of all, thanks to my wife Michelle who has been so supportive of my strange career path. 

The majority of the posts on this blog were written in the hours before dawn, and every time I sat down to sketch, or paint, or blog before I went off to whatever job I had at the time, I was a little more buoyant for the rest of the day. A little stronger, and my mind ticking a little faster. Looking forward to what was next.

I'll never regret getting a bat-winged trilobite tattoo on my arm, because this blog marks about a quarter of my life now. And I'm not stopping. Although it may seem like I blog less often, in reality it's even more, just in more places. I owe it all to carving out this space for myself and for others to step into. 

THERE WILL BE A CONTEST TO MARK THIS MOMENTOUS OCCASION LATER THIS MONTH AND YOU CAN WIN SOME ORIGINAL ART.  It will probably contain a fossil that is not scientifically sound. 

Busy Days Ahead

Some busy days ahead!

The 3rd Annual #SciArt Tweet Storm starts on March 1st! A whole week of hundreds of artists tweeting art inspired by science with the #SciArt hashtag. The Symbiartic crew (Kalliopi Monoyios, Katie McKissick, and myself) will be retweeting a ton of them from the @Symbiartic account. 

In addition, something I'm super excited about: the new will be launching several hours after I post this. Check it out for some more news. We're launching something I hope will be a huge help to science communication - editors, bloggers, journalists, and of course artists or call kinds; cartoonists, fine artists, scientific illustrators, bioartists and more. Don't miss it. 

On a more personal note, I am working on a portrait for a scientist (and friend!) I admire. More on that pretty soon. 

AND! This here purty ol' Flying Trilobite blog turns 10 years old on the tail end of the #SciArt Tweet Storm! Watch for a contest announcement and a chance to win an original painting. 

(Gotta get started making the painting you can win! Add that to my to-do list...)

When searching for full-time work, it can be a challenge to remember what drives you forward. In my case, every career advancement I've had in the past 10 years, from speaking engagements, to professional writing, to social media management, stems from sharing my art on The Flying Trilobite blog, and experimenting with ways to build the sciart community. I'll have more to say on the actual blogiversary, but for now, thank you to everyone who encourages my work. Professionally I'm in a tough transition right now, and your support means an incredible amount to me. 

How to Destroy Priceless Works of Art

As hostility towards art mounts, we may have to learn to accept the ephemeral. Call it a coping mechanism, dammit.

Let’s jump right in and learn how to destroy the irreplaceable fruits of human creativity and hard-won skill. 

How to Destroy Watercolours

Often the simplest way to destroy watercolours is to simply do nothing. Wood pulp contains acids generated by the enzyme lignin that will over time, cause paper to yellow, become somewhat fuzzy on the surface and easily torn. If you want to speed up the process, simply turn on the lights. It’ll help the lignin break down faster, so it yellows and deteriorates even faster.

Not a watercolour, but my favourite book of art criticism. D.G. Rossetti from The Langham Series of Monographs, published in 1906. You can see the yellowing acutely: every time I read its pages in the light, I’m hastening its demise.

Not a watercolour, but my favourite book of art criticism. D.G. Rossetti from The Langham Series of Monographs, published in 1906. You can see the yellowing acutely: every time I read its pages in the light, I’m hastening its demise.

The way lignin acidifies and destroys paper was only really identified in the 1930s, so there are plenty of old watercolours you can get rid of. These days watercolour paper comes in multiple levels of quality, the way most art materials do, and they range from papers bathed in a pH-neutral solution to counteract the acids, to ones with the lignin removed altogether. And while tradition methods of fire, ripping and tearing, and being trampled by horses will destroy a watercolour, if you yearn for the yellowy, brittle acidic old days, all you need to do is take some cheap newsprint paper and tuck the watercolour firmly into its folds. The acid from the newsprint will soak into the archival watercolour and begin its demise. For best result, change the newsprint every so often and keep it in the light.

How to Destroy Oil Paintings

Oil paintings are painted on canvas, and again, in some cases the best idea is to let the materials destroy themselves. Before 20th century chemistry, raw cotton or linen canvas was coated with a glue size to protect the surface from moisture. The most common glue size is rabbit-skin glue, a smelly and horrible substance, as I discovered when I had to double-boil some for an art history of materials class. After the rabbit skin glue is applied, some of it was mixed with calcium carbonate to create gesso, the common fine art primer. (Modern jars of acrylic based “gesso” are gesso the way “processed cheese food” is cheese.)

So the cool thing about all this rabbit skin glue if you want to destroy classic oil paintings: it is reactive to humidity. This is why art galleries maintain meticulous climates inside. The rabbit skin glue can expand and contract with humidity levels. Oh oh oh! and so can the wooden support the canvas is stretched on! All that wood to warp, and expanding and contracting glue will cause the oil paintings to crack right the hell up, from fine spiderweb-like wrinkles to vast chasms crosscrossing the portrait or landscape. So take an oil painting into a sauna, then a desert. In the same week.

If you’d instead like to destroy an oil painting and leave a personally incriminating mark on it as well (you cheeky bastard), simply press your thumb or finger into the oil surface. Even with varnishes, the natural oils and acids in your touch can slowly cause your fingerprint to appear, ruining the painting.

Of course with oil paintings there also the whole oil-is-flammable thing. The vegetable oils and turpentine they’re made with are ripe for lighting up. As what seems to have happened to the stolen paintings from the Rotterdam Kunsthal museum in 2012 when thieves took these paintings:

Charing Cross Bridge, London. 1901. Claude Monet

Charing Cross Bridge, London. 1901. Claude Monet

Waterloo Bridge, London, 1901. Claude Monet.

Waterloo Bridge, London, 1901. Claude Monet.

Femme devant une fenêtre ouverte, dite la Fiancée, 1888. Paul Gauguin.

Femme devant une fenêtre ouverte, dite la Fiancée, 1888. Paul Gauguin.

Woman with Eyes Closed, 2002. Lucien Freud.

Woman with Eyes Closed, 2002. Lucien Freud.

Autoporträt, 1889–1891. Meyer de Haan

Autoporträt, 1889–1891. Meyer de Haan

La Liseuse en Blanc et Jaune, 1919. Henri Matisse.

La Liseuse en Blanc et Jaune, 1919. Henri Matisse.

Tête d’Arlequin, 1971. Pablo Picasso.

Tête d’Arlequin, 1971. Pablo Picasso.

All images of the stolen Rotterdam Kunsthal paintings were distributed by police and are considered open source. Copied from Spiegel Online.

The technique for destroying these works of art is more complicated but not really. First, you are smart enough to plan an art heist that baffles police, but dumb enough to steal priceless works of art you have no hope of selling due to their notoriety. Then, after a year or so, let your mother burn them all in an oven. From Spiegel Online:

Six Romanians have been charged with the theft, and are currently awaiting trial. Olga Dogaru, the mother of one of the accused, told Romanian TV last week that she had incinerated the paintings in a stove after the arrest of her son. The thieves had been unable to find buyers for the works and she was worried about being discovered, she said. Forensic specialists have since inspected the stove and found evidence of “painting primer, the remains of canvas and paint,” Ernest Oberlander-Tarnoveanu, director of Romania’s National History Museum, told the Associated Press.


How to Destroy Sculpture

Erosion is too slow. Instead try either madness or xenophobia.

For madness, let’s take a look at Michaelangelo’s Pietà.

Pietà, 1498–1499. Michaelangelo. Image from Wikimedia Commons, uploaded by Stanislav Traykov.

Pietà, 1498–1499. Michaelangelo. Image from Wikimedia Commons, uploaded by Stanislav Traykov.

Michaelangelo’s Pietà is a major work for many reasons, including that no one had ever depicted Mary and her son in this pose before. Typically, Christ was laying across the ground with his head in his mother’s lap. Michaelangelo played with senses of scale to evoke a mother cradling her baby: if Mary were to stand up she would be a massive giant despite her delicate and youthful head. In 1972, a disturbed geologist shouted “I am Jesus Christ” and attacked the massive Pietà with a hammer, managing to knock off a number of marble pieces, many of which were taken and never returned, including Mary’s nose. (It was later re-sculpted out of a portion removed from the back of the statue.)

For xenophobia, we turn to the Buddhas at Bamiyan.

The taller of the Buddhas of Bamiyan, before and after destruction. From Wikimedia, photos by A. Lezine and Carl Montgomery.

The taller of the Buddhas of Bamiyan, before and after destruction. From Wikimedia, photos by A. Lezine and Carl Montgomery.

Carved into a cliff face along the Silk Road in Afghanistan in the 6th century, these caught the ire of the Taliban who decided, “the statues were against Islam”. In the late 1990’s, holes were drilled into their faces for dynamite. This actually parallels a Christian practice of transforming pagan Roman temples into churches, and one of the acts was typically to behead or deface (literally ruin the face) of statues of Roman deities, often burying them under the new Church’s foundation.

In March 2001, the Buddhas of Bamiyan were blown up, despite international protest and an offer from India to remove them to that country.

March 21, 2001, the Buddhas were blown up by the Taliban. Image from Wikimedia, originally from CNN.

March 21, 2001, the Buddhas were blown up by the Taliban. Image from Wikimedia, originally from CNN.

Art that Destroys Itself

Some art is created to decay, to evoke feelings of impermanence and dissolution. The destroyers are ultimately artists in the post-modern tradition who prefer their work to be fleeting. Andy Goldsworthy for example often works with objects found in nature such as icicles, pine cones, clay and coloured earth and bright autumn leaves, sculpting their forms into elaborate, not-quite natural structures. If you haven’t seen his film Rivers and Tides, you owe it to yourself as a human being.

Image still from Andy Goldsworthy: A Collaboration with Nature film. Used under Fair Use. Purchase on Amazon, you won’t regret it.

Image still from Andy Goldsworthy: A Collaboration with Nature film. Used under Fair Use. Purchase on Amazon, you won’t regret it.

Want to Preserve Some Illustration?

Okay. So that was somehow both enraging and cathartic. I hate to see beautiful and provocative art destroyed without the agency of the artist.

If you do too, and would like to preserve some medical art, I strongly recommend donating to the Vesalius Trust. Medical and life science illustrators can will their work to the Trust after they die for preservation (there is no provision for digital work at the moment). When I met members of the Vesalius Trust at the AMI meeting in Toronto in 2012, I can confirm that they are absolutely passionate about the preservation of artwork. They cannot however, intervene to save artwork being mauled and destroyed by criminal acts. They’re almost super heroes, but not quite.

This list could have been tragically longer. I could have mentioned the destruction of Piss Christ by Andres Serrano at the hands of Christian zealots. My own anecdotes of people touching my still-wet oils. And what new works will be destroyed in America in the next four years? What amazing works will never be created by marginalized people targeted by a government of white supremacists? 

Alright, maybe I’m not as calmed down as I thought. Time to go and watch Goldsworthy’s Rivers and Tides again to calm down and accept the ephemeral.

Originally published on Symbiartic at, July 23rd, 2013. I have lightly edited the opening and some phrasing. You can also read and share this post on Medium.

Solve One Problem, Solve The Next

I've been repeating variations of this quote every day for the past couple of weeks for personal reasons. It's from The Martian, directed by Ridley Scott, screenplay by Drew Goddard, starring Matt Damon as astronaut-botanist Mark Watney. 

Solve one problem, solve the next. 

Shared it on Twitter, and maybe some other people will find it useful today. 


Solve one problem, solve the next. 

How To Talk To a Roomful of Artists Who Are Better Than You

Here are my public speaking tips when speaking to a roomful of artists who are better than you. Okay, first let's define "better".

  • I have an Honours Bachelor of Fine Arts, and tend to paint dead ocean critters with ridiculous wings on them.
  • I have spoken to artist groups such as Association of Medical Illustrators and Guild of Natural Science Illustrators, many of whom have graduated from programs like the Biomedical Communications Graduate program at the University of Toronto and know what the thing at the back of your throat is called and how to draw it in cross section as well as animate it wiggling when you sing karaoke. Scientific illustrators create artwork that can save lives, inspire conservation efforts, and visualize trips to space. This post is based on a presentation I gave in front of life-saving medical illustrators. So that's what I mean by "better".

My tips:

One of my first slides, showing a flying trilobite painting. I let descriptive blurbs on the slides tell the jokes for me. © Glendon Mellow.

1. Be willing to laugh at yourself. Poke a bit of fun at your own work. Although I think wielding the power of evocative visual metaphors is one of the highest intellectual pursuits of humankind, I have to admit painting wings on trilobites is pretty weird. Hopefully this disarms any audience naysayers who wonder what you are doing there and makes discussing your work easier for others. If you don't treat your own paintings as precious, highly-evolved concepts above the likes of normal mortals, you are easier for people to relate to. For some reason.

I almost didn't include the hashtag info here. It felt like I was putting too much text on the slide.

2. Don't read from the slides. Slides should be visuals to illustrate your points, not where you keep your points. <--SERIOUSLY, THAT'S THE MOST IMPORTANT TIP ON HERE. This talk was only 20 minutes, so there was a lot of ground to cover. I included this slide (above) near the end as one I could quickly whip through if my time was almost done, or I could linger on if my talk still had extra time due to drinking 5 coffees that morning and talking like a squirrel. 

Talkin' Twitter at the Association of Medical Illustrators. Thanks to Julie Saunders for the photo!

3. Share useful tools. There's a tendency in artists and illustrators to want to always maintain some professional mystique, to keep the aura of Why You Are So Great a bit of a mystery so that no one replicates your success. We all need to fight that and share techniques with each other. During this presentation, I shared why I think Twitter is a great tool for nuanced, complicated arguments by using what's know as the "Twitter essay" (increasingly misidentified as a "tweet storm" these days, whatevs).

Oh, and in case you're wondering about how to write a Twitter essay without looking like a noob:

The Twitter Essay: keep replying to each of your own sequential tweets (delete your @name), and use 1/m, 2/n until you are finished. Then, when someones sees 32/n retweeted into their feed, they can click on it and see the whole thread.

4. Don't be creepy. You want to share enough about yourself to show how everyone's professional journey is similar, but each has unique twists and turns in the story. But if you throw random personal stories out there without a point, it can come off creepy. That's why I never tell anyone my "broken zipper at a friend's wedding" story. It goes nowhere. Always bring it back around to the work and your drive for why you do what you do.

Talking about our Symbiartic blog means talking about the #SciArt community.

5. Open doors. When I talk about Symbiartic, I talk about the things that I feel are important to the #sciart community. Copyright and attribution issues. Respect for illustrators as effective science communicators alongside journalists. The power of banding together on issues that matter. Sharing art techniques and ideas. When I speak to professional scientific illustrators, I hope to convince them to get out of their studio-and-peers bubble a bit and share more of their work and expertise with the wider world of science communication. Insight should be shared.

Giving any sort of talk to artists and illustrators should be a call to action, a call to communicate. It's not just self-promotion, it's about participating in a wider community.

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A version of this post originally appeared on Symbiartic, the Scientific American art+science blog in July, 2014. It has been lightly edited.