Coral, Crochet and Hyperbolic Geometry . . .

Every year after the full moons in late October and November, Australia’s Great Barrier Reef begins its annual spawning — first the coral species inshore, where waters are warmer, then the offshore corals, the main event. Last year, this natural spectacle coincided with the woolly propagation of two new colonies of the Crochet Coral Reef, a long-running craft-science collaborative artwork now inhabiting the Schlossmuseum in Linz, Austria, and the Carnegie Museum of Art in Pittsburgh.

To date, nearly 25,000 crocheters (“reefers”) have created a worldwide archipelago of more than 50 reefs — both a paean to and a plea for these ecosystems, rainforests of the sea, which are threatened by climate change. The project also explores mathematical themes, since many living reef organisms biologically approximate the quirky curvature of hyperbolic geometry.

Within the realm of two dimensions, geometry deals with properties of points, lines, figures, surfaces: The Euclidean plane is flat and therefore displays zero curvature. By contrast, the surface of a sphere displays constant positive curvature; at all points, the surface bends inward toward itself. And a hyperbolic plane exhibits constant negative curvature; at all points, the surface curves away from itself. Reef life thrives on hyperbolism, so to speak; the curvy surface structure of coral maximizes nutrient intake, and nudibranchs propel through water with frilly flanges.

In the artworks, marine morphologies are modeled — crocheted — with loopy verisimilitude. A bit like Monet’s water lilies, the crochet corals are abstract representations of nature, said Christine Wertheim, an artist and writer now retired from the California Institute of the Arts. Dr. Wertheim is the driving artistic force behind the project, which she created with Margaret Wertheim, her twin sister, a science writer who is in charge of scientific and mathematical components as well as management. The Wertheims, Australians who live together in Los Angeles, spun out the mother reef from their living room many moons ago, in 2005.

Crochet Coral Reef exhibitions typically have two main components: The Wertheims provide an anchor, of sorts, with works from their collection that they have crocheted over the years. They also incorporate pieces by select skilled international contributors. One is a “bleached reef,” evoking corals stressed by increases in ocean temperature; another, a “coral forest” made from yarn and plastic, laments the debris that pollutes reef systems.

Then in response to an open call, volunteers far and wide crochet a pageant of individual specimens that agglomerate in a “satellite reef,” staged by a local curatorial team with guidance from the Wertheims. The Wertheims liken this hive mind to a friendly iteration of the Borg from “Star Trek: Next Generation.” All contributors are credited.

The largest satellite reef thus far coalesced in 2022 at the Museum Frieder Burda in Baden-Baden, Germany, with some 40,000 coral pieces by about 4,000 contributors. The Wertheims call this the Sistine Chapel of crochet reefs (documented in a splashy exhibition catalog). But the show at the Linz Schlossmuseum, which is dedicated to natural science as well as art and culture, is reminiscent of the work of the painter Giuseppe Arcimboldo, whose collage portraits from depictions of fruits, vegetables and flowers are “fantastically heterogeneous, also very funny and clever,” Ms. Wertheim said…

Evolution of a hyperbolic pseudosphere in crochet (by Cheryl, CC BY-SA 2.0 DEED via Flickr).

Excerpt:
When words aren’t enough to get people engaged in an environmental issue, it can be useful to try another medium

It’s hard to get people’s attention focused on the environment. Blame it on diminishing attention spans, overwhelming amounts of information, or simply the fact that people grow weary of hearing the same problems discussed to death.

The failing health of coral reefs might fall into this last category—a very real problem with the same sad story year after year. But no matter how many times a scientist talks about the perils of reefs around the world, some of the same problems never seem to go away.

In 2005, Los Angeles-based twin sisters, Margaret and Christine Wertheim tried a different approach to communications by starting the Crochet Coral Reef project. The idea was born from their love of the Great Barrier Reef, their oceanic neighbor, and their appreciation for handiwork and the community it can create, simply by participation. Margaret, with a background in physics, math and science communication, and Christine, a professor of experimental writing and feminism, created a revolutionary art program to engage the public in coral reef science…

The crocheted corals display hyperbolic geometry, a type of geometry that is neither planar nor spherical; Picture hyperbolic geometry as a sort of saddle shape with curves and dips. Nature loves hyperbolic geometry and you can see examples of it in the sea (sea slugs and corals) or in your salad bowl (curly kale leaves). As it turns out, crochet is a perfect medium for creating rippled, ruffled edges seen in corals.

People are invited to contribute to the Crochet Coral Reef project through workshops. At the workshops, participants crochet corals, adding their creations to the touring art instillation. In that approachable environment they end up being treated to scientific discussions of mathematics, marine biology, global warming and environmental conservation.

So far, the workshops have welcomed more than 8,000 people, most of whom are women, on five continents. And after 10 years, the Wertheim sisters still get requests from people to participate in workshops. “As a science communicator, and I’ve been one for 35 years, I’ve never seen any science communication that’s had this kind of grassroots engagement, ever,” said Margaret…