My bio art

Building Resilience: The Brain’s Default Mode Network and the Healing Power of Art

The default mode network (DMN) acts like a narrative builder, crafting our “inner storyteller” and creating our narrative that shapes who we think we are. It is a functional brain network pulling in crucial brain areas, working together like an autopilot. When we’re not focused on the outside world, the DMN takes the wheel, like a plane on autopilot — not shutting down but actively keeping our “mental flight” steady. Think of it as a background storyteller, piecing our memories, reflections, and plans into a continuous and cohesive inner world. This ongoing narrative builds our self-awareness of who we are across time.

The well-being of DMN is essential for resilience, our brain’s way of staying balanced and coherent, even under stress. Resiliency takes a hit when the DMN’s story gets messy or loses coherence. This disruption happens in some mental health conditions like schizophrenia and depression, where the internal storyline can break down, making it hard to feel grounded.

Now, there are many ways to help the DMN stay balanced — psychotherapy, medications, you name it. But I’m particularly interested in art, especially visual art. Recently, I came across a German study that looked at how making visual art can positively impact the DMN and, in turn, boost mental resilience. In this study, two groups of recently retired adults took part over 10 weeks. One group took a passive approach, engaging with art by looking and discussing, while the other actively created art.

Each person in the active group was encouraged to dive in and find their unique artistic style. And the results? The DMN activity went up in the art-making group! The researchers concluded that creating visual art isn’t just a brain exercise. It becomes a personal integrative experience — meaningfully bringing together different parts of ourselves.

If you’re curious to dive deeper into the science behind the DMN, this article is a solid, peer-reviewed resource that’s free to access. Quick note: they focus on visual art in the study, which doesn’t mean other art forms, like music, don’t have similar effects — but sticking to specifics is critical when drawing conclusions.

A Personal Integrative Experience

To me, “disintegration” is a fitting term for those mentally tough times: stress, anxiety, lack of motivation. I’m not talking about clinical terms like burnout, anxiety disorders, or depression — those are complex diagnoses for professionals. But when our internal storyline falls apart, resilience suffers, making it hard to feel hopeful or dream big. . Academia took me to this imbalance. Not everyone feels this way, but academia’s pressures hit me hard. Maybe my younger self, inspired by Carl Sagan, had a bit of a naïve view of science, which left me more open to disappointment.

Disintegration - The Cure

Yeah, I miss the kiss of treachery

The shameless kiss of vanity

The soft and the black and the velvety

Up tight against the side of me

And mouth and eyes and heart all bleed

And run in thickening streams of greed

As bit by bit, it starts the need

To just let go, my party piece

Yeah, I miss the kiss of treachery

The shameless kiss before I feed

The stench of a love for younger meat

And the sound it makes when it cuts in deep

The holding up on bended knees

The addiction of duplicities

As bit by bit, it starts the need

To just let go, my party piece

But I never said I would stay to the end

I leave you with babies and hoping for secrecy

Screaming like this in the hope of sincerity

Scream with me over and over and over

I leave you with photographs, pictures of trickery

Stains on the carpet and stains on the scenery

Songs about happiness murmured in dreams

And we both of us knew how the ending would be

So it’s all come back round to breaking apart again

Breaking apart like I’m made up of glass again

Making it up behind my back again

Making it afraid for the fear of sleep again

Pushed in deep to bare bone again

Take him outside like he’s all on his own again

Round and round and round, it’s coming apart again

Over and over and over

Now that I know that I’m breaking to pieces

I’ll pull out my heart and I’ll feed it to anyone

Crying for comfort, crocodiles cry

For the love of the crowd and the three cheers from everyone

Dropping through sky, through the glass of the roof

Through the roof of your mouth, through the mouth of your eye

Through the eye of the needle, it’s easier for me

To get closer to heaven than ever feel whole again

I never said I would stay to the end

I’d leave you with babies and hoping for secrecy

Screaming like this in the hole of sincerity

Scream with me over and over and over

I leave you with photographs, pictures of trickery

And stains on the carpet and stains on the memory

Songs about happiness murmured in dreams

And we both of us knew how the end always is

How the end always is

Always is

Always

Always is

Art Put All My Shit Together

It took me years to realize I couldn’t just talk my way out of every disintegrating moment. Sometimes, putting those raw, intense feelings into words was impossible. That’s when I started painting, finally making a longtime dream come true: capturing the beauty of biology through art. Botanicals still charm me most of all the microscopic wonders I’ve seen. I dreamed of turning them into something beautiful, like porcelain plates. But why porcelain?

It’s a mix of things. There’s the memory of all that kitschy floral porcelain I grew up with — and then the truly stunning pieces I’d occasionally come across. I’ve always wondered if people realize how gorgeous plant roots are. That’s where I started. But, I quickly learned that reproducing these images isn’t easy. This wasn’t art in the free, creative sense; it was handcraft. And don’t get me wrong, I love handcrafted pieces; I buy them often! However, in crafts, skills usually matter more than creativity. And having spent my life in academia developing technical skills, I wasn’t looking to do that here. I wanted the presumed madness, the freedom that art promises.

I know that artists also dedicate themselves to studying and refining their skills, but that’s not where I’m at. For me, art became an open-air refuge with no walls and no rules. I started with porcelain and eventually moved on to watercolors. I began with biology: neurons, plant cells, and microscopic structures. Then I painted happy, sunny scenes: older ladies at the beach, bright windows, and pieces of everyday life. On my most disintegrating days, painting became my voice, a way to rebuild resilience like a kid finding calm through inks.

I invite you to visit my Instagram to see my wordless world.