When Science Meets Art: Understanding Parasites Through Creative Expression

Interview by Hayden Krause

Dr. Jerri Bartholomew is a retired professor of microbiology at Oregon State University and a previous member on the ASP awards committee. Jerri remains in touch with her research through her continued role as the Director of the J. L. Fryer Aquatic Animal Health Laboratory and expression of her scientific findings using art. Her work primarily focused on understanding the impacts of a myxozoan parasite Ceratonova shasta, on fish health in the Klamath River Basin. This research has helped encourage the recent removal of 4 large hydroelectric dams on the Klamath River, the largest dam removal project in history, to preserve salmon populations. Beyond the lab, Jerri uses glass art to illustrate her scientific findings, creating powerful visual representations of the effects of dams and parasites on salmon populations. Through both her research and artistic expression, Jerri continues to share the story of the Klamath River’s restoration to viewers of all backgrounds.

1. What first drew you to studying fish health and myxozoan parasites? Was there a particular moment or experience that set you on this career path?

   
   

Like many of us, I started out with a much broader interest, mine was in marine biology. It wasn't until I finished my bachelor's degree and started taking post-graduate courses that I took a class in fish diseases. I was fascinated, I had never thought about wildlife diseases and there was so little known about diseases of fish beyond what occurred in hatcheries, and even that was constantly evolving as a new field. My experience with microbiology as an undergraduate had been less than inspirational, so I'm glad I had the opportunity to revisit the field from another angle.  This led me to ask John Fryer, the course instructor, if I could join his laboratory (I was terribly naive about how entering graduate school worked), and he said he would give me a try. My first project was on the bacterial pathogen Vibrio anguillarum, looking at aspects of iron sequestration. But then in lab one day I heard someone say that I would be spending my summer doing fieldwork on the myxozoan Ceratomyxa shasta. It was news to me, but that summer took me to sites across the Pacific NW and started my interest in disease in wild ecosystems. And under the microscope, myxozoans are so much more interesting to look at than bacteria (my opinion, but true).

2.        You’ve worked in many river systems, but much of your research and artistic inspiration comes from the Klamath River. What makes this river so compelling to you?

During graduate school my research was centered in the Columbia River Basin, but at one point we went to Upper Klamath Lake to investigate a C. shasta mortality event. I was intrigued by this system in part because its geology is so different from other rivers (its commonly referred to as "upside down" because the wetlands that remain are at the headwaters and the canyons in the lower basin), but what was happening there felt different than the patterns we were seeing in the Columbia basin. I didn't return to that river for nearly 20 years, when we started a research and monitoring program in the Klamath basin that has now lasted over 20 years. Some of the things that inspire me about the Klamath are its remoteness and beauty, but its richness of resources have made it vulnerable, and its character has been altered by mining, logging, hydropower and agriculture.

3.        Your glass artwork illustrates concepts from your research. Has creating these pieces deepened your understanding of myxozoans or shaped how you communicate your science?

I do feel that taking the time to carefully look at something as an artist does bring a different understanding. Similar to detailed botanical drawing, looking at the parasites themselves at that level of detail and concentration opens you to new questions (why do some myxozoans have ribs and not others, why do the suture lines run along this axis in one species and the other axis in another?). I think the best example of what I learned was by creating a series of tiles that represented annual data for temperature, water flow and pathogen abundance. By having to create it physically I paid more attention to questions like what scale or timeframe should be used, and I started to see patterns that I hadn't considered before. It brought me back to the table asking a lot of questions about what happened in certain years when fish numbers didn't correlate with predicted impacts. (Photo of "There will be Good Years". Pieces like this also allow you to talk with the public, and I've had some great conversations when this has been in shows.)

4.        One of my favorite projects of yours is And the Dams Come Down, where ‘ghost fish’ represent the historical distribution of salmon in the Klamath River. Is there a particular piece that stands out as especially meaningful to you?

The piece you mention "And the Dams Come Down" is my latest work in this series and it represents an outcome that we've been working to achieve for many years. The piece was challenging, because its large (approximately 8' x 8') and I hadn't really considered what an odd shape the river was before I started cutting it out of sign board - another example of how, despite having looked at maps hundreds of times, I didn't really understand the river.  This piece is meant to show what was lost with construction of the dams - the ghost runs that became extinct. But it is also a dynamic piece, and as the dams were removed in real life, they were removed in this sculpture, and ghost salmon can be replaced as salmon return to the upper basin. I want this piece to be shown over the years, and eventually to have no white fish remaining.

[For more information, check out OSU Productions' "And the Dams Come Down"]

5.        What advice would you give young professionals interested in parasitology, or to artists looking to integrate science into their work?

For undergrads - find a lab to work in, even if you have to volunteer. And ask questions! Studying parasitology for me has been a way to understand how organisms interact and how that is affected by their surroundings. I was lucky to have found a single host-parasite system that I could devote a career to, and although as a lab we have made tremendous inroads in understanding, there is still so much we don't know. So, find questions that interest you and be open to looking at those questions using new systems. And trust your gut, but don't be stubborn about it. For artists, I think every lab should have a resident artist, and I think many labs are open to that, they just don't know how to open the discussion. Scientists need to understand that artists, like everyone else in their lab, need to make a living. So, these relationships often involve writing grants, but they can start with an opportunity to get involved in fieldwork and asking questions.

6.        Lastly, do you have any funny stories from your time in the lab or field?

Two actually.

The first was when I finally, after 16 years, solved the life cycle of C. shasta. The fish died, the parasite was present, but it was Christmas break and the entire lab was gone when I went to announce my discovery. On the plus side, I didn't have to share the bottle of champagne. 

The second, perhaps not so funny at the time, was on a field trip with my first graduate student, during his first week of work, and I broke a bone in my leg. The poor guy had to drive for two days over miles of rough gravel roads while I winced every time he hit a bump. Painful, but this did give me the credibility to say you better have a really good excuse not to finish your work.