Monthly Archives: June 2013

Confession of a Paris rookie: I want to combine jazz & rap — jazzap!

Dear Paris,

You are confusing. I can’t quite figure you out, especially your music taste. While I really appreciate all the wonderful musicians you have hired to serenade me in different locations, your musicians are all over the place. (no pun intended) Despite my confusion, I don’t mind it at all. I enjoy the soulful reggae of Ben L’oncle’s Sympathique, the vibrant enthusiasm of Zaz’s Je veux, and the electric simplicity of Stromae’s Alor on danse.   (click on the title of the songs for a listen 🙂 )

There are some data suggesting that the shape of one’s skull influences music preference due to the differing resonant properties of the person’s skull (Suwangbutra et al, 2013). I may never know why I prefer classical over screamo or why you have such diverse preference. I guess you’re that type who listens to everything.

parc flor de paris, place full of funk and jazz.

However, it would be a sin not to mention the funky side of you. For eight consecutive weekends in the beautiful parc floral, the Paris jazz festival pleases both jazz aficionados and the rookies (like me) to enjoy the diversity and history of jazz. This past Saturday, Max, Dr.Frenzel and I were able to swing by and embrace its dynamic colors. Under the warm embracing sun, we had a mini picnic on the lawn while listening to Guillaume perret & the electric epic and Céline Bonacina Trio. Unlike any other genre, jazz offers the freedom in which the musicians can deviate from the written sheet music. There is some organization and planning, such as the chord progression or the specific pattern of rhythms that loosely outline the performance, but there’s always that unknown factor. The unpredictable part (like the spontaneous saxophone solos or that mystery flavor of Airheads you’re really curious about) is a challenging yet an exciting process for both the musician and the audience.

music + beautiful weather + picnic food + good people = THE life

So what happens if you put bunch of jazz musicians in a brain scanner? Charles Limb, a doctor & a musician at Johns Hopkins and Adam Braun, the chief of the language section in the National Institute of Health, did exactly that. They wanted to find out the exact brain recipe of this musical improvisation, which they viewed as a form of spontaneous creative behavior (Limb, 2008). They hypothesized that the brain was using ordinary mental processes in a new funky combination, similar to how ordinary food items can be combined to create a bizarre flavor, such as asparagus and banana. To summarize, they wanted to see how the brain acted under well rehearsed process vs spontaneous process.

Six full-time male professional musicians, all proficient in jazz piano, participated in the study. Those six musicians all went through four musical conditions while under an fMRI scan (measures brain activity by looking at blood oxygen level at various regions. The activity and the blood oxygen level are positively correlated). The four conditions were….

  1. ScaleCtrl condition: playing rehearsed scale (set of 8 notes)
  2. ScaleImprov condition: improvising within the same notes as ScaleCtrl of the scale but only changing the order of the notes
  3.  JazzCtrl condition: playing rehearsed jazz sheet music
  4.  JazzImprov condition: improvising within the same chord progression of the JazzCtrl, changing the order and the rhythm of the notes.

The scale and the jazz condition differ in complexity. ScaleImprov condition, which has one factor to manipulate, is much easier than JazzImprov condition, which has two factors to manipulate. These four conditions not only reveal the different brain activity between learned processes and improvised processes but also illustrate how the varying levels of improvisation would influence brain activity.

jazzy musician in her vibrant orange outfit. I wonder what her brain is doing..

Compared to the controls, the fMRI images showed similar pattern of activation for both improv conditions. All six musicians, under the improv conditions, shared these four brain activities..

  1. widespread deactivation in DLPFC dorsolateral-prefrontal cortex (DLPFC brain area involved in many cognitive functions like planning, organization, and inhibition)
  2. increased MPFC (medial prefrontal cortex) 
  3. increased sensorimotor activity
  4. gradually decreasing limbic activity (area involved in emotions and memory). 

To further summarize, the musicians were thinking less, planning less, feeling less and were just playing the music. 

This research is one of the first neuroscience studies looking at the neural mechanism of creativity in jazz, and it has already inspired studying another type of improvisation – free style rapping. In addition to the notes and the rhythm, the rappers also have to consider what words to say within a short frame of time, adding another layer of complexity. The overall data has yielded very similar results (Liu, 2012). Jazz musicians and rappers aren’t so different!

what if they can sax it up with some jazzy improv?

What if Armstrong could freestyle rap?

 

Initially I viewed creativity as an identity that only existed in small fleeting moments, but now it has redefined itself as another beautiful brain puzzle that researchers have solved. I am still in love with the “mystery flavor” of jazz, but I can’t wait for that one day where I get to see the fMRI scans of Kanye West and Jay-Z doing jazzap, a delightful fusion of rap and jazz. Genre of the summer? I think so.

Sehe Han

References

Limb CJ, Braun AR. (2008). Neural substrates of spontaneous musical performance: an fMRI study of jazz improvisation. PloS one 3: 1 – 9 

Liu S, Chow HM, Xu Y, Erkkinen MG, Swett KE, Eagle MW, Rizik-Baer DA, Braun AR (2012) Neural correlates of lyrical improvisation: an fMRI study of freestyle rap. Scientific reports 2: 834

Suwangbutra J, Tobias R, Gordon MS. (2013) Music of the body: An investigation of skull resonances and its influences on musical preferences. Proceedings of meetings on acoustics 19: 1 -5

Image references (from Creative Commons)

http://liquorandkarate.com/wp-content/uploads/2012/08/KANYE_WEST_JAY_Z.jpg

You just cross the rivers and turn right!

Yesterday was our TA, Kris’ 25th birthday, and to celebrate we decided to go out to dinner.  He made reservations at Galerie 88, at 88 Quai de l’Hôtel de ville, Paris.  Like usual, I looked up how to get there and found the route below:

Directions from Cite Universitaire to Galerie 88

I thought that the easiest way was to get off the RER, cross both rivers, and turn right. Turns out that our TA ended up coming with us and he looked up directions as well, but in a different way than I did.  Instead of just using landmarks he looked up each street name and which direction to turn on them, which just seems way too complicated and confusing for me.  I told him that people in Rhode Island always give directions with landmarks since everyone probably knows what you are referring to.   It was then I learned that it was not just because of my small state that I focus on landmarks, but because I am a woman. 

Map we both looked at, he memorized the streets, I just crossed the rivers and turned right

I honestly did not believe them but sure enough when I got home and looked it up, I found a lot of information on how men typically use streets and cardinal directions and women use landmarks and lefts and rights (James MD Jr., 1998).  One particular study I read investigated age and gender differences in different orientation strategies.

Lui et al. used an online battery, or a series of 6 tests, to test for different orientation strategies.  There was the Landmark Recognition test which assessed the ability to recognize landmarks encountered during navigation; the Left/Right Orientation test which assessed the ability to learn a route by following left/right body turns without any landmarks; the Path Reversal test which assessed the ability to recognized the ability to go back to starting point without landmarks; the Heading Orientation test which  evaluated the ability of the individual to perform a route based on left/right turns associated with selective landmarks; and finally the last two, Cognitive Map Formation and the Cognitive Map Use test, which assessed the ability of individuals to form and make use of mental representation of the environment. 634 volunteers participated in the testing and were scored on the number of correct responses during each individual test.  Men were able to form and make use of cognitive maps better than women, so they had a better mental representation of the environment (Liu et al., 2011).  Men performing better spatially made sense to me since I remember learning in my NBB 302 class that men generally have a slightly larger parietal cortex, relating to improved performance on spatial tasks.  Liu et al. also made a new observation that men performed better in the path reversal test.  They explained how it is novel, but it is consistent with the knowledge that men process distance/metric information better than women during navigation (Liu et al., 2011).

I was surprised that men and women performed equally on the Landmark Recognition test.  The lack of variation between the genders could have been due to the fact that it was a virtual navigation, and the participants never actively navigated.  Liu et al. did recognize that active and passive learning of spatial environments could lead to different performance data and that further studies could be performed.

Overall I understood how men essentially have a spatial map in their head when following directions which probably accounts for their sense of direction.  One thing I know for sure is I did not have to look at the map again once we started off for the restaurant, and Kris stopped twice.   I’m sticking with using landmarks…

Cheers to your birthday Kris!

~Sarah Harrington

James MD Jr. E-LC, Rebecca AS, Rhonda M (1998) Spatial Ability, Navigation Strategy, and Geographic Knowledge Among Men and Women. Evolution & Human Behavior 19:89-98.

Liu I, Levy RM, Barton JJ, Iaria G (2011) Age and gender differences in various topographical orientation strategies. Brain research 1410:112-119.

 

 

The Broken Escalator Effect (It’s Real)

Every day we take the Paris Metro and RER to and from class. It’s a relatively painless trip, except when there’s a strike going on (which has been almost every day). One day last week, as our motley crew filed through our favorite station, Châtelet, to transfer trains, we reached our favorite stretch of the station: the moving walkways. I approached the walkway without hesitation, took a step onto the belt, and immediately felt myself jolted awake by a sense of falling. As it turned out, the moving walkway was broken that day, and pedestrians were just using it as a normal path. I followed suit and laughed silently at how funny I must have looked to anybody who saw me nearly fall on my face.

Our favorite Metro stop

Later that afternoon, on the return journey, I’d had ample time to wake up during the day. As we approached the same collection of moving walkways, I made sure to take note of the functionality of the machines. They were all still broken, but I decided to follow the crowd and walk along one of the belts anyway. This time, I approached, took a step, and felt jolted again! I was shocked at my brain’s miscalculation despite my conscious awareness that the walkway was stationary. I presumed that it had to be some sort of perceptual memory that I had for moving walkways. Perhaps because reality wasn’t matching up with what my brain had learned to be true of “people-movers” countless times before, my mind was having trouble adjusting. I decided it was worth a search in the literature when I got home.

No "broken escalator effect" here

What I found was not only reassuring for my vestibular system, but also immensely interesting. There is an extensive collection of scientific research on what has been called the “broken escalator phenomenon,” (Reynolds and Bronstein, 2003). Evidently, the effect is more evident on moving walkways, but because nobody knows what to call them, the original authors of the phrase decided to go with escalator instead. Once the phenomenon became well known as a common occurrence in city-dwellers, researchers sought to describe what was actually happening to cause this “feeling of uneasiness” despite absolute consciousness of the fact that the conveyor was not moving

First, experimenters had subjects walk on a short, stationary moving walkway a few times while measuring walking speed, postural sway, and muscle contraction (Reynolds and Bronstein, 2003). Afterwards, the experimenters turned on the walkway and had the same subjects board the machine. Not surprisingly, subjects made several physical changes as they got used to the moving version, but the most significant change observed was in the actual velocity of movement just prior to boarding. Naturally, the subjects increased their pace by .3 m/s in order to minimize being jerked by the belt. This is similar to what happens to us in everyday life. We encounter a majority of moving walkways in their “on” position, and we become accustomed to increasing pace, leaning forward, and flexing our leg muscles as we approach them. Next, the researchers informed the subjects that the walkway would be turned off, and in fact, they could see so for themselves. When they approached the walkway this time, all subjects stumbled, and many were shocked or laughed at the occurrence. Analysis of the physiological data showed that approach velocity, trunk lean, and muscle contraction took place at levels in between normal walking values and the values seen when subjects were accustomed to the moving walkway. It seemed that the brain was confused by seeing a normally moving pathway in a motionless state, and addressed the situation by “hedging its bets” so to speak. Interestingly, repeating a second trial with the “off” walkway shows no signs of distress. The brain learns quickly to adopt normal walking motor programs for the motionless walkway. Further studies have shown that skin conductance also increases just prior to experiencing the “broken escalator phenomenon,” implying that subconscious, fear-based mechanisms are at play (Green et al., 2010). This may explain why the hiccup occurs even when one consciously recognizes that normal walking will suffice.

Primary motor cortex, where the researchers stimulated.

Given that this phenomenon is strikingly similar to the lack of balance that many neurological disease patients experience, further studies aimed to find ways to modulate to the occurrence (Kaski et al., 2012). Recently, researchers tried this using a technique called transcranial direct current stimulation (tDCS), which is a lot like connecting a battery to your skull, except it’s scientific. Subjects went through the same experimental procedure as in the first study, but just before had a small anodal current passed through their brain for 15 minutes before the moving platform phase of testing. The researchers targeted the primary motor cortex, an area of the brain responsible for executing movement and storing motor memories, or the actual plans that the body uses to coordinate movement. The researchers believed that the broken escalator effect occurred due to an inability to suppress the brain’s default “moving walkway motor plan,” so activating primary motor cortex would cause the phenomenon to become even more extreme. Indeed, the subjects who received the electrical stimulation showed a larger broken escalator effect and took more trials to adjust to the stationary pathway than control subjects who received no stimulation. Though the nature of the experiment did not necessarily prove that the broken escalator effect is due to overactive motor memory, the results are significant in that they show it is possible to manipulate gait and motor problems with relatively simple technology. tDCS is fairly cheap and straightforward compared to other similar technologies, and its lack of precision actually lends itself nicely to working with the distributed neural systems of locomotion. Though this study used tDCS to worsen a locomotor problem, this same system may soon become a useful tool in neurological diseases that show locomotor symptoms such as stroke, Parkinson’s multiple sclerosis, and Alzheimer’s disease.

 

-Max Farina

 

References:

Reynolds RF, Bronstein AM (2003) The broken escalator phenomenon. Experimental Brain Research.

Green DA, Bunday KL, Bowen J, Carter T, Bronstein AM (2010) What does autonomic arousal tell us about locomotor learning? Neuroscience 170: 42-53.

Kaski D, Quadir S, Patel M, Yousif N, Bronstein AM (2012) Enhanced locomotor adaptation aftereffect in the “broken escalator” phenomenon using anodal tDCS. Journal of Neurophysiology 107: 2493-2505.

Pay Attention, Brain

It’s 9:30 in the morning and I’m sitting in class listening to this old geezer talk about neuroscience. This is even more disheartening since I am in Paris over the summer break. As we touch upon genetic engineering, my mind takes this weird but quick neuronal pathway from genetic engineering to genes then jeans and finally shopping at the Avenue des Champs-Elysees. What a great time that was. We stopped by the Laduree and picked up some of the best macaroons in Paris. As I was falling deeper into the pleasures of my mind, I hear arguments over ethical reasons against pre-implantation genetic diagnosis from the other neuroscience students which quickly snaps me back to reality. I try to refocus my attention to the discussion at hand so I can put my two cents in for the day. As much as I love talking about enhancing the human race, my mind has the tendency to wander the streets of Paris.


The blue is the Accent center where my class is. The red is where my mind is, avenue des Champs-Elysees.

When my mind wanders, it isn’t a conscious choice (at least for the most part). It feels like sudden jolt of random associations till I get a sustained daydream or I realize I am wandering and stop. The default network is the culprit here. It is a network of brain regions that is known to become active during wakeful rest which is associated with mind wandering. In a default network study, subjects were trained to meditate by focusing on their breathing. They were then placed into an fMRI machine that measures brain activity via changes in blood flow. As soon as the subjects noticed their mind wandering away, they pressed a button and drew their attention back to their breathing. During the wandering stage, the fMRI revealed activity in the default network such as the posterior cingulate cortex (PCC), which is known to integrate all sorts of sensory information. Another part of the default network is the medial prefrontal cortex (mPFC) which is known to attribute mental states such as desires to oneself and others (theory of the mind) (Hasenkamp et al., 2012). As the subjects drew attention back to their breaths, the default network shuts off and a cluster in the dorsolateral prefrontal region remains active. This region is responsible for high cognitive processes such as organization, planning, etc…. It makes sense that your dorsolateral prefrontal region turns off when your mind wanders since there is no need for the higher processes when you’re not actively thinking.

Thus during the first 10 minutes of every morning lecture, my dorsolateral prefrontal cortex is highly active and maintained. Then, perhaps due to fatigue or boredom, my dorsolateral prefrontal activity starts to wane and my default network kicks in. I am now suddenly at the top of the Eiffel tower, taking in the beautiful scenery. At some point I realize I’m in class and my dorsolateral prefrontal cortex reactivates and my default network becomes quiet again. Whether the activity of the default network causes one to wander or vice versa is unknown. However I personally believe that the over activation of my default network is what causes me to lose crucial participation points in my class.

~James Eun

Hasenkamp W, Wilson-Mendenhall CD, Duncan E, Barsalou LW (2012) Mind wandering and attention during focused meditation: a fine-grained temporal analysis of fluctuating cognitive states. NeuroImage 59:750-760.

How Can You Tell I’m American?

One of the greatest challenges about being in Paris is being constantly exposed to a foreign language. I have found that fewer Parisians than expected speak English. Having studied French for a number of years, I am always eager to test my ability to communicate with native French speakers. I try to practice French in Paris as often as possible, whether it is through ordering food (obviously my most important application of the language), asking for directions, or even giving directions sometimes. Just a couple of days ago I asked a young lady for directions while on the metro and even though I knew that I had appropriately phrased my sentence in French, she responded in English. I knew that my accent had given away the fact that my native language is English, but I had expected her to respond in French. I have found myself in similar situations on many occasions. One time I was speaking French to an angry Cite Universitaire, the campus on which we are living, security guard after I had been locked out of my room and he responded in English, “I don’t speak English.” I was puzzled and in French let him know that I can speak French and he responded, “no you can’t.” I chose not to take this second encounter personally and instead began to wonder what about my speaking bothered him so much. It must have been my accent. Accent perception is such an interesting concept. We can tell what country a person is from, or even perhaps the city in which they were born not by listening to the words that they say, but by listening to the way that they say them.

Cite Universitaire (labeled as A)- where we have been living for the past 3 weeks.

In a study done by Adank et al. (2011), native monolingual Dutch speakers were played Dutch phrases in a Dutch accent and were also played the same Dutch phrases in an unfamiliar accent. While listening, the subjects’ brains were monitored using an fMRI scanner, a machine which uses magnetic imagining to monitor brain activity. The study showed that when the sound stimuli changed from the familiar to the unfamiliar accent, more of the subjects’ superior temporal gyrus (STG), a brain area involved in basic auditory language processing, became activated. The STG has also been shown to be associated with phonetic-analytic listening to speech. Perhaps this gives insight into as to why more of the STG is activated when listening to an unfamiliar accent; the brain is recruiting more cells to help analyze the phonetics of the speech because the speech is foreign. It is important to understand this because when French individuals hear me speaking French with an English accent, their STG becomes increasingly activated and they recognize that not only am I speaking in an accent, but then, through using other areas of the brain, may be able to understand what language I am speaking.

An exhibit in the Louvre Museum spelling out "love differences" in many different languages.

Whenever I’m on the metro and everyone around me is speaking French, it is difficult for me to decipher what they are saying unless they are speaking directly to me. I was curious as to the ways in which my brain would have responded to the sounds on the metro had I learned French at a younger age, but second to English. I wondered how the bilingual brain responds to language perception in general. In a study done by Archila-Suerte et al. (2012), a group of bilingual Spanish-English speaking children (whose native language is Spanish) and monolingual English speaking children were played the English syllables, “saf,” “sof,” and “suf,” while watching a silent film. These syllables were chosen because they are pronounced similarly in Spanish and would provide more insight into activation of the bilingual brain (perhaps because they may activate regions involved in perception of both languages). The subjects were told to focus on the silent film while the syllables were being played to them and simultaneously the group was analyzing the subjects’ brains using an fMRI scanner. The study was performed for young and older bilingual and monolingual children. The group found that the young monolingual and bilingual children had the STG activated (let’s call this area 1) while listening to the syllables. This data implies that the bilingual children when just beginning to learn the second language perhaps relates it to the first language and processes it in the same brain area. However, the older monolingual children still only had area 1 activated during the task whereas bilingual children had area 1 as well as other areas in the brain activated. This suggests that as bilingual children begin to master a second language more, their brain recruits other areas, other than area 1, to help distinguish between the two languages. Perhaps my brain is similar to the brain of the younger bilingual children, since I have not yet begun to master the French language. My brain may not be able to recruit other areas to help area 1 decipher a language other than English and this may be why I am unable to easily pick out French words and conversations while on the train. However, French individuals who are able to easily recognize my accent, process what my native language is, and then respond in my native language perhaps have activation of other brain areas which help the STG decipher the language. This is due to the idea that they are bilingual and no longer need to relate their second mastered language to their native language. It would be interesting to see what the combined results of the first and second study would be; to pursue a study that looked at monolingual and bilingual individuals’ brain activation to speaking their common language in an accent. I am curious to see if by being well versed in more than one language, bilingual children are able to recognize accents easier. Maybe one day I’ll master the French language enough to not have to constantly compare it to English! I guess I’ll just have to ensure that this isn’t my last trip to Paris…

–          Ankita Gumaste

Adank P, Noordzij ML, Hagoort P (2011) The role of planum temporal in processing accent variation in spoken language comprehension. Human brain mapping 33: 360-372.

Archila-Suerte P, Zevin J, Ramos AI, Hernandez AE (2012) The neural bases of non-native speech perception in bilingual children. NeuroImage 67: 51-63.

Enter the Abyss

Let’s take a little adventure into the dark unknown. You pass through a doorway on the streets of Paris and see a tiny spiral staircase up ahead. The steps hold no more than one person, and are smoothed over and slippery. You make your way down, ever wondering when the dizzying staircase will end. Finally you stumble into a long, dim hallway. The air is moist, and water drips from the ceiling forming dirty, shallow puddles on the stone. You can see into the tunnel, but not where it ends. The eerie yellow light is your only guide into the deep.

The hallways stretch on and on, twisting and turning until you’ve lost all sense of direction, as you cling to the path that will bring you to safety. Suddenly, you enter a larger room with round, stony pillars, and a doorway straight ahead. The sign above the door reads “Stop. This is the Empire of the Dead.” At last, you enter the infamous repository of 6 million people across French history, the Catacombs.

As a child, I loved watching and reading about spooky things. From my first taste of the supernatural watching “Goosebumps” and “Are You Afraid of the Dark?” on television, I developed a complicated interest in all things scary. Though I could only watch these shows in broad daylight and would have nightmares about them at night, still I wished to see how the stories would unfold for the unsuspecting characters in every plotline. Eventually I stumbled onto the Catacombs, which surprisingly was one of the first things I learned about Paris (apart from the Eiffel Tower of course). The Catacombs are the resting place for French civilians when the cemeteries became overcrowded. Rather than finding land elsewhere, the bones of already interred people were shoved deep underground, in an abandoned mine. The depressing history and unsettling feeling of displeased spirits in the Catacombs was more than enough to convince me to visit, if I can muster up the courage that is.

Map to help locate the Catacombs

 

When I entered the Empire of the Dead, my brain was already on full alert. Dark, suffocating passageways deep underground are enough to send my brain into overdrive, but the thought of crossing paths with millions of skeletons added another element of fear. When I laid eyes on the first wall of bones, I had a mild panic attack. Internally of course, I couldn’t show the rest of the group the fear. Still, the sight was beyond creepy, on so many levels.

Every side of the wall was covered in rows upon rows of human bones, with skulls laid halfway up and at the very top of the walls. It wasn’t so much the bones themselves as the thought that someone physically did this. Someone separated the bones of a skeleton from each other, and created the walls out of human remains. I wonder what those spirits would say, if they were to say anything at all.

These pictures don’t do justice to the atmosphere of the dark, gloomy corridors, filled with the bones of people of long ago.

As I climbed up another dizzying spiral staircase and took a lungful of fresh air, I began to see just how silly my fear of the catacombs were. In all reality, it wasn’t that scary. However, I anticipated a scary scene, and so my fear mode was already fully engaged by the time I actually saw the skulls and bones. What caused this anticipated fear-event fear response, so to speak? I found my answer when I began reading an article about different versions of a gene that can cause an enhanced fear and anxiety responses (Glotzbach-Schoon et al., 2013). Reading the experiment has helped me understand why I reacted the way I did, learning something a little more about my brain and fear responses in general.

This study examined the role of variants of 2 genes, 5HTT  and NPSR1. Previous research has shown that the 5HTT gene is involved in anxiety disorders, while the NPSR1 gene has an important role in anxiety and fear responses. The researchers studied two forms of each gene, entitled either S+ or LL for the 5HTT gene and T+ or AA for the NPSR1 gene. The patients had a combination of each copy, with 4 different combinations in total. They used a virtual reality simulator to test for fear conditioning (developing a fear for something). When conditioning the fear response, patients in one virtual office room were given an unpredictable, mildly painful electric shock. Those in another virtual office room did not have the same electric stimulus. The researchers examined fear and anxiety responses with the behavioral technique fear conditioned startle reflex, which studies the increase in startle response when in the fear state. They measured the startle response with Eyeblink Electromyogram (EMG), a fancy name for tool to measure eye blinking.

Results of the study indicate that patients who had both S+ and T+ variants of the genes exhibited a higher startle response when in the electric shock office room. However, patients that had the AA variant regardless of the forms for the 5HTT gene were more anxious in the experiments. The results are interesting because they not only show that different forms of the same gene can influence our behavior, but also they demonstrate possible gene interaction for the startle response, whereas only one form of the gene affects anxiety.

Maybe I have the double S+/T+ combo because I had a higher startle response when seeing the bones than I had expected. Or maybe I just have the AA gene and was more anxious to see the human remains when entering the deep. In either case, though I knew what was coming at the end of the long, dark tunnels, still I couldn’t control my fear when I finally entered the Empire of the Dead. Despite my weird love for the fear state, I don’t think I will disturb these bones again–the Catacombs is one place that I wouldn’t mind skipping on my return to Paris. At least I can cross this frightful experience off of my bucket list. Check mark.

-Mayur Patel

 

Reference:

Glotzbach-Schoon E, Andreatta M, Reif A, Ewald H, Troger C, Baumann C, Deckert J, Muhlberger A, Pauli P (2013) Contextual fear conditioning in virtual reality is affected by 5HTTLPR and NPSRI polymorphisms: effects on fear-potentiated startle. Frontiers in Behavioral Neuroscience 7:31

Creative Commons map image:

http://images.travelpod.com/cache/accom_maps/Hotel-Du-Midi-Paris-Montparnasse.thumb.gif

 

Poisoning Pigeons in the Park

We’ve now been in Paris for close to three weeks. It’s a wonderful city, and I’ve enjoyed so many terrific experiences since we arrived: long, sunny walks along the Seine from the Louvre Museum to the Eiffel Tower, terrific concerts by countless street musicians, and many delicious French crepes and baguettes! However, there’s one part of Paris that is slowly pecking away at my enjoyment of the city – Pigeons. 

Paris isn’t quite as famous for its pigeons as other large cities like New York and London, but their presence is certainly noticeable – especially if you attempt, as I did, to eat a fresh baguette under the statue of Charlemagne at Notre Dame, an area where the pigeon density rivals that of the tourists. As soon my first breadcrumb dropped, I was surrounded and bombarded by more birds than I could count. This happened again at Tuileries Garden, and yet another time on the Cite Universitaire campus.

Even when I’m not eating baguettes the pigeons seek me out. While relaxing in a small urban park near the Bastille I was lucky enough to receive a pigeon “deposit” on my pant’s leg, followed by another on my chest and a third that landed on my shoulder, narrowly missing my right ear. I can see one such gift being an accident, but three in a row makes me think that these pigeons might have a vendetta against me for the bird research I do back at Emory.

It turns out that I’m not the only one who’s annoyed with Paris’s bird problem. For many years the city has pigeon-proofed historical buildings by placing spikes on all the ledges where the birds might land. Additionally, in 2008 Paris officials set out to curb the pigeon population by building nesting-lofts throughout the city and then sterilizing the eggs while the birds were out feeding (bloomberg). Given my recent experiences, these attempts don’t appear to be working and so I looked into another possible method of population control – feeding the birds poison-laced food.

I was curious about how effective poisoning would be. Do the birds learn to avoid dangerous food? And if so, how quickly does this avoidance behavior develop, especially if that food had a distinct taste or smell associated with it?

How quickly do pigeons learn to avoid poison?

A map of the places I've had run-in with pigeons


In 1999 a study published in the Archives of Environmental Contamination and Toxicology looked exactly at how quickly pigeons learn to avoid poisonous-food and the effect of hunger on the amount of toxic food they ingested (Pascual et al., 1999).

The study used four groups of eight pigeons. Two of these groups were given as much food as they wanted (ad libitum) for the 6 days leading up to testing while the other two groups were deprived of food. The researchers did two experiments. First they offered seeds laced with the sulfurous-smelling toxin fonofos to one of the ad libitum groups and one of the deprived groups for 6 straight hours. The birds were videotaped throughout the test, and eating behavior was measured by the amount of food eaten as well as the rate at which it was consumed. The second experiment, using the remaining two bird groups, was very similar but the food was offered first for 2 hours followed by a half-hour break, and then for an additional four hours. While not much different then the first experiment, this test showed whether the birds were able to remember that the food was dangerous when exposed to it a second time.

On average, it only took the birds 6 minutes to learn to avoid the food and all of the pigeons from experiment two still avoided the food after a half-hour break. Five of the birds from the food-deprived group did die and the authors attributed this to the fact that these birds ate huge amounts of food in the first six minutes. This is interesting because it suggests that the ability to develop avoidance behaviors is dependent on time, not on the amount of food eaten. Additionally, the video recordings showed reactions (head shaking, food-spitting, vomiting) during the first six minutes, which confirmed that the food was unpleasant to the birds. Given the size of the Parisian pigeons that have harassed me so far, I doubt any of them are food deprived, so unfortunately poisons (or at least poisons that have odor or taste like fonofos) would not be effective.

While this article clearly documented the development of avoidance behaviors and specifically showed that internal state (such as hungry/not hungry) did not affect the rate at which these behaviors we were created, it did not discuss how these behaviors are mediated in the brain.

How is avoidance mediated in the brain?

A pigeon posing in front of the Eiffel Tower. A perfect summary of my experiences so far in France.

 

 

Most research in avoidance behavior concentrates on the role of a small almond-shaped region in the bottom-middle of the brain called the amygdala, which is thought to mediate avoidance behavior development (Davis, 1992). How exactly it does this is still being debated but the majority of articles suggest that the amygdala helps consolidate a memory associated with an unpleasant experience like eating food that makes you feel sick (Smith et al., 2001). More specifically, some research has shown that it plays a role in the initial acquisition of the memory (Wiliskey et al., 2005). Even though these studies were not done in pigeons, we can use can use them to predict what might have occurred in the pigeon experiment. When the pigeons first ate the fonofos food and experienced the unpleasant side effects, it’s possible that their amygdalae were activated and that a connection between the food and the effects was formed. However, this connection in the brain probably was not strong enough to cause avoidance after just one exposure to the food, so it took multiple exposures over the course of six minutes. Even though the food-deprived pigeons ate more, it’s possible that they didn’t avoid the food any faster than the ad libitum group because their hunger took priority and inhibited the avoidance behaviors from forming (Gilette et al., 1999).

Unless the Parisian pigeons have faulty amygdalae, which I highly doubt, I will unfortunately have to come up with another way to control their population. Perhaps, a poison that doesn’t have any smell or immediate unpleasant effects associated with it? Or maybe the best option is just to take all of my baguette eating indoors. Regardless, it does not appear that I will be poisoning Parisian pigeons anytime in the near future. Now that you’ve finished the post I recommend that you click on the following link and enjoy a 3 minute tune by 1960s comedian Tom Leher, it applies nicely.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=yhuMLpdnOjY

 

– Camden MacDowell

UPDATE: I GOT EVEN WITH THE PIGEONS!

mmm... tasty pigeon lunch! Literally the taste of revenge!

 

Works cited:

Davis M. (1992) The role of the amygdala in fear and anxiety. Annual Review Neursci 15:353-375

Gillete R., Hatcher N., Huang R., Moroz L. (1999). Cost-benefit analysis potential in feeding behavior of a predatory snail by integration of hunger, taste, and pain. PNAS 97: 3585-3590

Pascual J., Fryday S., Hart A. (1999) Effects of Food Restriction on Food Avoidance and Risk of Acute Poisoning of Captive Feral Pigeons from Fonofos-Treated Seeds. Arch. Environ. Contam. Toxicol. 37: 115-124

Smith DM., Freeman JH., Gabriel M., Monteverde J., Schwartz E. (2001) Lesions in the central nucleus of the amygdala: discriminative avoidance learning, discriminative approach learning, and cingulothalamic training-induced neuronal activity. Neurobiol Learn Mem 76: 403-25

Wilensky A., LeDoux J., Schafe G. (2005) Amygdala Modulates Memory Consolidation of Fear-Motivated Inhibitory Avoidance Learning But Not Classical Fear Conditioning. The Journal of Neurosci 20: 7059-7066

 

Musée du Parfum & Synesthesia

This afternoon we went to the museum of perfume near the Paris opera house off Metro 8.  The museum is opened by a perfumery called Fragonard Parfumeur.  Fragonard Parfumeur was established shortly after WWI by an entrepreneur named Eugene Fuchs in 1926.  During the tour, we learned about different concentrations of perfume, their making techniques as well as the correct way to put perfume on yourself.  For example, Eau de Toilette is around 10% aromatic compound while the actual perfume is 20%.  Towards the end of the tour, we were given strips of paper scented with different perfumes.  One particular perfume named “Juste un baiser” or “Just a kiss” smelled sweet.  The perfume almost smelled like strawberry and mandarin orange dipped in honey.

Map of the Museum of Perfume

It is interesting how people often use adjectives for taste, or even food items to describe a smell.  We don’t hear people say this flower smells red, or this perfume smells loud.  This must indicate that there are some sort of overlap of brain processing for taste and smell.  This phenomenon is called “synesthesia” in which the stimulation of a sensory pathway leads to involuntary activation of a separate sensory pathway.  There are many different types of synesthesia that are not common to the majority of us.  For example, people with color-graphemic synesthesia view letters and numbers with a specific color (Rich and Mattingley, 2002), and people with number-form synesthesia view numbers in a specific location in space (Sagiv et al., 2006).  Therefore, odor-induced taste might be a universal form of synesthesia that most of us have experienced.

Different types of perfume

If odor-induced tastes are so similar to taste itself that people describe an odor “sweet”, then these odors are probably processed in the same area of the brain as tastes.  Not surprisingly, there are already multiple papers suggesting that the insula, part of the primary gustatory cortex that is responsible for the initial processing of gustatory signals, is also activated by odors that are able to induce taste-like sensations (Stevenson and Miller, 2013).  Instead of looking at the primary taste cortex, Stevenson and Miller (2013) investigated the two secondary gustatory processing areas of the brain: the orbitofrontal cortex (OFC) and the amygdala to see whether odors that induces tastes-like sensation are also processed through similar areas of the brain.  To test their hypothesis, they put 9 patients with brain resections in the anteromedial temporal lobe (AMTL) that included the amygdala, 3 patients with OFC damage, and 42 healthy controls through a series of gustatory and olfactory tests.  All test subjects were presented with 2 sweet-smelling odors (chocolate and plum) and 2 non-sweet-smelling odors (Vegemite and oregano).  An “odor-taste quality score” was based on the test subjects’ ratings of whether a smell is sweet, sour, salty, or bitter compared to the expected taste of the odor (Stevenson and Miller, 2013).  The result of this study shows that AMTL patients, while impaired in gustatory senses, were unimpaired in odor-induced taste tests.  On the other hand, one of the three OFC patients who was severely impaired in gustatory senses, was also impaired in odor-induced taste tests.  The data indicates that one of the two secondary gustatory processing areas, the OFC, is involved in both the processing of tastes, and odor-induced tastes.  Stevenson and Miller (2013) further showed that OFC and insula both have the same type of cells that are more responsible for the discrimination of tastes while the amygdala has cells that supports the recognition of tastes.  This is probably why both the insula and the OFC are needed for the processing of odor-induced tastes while the amygdala is not.

Red part shows the amygdala.

Green part shows the Orbitofrontal cortex (OFC)

This study shows that odor-induced taste is a type of synesthesia that is experienced by the majority of us, which also explains why we often use gustatory adjectives to describe a smell.  However, I think further research is needed to prove this concept because of the low sample size and the fact that only 1 out of 3 OFC patients showed correlation between impairment of taste and odor-induced taste.  In addition, there might be other unknown brain-related problems in these patients, which will affect the interpretation of the data.  Furthermore, an fMRI study of the areas of the brain are active during odor-induced taste tests could potentially provide a more accurate indicator for the overlap of brain processing area of taste and odor-induced taste.  Aside from all the potential flaws of the study, at least now we know that there are biological evidences behind all the taste and food-related description of different kinds of perfume!

-Eric Yao

References:

Rich AN, Mattingley JB (2002) Anomalous perception in synaesthesia: a cognitive neuroscience perspective. Nature reviews Neuroscience 3:43-52.

Sagiv N, Simner J, Collins J, Butterworth B, Ward J (2006) What is the relationship between synaesthesia and visuo-spatial number forms? Cognition 101:114-128.

Stevenson RJ, Miller LA (2013) Taste and odour-induced taste perception following unilateral lesions to the anteromedial temporal lobe and the orbitofrontal cortex. Cognitive neuropsychology 30:41-57.

 

Paris, the City of Love

Visiting the Pont de Arts bridge in front of the Institut de France in Paris will leave you with a sense of true French “amour.” On father’s day, I had the opportunity to see the bridge up close. Despite seeing plenty of couples taking wedding pictures in front of the Eiffel Tower, buying macaroons at Laduree on the Avenue des Champs-Élysées, and enjoying an afternoon together in the gardens at the Palace of Versailles, the romance of this city hadn’t quite hit me. The instant I walked on to this bridge, I didn’t even notice the gorgeous view because I couldn’t see anything past the chain-linked railings on either side. I think I’m just starting to understand why Paris is known as the city of love.

Looking at the Institut de France from the Pont de Arts bridge

Looking at the Institut de France from the Pont de Arts bridge

On either side of the bridge, you will see thousands of locks that have been secured to the railings. The locks are on every grate all the way up from the bridge planks to the top of the fence. From a distance, the sides of the bridge appear to be completely opaque. I was actually worried that there might not be room to put more locks somewhere along the grates overlooking the Seine. To make sure the love that the lock represents lasts forever, the tradition is to throw the keys over the bridge and into the river after you secure the lock to the bridge. While this may be an act of littering, I guess the French disregard it for the sake of romance.

While plenty of couples do this to ensure their relationship will last forever, plenty of people do it for their families as well. As a girl who has grown up in a big family, I can never imagine life without them. My childhood was filled with memories at our lake cabin in Wisconsin, vacations to places like Colorado, Canada, and Grand Cayman, and most importantly, partying like pirates on Halloween. To sum up my feelings in a few short words, my mom is more than my best friend and my dad is larger than life. I can’t forget my amazing sisters Carley and Kris, and my best brother Tim too. (I promise I’ll get to talking about how this relates to neuroscience, and ignore the shoutouts if you want, but being in a city thriving on emotion has me feeling very sentimental!)

In order to recognize the faces of people that you are familiar with, your brain has created special networks for processing this visual information (Arsalidou et al., 2010). This especially holds true for the faces of parents. On either side of the brain, people have two areas known as the fusiform gyri that are thought to help recognize faces (Barton et al., 2002). The fusiform gyrus on the right side of the brain has been noted to be especially important in recognizing facial configuration (Barton et al., 2002). When this part of the brain is damaged, people present symptoms of prosopagnosia and cannot recognize faces (Barton et al., 2002). Due to an underlying emotional connection children typically have with their parents, other areas of the brain beyond the fusiform gyrus have been implicated in recognizing the two familiar faces of their parents (Arsalidou et al., 2010).

The highlighted part shows the fusiform gyrus

One of the cruxes of the study of parental face recognition performed by Arsalidou and associates in 2010 hinged upon the subjects growing up living with both parents, having both parents alive at the time of the study, and remaining in regular contact with their parents (Arsalidou et al., 2010). For people who grew up raised by another important adult figures, these areas of the brain may or may not be activating in the same way, but that was not considered as a part of this study (Arsalidou et al., 2010). The areas of the brain that activated when looking at the faces were measured by functional magnetic resonance imaging (fMRI) (Arsalidou et al., 2010). fMRI is a non-invasive way to measure the change in blood flow to certain regions in the brain; areas with the most blood flow are considered to be the most activated during a specific task.

When looking at pictures of their mother, the subjects’ fMRI scans showed the most parts of the brain being activated compared to all other presented faces (Arsalidou et al., 2010). This extensive activation suggests that the mother’s face is the most important face a person can recognize (Arsalidou et al., 2010). Many structures including the middle temporal gyrus and inferior frontal gyrus were activated in comparison to known, but not personally relevant, celebrity female faces (Arsalidou et al., 2010). These areas of the brain are located near the fusiform gyrus within the temporal lobe, which is located on the side of the brain (Arsalidou et al., 2010). The activation of the middle temporal and inferior frontal gyrus when looking at your mother’s face, areas thought to be related to processing recognition of your own face, seems to show that there may be an overlap in processing both the face of your mother and the appearance of your own face (Arsalidou et al., 2010). This may be due to an overlap between memories of your mother with memories you have of yourself given the very strong emotional attachment between mother and child (Arsalidou et al., 2010).

The highlighted part shows the temporal lobe

The faces of fathers specifically activated the caudate when compared to other known, but not personally applicable, celebrity males (Arsalidou et al., 2010). The caudate is a brain area associated with the memory of feelings of love or reward (Arsalidou et al., 2010). This brain structure was also active when the subjects looked at their mothers’ faces; however, other brain structures were more predominantly active than the caudate (Arsalidou et al., 2010). The caudate appears to contribute to a feeling of endearment we have towards our parents (Arsalidou et al., 2010).

The highlighted structure is the caudate

To sum up the findings, distinct patterns of areas in your brain are activated when you see the faces of people you are attached to, like your mother and father. From an evolutionary standpoint, this is very important for recognizing the people who will love and take care of you from every single other person in the world (Arsalidou et al., 2010). Greater activation when looking at your mother’s face may be due to the extensive emotional memory connection between a mother and child (Arsalidou et al., 2010). Significant activation in the caudate from seeing your father’s face may indicate our feeling of paternal love (Arsalidou et al., 2010). These patterns of activation are very important to a human being given the highly social nature of our species and how much we are emotionally attached to the people who raise us.

So, for the two people who have loved me more than anyone else in the world, I happily left a lock on the bridge. While I can’t wait to return home and have my brain activated in the specific patterns that only looking at the faces of my mother and father can do, I have a new appreciation of the amount of love shown in various ways throughout this city. I plan on enjoying every aspect of my last two weeks here, and hope to stumble upon more treasures like this bridge. No one in my family has ventured to Europe before I took this trip, and I hope that I can someday bring them back to show them the lock I left on the bridge for all of us.

Lots and lots of locks

Lots and lots of locks

One in a million

Sending my love all the way back to the crazy, fun, and cortically irreplaceable family I have back in Minnesota,

~ Emily Aidan Berthiaume

Works Cited

Arsalidou, M., Barbeau, E. J., Bayless, S. J., Taylor, M. J. (2010) Brain responses differ to faces of mothers and fathers. Brain and Cognition 74:47-51.

Barton, J. J.S., Press, D. Z., Keenan, J. P., O’Connor, M. (2002) Lesions of the fusiform face area impair perception of facial configuration in prosopagnosia. Neurology 58:71-78.

The Pont de Arts bridge is located to the right of the word "Seine" on the river

Musée du Chocolat

Before I even set foot in Paris, I had an agenda to tend to—buy every friend and family member enough chocolate to hold them over until their own trip to France. As (arguably) the biggest dark chocolate fan on the east coast, I have gone out of my way to make sure I try chocolate (in all forms) from all over Paris. I have run the gamut by trying chocolate bars from our favorite local grocery store (shout out to Mono Prix) to inhaling the chocolate pastries sold at Ladurée. Tending to my chocolate cravings in Paris turned out to be much easier than expected…

Chocolate Pastries at Ladurée (yum)

Needless to say, I was beyond excited when I saw that a trip to a chocolate museum was conveniently worked into our syllabus a day-off activity. Probably a bit too excited, the other students and I worked our way through the Parisian Metro and RER systems and arrived at “Choco-Story – Le musée gourmand du chocolat” earlier this week. Walking into the hands-on museum, we were hit with a wave of the sweet scent of chocolate, instantly putting everyone in a better mood. Part of our museum experience involved a chocolate workshop where we actually learned how to make bite-sized chocolates, and we luckily got to package the chocolates to bring back to our dorm.

Chocolate Museum: 28 Boulevard de Bonne Nouvelle, 75010 Paris

After our workshop where we somehow managed to make chocolate without destroying the museum kitchen, we waited for the pieces to cool in the fridge. As soon as our chocolate was cooled and ready to eat, I instantly ate maybe one too many pieces. Regardless, I was completely satisfied with my experience at the museum and our homemade treats. At this point, I’m sure you’re wondering why a chocolate field trip was worked into our neuroscience syllabus. Chocolate, aside from being central to Parisian culture, is responsible for producing pleasurable, hedonic effects and can therefore activate various brain areas (Rolls 2005). It has, for this reason not only been used as an incentive in various animal experiments, but its’ effects on changing activity in different brain areas have also been studied.

The neuroscience student in me wondered why some students were not as excited as I was about our chocolate museum expedition. Doesn’t everyone love chocolate? Why are there some people who don’t have chocolate cravings? Current neuroscience research is exploring the physiological implications behind cravings, emphasizing the brain systems that control our food intake. It turns out that people, like me, who crave chocolate actually show heightened physiological reactivity to images of chocolate. This means that there are measured changes in blood flow in different areas of the brain (such as the orbitofrontal cortex, the insula, ventral striatum and midbrain) in response to chocolate pictures (Small et al., 2001). What does this mean for choco-holics?

Spilling chocolate all over the kitchen floor....

A recent study tested the actual brain activity differences across individuals who craved chocolate and those who didn’t have these characteristic cravings (Asmaro et al., 2012). Researchers recruited undergraduates and asked them to fill out a chocolate-craving questionnaire, which was used to objectively measure “chocolate cravings”. After taking all of the data from these questionnaires, the researchers categorized the participants into one of two groups: chocolate cravers and non-cravers. The behavioral task of this study involved showing three types of images to both groups of participants. Both non-cravers and cravers were shown images falling under the following categories: chocolate, neutral and target. The chocolate stimuli category had pictures of dark or milk chocolate (yum), the neutral category had pictures of bland, uncooked foods (like pasta, for example) and the target stimuli category included random pictures of chairs (Asmaro et al., 2012).

There were two main sessions for this study: before eating chocolate and after eating a delicious piece of chocolate. In each of the two sessions, 220 images (100 chocolate, 100 neutral and 20 chairs) were presented in blocks. The participants (in both groups) were told to keep their eyes fixed on the screen as these images came up, and as soon as a target picture (a chair) appeared, participants had to press a key on a keyboard. After this task, the participants were asked to rate their craving for chocolate on a scale of 1 to 5. While this task was going on, researchers had an electroencephalogram along the patient’s scalp. An electroencephalogram is simply a tool that neuroscientists use to measure and record the electrical activity in the human brain. The reason they used an electroencephalogram in this case was to have a way to measure the brain response to these different, presented images. This actual brain response is commonly referred to as an “event-related potential” (Asmaro et al., 2012).

The researchers found that when the chocolate craving group was presented with a picture of chocolate, their brain activity indicated that they had a greater desire for chocolate overall. The non-craving group, however, had a lesser desire for chocolate after the task (Asmaro et al., 2012). This shows that presenting the chocolate stimuli actually caused different neurological responses across the two groups—cravers and non-cravers. If we take a step back and apply this back to my chocolate obsession, it is probable that I may have had different areas of my brain activated when I walked into the chocolate museum and saw all of the chocolate merchandise and pictures (when compared to some of my not so excited classmates).

Cooling chocolate (the French way...)

Asmaro et al. (2012) also showed that in non-cravers, the early changes in an area of the brain disappeared after eating some chocolate. This suggests that certain brain mechanisms control the otherwise natural urge to continue to eat chocolate in non-cravers (Asmaro et al., 2012). In cravers, however, a similar area of the brain (the orbitofrontal cortex) showed no changes in activity even after eating chocolate. What does this mean for us chocolate lovers, then? Turns out certain areas in our brain, such as the orbitofrontal cortex, are more likely to tell us to stop eating chocolate if we are classified as a “non-craver”. For us cravers, however, chocolate is a “wanted stimulus with a high motivational value” (a value that we subjectively place on it) and so our brains don’t really tell us to stop as readily as the brains of our fellow non-cravers. This is due to the fact that we have grown to appreciate and place immense value on chocolate.

Turns out, studies on the effects of chocolate on the brain are quite popular—mainly because they provide us with insight on consummatory and dietary patterns in humans.  The question is now: are you a craver or non-craver, and what are you going to do about it? If you’re anything like me, I’ll see you at the local bakery scoping out the best chocolate pastries.

 

-Noareen Ahmed

 

References:

Asmaro D, Fern J, Valery S, Isabel T, Patrick C, Mario L (2012) Spatiotemporal dynamics of the hedonic processing of chocolate imags in individuals with and without trait chocolate craving. Appetite 58: 790-799.

Rolls E, McCabe C (2007). Enhanced affective brain activations of chocolate in         cravers vs. non-cravers. European Journal of Neuroscience 26: 1067–1076

Small D, , Zatorre R, Dagher A, Evans A, Jones-Gotman M (2001). Changes in brain activity related to eating chocolate. From pleasure to aversion. Brain, 124: 1720–1733.