In the company of the Dead, we (I) admire the Crazy

By Duke McDaniels

POV: Your apartment didn’t have a dryer.

The art contained within the Pantheon was, to me, probably the most exciting part of the visit. Having already spent time with dead people at the start of our trip, I was pleasantly surprised to discover that the main floor of the historic building was filled with art of varying levels of ambition and scale. While I obviously knew that crypts are typically underground and therefore the one we had discussed within the building was unlikely to be located right at the front door, I didn’t expect the rest of the building to be quite as well-furnished with interesting things to look at. The massive columns supporting the structure were adorned with intricately-carved stonework, the large, echoing chambers themselves had sculptures and art exhibitions of varying sizes on display, and the stone walls of the interior were covered almost end-to-end with beautifully-painted murals.

“The Ghost with a Sword.” Not the actual title, I accidentally cropped that out of the picture, but let’s face it, mine is way cooler anyway.

While the sculpture and display works were certainly interesting, it was the murals that caught my eye the most. They were painted in a clearly medieval style, with chaotic scenes made even more interesting to look at due to the practically trademarked uncanny valley facial expressions associated with the style. Many of the scenes depicted were so rife with visual metaphors and symbolism that they practically felt like fever dreams. These almost psychedelic images reminded me of the various types of creative works that would come out of people under the influence of psychoactive substances, with the paintings and sketches they produce often mirroring these chaotic and fantastical elements.

“The Martyrdom of St. Denis.” They should’ve gotten me to name these things, for real.

In my research to find out more about these types of experiments, I stumbled across a particularly fascinating article which took a different approach. As we all know, neural networks meant to emulate the neurobiological processes of thinking are being adopted by many computing programs so they can adapt to new information like our own brains. If this is possible,  it might be possible of a brain experiencing altered consciousness. This is exactly what Schartner & Timmermann did in their 2020 study to produce a neural model of a brain under the influence of hallucinogenic drug DMT. The model produced could make images with similar distortions to those humans experience under the drug’s influence (Schartner & Timmermann, 2020). Although no one can prove that the artists who made these pieces of medieval art were high as they did so, as technology advances and I see more images like these, my theories inch ever closer to saying “yes, they were.”

Schartner, M. M., & Timmermann, C. (2020). Neural network models for DMT-induced visual hallucinations. Neuroscience of Consciousness, 2020(1). https://doi.org/10.1093/nc/niaa024

Finding a piece of home in Paris

Clay Smurf heads doing their thing at the Musée des Arts et Métiers.

I have been absolutely obsessed with the Smurfs ever since I stepped foot in the gift shop of the Bavarian Inn in Frankenmuth, Michigan (a true diamond of the state of Michigan that holds a special place in my heart). I started a collection of Smurfs figurines when I was 10 years old that I still have adorning my apartment back in Atlanta. And don’t get me started on the Smurfs Village iPhone game… The nostalgia I feel toward the Smurfs is a reminder of yearly visits to my dad’s home town and a general feeling of appreciation toward the Midwest that I have only been able to access since moving to the south for college. Due to my deep connection to the Smurfs, I was overjoyed when I saw a collection of clay Smurf figures in the Musée des Arts et Métiers on a class excursion. They were a reminder of home at the midpoint of my time living in Paris. They also made me think about the neuroscience of nostalgia, and what purpose it might serve.

 

In a study by Jiang et al. in 2021, it was shown that nostalgia is a positive way to reflect on one’s past that increases optimism and reduces bitterness. This relationship was seen in both British and Chinese participants, providing evidence that nostalgia may work similarly across cultures. Entering senior year of college, I have definitely been doing some reflecting on my 3 years at Emory as well as experiences in my childhood that have shaped me into who I am today. It has always been important to me to hold onto relics of childhood, like the Smurfs, that incorporate childlike wonder and whimsy into my everyday life as I continue to learn and grow.

Me outside the museum, reflecting on my past with gratitude and looking toward the future with optimism.

While it is easy to get in a rut of being nervous and a little bit scared about the future, keeping a sense of nostalgia has actually helped me to not get stuck in the past. From my current vantage point, being able to look back on both positive and negative moments in my life and see how they shifted my path is something that I value and appreciate. I think that many people in this program might relate to the feeling of not being completely sure what they want to do next. The uncertainty can be crippling, but it is also a unique experience where the options for next steps are endless. Thinking back on the reflecting I was doing at this point in my high school career 4 years ago, I also know that while I may not fully understand what is happening in my life right now, I will one day be able to look back on this time in the same way I think about the Smurfs at the Bavarian Inn (seriously, if you ever find yourself in the middle of Michigan you have to try the Frankenmuth chicken).

 

I didn’t think I would be reflecting on my time in Paris by likening it to Frankenmuth, but I look forward to reminiscing on all that I have learned here for years to come.

 

References:

Jiang, T., Cheung, W. Y., Wildschut, T., & Sedikides, C. (2021). Nostalgia, reflection, brooding: Psychological benefits and autobiographical memory functions. Consciousness and cognition90, 103107.

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This disturbing, yet fascinating picture was taken during our class visit to the Fragonard Museum. Honore Fragonard was a French anatomist who conducted experiments that pushed ethical boundaries such as dissecting real humans and displaying them in unique action poses. From a neuroscience perspective, it was incredible to see the diffusion of veins and arteries across the body, intertwined with the delicate nerves running through the skull and down the arms. Interestingly, Fragonard also injected the veins with blue dye and the arteries with red dye, potentially also paving the way for how these organs are universally depicted in textbooks and in the classroom.     

Photo Post 3

Our trip to the Pantheon was nothing short of breathtaking. The once church is now a civic building dedicated to honoring the lives of some of the greatest French citizens. One of these French greats is Marie Curie. She was a pioneering chemist who discovered the element Radium with her husband. This experience related to our NBB 402W class as her contributions have paved the way for many commonly used cancer therapeutics – such as radiotherapy for glioblastomas (Mann et al., 2018) as well as neuroimaging techniques that use radiation (sMRI, fMRI, etc.). 

Sacré-Cœur: Mind-Body-Spirit

The Sacré-Cœur has always been one of my favorite places in Paris. The views from the steps, the immaculate architecture, and the walk through Montmartre to reach the church are breathtaking every time. So, after walking through the streets below the church and

Me with my fresh croissant from a bakery in Montmartre. This was one of many snacks I bought that didn’t even make it to the top of the hill with me seeing as I ate it immediately.

browsing various fromageries, bakeries, and other food shops, I put my picnic supplies in a backpack and walked up the seemingly endless stairs to the basilica. 

Once I finally reached the top of the steps, I was greeted with the most incredible view out over the city. Sitting on the steps of the basilica eating my assortment of Parisian snacks and drinking my new favorite wine (a French Chablis), I was truly amazed by the size and beauty of Paris. 

Though I didn’t venture into the basilica on this visit, I’ve been in before. Walking around the grounds and looking at the intricate gargoyles and arching doorways, I was once again impressed with the architecture and attention to detail that had so clearly gone into the building. 

After my visit, I began to be curious about the relationship between experiences like mine and neuroscience. As someone who would characterize themselves as loosely religious, I wondered about the neural basis of religion and religious belief. After all, religion and

The basilica view peeking around the corner from the walk in Montmartre

spirituality, regardless of form, is something observed all over the world in the grand majority of cultures. 

After some searching on PubMed, I found a collection of articles discussing the neural correlates of religion and spirituality (R/S). The article I felt most drawn to was a review article of many of these prior studies which discussed not only prior work and findings but also the implications of these findings. Specifically, the article concluded that the medial frontal cortex, orbitofrontal cortex, and several other regions were particularly implicated in R/S beliefs and practice. The authors then postulated that these brain regions could lead to further effects on “mood, anxiety, psychotic, pain, and vertiginous disorders” (Rim et al, 2019). These findings, which were consistent across a variety of religions including Christianity and Buddhism, pose essential considerations for future research in this field. As religion is such a hot-button topic in our world today, understanding the way that it is based in peoples’ brains is vital and fascinating. 

I honestly couldn’t tell you to what extent my frontal lobe was activated during my visit to

The basilica view from the steps overlooking the city. Not a bad picnic spot.

the Sacré-Cœur, I can tell you that the experience was breathtaking. I definitely think that the ability to experience and read about something that felt so much larger than myself was fascinating, and it is something I’ll continue to consider going forward. 

References:

Rim, J. I., Ojeda, J. C., Svob, C., Kayser, J., Drews, E., Kim, Y., Tenke, C. E., Skipper, J., & Weissman, M. M. (2019). Current Understanding of Religion, Spirituality, and Their Neurobiological Correlates. Harvard review of psychiatry, 27(5), 303–316. https://doi.org/10.1097/HRP.0000000000000232

Blast to the Past: Musee de l’Homme

Earlier this week, our class took a trip to Musee de l‘Homme – an anthropological museum established in 1937. The walls leading up to the museum were decorated in brightly lit LED signs that said the word “Hello” in various different languages. It was the perfect welcome to what was going to be an afternoon filled with fun facts on the evolution of the human species.

Early in the exhibit I discovered a glass case filled with the brains of different animal species such as rodents, rhesus macaques, humans, and even elephants. The brains were suspended in a hydrating solution to ensure that they did not decay. At Emory, I work in a neuroimaging lab that studies the neurostructural development of rhesus macaques brains subject to obesogenic diets and social subordination stress. Hence, it was so interesting to finally be able to see a live visual of the macaque brain, one which I have been viewing on a screen for so long. What struck me the most, however, was the drastic size difference between the human brain and the macaque brain. Since the rhesus macaque is such a common model organism for “stress on the brain” studies and is praised for its high translational value to human brains, I expected the brain size to be more similar to that of humans. However, it was surprisingly only one-third the size of a human brain. Nevertheless, numerous findings from macaque research have proven to be immensely valuable in the development of clinical treatments for humans suffering from depression, anxiety, and even mobile disabilities (e.g. the development of neuroprosthetics). One such study demonstrated that stimulation electrodes in the somatosensory cortex and recording electrodes in the anterior intraparietal area (AIP) of a male macaque can lead to tactile sensation to a NHP (Klaes et al., 2015). Such types of studies continue to revolutionize brain-machine-interface (BMI) technologies. 

Towards the end of the exhibit, there was a section on the evolution of sneakers. As an outspoken tennis geek, I was enchanted by the display of the shoes Serena Williams wore when she won the 2002 French Open. This section was incredibly interesting as it demonstrated how cultural changes led to the evolution of various sneakers types. I have been to a sneaker museum in the US; however, this one better explained the impact of culture on sneaker evolution.

Ultimately, this trip was very eye opening for me from a neuroscience research perspective and motivated me to one day come back in the future. 

References: 

Klaes, C., Shi, Y., Kellis, S., Minxha, J., Revechkis, B., & Andersen, R. A. (2014). A cognitive neuroprosthetic that uses cortical stimulation for somatosensory feedback. Journal of Neural Engineering, 11(5), 056024. https://doi.org/10.1088/1741-2560/11/5/056024

 

I see dead people…in crypts

 

I see dead people…in crypts. On Wednesday, we went to visit the Pantheon in Paris! “Pantheon” is derived from Greek, meaning ‘temple for all gods.’ However, the French Pantheon was intended not to be a religious symbol or house any religious artifacts. Instead, this Pantheon would be the resting place for those who extended the greatness of France, and assisted France in pursuing its’ national motto: liberté, égalité, fraternité (liberty, equality, and brotherhood.)

Me in front of the Pantheon when we first arrived

The ceiling of the Pantheon features high arches

 

While listening to the audio tour, I learned that only men (and, more recently, women) who made their achievements after July 14, 1789, are allowed to be buried at the Pantheon. This is because only those who brought glory to France during ‘freedom’ may be buried there, and July 14, 1789, was the Storming of the Bastille that was recognized as the official beginning of the French Revolution, and every period after that was determined to be free France. This can be seen in the inscription on the first-floor reading “vivre libre ou mourir,” or “live free or die.” Some notable characters featured in the Pantheon are Joan of Arc, immortalized in a mural along the side chambers, Victor Hugo in his vault, and some enlightenment writers and philosophers such as Rosseau and Voltaire. I found it particularly intriguing how Joan of Arc, a distinctly French religious feature, could be so beautifully combined with secularism to intertwine both Christianity and secular versions of French history. Our final stop on our visit was to the tomb of Marie Curie. Marie Curie famously received radiation poisoning during her lab work, which eventually lead to her death via aplastic pernicious anaemia. During her time working with radium, she began a fleet of mobile X-ray devices to allow doctors’ to locate shrapnel wounds in soldiers’ during WWI. She then founded the Instiut du Radium, which is now an oncology research center. It made me wonder how far oncology radiation therapy has come since the time of Marie Curie. I found an article that gave an overview of the historical development of radiation therapy. Following the increase in empiricist medicinal practices, radiation therapy has grown to be more focused on local tumor destruction and reduction of side-effects. For instance, in clinical trials it was found that radiation therapy improves local control of a tumor and increases survival rates  of breast cancer following first breast-conserving surgery, and then mastectomy if absolutely needed (Thompson et. al, 2018). It’s interesting to see this development in the thinking behind physiology and medicinal practices over 150 years after Curie.  

Marie Curie buried with her husband, Pierre Curie

 

References:

Thompson, M. K., Poortmans, P., Chalmers, A. J., Faivre-Finn, C., Hall, E., Huddart, R. A., Lievens, Y., Sebag-Montefiore, D., & Coles, C. E. (2018). Practice-changing radiation therapy trials for the treatment of cancer: Where are we 150 years after the birth of Marie Curie? British Journal of Cancer, 119(4), 389–407. https://doi.org/10.1038/s41416-018-0201-z

 

A Monument to Disease & Disgust

By Duke McDaniels

The entry stairway to the Musée des Moulages, filled with memorabilia of famous individuals integral to the development of the medical field. Photobombed by some of my classmates.

After an incredibly drama-suffused tale of miscommunications and scheduling mishaps, we of the NBB Paris Study Abroad team finally managed to make it to a visit at the Musée des Moulages, a famous dermatology museum here in the aforementioned city of Paris. While I do admit to initially rolling my eyes a bit at the prospect of visiting such a place, especially after all the trouble it had taken to get there, I wasn’t expecting the experience to be particularly valuable. How wrong I was. Visiting that monument to skincare gone-awry gave me a priceless gift I could never have gotten anywhere else in the world at my age: the 100% certainty that I would never, EVER explore the realm of dermatology as long as I lived.

The museum was particularly secretive about its contents, given that it housed wax (or perhaps plaster, I wasn’t really sure) casts and models of various dermatological diseases and disorders. The fact that these models were so unique and intricate meant that pictures weren’t allowed to be taken within the museum’s main exhibit, and when I say that every person reading this should be praising the powers that be for this rule, I mean every word. I saw things more grotesque than the minds of the already deeply-disturbed creatives within the horror genre could hope to think of on their own. With every oozing sore, swollen appendage, and fungus-eaten slab of flesh we passed, I grew evermore thankful I had skipped both breakfast and lunch that day in favor of my other homework assignments.

The more intense my feelings of revulsion at the frailty of the human form and all its vulnerabilities grew, the more I became interested in the actual source of these feelings. Disgust is an emotion commonly thought to be a response evolved to promote the avoidance of disease (Davey, 2011), a theory which makes sense given the environment which was evoking that emotion. Evidence for this evolutionary basis includes the cross-cultural facial expression associated with the emotion (i.e. wrinkled nose & downturned mouth), feelings of nausea, and avoidance of the object of disgust accompanied by a fear of being contaminated by it (Davey, 2011). The case study of myself checked all of the boxes, and in my mind, lended some more credibility to this theory. The fact that dermatologists can put themselves into such environments while thinking of nothing but aiding the afflicted person is truly admirable. It is not, however, a mindset I can share for the moment.

One of the few pictures I was able to take in the building. My good buddy and I, Louis IX admiring the lobby of the building, still blissfully unaware of the horrors awaiting within.

Davey, G. C. (2011). Disgust: The disease-avoidance emotion and its dysfunctions. Philosophical Transactions of the Royal Society B: Biological Sciences, 366(1583), 3453–3465. https://doi.org/10.1098/rstb.2011.0039

15 Minutes of Musée

Eugenie Fiocre by Jean-Baptiste Carpeaux (1863)

Even though this was our two paper week, Zoe and I still found time to visit the Musee d’Orsay on Wednesday afternoon. It’s about a 15 minute walk along the Seine from our apartment, and we stopped at the Bouquinistes, or booksellers, on our way for some posters and trinkets. We’re going to have to go back again this week because we only got through the first two floors, which focused a lot on the architecture of Paris and also featured many sculptures. On my unofficial quest to incorporate dance into every blog post, I found a bust of Eugenie Fiocre by Jean-Baptiste Carpeaux from 1863. I was initially drawn to the bust because of its intricacies in the details of the fabric and hair, but with the help of my trusty google translate app, I realized Eugenie Fiocre was a principal dancer with the Paris Opera Ballet. She was the first to dance many of the principal roles in ballets the company still performs today and is even depicted in a Degas painting. She was definitely a huge celebrity in France in the late 1800s, which was a really interesting concept to think about. From what I’ve seen around Paris thus far, only very powerful people like politicians or war heroes have had busts of themselves made, so it was cool to see a famous dancer also be immortalized in this way.

L’Escalier de l’Opéra (The Opera Staircase) by Victor Navlet (1880). This painting depicts the Royal Opera house, where Fiocre would have performed.

This got me thinking about the persistence of the idea of fame and celebrity throughout history. I wondered what it is about humans that makes us become so invested in the lives of people we don’t know. There has been research investigating what makes some people more prone to “celebrity worship” than others (McCutcheon et al. 2002). In some cases, people can become so invested in the lives of their favorite celebrities that they become addicted to feeling a personal connection with that person. The Celebrity Worship Scale, created by McCutcheon, Lange, and Houran, laid the groundwork for a study by Sansone et al. in 2014. They identified celebrity worship as a continuum ranging from enjoying watching and reading about a celebrity to showing excessive empathy and obsessive behavior toward a celebrity (Sansone et al. 2014). These studies show how the idea of celebrity in human culture has had an impact on clinical psychiatry, which I had not thought about before. From even before Eugenie Fiocre to the Kardashians today, humans have been fascinated by fame for many years, not without implications on the brain.

Me outside the museum, looking especially Parisian in a linen overshirt.

References:

McCutcheon, L. E., Lange, R., & Houran, J. (2002). Conceptualization and measurement of celebrity worship. British journal of psychology (London, England : 1953)93(Pt 1), 67–87.

Sansone, R. A., & Sansone, L. A. (2014). “I’m Your Number One Fan”- A Clinical Look at Celebrity Worship. Innovations in clinical neuroscience11(1-2), 39–43.

Ancient Burr Hole Equipment

Last week, we visited the Musée d’Histoire de la Médecine at Université Paris Cité. The museum was very beautiful with lots of wood paneling and skylights. There were also quite a few paintings that depicted how medicine was conducted in the earlier centuries. The main part of the museum, however, was the medical equipment. A case of tools used for drilling burr holes in the skull can be seen in the picture above. Burr holes have been used for centuries to treat intracranial diseases and release pressure. In the past, it was believed that burr holes could rid people of evil spirits. Today, drilling burr holes is much more precise and requires MRI and CT imaging to ensure it is being done in the correct place. The technology is also much more advanced, so the drills only cut through bone and spare the brain tissue.