Felice Frankel at BIF-1

For many, science is a world of uncrackable codes—an esoteric language of formulas, theories, and technical jargon. But for BIF-1 Storyteller Felice Frankel, a research scientist and science photographer at the Massachusetts Institute of Technology, photography can translate the chemical, physical and biological wonders of the world into a different language, one that is both beautiful and meaningful.

"For me, form, shape and composition are integral to a scientific image," she says. "I compose data, making it readable and comprehensible, and the scientists with whom I work agree that visually clarified information adds another dimension to the exchange of ideas."

Frankel’s photographs, taken in collaboration with researchers, have appeared in scientific publications such as Nature, Science, and Cellular Biology, as well as a number of publications for non-scientists. For the lay person, Frankel’s stunning images open a window onto subject matter often accessible only by a small community of experts. For the scientist, Frankel’s images convey meaning about scientific findings that transcends the power of words.

Frankel began her career working as a biology laboratory assistant at Columbia University. After leaving the lab to raise a family, Frankel began to explore her love of photography. But long before her attentions turned to yeast growing in a Petri dish—the subject matter of one of her most well known photographs—Frankel’s forays into photography tackled more traditional subjects like landscapes and architecture. Thanks to her success in this genre, however, Frankel was awarded a Loeb fellowship from Harvard University's Graduate School of Design.

At Harvard, Frankel eschewed the usual architecture and design courses, and opted for classes with scientists like E.O. Wilson and Stephen J. Gould. While auditing a course with George Whitesides, a chemistry professor well known for his visual teaching style, Frankel produced a photograph for an article Whitesides’ submitted to Science magazine. The image she created was featured on the cover—a coveted achievement in the world of research. The rest, says Frankel, is history.

Frankel sees photography as a way of creating a visual vocabulary to describe scientific work. "Too often the visual beauty of scientific research seems to be kept secret," she says. "Scientists are trained to be suspicious of visually stunning displays, often dismissing them as unnecessary or superficial, and thus remain largely unaware of the value of the visual poetry of their own work."

In this spirit, Frankel pioneered Image and Meaning, an annual conference that brings together researchers from all disciplines, as well as journal editors, art directors, photographers, illustrators, animators, writers, and TV and film producers, to explore the frontiers of science imaging and its effect on science communication.

Yet, Frankel doesn’t call her work art. "I do not view myself as an artist because an artist has a personal agenda and a very particular point of view, that of communicating the part of herself she wants the world to perceive," she says, adding that the primary purpose of her images is to communicate scientific information. "To suggest that art and science are related may dangerously redefine each. Scientific images may be beautiful and even artistic, but they are not art, and art is not science."