Struck by Genius: How a Brain Injury Made Me a Mathematical Marvel

Author:Padgett, Jason & Seaberg, Maureen Ann [Padgett, Jason]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Houghton Mifflin Harcourt
Published: 2014-04-22T00:00:00+00:00

I tried to escape to these familiar visions when I was uncomfortable. Even if something was very beautiful, I found it could overwhelm me. This was never more clear than when Elena took me to the Hermitage, the former Winter Palace of the czars that’s now a treasure-filled art museum. She later said our time there was classic Jason. I suppose it was.

We were walking in a gallery filled with eighteenth-century portraits. The ceilings soared and the archways were enormous. It was gilded—no expense had been spared in its creation. The paintings were also oversize; anything smaller than those gigantic canvases would have been utterly lost in that space. Elena was feeling great pride in her heritage and carefully paused at each face or faces, explaining to me the history behind them. We were so important to each other by then that I knew she wanted me to not just see the paintings but feel them, to know her through them. However, I was distracted, and I kept looking over my shoulder. She told me later how it hurt to lose my attention. She tried to emphasize certain points louder and look in my eyes directly to hold my gaze, but it was no use. I couldn’t help it. I walked away, down the hallway, where I ended up with my face about an inch away from a mirror hanging there. I’m not usually that rude. Elena followed me down the hall and asked what I was doing.

“Elena,” I said, all seriousness. “Do you see the way the light is reflecting off this mirror? It’s so beautiful.” Though I had seen and even been obsessed with light playing off glass and mirrors before, the scale of the mirror as well as the enormous window letting the light in created the most elaborate, incredible, prismatic fanning-out of light rays I’d ever seen.

I learned later this light play is known in Italian as gibigianna, which translated to “charming woman.” It certainly charmed me.

It was not that I didn’t appreciate the collections in the Hermitage. But something in me saw more beauty, more value, in the natural and geometric underpinnings of the world. I may have had treasures untold at my feet in that moment, but they paled by comparison.

We made our way to Pskov and I gained even more appreciation and affection for Elena when I realized the difficulty of the journey she made to meet me. Compared to St. Petersburg, Pskov was pristine and reminded me of some of the small towns I’d lived in in Alaska. I’d arranged to rent a small flat about a mile from Elena’s apartment. Her parents’ place was too small for another person and they didn’t know me yet. I vowed to win her parents over.

Elena’s mom and dad were very kind to me from the start, and Elena translated patiently as we got to know one another. Through them, I saw the fall of the empire. Her father had lost his government engineering job in the breakup of the Soviet Union.

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