Ramón y Cajal is known for the neuron doctrine,
but it’s his art that lives, those meticulous drawings
of multiform brain cells, their spiny
projections, Seuss-like renderings,
but with delicate line, precisely inked,
no swooping, comic hyperbole,
just the fine web of synaptic links,
the engine of greatest wisdom or wildest folly.
Great art maps the world seen
uniquely by the artist’s eye. The brain,
in mania, overtakes the perceptive mind,
paints itself, not what the world displays.
As audience, we’re left dumbfounded:
whether by art or madness blinded.
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