I have always thought of myself as a writer. It’s hard to say where I got that notion — maybe from being naturally comfortable living in my own head. My mother’s memory: I am standing with my back against the crib’s railings, facing the wall instead of looking outward toward the room. “What a strange baby,” she probably thought, or as she more gently put it when telling me about my early habit, “I thought that was interesting.”
In the News
The Harvard Arts Blog says: "Photographer Matika Wilbur lights up talking about the women in her images in "Seeds of Culture: The Portraits and Stories of Native American Women." Her smile widens as she shares the memories of time spent with the women in Native American territories across the country. She is equally given to a somber air as she describes the sobering realities that inspired her to begin her project."
When I enter my lab, I'm greeted by the pops and crackles of mantis shrimp smashing snail shells with tiny hammers moving at bullet-like accelerations. Other days, I listen to their eerie, low-frequency rumbles, joined by the scratchy rasps of the violin- like mechanism that spiny lobsters use to scare away predators. For the past twenty years, I have probed the physics and evolution of these and other strange and wonderful creatures. Many have revealed unexpected insights into extraordinary capabilities that are unmatched by human- made systems.