快猫短视频

IN HIS latest book, The Order of Time, theoretical physicist Carlo Rovelli describes time as a 鈥渕ultilayered, complex concept with multiple, distinct properties deriving from various different approximations鈥�. But in the end, Rovelli admits that when it comes to explaining time, physicists struggle to convince even themselves. 鈥淚鈥檓 not sure if we are dealing with a plausible story, but I do not know of any better ones,鈥� he says of his attempts.

Stories are all we have, it seems. There are no fully formed explanations or formulas that have sealed time into the vaults of what we term knowledge. Instead, we use what we know about physics to construct narratives.

These stories seem scientifically rich, invoking concepts such as entropy, space-time, warping and dilation. They may even involve many of our cleverest theories. But ultimately, most of what we describe as time is a human experience. We use atoms as our most accurate clocks, but when we make them travel close to the speed of light, their time becomes different to ours. Any explanation of time has to bring together all these incompatible experiences 鈥� or show that time is the greatest illusion of all.

These fascinating puzzles are explored in artist and film-maker Grace Weir鈥檚 installation, Time Tries All Things, commissioned by the UK鈥檚 Institute of Physics (IOP) for the inaugural show at its 拢30-million public gallery space in London.

Weir鈥檚 piece is a double-edged film: two screens, side by side, vie for our attention. On one is a 30-minute single shot, beginning with a close-up of David Berman, professor of theoretical physics at Queen Mary University of London. He is silent, thoughtful, yet somehow confrontational. An intermittent voice-over 鈥� Berman鈥檚 take on the nature of time 鈥� unfolds as the camera slowly circles around him. It takes in his surroundings, then heads outside where it finds the base of a clock tower with a stone plaque showing a gull and the enigmatic phrase: 鈥淭IME TRIETH TROTH鈥�.

鈥淲hen it comes to explaining time, physicists struggle to convince even themselves鈥�

That phrase has its roots in a 16th-century saying that means that all things 鈥� beliefs, objects, relationships, happenings 鈥� face their ultimate judgement via the passage of the years.

No one knows who sculpted the plaque. Weir, sensing its mystery, and playing with our experience of time鈥檚 single narrative, commissioned sculptor Seamus Dunbar to make a copy. She filmed him at work, and wove a sequence into the footage on the second screen. Here, Fay Dowker, professor of theoretical physics at Imperial College London, sits, serenely drawing 鈥渁toms of space-time鈥� with mere pencil and paper.

Dowker鈥檚 voice narrates her take on time, eventually arriving at the essential truth of this piece. 鈥淭ime is a dynamic process,鈥� she says, 鈥渂ut communicating this concept makes it static.鈥� It is a light-bulb moment. Even if you have read thousands of words about time in 快猫短视频 or myriad books, are you any the wiser? Time is a sprite, nimbly evading capture in our words. You can鈥檛 pin down something that is, essentially, fleeting, says Dowker.

What鈥檚 more, as Berman points out in Weir鈥檚 film, it isn鈥檛 always clear which time we are talking about. There is the arrow of time, our experience of instants passing one after the other, with no option to rewind. Then there is the warp and weft of the universe: the time that co-exists with space, and is interchangeable with it 鈥� or so general relativity, our best theory of how the universe works, claims.

In this latter scheme, there is no universal 鈥渘ow鈥� and no universal pace for clocks. Our experience of a regular tick-tock is misleading, and applies only on a human scale. In the bigger picture, time isn鈥檛 a special component of the cosmos. 鈥淭reating time specially is a human construct,鈥� Berman tells us, speaking out from Weir鈥檚 screen. 鈥淎t the very basic level that鈥檚 not how nature works.鈥�

Not that physicists agree on the way forward. Weir鈥檚 pair represent two very different approaches. Dowker is an advocate of 鈥渃ausal set theory鈥�, a school of thought that ascribes an atomic structure to space-time. She describes her work as attempting to tackle a 鈥渢rio of dichotomies, Atomicity versus Continuity, Locality versus Globalness and Being versus Becoming鈥�. These are, she says, 鈥減ersistent themes in our struggle to understand the physical world鈥�, and her research is an attempt to put these 鈥渁ncient tensions鈥� to work as paths to a better theory of physics, rather than simply try to resolve them.

Berman, on the other hand, studies the more familiar string theory, in which time plays no significant role. Both approaches are probably wrong. As is Einstein鈥檚: relativity offers a useful tool for handling time, but not the truth about its nature.

鈥淭ime is a sprite, nimbly evading capture in our words. You can鈥檛 pin down something that is fleeting鈥�

Weir doesn鈥檛 worry about this impasse. As a former artist in residence at the school of physics at Trinity College Dublin, and someone who knows how to talk to scientists about the trickiest issues, she knows how they think. This helped her win the IOP commission at a time when the institute wants to position physics in mainstream British culture.

The flow 鈥� or not 鈥� of time has long been a focus for Weir. The titles of some of her major works show clearly what fascinates her: The History of Light (Betelgeuse), photograms made directly with light from the dying star; A Past Still To Come, an exploration of identity and time; and Future Perfect, a series of paintings where the colours deliberately fade.

But Weir is perhaps best known for immersive, slow-burning cinematic pieces that confront the viewer with science鈥檚 hardest ideas. Part of the ingenuity of her work is that it allows us to enjoy processing what might be familiar concepts in a new brain-space.

In the IOP work, for example, there is a dreamlike quality to the visuals, particularly in Berman鈥檚 film: little happens, but we see the odd detail and swooping change, which engages us visually while the words seep into other parts of our consciousness.

Berman and Dowker鈥檚 words are divorced from the moments when they were spoken. We see them, but aren鈥檛 assaulted by their views. Instead, the words become gentle suggestions of both their understanding and ignorance. There is no insistence that we believe, follow or concentrate on what they are saying. All the while, the sculptor鈥檚 hammer taps out the ticks of the clock and the word 鈥渢ime鈥� slowly takes shape.

Don鈥檛 come for answers, come to enjoy 30 thoughtful minutes. Your involuntary march through time deserves a little pushback.