Stories by Jen Christiansen

We've come a long way since NASA's Mariner 4 

I’m thrilled to report that two Scientific American graphics (on bees and caffeine) are featured in The Best American Infographics 2014.

I’m a bit obsessed with Scientific American covers, but my knowledge of the archive during the years before my time on staff is broad rather than deep.

I threw down a bit of a challenge last month at the Association of Medical Illustrators Conference in Minnesota. But first, I had to—somewhat unexpectedly—accept some challenges presented by others.

Andy Kirk (of Visualising Data) recently published a clever image-driven post in which he uses automobiles to make a series of points about the practice of data visualization.

It’s interesting to see how different points can pique the interest of different people looking at the same data set. My colleague Mark Fischetti (senior editor and partner-in-crime for many of the Graphic Science items in the magazine) was intrigued by bipartisan agreement on questions related to global warming in the survey results shown in [...]

Here at Scientific American, we develop lots of infographics about the brain. From classic neural pathway diagrams, depictions of medical breakthroughs, and maps of the brain’s genetic activity, there are as many solutions for visualizing the brain as there are questions about how it works.

The 22nd annual Malofiej International Infographics Summit (hosted in Pamplona, Spain by the Spanish chapter of the Society for News Design) concluded today with award announcements.

Scientific American's logotype has undergone subtle shifts, large leaps and occasional bouts of nostalgia. The image series below outlines the history of the publication's identity, starting with its debut in August 1845 as weekly devoted primarily to inventions

The title of this post borrows from ideas presented by Sha Hwang at the Visualized conference in New York City several weeks ago: He kicked off the data-visualization event with a talk that—in effect—challenged the audience to take a step back.

Irving Geis (1908-1997) is probably best known for illustrations of biological macromolecules, such as his groundbreaking watercolor painting of myoglobin—an exhaustive and beautiful portrait of the first properly sorted protein molecule.

In college in the 1990s, I suffered an identity crisis. Was I a scientist or an artist? I loved the clarity and order inherent to the scientific process; ask questions, set up methodologies, collect data, analyze.

Have you ever wondered how—and why—infographers push beyond familiar forms such as bar charts and network diagrams when translating information from a spreadsheet into an illustration?

“The same forces that have made it possible for infographics to proliferate have also made us hungry for them. We are deluged with information, and infographics promise to make sense of it...

Additional resources for the October issue’s Graphic Science on the hidden costs of renewable energy

A new 3-D imaging technique shows that higher resolution is not the only desirable trait for microscopic observations

On Saturday, March 8, I arrived in Pamplona, Spain, a familiar destination for many in the information graphics community. Pamplona isn’t the easiest destination in Spain to reach—from anywhere, really.

Last week, the world information graphics community convened in Pamplona, Spain, for the 21st annual Malofiej International Infographics Summit and Awards, organized by the Spanish chapter of the Society for News Design.

As an attendee at the inaugural VISUALIZED conference last week in New York City, I was ready to experience, as the website described, “an inspiring two-day gathering with the brightest minds and social innovators from around the world who are changing how we understand and interact with data; and gain insight into designing data-driven narratives [...]

The other day, my own hypocrisy slapped me in the face. I was looking at a quantum illustration. One for which I had just encouraged an artist to develop a dimensional and detailed representation of a particle, that—by the author’s own admission—may or may not exist.