We often draw a sharp line between art and science, imagining on one side the free-spirited artist and on the other the meticulous scientist. Yet history and human creativity frequently defy this division. In truth, the same spark that drives a musician to compose a melody or an actress to inhabit a role can drive them to solve equations or explore the stars. In this chapter, we meet three celebrities known for their artistic brilliance who also made important contributions to science, reminding us that creativity knows no bounds. Their stories challenge our surprise and ask: why shouldn’t an artist also be a scientific genius?
Hedy Lamarr: Hollywood Star and Inventor
In 1940s Hollywood, Hedy Lamarr was billed as “the most beautiful woman in the world,” a glamourous actress who lit up the silver screen. It was hard for audiences then to imagine that this luminous movie star, famed for her roles in Samson and Delilah and other classics, spent her off-camera hours hunched over an inventor’s drafting table. Yet Lamarr was not only an actress but a self-taught inventor with a brilliant mind. Frustrated that her intellect was often overlooked – “she felt people didn’t appreciate her for her intelligence, that her beauty got in the way,” notes one biographer – Hedy pursued inventive projects as a hobby after long days on set. And in 1942, amid the chaos of World War II, she achieved a feat of innovation that would secure her legacy in science as well as cinema.
Lamarr’s most famous contribution came from her desire to help the Allied war effort. She learned that Allied torpedoes, which were radio-guided, could be easily jammed or detected by the enemy by tuning into their radio frequency. Drawing on her ingenious problem-solving skills, Hedy conceived, along with co-inventor George Antheil (a composer friend), a new “frequency hopping” communication system. The idea was to have a torpedo and its controller hop between radio frequencies in sync, using a randomized pattern, so that enemies could not lock onto the signal to jam it. This was a revolutionary concept – effectively a precursor to spread-spectrum communication. In 1942 she co-invented and patented this radio guidance system for Allied torpedoes that used spread spectrum and frequency hopping to prevent jamming. At the time, the Navy didn’t implement her invention; it seemed too complex (involving a mechanism analogous to a player-piano roll to switch frequencies) and was perhaps not taken seriously in part because it came from outside the traditional defense establishment. Lamarr famously quipped that the military brass told her she could better help by sticking to selling war bonds, not inventing.
It would be decades later that the significance of Hedy Lamarr’s invention became clear. The principles of her frequency-hopping concept turned out to be foundational for modern wireless communications. Technologies like GPS, Bluetooth, and Wi-Fi all rely on forms of spread-spectrum signal transmission – the very idea Hedy had pioneered. She did not receive credit or compensation for this during her acting career; only in the late 20th century did she begin to be recognized as a scientific innovator hiding in plain sight as a Hollywood icon. Today Lamarr is often celebrated as the “mother of Wi-Fi” or a visionary who was far ahead of her time. In 2014, she was inducted into the National Inventors Hall of Fame, long after her patent had expired and her ideas had quietly shaped the digital revolution.
Hedy Lamarr’s dual identity fascinates us because it breaks the mold. We expect a glamorous actress to memorize lines or attend premieres – not to spend evenings inventing new technologies. But Lamarr herself once said, “Improving things comes naturally to me.” Her scientific curiosity was as much a part of her as her acting talent. In hindsight, the surprise we feel might stem from our own limited expectations. Hedy’s story invites us to see that intellect and artistry can reside in one person, and that a creative mind can dance between Hollywood and the laboratory. Her life was a poignant example of an artist who was also a scientific genius, even if the world realized it only too late. And it prompts us to wonder: how many other gifts might be hidden behind the personas of those we think we already know?
Brian May: Rockstar Astrophysicist
Under the dazzling stage lights, Brian May has cut an iconic figure – the lead guitarist of the legendary rock band Queen, wielding his homemade “Red Special” guitar and delivering riffs that electrified stadiums. With songs like “We Will Rock You” and “Bohemian Rhapsody,” May secured his place in music history. But there’s another side to Brian May, one that fans who sing along to Queen’s anthems might not suspect: Dr. Brian May, the astrophysicist. It’s a title he earned not as an honorary celebrity vanity degree, but through genuine scholarly effort – May completed his Ph.D. in astrophysics in 2007, nearly 30 years after he first paused his doctoral studies to tour with Queen.
From a young age, Brian May’s gaze was drawn as much to the stars as to the guitar frets. He earned a bachelor’s degree in physics and began postgraduate research in the early 1970s, studying interplanetary dust and the light of the zodiacal cloud. When Queen’s success skyrocketed, he put academia on hold – a hiatus that would last three decades while he lived the life of a rock superstar. But he never lost the scientific bug. In the 2000s, May returned to Imperial College London and completed his Ph.D. on zodiacal dust in the solar system. This alone is an extraordinary accomplishment – to walk away from a promising science career to conquer rock music, and then to circle back and finish what you started, earning respect in both domains.
Brian May’s scientific contributions did not stop at that degree. In fact, he has actively merged his passion for astronomy with his fame and skills. Perhaps most impressive is how he became involved with real space missions. May’s expertise lies particularly in stereoscopic imaging – essentially making 3D images by combining two photographs from slightly different angles. This niche skill, which he cultivated alongside his love for Victorian-era 3D photography, turned out to be invaluable to NASA. In recent years, Dr. May worked with NASA scientists on the New Horizons mission (which flew by Pluto) and the OSIRIS-REx mission to asteroid Bennu. In the latter, the rockstar-turned-scientist played a key role in helping the spacecraft safely land on the asteroid to collect samples. He did so by developing detailed stereoscopic images of Bennu’s rocky surface, allowing the team to identify a landing site amidst the boulders. The leader of the mission noted that Brian May wasn’t just a famous cheerleader for the project, but a true collaborator who applied his knowledge to solve a critical problem. Indeed, May co-authored a specialized 3D atlas of the asteroid. Thanks to those efforts, OSIRIS-REx found a safe spot to touch down (Nightingale Crater), and in 2020 it gathered a sample of Bennu that recently returned to Earth – a success to which Brian May had directly contributed.
It’s delightfully fitting that a man who wrote “We are the Champions” also helped humanity achieve champion feats in space exploration. Fans sometimes do a double-take learning that the same guitarist shredding on “Brighton Rock” can discourse on celestial mechanics and has an asteroid named after him (Asteroid 52665 Brianmay is real!). The initial surprise gives way to admiration. Brian May exemplifies the idea that science and art are both driven by curiosity and creativity. In interviews, May often emphasizes how he sees no conflict between rocking out on stage and peering through a telescope. On the contrary, he has blended the two – even incorporating space imagery into Queen concerts, riding an asteroid in a visual effect while playing guitar. His story resonates because it counters the stereotype that a person has one destiny or one talent. May shows that a rock legend can also contribute to astrophysics, inspiring both music lovers and aspiring scientists. It feels surprising perhaps because we imagine the life of a superstar musician to be all-consuming. Yet here is evidence that a passionate mind finds room for both the arts and the rigor of science. Brian May’s life invites us to envision pursuing our multiple interests with equal fervor – and reminds us that the wonder we feel looking up at the night sky can coexist with the thrill of a guitar solo echoing through a stadium.
Danica McKellar: From TV’s “Winnie” to Math Whiz
If you were a TV viewer in the late 1980s, you likely remember Winnie Cooper from The Wonder Years – the sweet, smart girl-next-door who captured hearts (including that of the show’s protagonist, Kevin Arnold). The actress behind Winnie, Danica McKellar, grew up in front of millions of eyes. But as the sitcom ended and Danica transitioned from teen to young adult, she made a choice that few expected: she put acting on hold and dove headlong into advanced mathematics. To the astonishment of many fans, McKellar proved to be as much a whiz with numbers as she was with lines, eventually co-authoring a new mathematical theorem and becoming a champion for math education.
Danica McKellar attended UCLA, where she pursued a degree in mathematics – and not just casually. She graduated with high honors in 1998 and even accomplished something arguably unprecedented in Hollywood circles: she became the only American television actress to co-author a published mathematical physics theorem. This result, known as the Chayes-McKellar-Winn Theorem, was published in the Journal of Physics A in 1998. It involves mathematical physics and deals with properties of magnetism models (the details of “Percolation and Gibbs states multiplicity for ferromagnetic Ashkin–Teller models on $\mathbb{Z}^2$” are quite esoteric). While it’s unlikely Winnie Cooper will explain percolation theory on a sitcom, the very fact that McKellar tackled such an advanced problem – and succeeded – is extraordinary. It wasn’t a publicity stunt; by all accounts, Danica was deeply involved in the research. One of her professors and co-authors noted that she was genuinely talented and dedicated in math. This is a side of her the public never saw on television, which is partly why it’s so surprising and fascinating.
After establishing her math credentials, McKellar did return to acting in various roles, but she also found a new calling: math education advocacy, especially for girls. Remembering her own struggles and the social stigma she felt about “nerdy” subjects, Danica wrote a series of accessible math books aimed at middle-school and high-school girls. With titles like “Math Doesn’t Suck” and “Kiss My Math,” these books use a fun, relatable tone to demystify math for teens, complete with personality quizzes and real-world examples. She has testified before the U.S. Congress about the importance of women in mathematics, and often makes media appearances not just as an actress but as a role model for young people in STEM. It’s a twist that even the best coming-of-age TV writers might not have scripted: the actress famous for playing a lovable honors student grows up to become a real-life mathematics advocate and author, helping countless kids (especially girls) overcome math anxiety.
The public’s reaction to McKellar’s mathematical exploits has been a mix of admiration and disbelief. Many headlines over the years read in the vein of “Winnie from The Wonder Years is a math genius?” The disbelief itself is telling – it reflects how our society is conditioned to think an individual fits in a single box. Danica’s fame came from the arts, from emoting on camera, so people are startled to find she’s fluent in the language of equations and theorems. But Danica McKellar, like Hedy Lamarr and Brian May, shows that the human mind doesn’t necessarily compartmentalize talent the way we do socially. She often says that math, like acting, can be creative and inspiring – it’s all about solving puzzles and finding truth, which in some ways is its own performance. By excelling in two very different arenas, she challenges young people to rethink what they’re capable of. A girl who idolized Winnie Cooper might discover that she can also love algebra; a teenager who assumed math is uncool might take a second look when a celebrity passionately explains it.
Why are we Surprised?
These three individuals – Hedy Lamarr, Brian May, Danica McKellar – each in their own way bridge the perceived divide between art and science. They are not alone; history has other examples (from Leonardo da Vinci painting the Mona Lisa while designing flying machines, to modern figures like actor Mayim Bialik earning a neuroscience Ph.D.). Yet we remain collectively surprised, even incredulous, when such crossover occurs. Why are we surprised when artists are also scientific geniuses? The reasons can be as cultural as they are psychological.
One factor is the long-standing stereotype of the “two cultures” – a term famously coined to describe the split between the sciences and the humanities. From school age we’re often classified as a “math person” or an “artsy person,” as if those traits are mutually exclusive. The entertainment industry reinforces this by typecasting public figures: a rock star is the wild creative, a scientist is the nerdy intellectual. When someone shatters these categories, it forces us to confront the fallacy of the stereotype. Our surprise is partly a reflection of how ingrained that mental separation is.
There’s also an element of rarity. It is relatively uncommon to achieve world-class success in two very different domains; mastery demands time and focus. So when a busy celebrity not only nurtures a scientific passion but makes a genuine contribution, it feels exceptional. We know how hard it is to be, say, a great musician; we also know how hard it is to be a serious scientist. The odds of one person being both seem slim – and indeed, it is rare. Thus, hearing that Brian May helped NASA or that Hedy Lamarr’s idea underpins Wi-Fi triggers a “Wait, really?” moment. It’s akin to discovering your favorite chef is also an Olympic athlete – our minds don’t usually link those identities.
Yet, perhaps we shouldn’t be so surprised. Creativity and curiosity are at the heart of both art and science, and many polymaths show that these talents often flourish together. In fact, research has shown that artistic and scientific creativity have a lot in common in terms of how people think and approach problems. The same imaginative spark that leads a composer to invent a new melody can lead an inventor to devise a new gadget. Many individuals who straddle both worlds say each side inspires the other. Hedy’s inventive mind may have been sharpened by the lateral thinking that acting can involve. Brian’s musical compositions might be influenced by the vastness and order of the cosmos he studies. Danica’s flair for engaging storytelling no doubt helps her communicate math in a fun way.
Another reason we find these cases captivating is that they’re inspiring. We’re used to living in a specialized age – experts focus narrowly. So seeing someone break that mold taps into a romantic ideal of the “Renaissance person.” It’s uplifting to think that perhaps our potential isn’t limited by the lanes society puts us in. That an artist can also be a scientist suggests we too can explore diverse interests. The surprise quickly turns to respect, and for many, to motivation: these celebrities demonstrate that passion and hard work can triumph over conventional boundaries.
Finally, there’s a narrative delight in these stories – they reveal hidden depths to familiar faces. It’s like discovering a plot twist about a character you thought you knew. We love a good plot twist. The glamorous actress inventing secret tech for the Navy, the rock guitarist aiding space missions, the childhood TV star proving a theorem – it all reads like fiction, and yet it’s true. These stories remind us that real people are often more multi-dimensional than the roles they’re pigeonholed into.