Like many of his colleagues, structural biologist David Goodsell uses computation to visualize how molecules interact in living organisms. Distinctively, Goodsell also makes paintings of these interactions—“mesoscale molecular landscapes,” as he describes them—depicting the realm where molecules come together at nanometer scale to build living cells and tissues. Phenomena at these scales aren’t truly “seeable” in the usual sense, as they’re smaller than the wavelengths of visible light our eyes use to resolve images. Scientists have developed diverse ways of seeing and knowing at molecular scale: electron microscopy, crystallography, spectroscopy, chemical and genetic assay and, increasingly, computational modeling. These methods interact with molecules in different ways, at different scales, yielding a wide array of data, which Goodsell interprets and synthesizes in paintings like the ones you see here.

In the worlds that trees make, this mesoscale matters. It’s where the chemical exchanges of root tissues and endomycorrhizal fungi take place, the garden where the complex molecules useful to humans and other animals are nurtured. As in Darwin’s image of the tangled bank, Goodsell’s botanical mesoscale is a landscape of “elaborately constructed forms, so different from each other, and dependent upon each other in so complex a manner.” His images here take us deep within living plants, depicting the manufacture of cellulose comprising plant cell walls and the quantum-driven exchange of energies that happens with photosynthesis in the grana of chloroplasts.

Reaction centers use arrays of chlorophyll and carotenoids as antennae to capture light, using the gathered energy to harvest electrons from water molecules, freeing oxygen for us to breathe. The electrons are used to to power metabolism, and eventually are passed along to enzymes like RuBisCO, floating free outside the grana, which uses them to build sugar from water and carbon dioxide.
Chloroplasts began their evolutionary journey when free-living cyanobacteria took up residence in a single-celled organism more than 1.5 billion years ago. Here, we’re seeing into a chloroplast in cross-section, its photosynthetic machinery arranged in a dynamic framework of stacked and folded membranes called grana. Two kinds of reaction centers stud these membranes, each one a knot of densely interwoven proteins braided with chlorophyll and other colorful molecules using sunlight to harvest electrons from water. Toward the top of the image, a two-layer outer membrane marks the boundary between the chloroplast and the broader environment of the cell’s interior. Interspersed within this membrane and among the grana are enzymes and proteins that generate, store, and harness energy captured by photosynthesis. At the bottom of the page, RNA polymerase, mRNA, and a ribosome (orange) interact with DNA from the chloroplast’s own genome (yellow)—a reminder of its origins as a free-living organism.
The words “cell” and “cellulose” share a common origin. The material was named for the structures they form, now called “cells”—the term Robert Hooke coined in his Micrographia (1665) to name the smallest structures he could see through his microscope. In plants, the chief material and structural ingredient of this intercellular matrix is cellulose, making it the most abundant biopolymer in the world. Perhaps only limestone outstrips its sheer magnitude as a material produced by living organisms.
 
The cell wall is very far from being a simple, monolithic slab of cellulose, however. In the painting below, the exterior of the cell lies beyond the top margin of the image, with the cell membrane and the jumbled systems of the cell’s interior in greens and blues at bottom. The boundary between membrane and wall is lively, productive, tensed with the straining forces of polymer production. The membrane is studded with proteins able to transmit molecules into and out of the cell. It is also the substrate where the synthesis of cellulose unspools. Regularly spaced here, streams of the polymer emerge among the tangled proteins and carbohydrates of the cell wall from collars of cellulose synthase, which fuse them together like strands woven in a rope loom. The cellulose synthase structures are moved into place and supported by microtubules—cylindrical polymer beams, which act as a transit system and structural element, like girders and tramways threading through the cytoplasm. Here, a microtubule is the basis of a molecular assembly line, fixing and supporting the cellulose synthase arrays. As the strands of cellulose spout forth, they interweave with pectins, xyloglucans, and other branching, long-chain carbohydrates—including lignin, which in trees combines with cellulose to make wood.

David Goodsell is Professor of Computational Biology at the Scripps Research Institute, and Research Professor at Rutgers University, where he is Scientific Outreach Lead at the RCSB Protein Data Bank.

From “free” to “friend”…

Established in 1911 as the Bulletin of Popular InformationArnoldia has long been a definitive forum for conversations about temperate woody plants and their landscapes. In 2022, we rolled out a new vision for the magazine as a vigorous forum for tales of plant exploration, behind-the-scenes glimpses of botanical research, and deep dives into the history of gardens, landscapes, and science. The new Arnoldia includes poetry, visual art, and literary essays, following the human imagination wherever it entangles with trees.

It takes resources to gather and nurture these new voices, and we depend on the support of our member-subscribers to make it possible. But membership means more: by becoming a member of the Arnold Arboretum, you help to keep our collection vibrant and our research and educational mission active. Through the pages of Arnoldia, you can take part in the life of this free-to-all landscape whether you live next door or an ocean away.

For more tree-entangled art, science, and writing, subscribe to Arnoldia by becoming a member of the Arnold Arboretum.