Although

is an artist by trade, one gets the impression that a mathematician or scientist lives in her living room, where bookshelves are stacked high with thick hardcover thermodynamics and astrophysics titles.

Once you see Morris' artwork, the discrepancy makes sense.

The

woman, 28, uses the term "numberism" to describe her technique of using numbers and mathematical equations to form images normally created with paintbrush strokes and drawn lines.

From a few feet back, the intricately detailed "A Cello,"

, appears to be sketched with the lightest touch. Closer inspection reveals the image isn't sketched at all; it emerges from thousands of strategically clustered numbers and symbols in a numerical take on pointillism.

"I'm trying to show that math doesn't live and die in the textbook," Morris says.

Morris believes she is the only artist in the world to use the technique, which she invented three years ago as a source of comfort during a difficult time. Since then, numberism has attracted attention from far beyond Oregon, to bloggers and clients in Europe and Asia.

Next fall, Morris' work will appear in the

Museum of Mathematics in New York City

. A piece she created for the

will be auctioned during the group's holiday concert Saturday at the Aladdin Theater. Profits will go toward Morris' plan to start a charity to promote art and science in local schools.

Demand soars

The sudden success is surreal, says Morris, a self-taught artist who can count on one hand the number of original paintings she sold before numberism came along. Now, she has a backlog of orders for original pieces that command a minimum of $800 per square foot. Morris sells less expensive prints of her work at the Portland Farmers Market

.

"Just last year, I was still having trouble with bills," Morris says. "I feel very grateful."

Engineer and musician JB Feldman hired Morris to create "A Cello" after he saw her work in a friend's California home.

"My mathy friends sit there for five to 10 minutes, trying to figure out what all the numbers are and what they mean," says Feldman, who lives in Washington, D.C. "Everyone, as soon as they find out, is fascinated."

The idea of building up texture and value with points or symbols isn't new, but it hasn't been done using numbers and symbols that are significant to the subject, says Pat Boas, a professor of art practice at

"The aspect of making time visible in drawings like that is really difficult," Boas says.

The etchings and sketches span a wide range of subjects. There are images of lovers embracing, of birds in flight and of Stephen Colbert saluting the American flag. More often, the theme is scientific, reflecting Morris' personal interests and her nerd-heavy customer base.

Familiar formulas

Clients get excited when they recognize

in the smoke curling out of the scientist's pipe, the quantum physics paradox of Schrodinger's cat or the Pythagorean comma used to shape the cello's neck.

"It's not just that she's picking numbers or forming them into objects," says Douglas Jenkins, artistic director for the Portland Cello Project. "She really feels it. The numbers aren't just numbers. It's the entire spectrum of the way human beings process."

Morris, who has always been fascinated by math and science, often spends days researching the numbers and formulas she'll use in a piece. She chooses a method of delivery -- etching or sketching -- and spends weeks repeating the formulas over and over on the creating surface. She says the numbers add a layer of significance to her work.

"The question was, 'How do you draw a moment?'" Morris says. "A drawing is just a two-dimensional representation of a three-dimensional environment. It doesn't show time."

Areas of intense color are densely packed with tiny numbers, some smaller than a pinhead. The numbers grow large and loosely spaced in areas that appear lightly shaded. The entire process for a single piece takes several weeks to months.

Morris' enthusiasm for her work comes through in her personality. On weekends, she can be spotted at the

, giving mini-lectures to crowds that gather to marvel at the formulas.

"I get the excuse to study geeky and sciencey things late into the night, and when I'm done, people dig it," Morris says. "That's really quite cool."

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