Physics professor Mark Utlaut talks about Porsches, poker and colored numbers
By Jessie Hethcoat
When I sat down to interview physics professor Mark Utlaut, I told him it was nice to meet him.
"How do you know it's nice to meet me?" Utlaut asked. "For all you know, this could be the most excruciating hour of your life."
Walking into his office was like walking into an alternate universe.
"Physics," according to Utlaut, "is everything."
In Utlaut's office on the first floor of the old science building, there is nothing but gray walls, mathematics and science books and countless machines that I neither how to work nor their function. There are no pictures or decorations. His office is straight to the point, just like he is.
"I would argue that you can only really do math," he said.
He has a uniquely simple philosophy on teaching and his life. For Utlaut, most things are determined. He even thinks he knows what it will be like to die. As far as being a professor, Utlaut takes his job seriously and knows what his role in the process of education is.
"Students are not customers," he said. "They're the raw product."
Utlaut has pretty much devoted his life to physics. It is simply what he likes doing. Though he does not watch much television, he said he admires "American Idol's" Simon Cowell, the notoriously hard-to-please judge. Utlaut believes that if one should have one's dreams crushed, it's important to have it happen early.
"I'm not nice," Utlaut said. "Nice? What's that got to do with anything?"
Yes, he's intimidating: He values honesty over propriety and courteousness.
Utlaut also has synesthesia, a neurological condition in which some people experience a secondary sensation with an actual perception. His particular synesthesia allows him to see numbers and symbols in colors. These colors are not arbitrary, however - they help Utlaut to solve equations.
When numbers or symbols on each side in an equation turn green, for example, Utlaut knows that they can be eliminated. He describes this phenomenon as an adrenaline-indusive response; the brain rewards itself for solving equations.
Most remarkably, however, Utlaut makes assertions that are hard to forget.
"Everything is sex and death," he said. "I'm probably going to get in trouble for saying that."
Utlaut gets away with saying these things because, well, he knows a good deal about "everything." He's not just a science buff and his knowledge doesn't stop with the laws of physics.
While talking about the brain, Utlaut referred to Emily Dickenson's poem, "The Brain - is wider than the Sky," among other tangents about topics ranging from Nazi Germany to remodeling kitchens.
Utlaut is also a talented poker player. Like his other interests, Utlaut finds the answer through mathematics. He won a Porsche in graduate school in a high-stakes game with some risk-taking businessmen but donated it to The Humane Society a few years ago.
Utlaut doesn't find his gambling skills to be as impressive as others do, however. When asked about this rumor, he rolled his eyes and confirmed that it was true.
"I actually have another one of those (Porsches)," Utlaut said. "I drove it here today, actually."
Utlaut has a soft spot for animals. His serious expression changed when he began talking about his dog Bandit, a Samoyed and husky mixed-breed that his wife rescued from the pound.
"He has this look like he's going to get into trouble," he said, grinning as his eyes widened. "He's an absolute joy."
Quickly turning back to his no-nonsense demeanor, he continued, "He can be happy - he doesn't know what's coming."
Can Utlaut himself be happy? Kicking his beige Ugg-brand boots up on to the table, he replied, "Sure. I listen to Beethoven. That can make you happy."
Utlaut has an unusually open approach to death, a particularly taboo topic. What others call morbid thoughts, Utlaut considers realistic topics of conversation.
"Most importantly, I think it matters how you get there," he said.
Utlaut sees another part of his work as a professor as helping his students to find what they are truly passionate doing.
"People typically only like two-sevenths of their life - their weekends. This is a colossal failure," Utlaut said. "Why would you go spend 40 to 45 years doing what you don't want to do?"
Although he questioned whether it would be, it was nice to meet Utlaut. For the lack of conscientious effort that he puts into interaction with other people, he somehow makes a favorable impression. If nothing else, Mark Utlaut is memorable.
