About science, storytelling, and uniting the world: In Conversation with Mike Lucibella

Posted on Dec 7, 2025 by ushashibasu

I met Mike when I first started attending PubSci – an enthusiastic, welcoming persona waiting by the entrance, ready to greet you, cross your name off a list, and direct you to the best seat in the house. What I didn’t know at the time was that Mike was a proficient science communicator himself, with extensive experience using various media to bring science to the public, particularly through science photography. After a deep dive into Mike’s work, I decided that I just had to interview him, even if for just one reason: he’s insanely cool. And that he’s a science communicator.

Currently Media Relations Officer at University College London, Mike has had every science communication experience possible – from writing newsletters for the American Physical Society to reporting science directly from the US Antarctic Program to hosting Resonance FM’s new radio show, The Science Show, with none other than Richard Marshall.

For this interview, I sat down with Mike to learn more about his wide-ranging experiences communicating science and to hear his one piece of advice for anyone hoping to share science with others.

Tell me a little bit about yourself and how you became a science communicator. Was it something that you have always carved out for yourself, or did it just happen over the course of your career?

I got there through a little bit of a circuitous path. I have always liked science, but when I went to university, I studied journalism, and it wasn’t really focused on science or science communication at the time. I was also able to enrol in an applied physics minor, and that appealed to me a great deal. After I graduated, I got an internship at a physics organisation that needed someone to do outreach and communications and that eventually turned into a job.

That’s how I got started. Science communication wasn’t something I set out to do, but once I found my way into it, I enjoyed it immensely, and I have stuck with it.

You were a part of the US Antarctic Program as a staff journalist, photographer, and podcast producer. What was that experience like?

The experience itself was huge because it’s a big, dynamic programme. One of the things that really appealed to me was that there was a wide range of scientific research happening, and I had the opportunity to ask the researchers the right kind of questions to understand their work and then write about it.

The other thing was that when you’re working in a research station like that, there are very limited resources. So, you have to be very resourceful about a lot of different things and build a lot of flexibility into plans. For example, the weather out there is very unforgiving, and you need to have a plan B, which also might not work and you keep going down that line for a bit.

At the same time, you’re living in dorms and eating in cafeterias together. The whole experience was a little bit like a national laboratory meets a mining town meets a college.

Do you have a particular highlight from your time there?

One of my favourite moments or trips was out to a place called Shackleton Glacier, where a field camp was set up for a couple of seasons for some palaeontology research and I was able to go out there with the team to take photographs and shoot some video. And we were the only human beings for nearly 200 miles. So, it was a very remote area. It was wild to think how few people had been to this spot and just how empty the vast landscape was. And amidst that, there was this research effort that was able to do what it needed to, pack up and go home.

Is it something you would do again – perhaps in a different locale?

There are two aspects to that.

I’d love to go to because I love to travel, so I would love to go see deserts, mountains, rainforests. I also like going there and being with researchers because it’s very meaningful to be able to kind of go and see this kind of thing.

What was difficult about the Antarctic deployments was that they’re very long. I would be deployed for about four months at a time and that’s very difficult personally. You’re away from your family and the Antarctic summers are over the Christmas period, so I missed a bunch of Christmases and things like that at home. And it’s very difficult on family and friend relationships to be gone for so long, especially in such a remote place with limited communication.

You have shared the photos from your US Antarctic Program work extensively on your website, along with other photography. I wanted to ask, do you think photography is an effective medium of science communication?

I don’t say this to be a generalist, but what I like to do is not just focus on photography, or writing, or podcasts – instead, I like to tie them together. I think that’s really important for storytelling. They’re each different tools for different aspects of scientific storytelling.

Photography in the Antarctic tells you a good story of people working in dramatic landscapes in a harsh environment to do science. At the same time, it’s also very humanising. The people doing the research are like many of us, and a diverse group as well. It’s good to be able to show that anybody can do science. Science is something that can happen to anybody. Science photography is a good way to do that.

Writing is just as important to show what research is happening, what research tax dollars are being spent on. Podcasts and radio shows are good for telling a story and further humanising things, where you can delve a little bit deeper into what researchers do and what their experiences are like. Someone once half-jokingly said that radio is a visual medium, but it’s true; when you hear a podcast or a radio program, you can create images in your mind that can make something seem so much more real.

Speaking of varied media, you have noted that you are always looking for different ways to bring the excitement of science and research to diverse audiences. What does diverse mean in this context?

There is a very traditional view of science as being done by old white men. In my experience, working with scientists is anything but that. Some of the best research in the world is being done by women, non-binary individuals, people of all ethnicities and backgrounds. And that is very important to show and communicate. Science is a very diverse field, with people from so many different parts of the world contributing something.

That’s the remarkable thing, too, if you kind of step back and look at it, science is this field where more so than almost anything else, different people from around the world can put differences aside and work together on projects and that kind of thing in a lot of ways.

That’s something you see a lot of in the Antarctic programs, where there are national stations, but there’s a lot of collaboration happening. And then if there’s an emergency, any pretence of differences in national politics is dropped and people just run to help people when they need it.

“Science is this field where more so than almost anything else, different people from around the world can put differences aside and work together on projects.”
MIke lucibella

You also media train scientists and researchers – why do you think it’s important for them to speak to the media? And when you are standing in a room full of scientists, what is one thing you always tell them?

It’s imperative for scientists to talk to the media because there’s an inherent kind of credibility that a researcher is given. These are people who are experts in their subject, people who have devoted their lives to understanding the ins and outs of a very particular topic. And there is a level of credibility that’s afforded to them. That level of credibility can make a big difference in policy spheres and understanding of the world.

They also have to be able to speak to the media well. It’s important for researchers to communicate the significance of what they’re doing and why they’re doing it, for a range of reasons. It’s to inspire people to do more science, to understand the world around them, and also to effect change.

There’s a lot of research being done to make the world a better place. And this needs to be broadcast. So, helping scientists broadcast their messages and their findings is necessary to effect that change.

To the second part of your question: I think at the core, the number one thing is to think about and empathise with the audience, and try to put oneself in the place of the audience. Presume that you are speaking to intelligent people, but they may not have spent as much time as you studying that particular subject. Your audience wants to know, wants to understand – but you have to help them get there. So, take a step back from what you know and your background in the subject, and instead go to what is an easy entry point to the topic and how you can describe your findings.

Going back to the topic of science communication, you have worked in science stand-up comedy, podcast, radio, photography and writing. Is there a medium you haven’t worked with yet that you would like to?

I mean, I would love to be a movie star!

I have done a little bit with filming and video, but not a whole lot. It is a very powerful medium, but it’s one that takes a lot of resources to do. I would love to be able to be part of a big team working on a science TV show or documentary and helping to shape it and tell a story that way. That seems like something that would be a lot of fun.

There is other stuff out there that I haven’t really considered, so I’m always keeping an eye out for future opportunities as they show up.

And your favourite medium so far has been?

I really enjoy photography on a level that’s different than most of the other kinds of stuff. Photography is a lot of fun because it’s very versatile. You can do anything from taking vast landscape images to tiny images of an insect or a spider. And I really appreciate that. It’s also a very good excuse to go out and find something interesting to take a picture of. That’s always something that I’ve enjoyed, the combination – being able to put the exploration side of science with the communication side of photography together.

For more about Mike and his work in photography and science communication, visit https://www.mikelucibella.com/.

A journey into the multiverse of science communication: In conversation with Sam Illingworth

Posted on Jul 15, 2025 by ushashibasu

At the start of my science communication career, the very first thing I published was a short reflection on the similarities between science and poetry, and how we can use the latter to communicate science. It was also the first piece of work I created under the mentorship of Olle Bergman. During this time, he told me about Sam Illingworth – a professor, science communicator, and believer in using poetry to disseminate scientific ideas – and I knew I had to someday complete the circle by interviewing Sam for my blog. I finally made it happen, and I am proud to share this insightful conversation with Sam with all of you.

Sam is a professor of creative pedagogies at Edinburgh Napier University, and currently, his research involves using poetry and games to create dialogue between audiences. Sam is also the founder of Consilience, a first-of-its-kind, peer-reviewed science and poetry journal.

In this interview, Sam tells me about his journey into science communication, how he engages different media to invite interactions with science, and the importance of tailoring messages to connect to different audiences.

Tell me a little bit about yourself and how science communication became a career choice for you.

I started out as an atmospheric physicist, measuring greenhouse gases using satellites and aircraft. But during my PhD, I realised I was more interested in how science connects with people than in the data itself. I became fascinated by the gaps between scientists and wider society and wanted to find ways to bridge them.

That curiosity led me to Japan, where
I studied the relationship between science and theatre, and then to a lectureship in science communication. Since then, I have used poetry, games, and other creative tools to help make science more accessible and more open to dialogue. Science communication was never a career I set out to do, but it became the only one that made sense.

You founded the Consilience journal, the world’s first peer-reviewed science & poetry journal. What inspired you to create it, and what do you want people to take away from it?

Consilience came from a desire to create a space where poetry and science could meet on equal footing. Too often, they are treated as separate worlds, but to me, they are just different ways of asking questions about how we live and what matters.

I wanted to build something that not only published science poetry but also treated it with the same care and respect we give to scientific research. That is why we use peer review, not to gatekeep but to support and improve. The goal is to help people feel part of a community where feedback is generous and learning is collective.

What I hope people take away from Consilience is that science and poetry are not opposites. They are complementary tools for making sense of the world. And that everyone, regardless of background or training, has something valuable to contribute.

Your current research involves using poetry and games to create meaningful dialogue between different audiences. What does meaningful dialogue look like, and what does it entail?

Meaningful dialogue is less about agreement and more about recognition. It is about listening to understand, not just to reply. When I talk about dialogue in science communication, I mean creating spaces where people feel heard, respected, and able to shape the conversation.

In practice, that often means moving away from traditional top-down models. Instead of scientists delivering information, we work with communities to co-create something together, like a poem or a game. These creative tools help flatten hierarchies. A poem written together invites shared vulnerability. A game opens up space for negotiation, for choice, for play.

Meaningful dialogue is also about letting go of the need to have all the answers. It is about making room for uncertainty, for emotion, and for different ways of knowing. When that happens, science becomes less about telling and more about asking. And that changes everything.

Books, podcasts, and games are all media you have used in your work and research in science communication. How do you tailor your messaging to each of these audiences and their needs?

Each medium offers a different kind of conversation. With books, I have the space to go deep, to build an argument slowly, and to invite the reader into a more reflective space. A book allows me to bring together research, personal stories, and practical advice in a way that feels grounded.

The podcast is more immediate. It is about tone, rhythm, and intimacy. When I read a science poem aloud, I want the listener to feel something before they even think about it. It is about drawing people in through sound, then giving them space to reflect on the science behind the words.

Games are different again. They are not about delivering a message but about letting people explore systems, make decisions and experience consequences. The message is not what I say, it is what players discover through play. So, when I make a game, I try to create a space where people can bring their own questions and values into the experience.

In all cases, it is about respect. Respect for the audience’s time, intelligence and lived experience. I do not assume what they need. I try to listen, adapt and build something that invites curiosity rather than insists on a conclusion.

Why do you think tailoring the message to fit each audience is important in science communication?

If you are not speaking in a way your audience can connect with, then the message does not land, no matter how accurate or well-intentioned it might be.

Different audiences bring different experiences, expectations and needs. Tailoring the message means meeting people where they are, not where you think they should be. It also means respecting their knowledge and avoiding assumptions. You cannot use the same language for a policymaker, a school pupil and a community group and expect it to resonate equally.

Tailoring is not about simplifying or dumbing down. It is about relevance, empathy and clarity. It is about building a bridge that people want to walk across, rather than one that just shows off the architect’s skills.

Tailoring [your message] is not about simplifying or dumbing down…it is about building a bridge that people want to walk across, rather than one that just shows off the
architect’s skills.
Sam Illingworth

What role do you see your work across all these media/platforms play in (the greater) public engagement with science?

I see my work as helping to open up different entry points into science. Not everyone wants to read a journal article, and not everyone feels comfortable asking a question at a public lecture. But a poem, a game, a blog post, a podcast are all media that can offer gentler invitations.

The aim is not to replace traditional science communication but to extend it. To show that science can be emotional, playful, messy and human. It is not only about answers, but about questions worth sitting with.

Across all these platforms, I try to create space for dialogue, for curiosity, and for other voices to come in. If my work helps someone feel that science is something they can connect with on their own terms, then it is doing its job. Public engagement is not about broadcasting; it is about building relationships.

You have also worked in the education space with students, to communicate science and to understand their attitudes towards science. Over time, have you noticed a change in children’s/students’ interest in science? What about their parents?

I have worked with a range of age groups, from primary school children through to university students and adult learners. That said, most of my work with younger audiences was earlier in my science communication career. These days, my focus is more on higher education, particularly on how students engage with science and creativity within academic settings.

Because I no longer work closely with school groups, I would not feel confident making broad claims about shifts in children’s or parents’ attitudes to science over time. What I can say is that when I did work in schools, curiosity was never lacking. The challenge was often about confidence, i.e., helping students feel like science was something they could ask questions about without needing to get everything right.

With parents, I have had less direct interaction, but I imagine similar dynamics apply. People engage most when they feel invited in rather than judged from a distance. Whether it is students or parents, I think the more we focus on listening and co-creating, the more meaningful that engagement becomes.

Learn more about Sam and his science communication work here, and read the latest edition of the Consilience Journal here.

Of mink, Mary River turtles and science communication saving lives: In conversation with Joanna Bagniewska

Posted on Jun 14, 2025 by ushashibasu

The chances of my knowing a science communicator who, like me, also had an international upbringing, studied life sciences at Jacobs University Bremen, collaborated with Olle Bergman, and lives and works in the UK were low, but never zero.

Meet Joanna Bagniewska, zoologist, prolific science communicator and author of popular science book, The Modern Bestiary, a compendium of curious animals that inhabit the earth.

Polish by birth, Joanna grew up all around the world – China, Italy, Thailand – often returning to Poland, before ending up at Jacobs University in 2003 for a Bachelor’s degree in Biology. But the study of teeny things in the lab never interested Joanna much; she found it difficult to relate to things she couldn’t see. Seeking more evolutionary, ecological and organismal biology in her curriculum, Joanna continued her journey around the world. She interned in Australia studying how roads affected wombats, wallabies and other wild animals, and spent a semester abroad at Rice University, Houston, working on Damaraland mole-rats. After graduating from Jacobs University, she found her way to the University of Oxford for her Master’s degree. The rest is history, as you will read below.

In our conversation, Joanna and I speak about the importance of precise and impactful communication when it comes to ecology and conversation, the life-changing power of science communication, and of course, our dear Olle.

Tell me a little bit about your journey into science communication.

The start of my science communication experience dates back to 2012. Three of my friends had organised a conference called Science: Polish Perspectives. The idea was to provide TED-style talks, but to a very high academic standard, in English, showcasing the work of Polish researchers in the UK and beyond. I applied to be a speaker at the conference, but I had massive imposter syndrome. I was talking about my doctorate, which was on the American mink; meanwhile, others were talking about blackholes and nanoparticles and AI – subjects that, to me, looked much more serious and appealing. Still, I went in, gave my talk, and it went so well that I got an invite to speak at a TEDx Warsaw event.

After the TEDx talk, a friend directed me towards FameLab, a science communication competition. I took part in the Polish edition of FameLab and won it. Suddenly, there were all these journalists getting in touch with me and the other finalists, asking to do interviews and to collaborate – it was very clear that scientists who can explain science to the public were a hot commodity. Thanks to these collaborations, I gained experience writing and editing popular science articles, creating quick one-liners for TV and radio, and conducting longer interviews. I’ve also done things like science stand-up comedy, science slams and Pint of Science.

At what point did science communication become a career choice?

In 2006, I came to Oxford for my master’s degree, and I stayed for my PhD. Immediately after my PhD, I got a job as a senior scientist at a startup that was looking at using bees to detect illegal substances. Really cool, but the startup eventually ran out of money, which wasn’t great. I began lecturing at Nottingham Trent University, and afterwards moved to Reading University.

That’s when the Brexit referendum happened. It was scary, because I only had my Polish citizenship, I was pregnant, and my contract was coming to an end – because that is the nature of academic contracts. I knew that, due to residency requirements, I had to return to work after my maternity leave. Still, there was no guarantee that my contract would be renewed, and jobs in zoology are not easy to come by. At this point, I needed to look at what my transferable skills were and what I could do outside of academia. I already had a significant chunk of science communication experience, so when Brexit happened, I built it into a career. For six years, I split my time between an academic job and a role in communications and public engagement; I have also been doing freelance science communication and coaching.

You’ve written a book, The Modern Bestiary, published in 2022. What inspired you to write the book?

You make it sound much more structured than what it really was! It was the beginning of 2021, and we’d had almost a year of lockdowns and the pandemic; the world was not in a good state and neither was I. At that point, I was approached by the publishers, Wildfire, who had an idea for a book about interesting animals that inhabit the earth, but needed someone to write it for them. The idea was great and after writing a few sample chapters to prove I could write, I got started on the project.

I have always wanted to write a book because I wanted to have a tangible legacy. Even though, as an academic, you produce scientific articles, they’re not read widely, unless you happen to be one of those select few to write a Nature paper. I wanted to do something wider-reaching than that.

Writing was such a refreshing, joyful experience. It was absolutely wonderful. My editor was so positive and helpful that at times I thought it was some sort of a hoax.

Dr Joanna Bagniewska
Photo credit: Greg Blatchford/yewneek.com

You’re currently the course co-director of the post-graduate certificate in ecological survey techniques at Oxford University. Why do you think it’s important to be a good science communicator in the field of ecology and conservation?

We’re in a biodiversity crisis and a climate catastrophe. At the same time, we’re living at a time when people are really pinched for attention and time; therefore, any message likely to break through needs to be formulated in a clear and precise way. All you can expect from an audience is a little bit of their time; you can’t expect them to untangle the information that you didn’t bother to present clearly. You have one shot to deliver a message, don’t waste it.

I think it is important to know strategies from communication, marketing, or advertising; they can be incredibly useful for changing behaviours, fundraising, raising awareness, lobbying the government and changing narratives. For instance, right now, UK institutions increasingly have sustainability or environmental policies built into their strategies. They’re looking at metrics such as the biodiversity net gain and similar. While a lot of these are not perfect, they’re a starting point. If you think back to ten years ago, this was definitely not very high on the agenda – clear and persistent messaging can impact action.

What role do you think your work is currently playing in that public behaviour change towards conservation?

It’s a multifaceted role. On one hand, my role is to shape the ecologists of the future, who will be the ones doing biodiversity assessments and gathering environmental data. If we are to see whether management has an impact on a site or on a species, we need to know the before and after. I’m teaching my students how to do that, so that they’re able to do their own projects and teach others.

On the other hand, in my science communication work, I try to inform the public about the natural world, what they can do in terms of participation in any citizen science project, and any little contributions they can make. People like to receive a message, but ideally with a call to action at the end. Anytime I have a radio interview or I write an article, I try to add that on.

“You have one shot to deliver a message, don’t waste it.”

You may have seen that people call the blobfish the ugliest animal to exist. As a zoologist, do you think any animal is ever ugly?

People are interested in superlatives – the ugliest or the slimiest or the biggest or the smallest or the prettiest. The blobfish is unlikely to win any beauty pageants, so we might as well go down the “it’s the ugliest animal on earth” route and fascinate people from that perspective.

My view of the beauty of an animal doesn’t reflect on its behaviour or how interesting it is. It also doesn’t have an impact on its conservation status. Still, it’s important for people to notice species.

A lot of research goes into how marketing strategies can be used to promote biodiversity; even the species name can feed into it. There have been studies on species with funny names or species that are named after celebrities, how that raises their profile and whether that then translates into conservation efforts. Whatever works, use the dirtiest marketing techniques you can – let’s just get funding for conservation because it’s such a woefully underfunded field. Call an animal “ugliest”, name it after whoever you want. If there’s money coming with it, go for it!

Conservationists have a concept of “flagship species”, something that’s big, or furry, or colourful, or impressive, or just with eyes that point forward and are cute; something like the panda, tiger, or orangutan. These species tend to gain the attention of the public; it’s easier to fundraise for tigers than for blobfish. Yet because many flagship species are great apes or large carnivores, they cover quite a lot of area in their territories. If you conserve the jaguar, you also conserve the tapir, which is grey and looks a bit like a pig and nobody really wants to donate money for that. Such wide-roaming species are called the umbrella species because if you support their conservation, you’re also conserving other animals that live on their territory.

Do you have a favourite animal? Why?

Oh goodness, that’s a difficult question. I find it difficult because there are so many interesting animals. I really love hedgehogs. I also have a soft spot for the Mary River turtle. It’s a turtle from Australia that is very endangered. It can breathe through cloaca while underwater, and is restricted to a very small patch of land in Australia. And I read somewhere that it would only take about £40,000 to protect the species. So, if you know somebody who’s really rich, who has 40 grand…

I will definitely let them know if I know someone.

You have another book coming out soon called The Communicating Scientist, written in collaboration with Olle Bergman and Jacobs University alumna Sarang Park. I wanted to digress to ask how it’s been working through the initial drafts of the book with Olle, but finishing it and approaching the publication date without him?

Writing this book was much tougher than my first one. I joined the project fairly late down the line. Olle reached out to me because he was stuck in this dark forest of editorial uncertainty and said, “Oh, would you be able to take a look at the draft? We can add you as a co-author, just please deal with this.” And I thought that a communications handbook for scientists is a really cool, useful idea. The book needed a pair of a fresh pair of eyes and I was glad that I could contribute chapters.

Olle was always the motor behind the project. The book was his baby. He would always come up with to-do lists and new documents and interviews with someone and getting bits and pieces. He was really committed to this project.

In December, two years ago, I was at a conference where I was running a workshop that Olle had developed the framework for. This turned out to be the day he passed. I found out two days later, and it was really, really tough.

I reached out to Sarang, and we told the editor what had happened. We were determined to complete the writing, and for Olle’s last book to have his name as lead author on it. It was a monumental effort because he had ideas in his head that we didn’t know about, so we had to fill in all these blanks and second-guess what he would have liked, but also use our own judgment, because we’re also authors.

When I was reviewing the manuscript, it was like having Olle read it out loud to me, which on one hand was lovely, but also difficult. He had left all these comments saying, “I’ll add that later”, or “I’ll check the reference to that later.”

It was incredibly difficult, but we managed to submit the manuscript and hopefully the book should come out next month.

What impact did Olle have on your science communication career?

I met Olle when my SciComm career was already quite well established. Still, he was a wonderful personality to have around – the perfect person to bounce ideas off, to ask questions and to learn from. I feel like we benefitted from each other’s interests and presence in a dimension much bigger than SciComm: he would ask me questions about Poland (he knew so much about it anyway), I would ask about the translation of Swedish literature; we shared a passion for history, languages, analysing how people think and what motivates them. The science communication aspect almost seemed like a side gig in this friendship!

Visit https://uk.bookshop.org/shop/Bookniewska to learn more about The Modern Bestiary and get yourself a copy! And pre-order your copy of The Communicating Scientist here, ahead of its worldwide release on 13 July 2025.

Finding science in unlikely places: In conversation with Richard Marshall

Posted on May 18, 2025 by ushashibasu

Almost every third Wednesday of the month, a group of people gather in a room on the first floor of a lively pub in London, pints in hand and an order of scampi and chips on the way from the kitchen. Everyone is buzzing and scrambling to secure the best seats in the house (I, too, am guilty of this). Their purpose there? To spend the evening learning, understanding and engaging with science. There is an equally, if not more, eager speaker at the front of the room, thrilled to share their work with people who will listen in awe.

This is Pub Sci, or more formally known as Science in the Pub. Science, in a place you’re least likely to find it. And the helm of this event is the enigmatic Richard Marshall.

For approximately five minutes at the start of the event, Richard will tell you all about PubSci, plug PubSci’s many social media channels, introduce the speaker and then sit back and let the science communication commence. A skilled science communicator himself, for those two hours at PubSci, he only serves as a medium, bringing science to the people.

I invited Richard to a tête-à-tête to learn more about him and how he makes PubSci happen. Over a double macchiato at the Science Gallery Café a few weeks ago, Richard gave me a glimpse into the PubSci backstage, how he came to run the event and why good science communication is important.

Before we get into all things PubSci, tell me a little bit about yourself, how you started out in science communication.

Richard Marshall. Photo credit: Juliana Velasquez

I took a very circuitous route into science communication. I studied engineering, sort of an interdisciplinary engineering, which had very little design aspect. The bit that I enjoyed most really was all the ancillary stuff. Planning, public speaking and giving presentations. I nearly switched to a language degree and then also thought about doing theatre. But I stuck with it and I worked for a company called Schlumberger in Germany, both in my industrial placement and then back in the UK after university. But I had itchy feet – I felt that I wasn’t fulfilled with what I was doing, so I went and started working in tourism. And then after a while, I got frustrated with that as well, because I wasn’t using my brain sufficiently. I also felt slightly uncomfortable about the tourism industry in general because you’re taking people to beautiful, unspoiled places and then essentially either gawking at them or spoiling them. Then I went travelling for a while to Central America, learnt Spanish and had some wonderful experiences. After that, I started attending various classes at The City Lit and Morley College, trying to understand what it is to be a viewer. Oh! And I missed the part where I studied photojournalism at what is now the University of Arts London (UAL).

So, let me get the chronology right: engineering, work placement, tourism, travelling, photojournalism?

Yeah. You know, I have an eclectic mind that’s interested in a lot of things. And I wanted to satisfy quite a lot of it while I was still relatively young. So, as I’ve mentioned, I studied anthropology and attended various classes to understand what it is to be a viewer, to be a photographer, whether you can ever have an outsider perspective as an insider and vice versa. And I also discovered some wonderful courses on physics and philosophy.

How did you get back into STEM and Science Communication after the digression into tourism, travelling and photojournalism?

My return to STEM began when I was invited to give a series of guest lectures at London South Bank University for a BEng and MEng module that serves the same “soft skills” role as the topics I’d enjoyed most in my university days. Ethics, Critical Thinking and Project Planning are three things I’m rather passionate about and had done some work on previously, so it was easy for me to adopt them for Engineering students.

The lectures were well received by faculty and students and, when a key staff member retired, I was asked to run the whole module. So I became a university lecturer and module leader, which was my first taste of formal teaching. I really enjoyed it, and the students excelled in their exams. When another staff member retired, I started running tutorials and labs, teaching technical subjects that took me back to the basics of Engineering maths, mechanics and electronics – a skillset I’d largely put aside in my years of tourism, photography, and non-science event work. And so I got my STEM mojo back!

I enjoyed lecturing for several years until – as for many people – the COVID pandemic gave me an opportunity to reflect. I emerged from lockdown no longer a lecturer but a science communicator and event manager, which I continue to this day. I absolutely love it; for example, I get to spend several days a month doing science shows and workshops with primary school kids, watching their faces light up with wonder at a new fact or an exciting experiment.

It’s really important to plant the seed of wonder early. They will have plenty of time to learn that bench science is often slow, repetitive and frustrating – but it’s the seed of wonder that keeps us going in a career when things get tough. It’s easy to engage the kind of kids you’d expect to have career in science – they always make themselves known in a workshop, and that’s great – but it’s even more important that we engage the arty ones, the sporty ones, and especially the ones whose home life hasn’t encouraged them to dream about their futures.

How and where did PubSci originate, and how did you come to run it?

PubSci was started in 2011 by Paolo Viscardi and James Robson. It started as an event that involved putting on science talks that they would want to go to themselves. At the time, Paolo was a museum curator, and James was working with live animals. It started off as just a thing that some friends do.

I think I went to the very first one because it was very near where I lived in Brixton. And eventually, I got really involved and became good friends with Paolo. When Paolo got a job that required him to move to Ireland in 2016, there was a risk that PubSci wouldn’t carry on. At this point, I’d already been asked to host a couple of the PubSci Christmas quizzes, and I realised I enjoyed hosting events. After Paolo left, it fell on about five or six of us to take turns running PubSci. But we were various people with different time commitments and some people moved away. Eventually, it kind of fell on just me to decide whether I wanted to run this myself or let it go.

So, from around 2018, I started hosting, programming, planning and marketing PubSci myself, as a kind of one-man band. In 2020, we went online for a little bit because of the pandemic, and it took me a while to restart the event in person. I restarted it in 2023, I think, when I had the brain space to start it again.

But I must mention, I’m not the owner of PubSci; I think of myself more as the current steward of PubSci. Whilst I do all of the above, it couldn’t have happened without the community. Friends, regulars and volunteers help to set up chairs before the event and return the room to its original state afterwards. Because PubSci doesn’t charge entry, but invites contributions, everybody who comes along is invested and involved in some way, making the audience very much a part of PubSci. Regular attendees will know Mike Lucibella, for example, he’s the first face they see on arrival. Mike is a science communicator himself and got involved with PubSci before the 2023 restart. It’s really important to have friends you can bounce ideas off, and we often meet to discuss things over a pint. Behind the scenes, there’s an unofficial ‘committee’ (more a family) of dedicated folk who’ve been involved since the early days (including the mother of one of the founders!) who help to keep an eye on things.

What role do you think PubSci plays in public engagement with science? What does it do for the people?

There are several simultaneous views of science. There’s the priesthood of science, for example. And then there’s also the sort of mad scientist; if you think about it, a lot of disaster films begin with the hubris of scientists doing something that they shouldn’t. So popular culture gives us a lot of different ideas of science and I think actually allowing people to meet scientists and ask them questions is really important. Scientists shouldn’t be considered a different species, you know?

And of course, it’s absolutely brilliant to go to a big theatre and ask a scientist a question. But to be in a pub with them, and to be able to engage with them directly, see the whites of their eyes – I think that’s really important for trust.

One of my aims with PubSci, one of the things I always say when people ask me to describe it, is that I am trying to take science communication out of the lecture theatres and academic spaces, and bring it to where the people are. Bring something to people rather than bringing people to the thing, which totally changes the context.

And people are in the pub…well, not everybody. I don’t want anyone to feel excluded – they have soft drinks there too.

A sense of inclusion and involvement is very much my vision for science communication and outreach, because we’ve seen how talking down to the public doesn’t engage people in science and scientific literacy. We see the effects of anti-science around the world, not least the USA, where it’s been politicised and weaponised by making anti-science narratives something that people get emotionally invested in. My dream is for the general public to become emotionally invested in scientific literacy, as well as intellectually invested, and I see PubSci as playing a small role in that.

Coming to Science in the Pub shouldn’t be a lesser experience than going to the pub with your mates or watching football or a band or a play – it should leave us feeling just as connected and fulfilled. That’s my goal.

“I am trying to take science communication out of the lecture theatres and academic spaces, and bring it to where the people are.”

Do you ever think about expanding PubSci – more locations, bigger events?

I want it to be small and intimate. I don’t want PubSci to be a stadium-size event, you know? That trust between the audience and the speaker and the organiser kind of depends on the fact that anybody can come and have a chat at the end. If it gets too big, that doesn’t really work; then it becomes a show and I don’t want it to be a show. So, I mean, I think my aim is rather than increasing the size, is to just keep improving the quality. To me, that’s far more important. And if people sort of like the idea and want to start something called…you know, Science in the Cafe or something, that’s great. It would be a full circle moment, from when I was involved with Café Philosophique and Café Scientifique in the 90s, both inspired by the old Parisian Left Bank discussion cafés. “Café Sci” was something of a model for PubSci and has a worldwide presence.

What are some of your hobbies, outside of facilitating events like PubSci?

Talking about science is actually a hobby. I did a one-man narrative comedy science communication show last year, and I’m now working on another one. Although it’s a fairly self-selecting audience, it’s about bringing science out of lecture theatres and into places where people are going to learn and hear and laugh. So, the science comedy, I suppose, is a hobby; I don’t do it enough to call it a profession…yet.

Along with PubSci, I do some sort of freelance events, hosting and producing. I’ve also started to realise that I’ve done quite a lot of facilitation. It’s one of those things where I’ve realised I’ve been doing it, but I’ve never given a name to it. I recently completed a five-week course facilitation course to formalise and put a name to the skillset I’ve built up over the years and root it in the context of science. Because you know, with facilitation, there are so many contexts where it’s really important, like community engagement or in co-creation, it’s not something that you can just do without thinking about what the processes and methods are and whatever.

Everybody who’s ever known me since I was at primary school knows that you can’t stop me talking about science. And even though I’m not a scientist, I always have to make this clear, I’m not a scientist, I’ve never been a research scientist. I have an understanding, I know how to read a paper, but that doesn’t mean that I’ve sat there and struggled with my data and published a paper. And I will never pretend that I have. But what I do have is the ability to create a narrative. And that’s really, really important.

I also write short stories with scientific themes, some of which can be found online at https://lablit.com/. I’ve also written science pages for The Lost Doctor, an unofficial Doctor Who Annual, presenting quantum paradoxes in a way that children would understand and adults can enjoy.

What other hobbies…so two ends of the spectrum. Formula One. I’ve been watching with a bunch of my friends for nearly 20 years. Although we’re distributed around the country and around the world now, we try to get together with food and drink to watch the races whenever we can.

The other one is Morris Dancing. And writing, singing and playing folk music as well.

What is Morris Dancing?!

It’s traditional English folk dancing. I dance with Brixton Tatterjack Morris. It’s a great physical exercise actually; it involves a lot of jumping around and banging sticks and shouting.

And finally, as is customary to ask, do you have a favourite PubSci memory?

That’s a great question; it’s one I should have anticipated, having studied journalism myself a long time ago.

It’s hard to pick just one [memory], but top of my mind is Eugenia Cheng’s talk in June 2023 called ‘Is Maths Real’. Eugenia is a brilliant writer and speaker based in the US, whom I happened to meet at the Royal Institution when she was over to talk about her previous book. I hadn’t yet restarted PubSci after the pandemic and was scheduling the first season of speakers when we met. As soon as I explained what PubSci was about, Eugenia was invested – she’s Scientist in Residence at the School of the Art Institute of Chicago and her passion is communicating maths to non-mathematicians – so she put me in touch with her publisher to arrange it.

We had a very full house that evening. What was remarkable for me was how many people said they’d always been afraid of maths but had chosen to come to that talk. Eugenia made her topic so graspable and meaningful that a few audience members were actually moved to tears from the relief of finally understanding something after years of feeling stupid. They’d been told at school that maths just wasn’t for them and had lived with a sense of shame and failure until Eugenia was able to demonstrate that maths is actually for everyone, including them.

That is the power of good science/STEM communication. It can make us laugh or cry, or gasp or say “Wow!” It can – and I think should – leave us with the feeling that we’ve learnt something which helps us to see the world in a slightly different way.

For more information on upcoming PubSci events, visit https://linktr.ee/pubsci.

The Venn Diagram of Mental Health

Posted on Dec 24, 2020 by ushashibasu

The symptoms of mental health conditions are often inter-sectional, and overlapping. They are rather general, and often not characteristic of the root cause of the condition. Therefore, it is essential to recognise specific marker symptoms so that correct help can sought early. Guest writer Scarlett Parr-Reid and I discuss these symptoms and our personal experiences of them in this blog post.

Trigger Warning: Some experiences mentioned in this post may be disturbing for certain readers. Please discontinue reading if you find yourself in such a position. Online resources for help and advice are linked at the end of this post.

Ushashi: Lately, I’ve realised how interconnected mental health issues are, especially when it comes to early symptoms. Just like a high fever is one of the earliest symptoms of the onset of any disease and doesn’t really tell you anything about the nature of the disease, some of the initial reactions of the body to anxiety, obsessive-compulsive disorder and panic attacks are also incredibly similar.

Scarlett: I understand you’ve personally experienced panic disorder and I am wondering what your experience of it has been like. Have you found ways to manage it?

Ushashi: I have been suffering from panic disorder for a while now, and it comes and goes. There have been long periods of time where I was feeling completely fine, but there also have been periods when it got rather awful. I’ve tried several things to address the issue, and as much as there are moments where they’ve worked wonders, sometimes they’re not as useful as I want them to be.
And to this day, it is a mystery to me, how and why it all began. I’m generally happy with where I am in my life right now, in both professional as well as personal spheres. I have incredibly loving friends and family who are perpetually there for me and vice versa. I am also very meticulous about planning and organising; I have everything under control and duly scheduled almost all of the time. There is no reason for me to panic about anything. But the mind works in funny ways!

The first time I suffered one was in February this year, when someone I was very close to hadn’t replied to me all day! Not a single word, the whole day! So later in the evening, I started to get worried, and I had a panic attack, and since it was my first time, I was mortified and confused and absolutely helpless. It seems silly now, but it’s really the most random things that trigger a panic attack. Turns out he was sleeping the whole day.

What about you? What has your journey been like?

Scarlett: I was diagnosed with Generalised Anxiety Disorder (GAD) three years ago. I had been feeling anxious for a while, but it had gradually worsened. I was recommended to take Sertraline, a type of drug called a Selective Serotonin Reuptake Inhibitor (SSRI), an antidepressant that boosts levels of the feel-good chemical serotonin in the brain. What I experienced was this wave of fatigue, like I was carrying this weight on my body making. It really helped to stabilise my mood, which had previously been very erratic, swinging from highs to lows. However, as I was taking it at university, it became clear that it was a hindrance to my academic performance, as I started to lose my concentration. It was like all this extra serotonin had hazed over my brain and thinking was scattered and directionless. This meant doing work was really tough, because I had to try doubly as hard to think straight. I couldn’t tell whether I was just some strange anomalous case study or whether the sertraline was actually causing more problems that it was helping.
I waited it out for a few more months with no real changes in the fatigue. I started to wonder whether it was worth the side-effects.

Part of my experience of GAD was social anxiety. At best I can describe it as feeling like I was an alien in a room full of humans. They were all getting on and talking merrily and having a fun time. Meanwhile I was wondering if my clothes looked a mess, if I should make more eye contact and if I was saying things that sounded stupid.

Ushashi: I see so much of my experience in yours, in spite of having been diagnosed with something completely different. That haze, that fatigue you talk about; all too familiar. I’ve also found myself exhibiting obsessive-compulsive behaviours; one example would be constantly locking and unlocking my door. It’s so strange.
Social anxiety is also something I have experienced. It’s this irrational fear of being caught red handed having a panic attack; I don’t want them to see me while I’m vulnerable and confused. And obviously, it’s a really common feeling and everyone suffering from a mental health issue struggles with social anxiety to a certain degree. And it’s the same social anxiety that prevents people from seeking help. So social anxiety is a starting point in the diagnosis, but it’s hardly definitive.

“At best I can describe it as feeling like I was an alien in a room full of humans.”
Scarlett, on her social anxiety

Scarlett: It sounds like social anxiety is a rather non-specific symptom of many conditions. Perhaps we would be better off looking for markers that really differentiate conditions from each other. Often the differences might be really subtle.

Ushashi: It’s important to address the subtle differences in the symptoms, and even more important for people to actually know about these differences, and to believe someone when they talk about their symptoms. For instance, one of the prominent symptoms of a panic attack is the tightening of the chest, and this eerie feeling of death. Your body grows cold, top to bottom, and as the temperature drops, you feel like you’re dying. But when you describe it to someone, it all sounds very animated, because how does one know what dying feels like? And the worst part is that your thoughts and symptoms during a panic attack are in this cyclic relationship, where the more you think about how you’re feeling like you’re dying, the more panicky you get. And the more panicky you get, the colder you start feeling. It’s really hard to put a stop to those thoughts and take a deep breath and actively try to calm down.

What I would also like to remind people is that the very early symptoms of COVID-19 and Panic attacks are surprisingly similar, and it is very easy to tumble down that rabbit hole. You can’t breathe, your chest is tightening, you can’t smell anything, and you think “Do I have COVID? Should I call someone?”, and then you panic about your health, but you’re actually having a panic attack about something else, but you can’t help it. And 2020 hasn’t been easy, so your panic attacks are justified. It takes so much time to recover from that.

Ushashi: How do you think we can increase awareness of these symptoms?

Scarlett: I think Improving education on ‘mental health first aid’ will help to increase awareness. Unfortunately, there is very little mental health in the medical curriculum. The more we know about the crossover between mental health conditions and the possible side-effects of medications, the better the decisions we make about our own well-being. For example, we can weigh up whether it is worth taking Sertraline and possibly experiencing fatigue and lack of concentration or trying another treatment. Early intervention is key to better long-term outcomes, which means knowing the markers of mental health conditions.

For anxiety, the marker symptoms to look out for are a difficulty concentrating and a tendency to catastrophise which gradually mount over time. Whereas panic is a sudden and intense wave that tightens your chest, leaving you feeling like you are going to die. What we’ve seen is that anxiety can lead to panic and panic can lead to anxiety. They are not mutually exclusive. And OCD involves unwanted thoughts and compulsions leading to repetitive behaviours. It’s not simply a need for control, but a sense that there is safety in order.

Ushashi: You’re quite vocal about mental health, its symptoms and how to ask for help. In all these years, what have you learnt about it?

Scarlett: What I’ve learnt from all this: mental health is a very fragile thing. And the work doesn’t just stop after a course of CBT. Mental health conditions are also very much intertwined. One can feed into another and one can also trigger another. Dealing with them begins with ruthless honesty and disciplined effort which has to happen every single day, not just when you have flare-ups. I remind myself of the Japanese word Kintsugi. Resilience. Cracks filled in with beautiful gold. This is what I try to embody when I approach my mental health. Whilst our mental health happens to us, it is not us. We are not defined by it.

Ushashi: Yes, I agree. And help is everywhere, really. It’s only a matter of seeking for it. The earlier we recognise these symptoms, the easier it becomes to address them.

Scarlett Parr-Reid has a BSc in Medical Sciences from the University of Exeter and is currently an MSc Science Communication student at Imperial College London. She is passionate about the interrelationship of medical science and mental health. She has been volunteering with the Motor Neurone Disease Association for three years. For more from Scarlett, visit her website or her LinkedIn profile.

We understand that it is often difficult to talk about these things with people we might know, or for the fear of being judged. We have compiled these online resources for anyone to check out, should they in any way resonate with our conversation. Of course, nothing is better than professional help, and we highly recommend reaching out to someone if you experience any of the above mentioned symptoms.

Online Resources:

Silvercloud: an platform with evidence-based programmes and resources on mental health, including journaling for your wellbeing. https://www.silvercloudhealth.com/useraccessui

Mind Charity: a mental health charity providing support, information and resources on a range of mental health conditions, including helplines and self-care tips. https://www.mind.org.uk/information-support/types-of-mental-health-problems/

Nightline Association: an anonymous listening service run by students for students every night from 8pm-8am during term time. This includes phone lines, web chats, Skype and emailing. https://www.nightline.ac.uk/

Psych2Go: a YouTube channel specialising in mental health and psychology. There are great videos on mental health signs and symptoms. https://www.youtube.com/c/Psych2go/videos

Headspace: a guided meditation platform, especially useful for those with panic disorder. They have meditations available for all kinds of situations, such as for when one is feeling overwhelmed, or if one is burnt out. There is also music to calm down to. You can also get it for free with a Spotify premium account. https://www.headspace.com/

In Conversation: Olle Bergman

Posted on Dec 14, 2020 by ushashibasu

For the final installment of In Conversation, I sat down with science communicator and my long-time mentor Olle Bergman – Swedish freelance writer and communication trainer. I met Olle at a TEDx conference in early 2018 and after a brief conversation about blogging and communicating science for the public, he took me under his wing, inviting me to join the team around Crastina – a networking platform for science people interested in communication.

Olle is one of the most enlightening people I’ve known, literally and figuratively. Every time you have a call with Olle, it unintentionally spirals into a meandering conversation and you come out of it having learnt something new about human psychology, communication or Swedish culture. The world, as Olle sees it, is very colourful and as I searched for one last person to feature in this series, I thought, “why not someone as friendly and reflecting as Olle?”.

In this interview, we chatted about how Olle became the science communicator he is today, how he tries to never be boring, his upcoming book projects (very exciting!), and almost everything in between. Fun Fact: while we were on this call, Olle was taking a long walk in the forest areas surrounding his small town in Sweden, and occasionally, greeting anyone he crossed paths with.

How did you become the science communicator that you are today? How were you inspired to inspire others to get their ideas across?

This question takes us back to the 80s, when I was a young boy studying science in high school. Both my parents were doctors. It was obvious to me that science was cool and interesting and useful and important, and it was also obvious to me to go down this path. However, I also became increasingly interested in literature, and I found my teacher, Helmer Lång, very inspiring. He was strikingly committed to his subject, and he made the entire class see the beauty and greatness of literature. That was when I first started writing and I began with poetry. In retrospect, this early writing was very immature. But that changed after my military service – I truly grew wiser during that one year of conscription. Isn’t it interesting how your personality settles down when you’re in your mid-twenties?

Anyway, I was this young man who loved writing and who loved science and I decided that I wanted to be a bridge builder. On one hand, I thought about studying medicine, but on the other hand I wanted to be someone who explained the sciences so I chose to study chemistry at the Faculty of Engineering, Lund University. I felt (and still feel) like chemistry lay perfectly in between biology and physics.

After I graduated, I was drafted into a lab – it’s a whole other story we would need to frame – but I spent three years as a research assistant and even became a Ph.D. student. And that’s when I burnt out. So, instead of doing communications after my Ph.D., I took a shortcut to a communication career. My first position was as an assistant medical editor at the Swedish National Encyclopaedia and I haven’t looked back since. I eventually joined a medicine tech company – first as an international education coordinator and later as a tech and PR writer at corporate communications.

The only formal communication training I have had was an evening course in journalism at Lund University – otherwise, it’s always been a learn-as-you-go thing.

You’ve mentioned [on your website] that one of the universal principles to use to make communication more effective is to “never be boring!”. How do you make sure you’re never boring or what you’re teaching is never boring?

In all my years as a chemist, as a writer and a communicator, I have noticed that there is a lack of a good definition of what the word “interesting” actually means. It often ends up in a circular definition! But what actually makes people turn their attention to something? Well, if there is no connection to their prior knowledge, the stuff you present will never hook them. This means that you too must have knowledge of something before you can muster any interest in it.

I have a technique that can probably be described like this: when I approach something, I look for similarities with other things. Can I compare it to something that people already know? It is important to develop analogies and metaphors. The use of metaphors goes far beyond culture – I believe this is how the brain works: we all see the world in patterns, we look for one thing in other things. It can also be very effective to demonstrate a contrast between the high and the low.

I also think to be interesting you have to have courage, you know? If you are too afraid of taking risks, no one will remember you. It’s like Monte Carlo – higher risks, higher gain. You can use stand-up comedy as an example – the higher risks you take while making jokes, the bigger the success if you succeed, but also the higher the fall if you fail. But you need that courage – you have to want to take the risks.

As a writer, a scientist and a science communicator, do you believe that your work lies where science and art meet? What is your experience working at the cusp of art and science?

I will illustrate my answer with an example. In a workshop I was conducting a few weeks ago, there were twelve chemistry Ph.D. students and some of them were working with nano-structures. One of them was studying something called a “tactoid”. And the most incredible thing was that she realised how catchy the concept of “tactoid” sounds, and that there definitely is something artistic about the cool images her research produces. It is really nice to see a generation that doesn’t set up boundaries between science and art – they already know the two fields are inseparable!

Science and art on their own are always limited, but when we combine them, we have a more powerful framework of understanding the world around us – and then we are finally getting somewhere! With a scientific approach to art and vice versa, we can reach new territories. There is a lot to explore, to understand, to feel and to work with: this represents my thoughts about the power of connecting science and art.

You’ve been writing a book! What is it about?

Actually, I have three book projects going on at the moment – one communication handbook, one popular history book about The Frontier culture in USA during the 19th century, and finally the one I think you are referring to: a poetry book called Pectoris or the infinite sadness of the alienated engineer. It started writing itself in the 90’s while I was working in an industrial setting … my first sketches in Swedish are made sometime around then. It is almost a 30 year book project!

Do you have a publishing date for it?

I don’t know yet, to be honest. I am very happy that the manuscript exists, but I am in no hurry to finish the book project. I could put it into the hands of a publishing company, but I think I prefer to publish it myself. DIY publishing is very easy these days, it gives you better control and you can keep more of the earnings (if there are any!).

In the process of writing this book, how has your artistic perception collided with your scientific expertise?

A med tech company is where science is being applied for the good of mankind. I had a practical help from my scientific knowledge. I wanted to write about my old company but move it away from nephrology and renal care. I wanted to be more natural about it, so, I shifted to a more poetic outlook; I tried to not directly refer to the scientific things such as a dialysis machine and blood, but only give shards of information.

You specialise in “medical, technical and scientific writing aimed at a popular audience”. What, in your opinion and experience, is the most important thing to remember when writing about science for the public?

My first recommendation would be to learn the craft [of writing] and not cheat; you need to be a good craftsman to make a difference! Make sure to connect to the reader and that what you’re writing is relevant to the reader at all. Of course, you should use stylistic writing tools, but you should never overuse them. Never let fancy writing come between yourself and what you want to say. A lot of the time, plain English and will be more than enough. Finally, at the end of the writing process, you should read the text and think about its relevance in 10 years’ time. Will it age with dignity, or have you jumped the bandwagon, using themes, angles and expressions which are trendy at the moment?

What would your words of advice to an aspiring science communicator be?

Make sure you understand what you are writing about and that your personal understanding of the subject is complete. If your explanations are vague or poorly structured, you probably need to study your subject in more detail.

I also have a special technique: I make sure my interviews are more like conversations than interrogations. First of all, this will help the interviewee loosening up and making them forget that they are in an interview. Secondly, an interesting, two-way conversation where you add your own reflections and analyses will inspire them to be more creative. You, Ushashi, should never be afraid to do that!

Finally, Olle about himself:

I guess I am a person who plays many roles: I am the father of five, a small-business man, a non-fiction and fiction author, a regular sportsperson et cetera. I am very proud of my family’s lifestyle, which is small town life rather than urban life. My wife Lotten (who is also a writer) and I made the best decision 20 years ago when we settled in Eskilstuna. In a small town, you are not distracted by a lot of things going on around you. This makes it possible to direct your attention to those things you want to engage with and that has played a very significant role in my life.

I have a lot of energy all the time; my brain is buzzing with ideas every second of the day, and when the batteries are low, I become an introvert. I always want something interesting to direct my attention at; this pushes me to constantly try new things or to learn more about things I already know. I think to have a healthy aging process, I must keep learning. I love reading; I try to read at least one book a week and keep the genre as eclectic as possible. I also enjoy music in every possible form – learning, playing, and listening.

For more on Olle, visit his website, or his science communication platform, Crastina.

In Conversation: Divya Anantharaman

Posted on Oct 26, 2020 by ushashibasu

For the fourth and penultimate installation of this series, I had the incredible honour of speaking to Divya Anantharaman, an award winning, premier taxidermist based in New York City and her specialties include birds, small mammals and anatomic anomalies. Having studied sculpture and fashion design in college, her passion for natural history drew her towards taxidermy. When she is not working, Divya likes cooking, reading, bird watching, and collecting vintage fashion. She also enjoys drag and burlesque.

In this interview, she tells me about her inspiration(s), everything about the beauty of taxidermy and how science and art are two sides of the same coin.

How and when were you inspired to learn about and practice taxidermy?

The moment it dawned on me that I wanted to be a taxidermist was probably one of my first visits to the natural history museum. I was so fascinated by the beauty of animals, and the ability to get up close to them.

Divya Anantharaman, NYC’s premier taxidermist

I grew up and a city and didn’t have access to travel the world and see these majestic creatures in their natural habitat, but as soon as I walked through those museum doors, seeing the artfully preserved animals changed my life and made me passionate about conservation. I wanted to make that magic available to everyone! I only learned taxidermy later in life, first by collecting books and watching videos online and practicing on legally salvaged roadkill or donated specimens, then by going to taxidermy shows and competitions once I gained more confidence. I switched careers fully about 5-6 years ago.

On your website, it says you left the corporate fashion industry to pursue your love of natural history. What is it about natural history that fascinates you so much?

Natural history reminds me of my place in the world. I’m reminded daily that all the life forms that inhabit this planet are part of something far greater than an individual. As much as I love and enjoy fashion, much of the industry is about ones self, image, and ego-nature reminds me that all those things are temporary, and gives me far greater perspective on what is important in life, and the legacy I’d like to leave behind.

“…all the life forms that inhabit this planet are part of something far greater than an individual.”
Divya anantharaman

What is the most fulfilling aspect of your work? What would the most difficult part be?

The most fulfilling aspect of my work is being able to connect people and animals, to inspire them to play a role in conservation.

The most difficult part of my work aside from constantly learning and perfecting anatomy and technique, would be finding ways to innovate and diversify this field.

How does art and science combine in taxidermy? How does this amalgamation increase dialogue between science and art?

In many ways! Practically, a successful work of taxidermy needs to be based in accurate scientific understanding of the animal (anatomy, habitat, etc) and executed with proficient artistic technique (sculpting, painting, etc). Science and art have a relationship beyond the practical-they ground each other and give each other imagination, unlocking new potential in each other. There is a wonderful harmony when the hand of the artist delivers a scientific message. Art appeals to our emotions and instincts in a way that science alone cannot.

What scientific principle would you say is central to the art of taxidermy?

There are a few! Most important would be anatomy, understanding not just what and animal looks like, but why. And learning the nuances of a specific creature that vary with age, sex, habitat, and other conditions. Also important would be chemistry when it comes to the tanning and preservation of hides, and stability or painting and sculpting materials.

What is your favourite animal to taxidermy, and why?

Birds! There is such a fascinating array of diversity in birds, and their ubiquity. Their ability to fly inspires awe from a tangible perspective as and evolutionary wonder, and from a more abstract perspective in that they carry rich symbolism, lore, even carrying our hopes and dreams.

Do you think Science and Art are two sides of the same coin? If yes, how so? And if not, why?

Yes! I do believe art and science are 2 sides of the same coin. They are both ways of observing and making sense of the world, many times with similar motivations. The difference I see most is the presence of the preparators hand-where science strives to be objective, art fully celebrates being subjective. The unique hand of the person behind the artwork gives it a sense of emotion and imagination, which can reach people in a way that acknowledges their humanity. I am so excited by the unexplored potential of combining art and science!

For more on Divya, visit her website or check her work out on Instagram!

In Conversation: Anusha Banerjee

Posted on Sep 21, 2020 by ushashibasu

Anusha Banerjee is an aspiring geologist and a budding digital artist from Kolkata, India. She obtained her bachelor’s degree in Geology from Calcutta University and then a master’s degree in Applied Geology from Presidency University, Kolkata. The “art-science-ness” of geology continually intrigues Anusha and in the future, she wants to be able to reach out to anyone interested in art and/or science, and make geology a tad bit more accessible. Anusha also loves to play the ukulele and the keyboard and sing, read random stories from history, browse r/etymology on Reddit, or explore her hometown, Kolkata.

In the third installment of the In Conversation series, Anusha and I talk about her love of geology and e(art)h science and the very prominent artistic element of the science of rocks.

When and how were you inspired to study geology? Could you elaborate on your experience studying geology?

This one is an interesting story. As a child, I loved the arts and sciences equally. In school, we were made to believe that they are both vastly different and can never become one. But over time, I began to find that they converged very often, and sometimes very evidently- like the colourful salts in chemistry lab, and fractals in mathematics. Back then, I was very interested in astrophysics and astronomy, and its least to mention that the images of space are enough to make anyone gasp in awe. So, I thought “Great! I am going to study astronomy.” At such a time, I began to realise that I’m going to have to dedicate a lot of time and energy to math, which sounded very intimidating to me. I started having second thoughts about the subject. One of my seniors from school told me about geology. Even though I had heard of the subject before, I didn’t know much about it. But, I was intrigued!

Anusha, in front of the replica of the Jurrasic fold, Geological Museum, Tsukuba, Japan.

It was fascinating- like being a forensic scientist of the Earth. The final blow came when I saw pictures of thin sections of rocks. To think that rocks could look like…that just did it for me. Then onward, it was just one beautiful journey.

What is your fondest memory of your time as a geology student?

There’s too many to start with, honestly. A lot of small moments make up my favourite memories as a geology student. The first time I held a real fossil in my hands (it was an ammonite), the first time I used a rock hammer to obtain a rock sample, the first time my classmates and I made a structural map of an area. Most of my fond memories go back to the field trips of five years, and practical classes- I can’t mention one by not mentioning the other. So I’d like to share a different, yet fond memory. This is from August 2019, when we were in Tokyo, Japan for the 23^rd India-Japan Student Conference (IJSC) organised by Nihongo Kaiwa Kyookai Society. On a day off, I travelled to Tsukuba, and visited the Geological Museum in AIST. This is the biggest and only museum of its type in Japan, and has always been on my bucket list. It was my first time in a foreign country and travelling on my own to a place I have always wanted to visit was an emotional moment for me. There’s a replica of a fold from Jurrasic Age, in front of which I always wanted to take a picture of. And I did!

In the television sitcom “The Big Bang Theory”, Sheldon Cooper is famous (or infamous) for saying geology is not a real science. How would you refute him?

Oh, right. This one. I don’t think it’s advisable to go into an argument with Sheldon Cooper, but if I had to anyway, I’d like to remind him what “science” means- an endeavour to understand. There’s no such thing as “real” science, in my opinion. Something is either science, or it isn’t- in which case, it might be pseudoscience. It’s least to say that geological phenomena exist- we wouldn’t even be here if tectonism didn’t operate! Geology is indeed interdisciplinary, but it is also a science in itself. I might have overused the word “science” too many times, but I hope it explains the point.

How would you say art and science combines in the field of geology? What do you think of this combination?

I like to call my subject e(art)h science, because there’s so much art in it! I can never imagine geology without all the visual art there is in it- from the thin sections, to the stratigraphy, from crystallography and mineral structures, to palaeontology (macro- and micro-). You can see fractals in real life when looking at the Digital Elevation Models of mountain ranges, or the sutures of an extinct ammonite fossil, or the Fibonacci spiral structural of the Nautilus. I don’t have to mention how beautiful and exquisite the geodes and crystals look. Rock outcrops have a beauty of their own. However, thin sections are my favourite. Rocks are made of minerals, and minerals have different optical properties. What this essentially means, is that light interacts very differently with them. Fun fact! A rock is sliced to as thin as 0.035 mm to be able to study their mineral composition under a microscope.

Pyroxenite: Large crystals of pyroxene in Pyroxenite in XPL. Magnification: 50x, Photo By: Anusha Banerjee

(With jargon: Most minerals are anisotriopic- meaning they have different refractive indices along different directions- and in order to differentiate them, a regular transmitted-light microscope is usually not enough. For this, geologists use a special “polarising” microscope. First the light passes through a “polariser”, which allows light to vibrate only in one specific direction. An “analyser”, or second polariser changes the quality and direction of this light wave. With the help of a rotating stage, minerals are seen to have various “interference” colours- which very simply are the wavelengths of light they intercept.)

(Without jargon: Most minerals have a complicated crystal structure and can’t be differentiated using a regular microscope. Geologists use special “polarising” microscopes to identify the various minerals of a thin section. Under a polarising microscope, a special filter (called “analyser”) reveals the hidden colours of these minerals).

It’s truly magical.

Would you say the mundane world around you has changed since you began studying geology?

Entry into the world of geology is a one-way ticket. Once you are in love with the subject, you start seeing it everywhere. You start seeing it in the mineral grains of the “granite” tabletops of your kitchen- spoiler alert! These “granites” are not always granites – or the marble flooring of your house. Trips to the beach mean looking at the shape of ripples and understanding how the currents led to their formation. Travelling to the mountains mean understanding what rock type they might be made of and understanding the tectonism which led to their formation.

My gallery is often full of pictures of the rock slabs which make up an ancient temple complex, or polished slabs on Metro pillars. But most importantly, geology is more than just rocks, petroleum, or coal. Geology is a way of life. Once you start viewing how the Earth works and realise our place in it- you start to understand things on a deeper level, especially the greatest ongoing crisis at hand- climate change, and what it means for our species. In short: it’s not good news.

What form of artistic expression fits best in showcasing the beauty of geology?

Photography and painting! We’ve all become natural history illustrators (of rocks, fossils, and thin sections) in class some or the other time. I’ll let the pictures do the talking here. My favourite e(art)h science pages are @drrhcmadden (rock samples), @alexstrekeisen (rock microscopy) and @linajakaite (3D geologic artwork) on Instagram.

Finally, what’s your favourite rock? Why?

Thin section of Anusha’s favourite rock, Olivine Basalt: In XPL. Magnification: 100x. Photo by: Anusha Banerjee

I had to think about this for the longest time. There are quite a lot of interesting rocks out there, but I guess my favourite would be basalt. This rock is formed by the solidification of lava on the surface, and is abundant on the Earth, Mars and the Moon. At places, it forms a particularly interesting hexagonal-column-like structure- these are called columnar joints and I think they’re very cool! Another reason I love this rock is because even though it looks dull and uninteresting on the surface, the thin sections reveal their beautiful colours!

For more on Anusha, visit her Instagram account. And stay tuned for a secret project she is working on!

In Conversation: Sneha Bharadwaj

Posted on Sep 1, 2020 by ushashibasu

Sneha Bharadwaj is a professional Indian classical dancer and has, over many years, established a Bharatnatyam scene in Munich, Germany. She graduated from Bangalore University with a bachelors degree in choreography, and later, from Bharatidasan University with a master’s degree in fine art. A recipient of many prestigious awards, Sneha has performed at various dance festivals in and around India, Germany, USA, France, Switzerland, Poland and other countries. She is also trained in Indian Martial Arts and Yoga. She is the founder and artistic director of the Indian dance school & company in Munich, ‘Abhinaya Indischer Tanz’ and ‘Abhinaya Tanz Kampani‘. By empowering through art, she hopes to continue celebrating South Asian art in Europe in all its glory.

In the second part of the In Conversation series, I spoke to Sneha about the art form she excels in, the highs and lows of it, and if the combination of science and dance is an arena that can be successfully explored.

How and when were you inspired to take up dancing as a hobby?

It was my mom`s dream to dance and she wanted me explore movements…for as long as I remember we both use to swirl and twirl to music, and she saw me the happiest when music was on and I jumped to express. With a busy school schedule, dance became a part of me. I was 5 when I started my formal training in Indian Classical Dance Bharatanatyam, under Late Guru (teacher) H.K.Raj who nurtured me into a dancer that I am today.

Do you remember the moment when you decided to pursue it professionally?

The process to pursue Art as my profession was very organic. I PROUDLY took up Art in the university…but the path, in the beginning, was scary. You see, socially, art is still not a valid profession because of the financial viability and no laid out career path, and so very early on I realized uncertainty is what you sign up for when you say you want to live a creative life.

Your question made me look back and I cannot pinpoint to a particular moment as when I decided to pursue it as my profession; art has been my constant companion, my happiness.

What would you say is the most exciting part of your art? Is there a mundane/difficult aspect to it as well?

Everything! The highs and the lows of creative process. Perhaps the most difficult part for me is the emotions. We artists work with our emotions, which are sometimes our own and sometimes the story or the particular character that we are working on and at some point, it does get exhausting to carry intellectual emotions and emotional empathy of a subject all through. Unfortunately (or fortunately) there is no particular login and log out in a creative process.

Whenever I experience feelings of discomfort in my life, I need to find an answer by transforming those feelings into my art. As much fun as I have in the studio, I take my role as an artist very seriously and I think being socially and politically aware of my surroundings is very, very important.

Choreographing is always like bringing new characters and stories to life and even parts of ourselves to stage. My storytelling arcs rely largely on research, community, and lived experience to form what I call a kind of constellation. And when the time comes to stop or to exhibit, I never really finish; all my works constantly grow in me, as the more you try to say, the more there is to tell. It is all about weaving a thought you have into a tapestry for others to see and be moved by.

If someone who isn’t well versed in Indian Classical Dance asked you to explain your art form (Bharatanatyam) to them in 3 or 4 sentences, what would you say?

Bharatanatyam is one of the major tradition of performing arts in India. It originated in the temples of India. The classical dance form Bharatanatyam is a profound synthesis of aesthetics, philosophy, sculpture, movements, poetry and literature. The art form is a mirror for ethics, laws, and the functioning of the society of today and of the past. It gathers all these strands and sets them in motion.

As someone who has pursued art professionally for a large part of their life, have you tried exploring the scientific aspect of your work? If, that is, you believe there is a scientific aspect to dance?

We live in a world of motion, energy, space, and time. Certainly, there is physics in dance…Bharathanatyam and Classical Ballet is an orchestration of the pull of the earth and freedom of space. It is indeed interesting when an analysis of physics is added to dance but I haven’t explored in depth. I hope to work on this path in the near future.

What emotional and physical benefits does dance have on our body? Have you experienced these benefits within yourself?

I always approach my work at 3 levels:

On a physical level (Adibhuta), dancing is similar to that of other cardio activities — it works on all planes of the body, including lateral and rotational, which in turn conditions all muscles.

On an emotional level, (Adidaiva) it is an instrument to express, as it allows you to express every drop of emotion, to feel, and to unapologetically be yourself.

On a philosophical level, (Adhyatma), it is a journey inwards. By completely absorbing our attention for a long or short magical spell, it can relieve us temporarily from the dreadful burden of being who we are.

Sat-Chit-Ananda is the term I always try to see in my every practice and performance where,

Sat – To be present

Chit – One with the Art

Ananda – untainted bliss

Do you believe we can use dance forms to communicate scientific concepts and increase accessibility to science?

Art is about connecting with people’s emotions. It’s personal and at the same time, universal.

In art forms, we are telling stories and stories should have characters and characters should have emotions. As I have mentioned, art is not just an intellectual process but also an emotional process. So if you are able to characterize or add emotions to science then it can be performed but it won’t stand as an epic work.

Science, the law of nations, constitution or commerce, economics, etc, when highly anthropomorphized and personified, can be brought to art. Just with pure dance (termed as Nritta) one can depict many scientific concepts (gravity, the structure of atoms etc.) but it will be a visual representation. One can definitely communicate scientific theory through art, but they would not become entertainment unless you humanize them.

Science concerns itself purely with the material world (Adibuta), while art transcends one from the material world to beliefs and emotions (Adhidaiva) and graduates to the philosophical world (Adhyatma).

Of course, experiments and science can be communicated through art forms like dance, but one needs to balance it, as there is a huge difference between the intellectual and emotional sphere. As a choreographer, you have to be very careful: you must make sure the science is not incorrect and that the art form still makes an impact on the heart.

If you had the chance to work with a scientist(s) to produce a show that revolves around a scientific concept, which field of science would you choose and why?

I believe an artist’s role is almost that of an alchemist. If I had to choose a scientific field, it would be physics; collaborating with the ideas that encompass both dance and physics is definitely worth the effort.

Learn more about Sneha here and also connect with her to witness more of her art!

In Conversation: Haseeb Ahmed

Posted on Jul 30, 2020 by ushashibasu

The overlap between science and art is extremely large. In more ways than one, science and art are two sides of the same coin. Apart from glaring similarities in their principles, art is perhaps one of the most organic ways of communicating science (in my humble opinion). Through a series of interviews with my friends, colleagues and mentors, called “In Conversation”, I aim to explore this amalgamation of science and art and highlight all the times science and art converge in our daily lives without us actively realising it.

In the first installment of this series, I’ve interviewed Haseeb Ahmed, who, alongside being a dear friend and a self-declared film critic, is a bourgeoning physicist and a photographer. We talked about his major, his scientific interests and photography. He broke down the science behind some of his photographs and we discussed the prevalence of physics in photography and finally, the importance of photography to mankind.

What inspired you to study physics? Was there a specific moment that sparked an interest in you or was more like a slow process?

There was never really a eureka moment. I always liked science as a kid and enjoyed reading encyclopaedias. When I was about 12 or 13 years old, I received this electronic Lego set and I built some basic robots out of those; that was an interesting experience. I joined university as an electrical and computer engineering major but after my first year and after having taken some physics courses, I changed my major to physics and here we are. So, you could say it was a slow process.

Could you describe, in one sentence, the most exciting aspect of what you studied?

I think it’s very simple; everyone is curious to know how the universe and stuff around them works and that was also what was interesting for me.

What about picking up photography as a hobby – how and when did that start?

I picked up photography when I was around 16. It was a free summer and I was looking for things to do or learn, and flipping through magazines and articles, great photographs caught my attention. I also came across the blog of a physicist turned photographer, Ming Thein and his consistency and style really inspired me. Over time, I got myself a small camera and started experimenting. I’ve always wanted to take part in something artistic and have some sort of creative output, and photography suited me best. I think I still have my first photograph somewhere around here.

As someone who has an eye for things/scenes/situations to photograph, could you recount a memory you have of something you looked at and immediately felt like you had to capture it?

A few years ago, my family and I went on this vacation among the mountains, and at some point, while we were driving there, I witnessed a scene where a strong sun beam was shining down on a river, which was flowing through a very steep valley. I remember asking my dad to stop the car so I could take a picture!

Has there ever been a moment, in your career, where physics and photography have intertwined, to create something meaningful?

That was when I was experimenting with astrophotography and took time lapses in the middle the night. It kind of gave me the opportunity to witness the motion of the universe…and I was also able to relate some things we had actually learned in class.

Why do you think photography is important to mankind?

Photography documents our lives. We’ve been recording our lives for the longest time and visual forms of this recording has always been important. I think anyone can take up photography and learn how to capture valuable moments. With a photograph, you can take a mundane subject and turn it into something worth remembering.

Tell me about this picture: the moment, the inspiration, all that.

The idea for the photograph started out when I was bored actually. It was pretty late into the night and I didn’t have anywhere to go, so I set up my tripod to try something new.

Could you, as a physicist and a photographer, break down the science behind this picture? How did you capture the person at the computer in a blur, but the rest was all still?

Cameras basically operate by opening and closing a shutter and letting light fall onto a sensor(or film if you’re old school). If you’re trying to take a photograph of people in general everyday activities for example, you want to keep the shutter open for a few microseconds at most, since at those timescales, we seem to be frozen in place. Keep the shutter open for too long, and you get blurry photographs. Motion blur is usually seen as a nuisance but here by using a camera set up on a tripod and keeping the shutter open for a few seconds, I’m deliberately trying to add it to the photograph whilst keeping everything around me still.

Is there any artistic meaning behind this photo?

The motion amidst the static objects adds another element to the photo, a temporal moment. In a way, it conveys how fleeting any moment it.

*“Through The Looking Glass”, Haseeb Ahmed, 2017*

I have similar questions about this photo as well. Tell me about the moment you decided to capture whatever was happening around you and tell me about the science behind this picture.

My mom was visiting me (in Bremen, Germany) and my host family and I were showing her around. And the thing about me is that when I go out, I often fall back from the group to take a few pictures or capture a moment that catches my eye. This is one of those pictures.

I like working with light, reflection and motion for my photographs and the many reflections on these glass panes from the light falling on them made the scene other worldly, and added a feeling of ambiguity to it. There are all these figures you can’t make out on the right while on the left, you can see the ‘real world’. All of these elements put together made the moment worth taking a picture of.

Is there any artistic meaning behind picture as well?

It felt like there was a portal to another dimension and it looked like people were moving through that portal. You can’t see the people clearly; it’s as if they are in some sort of a transition and that was what seemed artistic to me.

Take a look at some more of Haseeb’s photography here.

Ushashi Basu

An exploration of science, art & communication

Tag Archives: science communication