Months after stepping away from life in the university, I found myself struggling. Old routines that I relied on were no longer there. I bade goodbye to a stable source of income as well. For the most part, it was all about figuring out what to do. A trial of fire of sorts.
Selling prints helped pay some of the monthly bills. I kept on working on existing projects. I knew if I stopped too long I would lose momentum. There would be risks attached to making such a bold career move, this I understood. But I didn’t expect how soon the seed of uncertainty would give fruit to anxiety. As I partook of that fruit, I sweated the small stuff and it would soon become overwhelming.
I came close to giving up.
And then I remembered that I hadn’t even failed yet. I’ve lived with depression for most of my life and I’ve failed myself and others one time too many. Yet, I picked myself up, tried again, and failed again.
I wasn’t about to let the looming fear of inevitable failure scare me away from this dream. I had to play to my strengths. This transition period was going to be the first of many uphill climbs on this journey, I realized that.
I wasn’t going to make it by just relying on the skills that I had just acquired. There had to be a way to use the embers of my old life to fuel the new. Thus, I married two of the worlds that I knew — chemistry and photography.
The pictures that you see here are the beginnings of a series I dare to call #ChemLoveArt. My goal is to create fine art portraits of scientific experiments. The same ones I’ve been performing for the past 15 years. Creativity after all runs the spectrum of scientist to artist and everything else between.
And for the first time in months, it seems I’m finally seeing the top of the hill.