Not Finished: On Momentum, Memory, and Making

Returning to My Art Practice After a Break

After a long break, returning to my artwork feels a little awkward. My hands remember something my mind has misplaced. I find myself trying to recall the exact technique I once used to build these cells, retracing steps that used to feel automatic. Momentum, when it finally arrives, is fragile — but I can feel it carrying me back into a nightly rhythm again.

Balancing Artistic Process and Scientific Accuracy

Making art has always helped me maintain my sanity. It’s a place where thinking happens differently, where questions can exist without answers. As I layer more cells into this piece, I hesitate: how much is too much? At what point does complexity turn into noise? And, most importantly, how do I make sure not to lose touch with the science underlying the image?

When an Artwork is Finished – but Not Complete

Last month, I finally got around to “finishing” this composition of the olfactory epithelium — though it still feels unfinished. I’m still not completely happy with the right and left edges looking a bit tattered, but it speaks to the fact that this is just a glimpse – not the whole picture – of the amazing system we have in our noses.

I’m also still wondering whether I want to add my signature white crystal, or whether this piece can exist without it. Same goes for filling in some empty spaces between the cells. These decisions feel small, but they’re not. They’re about restraint, intention, and trust.

Somewhere in all of this, a larger question keeps surfacing: where does reality end and art begin? Maybe this piece doesn’t answer those questions. Maybe it simply marks the place where I started asking them again.

While it may look finished, I think I will let this piece marinate for a little bit. Plus, I still need to come up with a good title!

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