Nurture your hobbies, advice from a (not so) senior postdoc

By Ivan Sugrue, PhD (APC Microbiome Ireland)

I’ve always loved photography. In secondary school (high school) I got my first digital camera (I think it was 10MP - very impressive for the time!) I took photos of everything, my siblings, my garden, myself.. dear lord do I have many photos of myself rocking a dyed-black heat-straightened fringe and eyeliner in the mid-late 2000s. Let’s be glad the internet was in its adolescence too. I spent two weeks gathering work experience in the Irish Farm Centre where I spent twelve long days in an office updating an excel file and two short glorious days shadowing ‘The Irish Farmer’s Journal’ magazine’s photographer. One of those two days we spent at a tractor auction. Despite what I would consider to be a rather dull environment (sorry farmers and large-vehicle-enthusiasts) I was introduced to light, colour, lenses, shutter speeds, apertures and moving around to see things from all angles. Perhaps a keen interest in macro (close-up images of small objects) was an ominous hint towards the microbiological career to follow. I loved every second of that day. He told my Mam ‘He’s got a good eye for this’, a moment of pride on par with finishing my PhD.

1. When zoomed in to see the textures you almost forget it’s a digger

Next, in college (fringe: still present, dyed: blonde, code: orange), I was gifted a ‘fancy camera’. A Nikon Coolpix L340 with 28x Wide Optical Zoom - wow! At this time I was feeling more like a fashion photographer, so plenty more pictures of myself in my room. I continued to photograph others too, particularly candids. I had a knack for catching relatives at weddings when they least wanted to be photographed. The odd gem appeared amongst the rubbish, where everyone was caught mid-chat or laugh, without noticing I had shoved a camera in their faces. Today I have a handful of portraits of some relatives that, while aren’t particularly good, I treasure because they have passed on. I’m very grateful for these.

I inherited a not-very-fancy but classic Cosina 35 FR point-and-shoot camera that my Grandad had from the 80s. This was my first introduction to film photography beyond disposables. I had no idea how to use it, but I learned rapidly that film is in no way as simple as ‘point-and-shoot’. I started to stick this camera in people’s faces at weddings too, finding a love of rich shadows and graininess of black and white film, the satisfying feel and sound when turning lever, and the hard 36 photo limit with the beauty of having no idea how they turned out until days/weeks later. Again, every now and then the odd diamond was developed which I proudly display at home.

2. An only son and an only child become new brother's in law

At the start of my PhD I was still taking photos on a Nikon Coolpix, I have evidence from walks in the woods with friends that came to visit me near Teagasc Moorepark Food Research centre. I also have some rather blurry evidence of bringing the camera out with me on St. Patrick’s Day with my new lab-mates (some of that could probably be destroyed).

And then the trail goes cold.. At some point within the first year of my PhD I stopped taking my camera out with me. I stopped going out by myself to photograph any random object I found interesting. I stopped doing something that brought me great joy. In hindsight this is objectively quite sad (don’t worry, it gets happier again in a minute). I became engrossed and completely hyper-focused on my PhD research (at the time discovery of LAB-derived antimicrobials for application in fermented dairy products). I loved it. I loved working in the lab. I loved developing a practical understanding of the microbiological concepts and theories I had learned before. I loved ‘playing’ with microbes (and still do). Working with bacteriocin producers, I loved getting the perfect image of the perfect zone to put on a presentation slide (can you tell I have some perfectionist tendencies?). My phone filled up with photographs of microscopic cells, colonies on agar plates, and turbid (or not) broths.

3. My second piece of advice? photograph everything in the lab. you never know what you'll come back to years later.

My cameras gathered dust, excepting the odd familial request to bring it to a wedding or sometimes when I went away. I attended ISAPP for the first time in 2019 (Antwerp) and didn’t bring a camera (phone notwithstanding). I forgot that I liked taking pictures, that I liked the feel of the cameras, the effort of framing a photo and the satisfaction of a good edit. My PhD began in June 2016 and my thesis was submitted in July 2020, mid-lockdown (fringe: gone, head: shaved). The following couple of years were odd for everyone, I moved labs but continued working on bacteriocin discovery, now focused on overcoming antimicrobial resistant pathogens.

Within the past couple of years it could be said that I have been a dabbler. I like to try to take my hand to anything, and my house is evidence of that. On the shelf you’ll find lino-cutting tools for printing. The wardrobe holds climbing shoes and a wetsuit. The office houses a (slightly dusty) keyboard. Of course, being a microbiologist, the kitchen contains a freezer-stocked sourdough starter (‘Sandra Dough’, she’s delicious) and the necessary equipment for kombucha fermentation, whereas the shed harbours everything beer brewing-related. I do like to dip in and out of hobbies as the mood takes me. But my cameras remained neglected, only for special occasions.

Earlier this year, I visited a friend abroad and while in the airport I spontaneously purchased a Fujifilm Instax Mini for fun. This was a true point-and-shoot film camera, absolutely simple and instantly gratifying. There is such a beauty in handing someone a photo that is a physical snapshot of a feeling or a moment in time. It was pure joy for me.

Some months ago I was also given the fantastic opportunity to visit another research group, Prof. Tanja Schneider’s lab in the University of Bonn to work characterising the detailed mechanisms of action of bacteriocins. The trip placed me firmly out of my well-established comfort zone, but I had a fabulous time meeting new people, expanding my research network, and learning a mountain of new (to me) knowledge. It also provided me with extended periods of time alone during which I could sit and think (uh-oh, dangerous). I had brought my Instax, so I wandered Bonn and took tiny pictures and slowly remembered that I liked taking pictures. A couple of weeks in and a second-hand Nikon FE purchased online was on its way to me. It is heavy, the film is extortionately expensive, the shutter sticks, the lens is dented, it is my first SLR camera and I can’t be happier with it.

4. Would it really be Germany without a train

I’ve taken more photos (that I actually want to look at) in the past three months than the previous six years. I’ve invested in my own negative scanning setup, I’ve bought a DSLR (ouch), I’ve haggled over second hand lens prices online. My new research project involved a visit to a wildlife park with whom we are collaborating to isolate bacteriocin producers from exotic animals! I brought my camera. Most of all I’ve taken the occasional thirty minutes where I walk around outside with my camera alone and take some pictures. They are mostly not very good, but this isn’t my career, it’s my hobby and I do it for me because I enjoy it.

5. Microbiologists caught outside their natural environment

So where does this long ramble end? Now I am a Senior (long hair, curly) Postdoc. I loved (and sometimes hated) my PhD. I’ve told lots of people it was like a roller coaster, but I was lucky because I had far more ups than downs (surely it should be the other way, because the downs are the fun bit? nevermind..). I wish I hadn’t forgotten about all the other things I liked to do and let slide during that time period. Research can be, and is, incredibly fulfilling, but it can dominate you if you let it, or rather, if you let yourself. My advice would be to nurture your other hobbies if you can, even if it’s just five minutes randomly smashing some drums or crocheting badly every now and then. I think you’ll be happier you did in the long run and maybe you’ll end up with something that brings you joy.