Michal Gavish is a multidisciplinary artist whose work bridges the gap between science and art, drawing heavily on her background in physical chemistry. After years of working as a research scientist, Gavish transitioned to the art world, where she uses molecular structures, scientific data, and microscopic imagery to create immersive installations and vibrant works of art. Her projects often explore the interplay between scale, color, and form, translating the invisible micro and nano worlds into larger-than-life visual experiences. Through her art, Gavish not only visualizes scientific concepts but also fosters a dialogue between the disciplines of science and art, inviting viewers to see both fields from fresh perspectives. In this Q&A, she discusses her creative process, the influence of her scientific training on her art, and the challenges and rewards of navigating the intersection of these two seemingly disparate worlds.

You have a scientific background. What inspired you to transition from being a scientist to a multimedia artist?

It was a process. It took me a while to decide to make such a huge change.

I’ve always been, in a way, an artist, even when I was a scientist. Not so much in terms of drawing, but I’ve always loved building things—big things—ever since I was a kid. At some point, I started to feel like I was missing something by not pursuing art.

There was also a moment when I felt limited in science. Everything has to be correct and precise, and I wanted to break out of those constraints.

Your work clearly draws heavily on your background in physical chemistry. How do you translate scientific data and molecular structures into artistic expressions? How do you bring those two worlds together?

First of all, I always paint and draw. That was foundational for me from the beginning. I also do video animation, but that stems from my drawings.

For me, the artistic language is about creating my own imagery rather than simply illustrating scientific ideas. Every time I approach a subject, I go through a long process until I find images that are truly mine, not just depictions of the science.

Are there any specific artists or scientists—or perhaps both—who have inspired your approach to art and science?

Definitely. On one hand, there are contemporary artists like Maya Lin or Eva Hesse, who create installations that are larger than life and immersive. I’ve been very inspired by their work.

On the other hand, I’m deeply influenced by older scientists like Darwin, whose drawings I love, and even further back to Leonardo da Vinci. I also find inspiration in field guides, which directly influenced some of my recent works.

So, naturalists who document the world, but in your case, it’s often the micro or nano world?

Exactly.

Can you take me behind the scenes? What’s your creative process like when you’re starting a project? Do you begin with scientific research, or do you start on the artistic side? Or is it a blend of both?

The artistic side is usually what intrigues me first. Often, I’ll see something visually fascinating in scientific work, and that will spark my interest.

That said, I always start with research. I read scientific papers and immerse myself in the subject for a long time before I even begin drawing. As a chemist, I’m fascinated by biology, especially new fields that didn’t exist when I was in school. It’s exciting, and I slowly build my imagery from that foundation.

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You’ve mentioned your chemistry background, but much of your artistic work focuses on biological forms. Why not delve more into chemistry?

Actually, I’ve done work inspired by chemistry too. I started with proteins and molecular structures. One thing that connects both fields visually is color.

In both chemistry and biology, colors are completely arbitrary. Scientists assign colors to represent different elements, molecules, or structures. In chemistry, for example, you use color-coded 3D models to visualize molecular architectures. Neuroscience and genetics use similar approaches with arbitrary colors to map their worlds.

I found that fascinating, and it carried over into my art.

Do you typically work alone, or have you collaborated with scientists on projects?

I’ve done both. When I lived in California, I collaborated with a biologist from Stanford named Ron Dror. I also worked with a friend in England and other geneticists and biologists.

However, for the last few years, I’ve been working alone.

I find it interesting when artists and scientists collaborate because they often speak different languages and use different methods. How do you reconcile those differences, either in collaborations or in your own mind when you’re doing scientific research?

The process is surprisingly similar. Both fields involve working in a “gray zone” for a while until you suddenly have a breakthrough idea. I was amazed at how similar the creative process in art is to scientific research.

That said, the methods are very different, and that’s where they diverge. I think of collaborations more as me taking inspiration than giving input. Scientists often enjoy watching my process, but I eventually break away and focus on my own artistic direction.

How do you decide what scientific topics to explore? You’ve worked on projects ranging from neuroscience to virology.

It’s often influenced by circumstances. For example, I started studying virology during the pandemic because I was at home and found viruses fascinating.

The neuroscience work was more personal—it stemmed from events in my family that made me want to learn about the brain and how neurons work.

Many of your installations are immersive. What role does scale play in your work? Have you encountered challenges in translating microscopic forms into larger-than-life installations?

I actually find it easier to scale up microscopic forms because they don’t have an inherent “normal” size. Once you’re already magnifying them to make them visible, why not go bigger?

I’m also drawn to the drama of Renaissance art, with its large, overwhelming figures. There’s something humbling about creating work that’s larger than life. When you’re looking through an electron microscope, it feels like you’re observing a tiny world from a godlike perspective. Scaling it up flips that dynamic, making the viewer feel small in relation to the work.

One project that intrigued me was Microsalms. Can you tell me about that?

That was part of a European Union project where artists were invited to respond to other artworks. I was paired with a Polish poet who had written a long poem inspired by psalms.

At the time, I was working on DNA structures, so I created elongated, rhythmic shapes that mirrored the cadence of the poem. I wanted the visuals to feel almost like music. It was a really rewarding project.

Your earlier work features more muted colors, but your later projects—like those involving genetics—are much more vibrant. What led to that shift?

It’s tied to the color coding I mentioned earlier. Bold colors are essential for scientific visualization, so I embraced them in my art.

Even with bold colors, I use layers and fabrics to create subtle textures and depth. It’s a way of softening the boldness while still keeping the vibrancy.

How do you see your work contributing to the dialogue between art and science?

I’m not sure about the big picture, but I know that my work resonates with scientists. Many of my friends in science tell me it gives them a new perspective or dimension to their own work.

My last exhibition was at the American Association for the Advancement of Sciences, where most of the audience was scientists. I had great conversations with them and felt a strong connection.

What do you think art can offer science, and vice versa?

Science offers endless inspiration. It’s visually rich and full of fascinating ideas.

Art, on the other hand, can make science more accessible and open. I don’t think art can solve scientific problems, but it can inspire scientists to think differently or approach their work from a new angle.

Finally, what advice would you give to artists or scientists interested in interdisciplinary work?

For artists, collaboration is key. Science is a mysterious and complex world, and working with scientists can help you access it in a meaningful way.

For scientists, I’d suggest partnering with an artist. Many of my scientist friends are excited by what I do because it’s so different from their day-to-day work. Collaboration can be rewarding for both sides.

IMAGE CREDIT: Michal Gavish.

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