Withdrew from the doctoral program at the University of Tokyo, Graduate School of Engineering (Ph.D. expected in 2024). Holds a master's degree from the University of Tokyo. While primarily engaged in biological research, he also actively participates in art-related activities. He strives to create moments of fresh discovery and inspiration from the simple curiosity that lies at the heart of both art and science. His aim is to become a catalyst for times and places where artists, scientists, and others can meet, connect, stimulate each other, and spark creative ideas. He plans to hold his solo exhibition "単位―Unit―" (gallery DEN5) in November.
I usually conduct research in biotechnology. Even now, I am writing this from my university lab. To be honest, when people hear the word "researcher," they probably don't think of fashion or being stylish. They're right about that. No one really pays attention to each other's clothes, and I hardly ever talk about clothes with colleagues. The most we might discuss is the functionality of our clothes (like what type of attire is easiest to experiment in). As someone who likes clothes, I sometimes wear my favorite outfits. It seems to stand out because among the secretaries, there's an image of me as "fashionable." Sometimes they even compliment me, which makes me happy.
On the other hand, clothing is filled with a lot of technology. Whether it's designed for functionality or pure aesthetics, modern clothes are mostly a mix of mathematics, physics, chemistry, and engineering. I wonder what researchers wear while producing the research outcomes embedded in our clothes. They probably never imagined that compounds they synthesized would walk down the Paris runway. Thinking about this brings to mind the perpetual debate in academia: the argument of "useful vs. useless." Some argue that funding should be concentrated on useful research, while questioning the value of what seems useless research. Nobel laureates are sometimes asked, "What is this useful for?" As someone who genuinely loves science, I want to defend and enjoy things that seem "useless"—or more accurately, things whose utility isn't clear at the moment and don't lend themselves to such evaluations. From my point of view, I have a small request: The next time you hear the "useful vs. useless" debate, try imagining the researchers who produced the findings embodied in the clothes you're currently wearing.
Speaking of which, what kind of clothes do you imagine researchers wearing in the lab? Probably lab coats, right? Currently, I'm not wearing a lab coat, nor are the people around me. Whether to wear a lab coat or not depends on the research content and personal preference, but more people lean towards not wearing one. There are a few who treat the lab coat like a uniform and wear it all the time at work, but they are a minority. Most researchers wear lab coats when there is a risk of getting their clothes dirty, when handling hazardous chemicals, when touching lab animals, and when it's cold. However, researchers on TV and other media often appear in lab coats. Why is that? I found the answer when a TV crew came to interview our lab. The staff asked us to wear lab coats. So, it's a setup. By the way, scenes where professors or senior researchers appear to be peering into microscopes are also staged (more senior researchers are usually swamped with paperwork and meetings rather than experiments). To avoid misunderstandings, I'd like to add that professors in medical schools (doctors) often wear lab coats regularly. Their lab coats even have the university name and the owner's name embroidered. That's typical of medical schools. Incidentally, I also own a lab coat, which I bought cheaply on Amazon. Oh, and there's one more occasion for me to wear a lab coat—Halloween. This cheap one is quite handy.