Queen’s Germanists reflect on language, collaboration, and bringing Ingeborg Bachmann into English.
Four Queen’s students are among a group of Oxford Germanists whose translations of unfinished texts by the renowned Austrian writer Ingeborg Bachmann will shortly be published by Taylor Editions. Elizabeth Dallosso, Sam Edwards, Anna Standish, and Adesh Takhar, all second-year Germanists at Queen’s, have contributed to Fragmented: A New Translation of Selected Unfinished Todesarten Texts, a new volume bringing together translated fragments by renowned Austrian woman writer Ingeborg Bachmann. They worked alongside two students from Somerville College, with the volume edited by Dr Isabel Parkinson, Lecturer in German at Queen’s.
Team photo
Bachmann is widely regarded as one of the most significant German-language writers of the twentieth century. Her Todesarten project, often translated as “Ways of Dying”, remained unfinished at the time of her death, leaving behind a body of fragmentary and complex prose. For the student translators, this incompleteness became central to the intellectual and creative task of the project.
Creative translation
The group described the work as “a welcome opportunity to explore and enjoy translation in a more creative and experimental manner”, following a first year in which their translation work had focused mainly on shorter pieces and exam preparation. Unlike the individual translation exercises more familiar from their course, this project required sustained collaboration and close debate.
The students said: “Our emphasis remained very centrally on collaboration throughout the whole process, ensuring every sentence had multiple voices and interpretations. This decision stemmed primarily from the nature of Bachmann’s writing. Unlike the texts from our first year, we were immediately struck by the complexity and ambiguity of the writing.”
That complexity often led to long discussions over individual words, sentence structures, and competing interpretations. The group found that the most challenging passages were frequently the most rewarding.
We learnt how to approach these conversations productively and it was often the most debated sections of the texts which produced the most satisfying resolutions for everyone involved.
The role of human translation
The project also prompted the students to think carefully about the role of human translation at a time when AI translation tools are increasingly common. The students were clear that no generative AI was used in producing the translation. Instead, they emphasised the value of first-hand linguistic judgement, and shared interpretation.
“In a world increasingly relying on AI translation as a quick, convenient, cheaper method of translation, projects such as this are essential in preserving the importance of first-hand translation,” they said.
Having only briefly encountered Bachmann’s writing before, the students found themselves engaging with her work primarily through the act of translation. This brought an unusually intense attention to word choice, rhythm, style, and structure.
Rather than trying to translate as quickly as possible with little external help, as we would for our usual exam practice translations, we exhausted the resources at hand because we all wanted the translation to be as good as it could be.
The value of collaboration
As well as translating the texts themselves, the students have written their own translators’ introduction for the volume, reflecting on their process, their collaborative approach, and the significance of having their work published while still undergraduates.
For the Queen’s students, the project has offered an opportunity to contribute to a published literary translation and to take part in a wider conversation about creativity, authorship, and the continuing importance of language study.
The students said: “Translating for the Taylorian Editions Writers in Residence series has broadened our perspective on the use and importance of translation as a still very much relevant and important skill. We have enjoyed the creative challenges and the opportunity to use our imagination to create something that we hope reflects the innovation of Bachmann’s writing.”
They added:
Knowing that this project will be published makes all the hard work we’ve put into this, hours spent debating individual words, staring at a screen trying to figure out what Bachmann meant, and reading around the text, incredibly worth it. We cannot wait to get a copy of the published work.
Editor’s comments on human translation in an age of AI
Editor Dr Parkinson noted that: “For every one word that has ended up in the final volume, at least twice the number of alternatives was discussed by the translators. In slowness, debate, friction, puzzlement, we found connection, humour, sometimes distaste, resonance. I hope that this thought process is visible in the finished work. I hope that it does not read like something flatly perfect generated in minutes by AI. I hope it has character, idiosyncrasies, that it invites conversation.”
In the era of AI translation and LLMs, this edition seeks to explore afresh how a human mind and voice are presented in text, how prose is constructed and translated by human minds, and what may be individual, creative, and distinct about work written and processed by humans.
The fragments and drafts of the Todesarten are extraordinarily wide-ranging, and the selection and order of texts here does not intend to represent a definitive interpretation, and certainly not to constitute an exhaustive collection of Bachmann’s thinking about, and experiments with, a mind in text. Instead, its purpose is to allow our own minds to enter into and participate in the text, as readers, thinkers, and translators – and, of course, to offer more Anglophone readers the chance to encounter Bachmann. It is a testament to the broad themes of her works, to her characteristic voice, and her absorbing narrative threads, that they can be slotted together in a new order and open up fresh resonances. As will be seen, part of the question which I and the other translators asked ourselves was what we discover about the original texts precisely by re-ordering and translating them, especially in translating different versions of the same text.
This is the heart of my own thinking on translation: what happens when we treat the process of translation – or, as in this bilingual edition, the process of comparative reading – as a distinct literary lens in itself? What do we learn about the author, about German, about English, about ourselves?
A bus ticket, a stone-carved Queen, and the creative life of the College: these were among the starting points for Reginæ, a new student-edited chapbook bringing together poetry, short fiction, watercolour, and experimental writing by members of Queen’s.
Supported by the Walter Pater Grant, Reginæ takes its name from the Latin for “Queen” and draws on the long tradition of the chapbook: a small, printed booklet of verse, stories and ideas. For its founding editor, graduate student Parth (Master’s in Public Policy), the format offered something more tangible than a PDF and more intimate than a magazine: an object to read between library sessions and Hall and to keep as a piece of College life.
In this interview, we hear from its founder, Parth, how the chapbook came into being and why its editor hopes it might become a new College tradition.
What first prompted the idea for Reginæ, and why did you choose to create a printed chapbook for the project?
A receipt of my bus journey to arrive at Oxford, and the sight of a Queen set in stone from the Middle Common Room. Every student here at Queen’s is talented in their own way, and being creative is such a common denominator. A printed project bringing together their works seemed a suitable way for me to add and build value to the College that truly is like a nursing mother to all its members. Even in changing through the years, since not one stone of the original College remains in situ today, Queen’s has remained true to the spirit of its founders and patrons. In that, it answers the Ship of Theseus argument. Every corner here, and in Oxford at large, has a story, old and new, waiting to be told. Some are included in Reginæ, which literally, and rightly means, Queen.
Every corner here, and in Oxford at large, has a story, old and new, waiting to be told.
What is a chapbook, for those unfamiliar with the term?
A chapbook is an old-fashioned small, stitched booklet of verse, ballads, and short prose that were historically sold by itinerant chapmen. It seemed right for what we were trying to do with Reginæ—something light enough to read, say between a gruelling library session and a Second Hall, sturdy enough to leave in a common-room basket, and beautiful enough to keep and collect. Also, I have always thought of myself as a pedlar, albeit bad, of stories and ideas, and that finally made the term stick. And it’s not half bad to be called the founding editor of what I hope continues as a College tradition.
The chapbook includes poems, short stories, illustrations, and even an AI-generated fiction experiment. How did you decide what belonged in the first issue?
The criterion was simple, even if the editing was not, since each piece had to be short enough to read in a quiet quarter of an hour. Beyond that, I wanted the issue to feel like the College actually feels in conversation. Mixed, a little surprising, the engineer reading verse in three languages (Kirill), the lawyer writing love poems (Arifur), the physicist (Kate) painting watercolours, and the policy student trying to put it all in one cover. The AI piece was the deliberate experiment in seeing how an LLM can perform vis-à-vis its creators.
I wanted the issue to feel like the College actually feels in conversation: mixed and a little surprising.
What did receiving the Walter Pater Grant make possible?
In the most literal sense, bridging the difference between a PDF circulated by email and an object one can hold as a piece of the College. Receiving the Walter Pater grant helped me convert a private experiment into a College project, making it more diverse, equitable, and inclusive along the way.
What was the process of bringing the chapbook into physical form like?
It was an intensive process, since the chapbook had to be delivered within a few weeks of receiving the grant. My experience with my undergrad College magazine in India helped with the editorial work. I really enjoyed designing it. Holywell Press were patient and exacting — they sent four cover alternatives, talked me through paper weights, set the wordmark with the Reginææ-ligature in a way that I had hoped for but couldn’t have specified. Kate’s watercolours were scanned at high resolution and threaded as quiet ornaments between the pieces; the Queen’s eagles on the cover came from the College arms; the Finis page closes on a thistle. None of these are large decisions, but each of them is the kind of small choice that makes a chapbook feel like a chapbook and not a brochure.
What would you like Reginæ to become, and what would you say to students thinking of applying for an arts grant?
Thinking about this, I would like Reginæ to outlive its first editor. The hope is for a small annual or termly (though each term hits different) object that is as much a Queen’s tradition as it would be a coming-together of people to foster a creative space. Through this project, generously funded by the Walter Pater grant, I learnt this about creativity at Queen’s: it is there, mostly quiet, and a great deal of it asks only to be asked.
Through this project, generously funded by the Walter Pater grant, I learnt this about creativity at Queen’s: it is there, mostly quiet, and a great deal of it asks only to be asked.
To students wondering whether to apply: please do. The committee is kind and supportive. You don’t need a finished idea, maybe just a real one. Write the application honestly, give an itemised budget, and trust that the people on the other side already want to say yes.
What do you enjoy most about being at Queen’s?
Inviting my friends to a meal in Hall, and afterwards taking them around the College as they watch it wonderstruck. Finally, in the Chapel, once they have fallen in love with the stained-glass windows, I point towards the lectern, and happily translate the Latin on it for them: “The Eagle is Queen of birds, and the bird of the Queen’s.”
Queen’s students take on a global pollinator threat
A student-led iGEM team at Queen’s is working on an ambitious synthetic biology project with real-world consequences: protecting honeybees from the devastating Varroa mite. Blending biology, biochemistry, chemistry, engineering and biomedical science, the team is developing an RNA-based treatment designed to last longer, target the problem more precisely, and offer a more sustainable alternative to existing controls. Their work shows how Queen’s students are turning interdisciplinary ideas into practical science with the potential to support pollinators, agriculture and environmental health. We asked the team to tell us more.
For those unfamiliar with iGEM, what is the competition and what makes it a distinctive opportunity for students?
Lisa
Lisa (1st year Biochemistry): iGEM is the world’s largest synthetic biology competition, bringing together over 400 student teams each year to tackle pressing global challenges through science and innovation.
Teams conduct laboratory research, fundraise for their projects, and engage with stakeholders and experts, developing their ideas with the design-build-test-learn cycle in engineering. The competition culminates in the annual iGEM Grand Jamboree, where teams around the world showcase their projects to leaders in academia, biotechnology, and industry, competing for medals and special prizes.
Since its founding in 2003, the competition has built an international community of over 100,000 ‘iGEMers’. Teams can access a registry consisting of genetic parts, data, and tools shared by past iGEM teams, whilst contributing their own resources, fostering a culture of collaboration.
What makes iGEM particularly distinctive is its emphasis on multidisciplinary collaboration and real-world impact. Alongside scientific research, teams incorporate diverse perspectives from different disciplines, and consider the ethical, social, and environmental implications of their work through Human Practices. This ensures that projects are not only scientifically innovative, but also safe, feasible, and responsible. As a result, hundreds of iGEM projects have led to real world startups, demonstrating the lasting impact that student research can create.
Hundreds of iGEM projects have led to real world startups, demonstrating the lasting impact that student research can create.
Your project focuses on honeybees and Varroa mites. Why does this problem matter globally, and what impact could a solution have?
Lisa (1st year Biochemistry): Honeybees are among the world’s most important pollinators, it is estimated that one in every three bites of food we take depends on pollination. However, honeybee populations face a growing threat from the Varroa mite, a parasite that has devastated colonies worldwide. In the US alone, Varroa has been involved in 60% of honeybee colony losses. Their recent spread to Australia further spotlights the severity of the challenge: the parasite was first detected in 2022, and merely a year later, New South Wales declared that ‘Varroa eradication was no longer feasible’.
It is estimated that one in every three bites of food we take depends on pollination.
Varroa mites impair bee survival by feeding on their fat tissues, important for immune function and metabolic health. Furthermore, Varroa can transmit honeybee viruses, most notably deformed wing virus (DWV), significantly reducing their lifespan. Combined, these effects can exacerbate colony health, and ultimately, lead to colony collapse. Besides, a key Varroa control method is acaricides (pesticides used against mites and ticks). While these may be effective in the short run, acaricides need to be repeatedly applied, some acaricides negatively impact bee behaviour and health, and some mite populations have already developed resistance towards synthetic acaricides. Acaricide residues have also been detected in the environment and bee products (e.g. beeswax, honey), raising concerns on human and environmental health.
Altogether, this calls for a solution that is affordable, non-toxic and effective, providing long-term protection for honeybee colonies with minimal off-target effects. Such a solution would have profound impacts in supporting agricultural industries, strengthening food security, and safeguarding the wider environment.
Can you explain your project in simple terms and what makes your approach innovative?
Freddie
Freddie (1st year Biology): Our iGEM project is developing a treatment using RNA-based technology to protect bees more effectively and for longer than anything currently available. The most promising existing product works by delivering a molecule called dsRNA (double-stranded RNA), which disrupts the mite’s biology by specifically targeting a gene involved in reproduction. While this reduces mite numbers by 30–40%, the effect is short-lived. Within six weeks, mite populations bounce back to pre-treatment levels. There’s also a critical blind spot: mites do their most serious damage to bee larvae, yet most treatments are consumed by adult worker bees, meaning the drug rarely reaches where it’s needed most.
We’re tackling this in two ways. The first involves a gut bacterium called Snodgrassella alvi, which naturally lives inside bees. By genetically engineering this bacterium to continuously produce dsRNA, we can create a self-sustaining treatment that doesn’t need constant reapplication—a living medicine that travels with the bees themselves. To make this work well, we’re identifying strong genetic “switches” (promoters) that maximise how much dsRNA the bacterium produces, and we’re exploring ways to make the modification permanent within the bacterium’s DNA.
We can create a self-sustaining treatment that doesn’t need constant reapplication—a living medicine that travels with the bees themselves.
The second approach targets the larvae directly. Nurse bees—who care for developing larvae—feed primarily on a protein-rich food called bee bread. We plan to engineer yeast to produce dsRNA, then incorporate this yeast into “pollen patties”, a common hive supplement. Nurse bees eating these patties would absorb the dsRNA and pass it on to larvae during feeding. Research has already shown this kind of transfer can happen naturally, so we’re building on an existing biological pathway. Rather than just suppressing reproduction, our dsRNA treatment is designed as a combined cassette hitting three targets: mite reproduction, direct mite killing, and DWV.
We’re fortunate to have access to the Oxford Bee Laboratory, which can test our treatments in real hives and controlled environments—giving us the chance to see how our approach performs in living colonies.
What has it been like working as an interdisciplinary student team across biology, biochemistry, biomedical sciences, chemistry, and engineering?
Freddie (1st year Biology): The interdisciplinary nature of iGEM projects requires a broad range of scientific expertise, creating valuable opportunities for team members to learn from one another. This was especially evident during the project selection process, when the team came together to explore and debate ideas ranging from synthetic microbial communities for Mars to bacterial amino acid production factories. Working in such an interdisciplinary environment is highly motivating, as it provides a platform for transforming innovative biological concepts into solutions that can be implemented to address real-world challenges.
Working in such an interdisciplinary environment is highly motivating, as it provides a platform for transforming innovative biological concepts into solutions that can be implemented to address real-world challenges.
For many of the first-year students on the team, iGEM also represents their first opportunity to participate in a substantial research project. Doing so alongside students who have already contributed to scientific publications, as well as PhD researchers nearing completion of their theses, has provided unparalleled access to a highly motivated and engaging research community. The breadth of our project, combined with the need to consider the societal and ethical dimensions of honeybee therapeutics, continues to create valuable connections both within Oxford’s scientific community and with collaborators further afield.
How has your experience at Queen’s helped support or shape your involvement in a project like this?
Michael
Michael (2nd year Biomedical Sciences): Throughout my two years at Oxford, Queen’s has always been a multidisciplinary environment rich with insightful conversation. I often found myself engaged in scientific discussion, with the dining hall as a familiar backdrop. My friends and tutors at Queen’s always gave me freedom to fire off any idea I had, moulding my curiosity and refining my ideas. That said, my curiosity often drifts outside the bounds of science, and I wanted to do something that could have an immediate impact and reach more people.
I often found myself engaged in scientific discussion, with the dining hall as a familiar backdrop.
I first heard of iGEM from a friend in Medicine, and it was ultimately advice from an upper-year student at Queen’s that convinced me to take part. The first stage of iGEM was a project pitch, a perfect place to actualise the crazy ideas I’d thought up at dinner tables. The following stages involved experimentation, and lots of fundraising and outreach. Beyond the science, Queen’s has played a key role in supporting our project. From the little things, like the outreach opportunities I’ve been able to glean from my conversations with fellow Queen’s students; to the huge things, like the funding support, and the enormous contributions of my two first-year team members at Queen’s. Even now, the College is helping out by spreading our story. I hope that this article can spur enthusiasm for more student-run projects at Queen’s, and that more people learn about the amazing work our iGEM team has done.
What have you found most exciting or challenging about taking part in iGEM so far?
Lisa (1st year Biochemistry): For me, the level of independence that we have over our project is both the most exciting and most challenging aspect of iGEM. iGEM provides us with the opportunity to shape every stage of the process, from start to finish: identifying a problem, pitching our ideas, fundraising, engaging with stakeholders and experts, designing a solution, creating social media and website content…
There is so much that we could possibly do, and the freedom to explore is incredibly exciting. But, this also comes with responsibility. With limited time and resources, we had to make numerous decisions, such as which global issue to tackle, which experiments to run, and how to best develop our project. Reaching a consensus with such a large, multidisciplinary team can sometimes be challenging, especially when deciding on whether we should pivot or stop pursuing certain ideas, but those difficult discussions often led to stronger outcomes.
While exciting and challenging, iGEM has become a genuine passion project for our team. We dedicate time outside our studies to visit labs and hives, meet up to exchange our ideas, and hop on calls with sponsors, experts or stakeholders outside working hours. What makes this experience so rewarding is the special sense of ownership that we gain from leading different parts of the project, and we are really excited to see how our idea develops over the coming months.
Student-led research projects like iGEM depend on practical resources, from laboratory reagents and consumables to modelling tools and competition costs. What does it take behind the scenes to turn an idea like this into a working scientific project?
Michael (2nd year Biomedical Sciences): A lot of planning and coordination go into procuring resources for the project. The team first has to come up with a rough budget estimate, covering participation fee, accommodation, scientific tools, and outreach costs. This budget is then categorised and refined by individual teams. For example, the R&D team devises the needed protocols and tools for experimentation, then the budget is updated accordingly.
Once an estimated budget and required tools are specified, the amazing Fundraising team works its magic, setting fundraising goals and turning cold emails into cold cash. Fortunately, there are a wealth of sponsors eager to support iGEM projects, including former iGEM participants, funds for junior researchers, and prominent lab equipment companies who are the mainstays of many iGEM sponsor lists.
Whilst the process may seem straightforward, our funding was a result of meticulous planning from the R&D and Human Practices team, followed by the tireless efforts of the Fundraising team. On a more abstract level, the process is driven by a shared scientific enthusiasm between the team and the sponsors. All our planning and outreach are driven by this enthusiasm, which is then felt and reciprocated by our sponsors. The fundraising process is still in full force, and anyone interested in donating is more than welcome to contact us via the College!
What are your hopes for the project, both scientifically and in terms of the impact it could have beyond the competition?
Lisa (1st year Biochemistry): While the competition concludes in autumn, we hope that our project can be applied to protect honeybees in the real world. Moreover, we hope that our project’s impact can extend much further through the scientific knowledge we discover, the skills that we develop, and the interest in honeybee protection we spark across academia, industry, and the wider community.
Scientifically, we are excited to run experiments and explore approaches that have not yet been done before. We seek to generate genetic parts, data, and insights that can be built upon by other iGEM teams, academics, and companies working on related RNA-based technologies and honeybee protection.
Beyond the laboratory, we aim to produce a solution that is not only scientifically effective, but also acceptable by beekeepers and deployable in the real world. Conversations with beekeepers and industry councils have exposed us to the severe challenges that Varroa poses, with spillover effects beyond beekeeping. Our goal is therefore to safeguard honeybee colonies to support the apicultural and agricultural sectors, whilst promoting environmental sustainability.
Finally, we are eager to engage the wider community through two-way dialogue and outreach events, through raising awareness on honeybee health, RNA-based technologies, and the use of synthetic biology in an ethically responsible manner. By presenting science in an accessible manner, we look forward to promoting scientific literacy and inspiring the next generation of scientists and innovators.
The fundraising process is still in full force, and anyone interested in donating is more than welcome to contact us via the College: news@queens.ox.ac.uk.
Two first-year Fine Art students at Queen’s are turning the end of their first year into something more than a milestone. Emerging Unrealities, a new student-led exhibition, brings together the work of Rosa and Maia: artists whose practices explore memory and the shifting boundaries between the real and the imagined.
What began as a creative friendship has quickly evolved into a collaborative project. “Meeting on the Oppox residential, we quickly became each other’s closest artistic confidants,” they explain. “Drawn together by our shared interests in the psychological, political and mobilising power of art, we felt that our work was incomplete without an audience.”
The exhibition’s title signals both ambition and uncertainty. “Emerging Unrealities echoes our shared interest in the posthuman debate,” they say. “Our practices imagine landscapes which are sentimental, mythic, cathartic and ineffable… This sense of liminality demands a qualifying status of ‘emergence’, where ideas and worlds are only coming into being, proposed, not solidified.”
Inner worlds, external realities
Although united by shared themes, Rosa and Maia approach them through distinct mediums and methods.
Rosa’s work centres on painting and multimedia, constructing imagined environments as a way of interrogating the self. “My practice explores fantastical spaces and constructed unrealities as manifestations of the psychologically complex self,” she explains. “I examine how internal states both shape and are shaped by external realities.”
Her work draws on a wide range of influences, from philosophy and religion to politics and grief, building what she describes as a “personal mythology of the metabolic nature of life.” Through imagined characters and environments, she traces how “sociopolitical systems infiltrate perception and emotional life,” revealing how ideology becomes embedded in the psyche.
‘Born of the Loam, Daughters of the Horizon’ (oil on canvas) by Rosa Goddard
These ideas emerge intuitively. “I envision scenes of unreality in the mind, then materialise them using accessible objects from the physical world,” she says. “Through this act of translation, I navigate the dynamic interplay between the tangible and the metaphysical, the real and the unreal.”
Maia, by contrast, works primarily through sculpture and printmaking, focusing on the instability of memory and materiality. “My practice traces the distortions of memory… particularly through monoprint and plaster casting,” she says. “There is a doubling of touch, where the marks made aren’t necessarily what emerges on the other side.”
This gap between intention and outcome mirrors the unreliability of memory itself. “What we experience as a memory is distanced from the truth by layers of habit, nostalgia and feeling.”
Recent work draws on the Biblical figure of Lot’s wife, frozen as a pillar of salt for looking back. “This visceral image… resonated deeply with my preoccupation with memory,” Maia explains, “as well as imagining possibilities in which this ‘freezing’ is an empowering act: a devotion to the past.”
‘Pillar of Sought’ (Plaster, Clay, Chicken wire, Bandages, Scrim) by Maia Szulta
Material as meaning
For both artists, material is not just a medium but a conceptual tool.
Rosa’s work ranges from painting to drypoint etching and translucent film. “Painting was my gateway to art,” she says, “but my technique disrupts the smooth surface…tracing emotion through anatomy: panic, anxiety, awe.”
Other works explore the tension between biological and digital existence. “Drypoint etching… casts an image through absence,” she explains, describing figures “floating in a digital space, yearning for contact to environments they cannot materially inhabit.” Her use of layered film, partly inspired by time spent in Oxford’s dissection rooms, creates images that blur the boundaries between body, technology, and environment.
‘Fruits of the Womb’ (drypoint on Perspex, coloured film sheets, printed photographs) by Rosa Goddard
Maia’s materials similarly reflect her themes of memory and transformation. “I have been embracing the appearance of fingers and hands… a reference both to the manual process and the ‘hands of time’ which affect our memories,” she says. Working with clay and plaster, she captures every imprint, resulting in forms that appear “somewhat disturbing, clawing, as if fossilised in memory.”
She repeatedly returns to ideas of “freezing and rupturing”, solid plaster versus molten wax, alongside recurring motifs such as eggs, backs and turning bodies: “Faces emerge and are later obscured as the figure turns and the memory becomes distant.”
‘Talking Head’ (Plaster cast in clay, wax) by Maia Szulta
Beyond the ‘white cube’
Preparing work for exhibition has shifted how both artists think about their practice. “Exhibition spaces are not simply spaces to present art for a market value,” they argue. “They are places where dialogue, experimentation, critical thought and collective imagination become visible.”
Staging the exhibition at Queen’s has brought its own challenges and opportunities. Without conventional gallery spaces, they have had to rethink how their work is encountered. “Flexibility of presentation…is part of the joy of constructing an exhibition,” they say, “playing with the meanings that emerge when work is placed within this historic backdrop.”
They also credit the support of the College community, particularly Prof Anthony Gardener, Fellow in Fine Art at Queen’s, who “massively motivated us…especially when the organisational demands of the project seemed too much to handle.”
Art, community and new futures
At its core, Emerging Unrealities is as much about community as it is about individual practice. “Universities are not simply places that produce workers for the economy,” they say, “but environments where ethical, emotional and intellectual frameworks for understanding the world emerge.”
Universities are not simply places that produce workers for the economy, but an environment where ethical, emotional and intellectual frameworks for understanding the world emerge.
Their hope is that the exhibition will open up space for reflection and imagination. “We want visitors to open their minds to new ways of thinking,” they explain. “Our works ask the audience to consider how they want the world to be shaped—the possibility of building beautiful ‘unrealities’… the foundations for a new future.”
That thinking has been shaped in part by their studies at the Ruskin School of Art, where practical work is closely tied to critical and theoretical exploration. From anatomy classes, “a confrontation with mortality and the physicality of the human body”, to group critiques and theory seminars tackling issues from colonialism to AI, their work is constantly being tested and expanded.
The result is an exhibition that is both personal and outward-looking: rooted in individual experience, but reaching toward broader questions about memory, identity, and the worlds we might yet imagine.
What does a Materials Science student do and where can it take you? For first-year Nikhil, the answer includes a summer internship in Tsukuba, Japan. We asked him about life in College and the subject that sits at the heart of some of today’s biggest technological challenges.
What drew you to Materials Science in the first place and why did you choose to study it at Oxford?
The sort of classic answer is that I liked both Physics and Chemistry, and didn’t want to let go of either, and I’m perhaps a bit disappointed to say it was basically the same for me! I had actually looked into some specific literature during the application process though, which confirmed that it was a topic that was really interesting but also really important for the modern age and I thought I’d prefer it over a pure science like Physics or Chemistry.
Looking back, what would you tell your 17-year-old self about choosing Queen’s?
Well, obviously that it was the right choice, but apart from that, just that I didn’t need to be too worried about whether I was going to find the right crowd or not. That was something that I was concerned about – if I’d find people in College that I’d get along well with but I’d say honestly it turned out better that I could’ve hoped for; I have an amazing community here and even the tutors are good chat and great to be around.
What does a typical day at Queen’s look like for you and which parts of it do you enjoy most?
One thing that I’ve started to notice only recently is how often you’ll bump into people you know. It’s virtually impossible not to recognise someone at your weekly shop at Tesco that you met a few weeks ago. It makes for some very nice (or awkward) moments! Another thing is just how everyone is really just a nerd at heart. I suppose that shouldn’t have surprised me but it’s always fascinating to hear about a little niche bit about everyone’s area of speciality.
If I’m feeling particularly productive, I’ll wake up in time for breakfast in College and then head over to the Materials Department for lectures through to lunchtime. I’ll either grab lunch on the way with a few course mates or in College, depending on when my lectures end before finding an appropriate library to do a reasonable amount of work in. If I have labs/choir stuff, I’ll head there immediately after, which will probably take me to dinnertime in either College or Sainsbury’s (if I’m feeling financially responsible, if not then Wasabi). Most of my nights usually end in some way or another in the Beer Cellar where I’ll lose magnificently in a game of pool, before spending a silly number of hours in someone’s room trying to convince myself that sleep is just a construct.
My favourite parts are actually not the things I’ve listed – it’s more the random side quests that I end up doing for no particular reason – like interrogating the entire library to find my charger or going on an impromptu tour of Oxford after finding my best mate. This isn’t very conducive to sticking to my schedule though…
What has the teaching experience been like, especially tutorials and practical work?
I’m a big fan of the tutorial system – doing a problem sheet in your own time and then going through it with just you, your tute partner, and your tutor is an incredibly effective way of learning. Especially when your tutor pushes the conclusions you’ve drawn and gets you to look at more difficult but interesting concepts adjacent to the content you learnt. I think that’s one of the great benefits of having an expert guide you through the learning process.
I’m a big fan of the tutorial system – doing a problem sheet in your own time and then going through it with just you, your tute partner, and your tutor is an incredibly effective way of learning.
Labs are one of those things where they’re a lot of work and not very fun when you do them, but you start to understand their importance after, especially when you’re formatting equations in accordance with Acta Materialia, my favourite bedtime scientific journal. They’re both good in different ways – one develops a theoretical understanding that comes out in labs when you get to see what you learnt in action. There’s a huge difference between studying phenomena and trying to replicate it. It’s very instructive, and Materials Science is very much an applied science so it’s very important.
You’ve secured an internship in Tsukuba this summer. Congratulations! How did that opportunity come about?
Thank you! It was a lot of emailing around to be honest. I wanted to try my hand sorting out some summer stuff early on. It turns out I did it at the perfect time and the timeline of booking flights, securing funding etc. was nice and relaxed. I think Materials Science is a niche enough subject where researchers are eager to encourage participation from students, which is why they were happy with me going over. I can speak some Japanese, so Japan was always on the cards for me in terms of future career prospects. They’ve got a great materials science discipline and solid research into nuclear fusion – the area that I’m currently interested in. In fact, I think they have the world’s largest operating fusion tokamak there right now.
What are you most excited about when it comes to living and working in Japan?
Definitely the travelling. And the food. Japanese food is my favourite and I hope I can take a lot of pictures out and about in my free time (if I get any!).
For someone considering Materials Science but not quite sure what it involves, how would you explain its significance in the world?
Great question. Materials Science is all about optimising the current materials we use through research and prediction of material properties. It’s fairly involved with your main scientific disciplines but demands knowledge from outside those as well. The key thing is that, now, most of the fundamental problems we have with new technological advancements are materials problems; we have the fundamental physics more or less sorted out (e.g. nuclear fusion, quantum computing), but our theories of materials are not developed enough to give us materials that fit the requirements for these technologies. I believe we’re going to see more breakthroughs in fundamental Materials Science before we see things like quantum computers. Hopefully soon though! Apart from the more illustrious applications, Materials Science is needed to a certain degree wherever materials are used…So pretty much everywhere!
Can you recommend a book?
The Material World by Rodney Cotterill is an amazing introduction to my subject. It literally takes you from the cosmos and atoms, really fundamental physics, to neuroscience and the idea of consciousness, and literally everything in between from the perspective of a materials scientist.
From Tasmania to Oxford, graduate student Billy (Master’s in Public Policy) reflects on community, civic purpose, and the role universities can play in shaping not just careers, but the way we think about responsibility, opportunity, and public life.
You were recently awarded a University Medal by your undergraduate institution, the University of Tasmania. Congratulations! What does that recognition mean to you?
It’s a really satisfying recognition, particularly after having made the deliberate choice to stay in Tasmania for my undergraduate years, instead of going interstate like many of my peers from high school. More than anything, it feels like a way of tying together what was a rich and varied experience, which included a handful of fantastic professors who genuinely shaped how I think, peers I learned an enormous amount from, and some great placements and internships that were built into the coursework. I also had the chance to do two short exchange programs, to Vietnam and Indonesia, which were both amazing experiences in their own right. So in many ways the medal is a nice full stop on all of that, a reminder of just how much those years contained.
What are you focusing on in your research at Oxford and what questions are you most interested in exploring?
The Master’s in Public Policy at Oxford has given me a broad foundation, covering the philosophy underpinning public policy, political science, law as a policy tool, and the practical application of economics and evidence. This term I’ve been able to specialise further, into education policy and geo-economics with a focus on China.
Beyond the programme itself, I’m developing two distinct areas of deeper interest. The first is sovereign wealth funds, how they can build economic resilience for future generations, and how governments navigate the tension between short-term political pressures and the long-term mandates these funds are designed to serve. The second remains close to my roots: education and human capital development, and the policy levers that different countries are using to shape outcomes for their people. What excites me most is the space where these two interests converge, how institutional capital can be directed toward human capability.
How has your experience of the Queen’s community shaped your time at Oxford so far?
Queen’s has shaped my Oxford experience in ways I didn’t fully anticipate. The College did an excellent job early on of facilitating connections within the postgraduate community through the Middle Common Room (MCR), and those friendships have become a real staple of my weekly life here. Living in close quarters with fellow Queen’s students has added another dimension to that, the kind of easy, everyday interactions that make a place feel like home.
What I’ve enjoyed most is the way Queen’s has served as a hub where different worlds of Oxford converge. Some of my favourite moments have been bringing together friends from college, Rhodes scholars, and coursemates from the Blavatnik School, people who might never otherwise meet, gathered in the same room.
What I’ve enjoyed most is the way Queen’s has served as a hub where different worlds of Oxford converge. Some of my favourite moments have been bringing together friends from college, Rhodes scholars, and coursemates from the Blavatnik School, people who might never otherwise meet, gathered in the same room.
You’ve spoken about the importance of community in your earlier studies; what does that support look like in practice?
For me, community support has always been defined by reciprocity. The core conviction underlying everything I do within institutions is simple: you give back to the places that shaped you.
For me, community support has always been defined by reciprocity. The core conviction underlying everything I do within institutions is simple: you give back to the places that shaped you.
That began when I was fifteen, when a foundation scholarship to a private school in Tasmania shifted my trajectory. That relationship never really ended, I now serve on the alumni board, have spent years tutoring students there, worked in the boarding house, and contributed to their advancement office. The same principle carried through my time at UTAS, where I delivered industry showcases, workshops, and presentations to business and economics students out of gratitude for what that institution made possible for me. And it continues here at Oxford. Through the Rhodes Trust, I serve as an ambassador for the Australian cohort and join virtual coffee chats with incoming scholars. At the Blavatnik School, I’ve sat on panels and run study sessions for my peers.
The belief underpinning all of it is that no individual achieves as much alone as they can within a collective. My advice to young people is always the same: give without expectation, but give sincerely, and the institution will give back in ways you can’t always predict.
The idea of ‘civic purpose’ is important to you. How do you interpret this in your own work?
My interpretation of civic purpose is grounded in humility. Those of us fortunate enough to be at Oxford must be honest with ourselves: we arrived here through a combination of hard work, yes, but also luck, and luck is not evenly distributed. We live in a world where postcode privilege profoundly shapes the opportunities available to people from birth, and that is not something any of us earned or chose.
That recognition carries a responsibility. If you have been fortunate enough to receive good opportunities, I believe you have an obligation to dedicate a meaningful portion of your life, in whatever form brings you fulfilment, to improving the fortune of others.
If you have been fortunate enough to receive good opportunities, I believe you have an obligation to dedicate a meaningful portion of your life, in whatever form brings you fulfilment, to improving the fortune of others.
Living that out requires self-reflection: understanding where you will be most motivated to make change, and then having the discipline to resist the pull of more lucrative pathways that drift away from that purpose.
What do you think the role of a university should be today and has your perspective on that changed through your experiences in Tasmania and Oxford?
My view on this has evolved, and not always in a straight line.
My final two years of high school gave me a strong sense of what a learning institution could be at its best, a place that drives curiosity, builds confidence, and creates genuine belonging. When I arrived at university, COVID stripped most of that away. For a period, I grew pessimistic about higher education, particularly having founded businesses and worked four or five jobs concurrently throughout my degree. The professional world felt like a richer learning environment than the one I was sitting in.
What began to shift that was when my university started opening doors to experiences I couldn’t have accessed alone, such as the exchange programs to Indonesia and Vietnam, where I started to see higher education again as a vehicle for curiosity, community, and confidence in unfamiliar environments.
Oxford has consolidated that shift. What has mattered most here isn’t necessarily the content of any single lecture, it’s the fact that every class is in person, that I’m constantly in conversation with people from radically different backgrounds, and that there is a palpable sense of momentum and mutual investment in the room. I learn best through conversation, and the Blavatnik School has been an epicentre for exactly that, big, challenging conversations about the grey area. It’s a large part of why I chose to stay there for a second year. For me, the measure of a great university is ultimately the quality of human interaction it makes possible.
The measure of a great university is ultimately the quality of human interaction it makes possible.
For students considering their next steps in the world, whether it be study or work, what advice would you give them in terms of how they should make their choices?
I’d offer three pieces of advice.
The first is to not underestimate the value of trying things, including things that don’t work out. I’ve held many jobs, internships and placements over the years, and only a handful of them excited me. But the ones that didn’t were often the most clarifying. Knowing what doesn’t motivate you is one of the most reliable ways to understand what does. Breadth of experience early on means that when the time comes to go deep in a particular direction, you’re making that choice with real self-knowledge rather than assumption.
The second is to resist the pressure of the single linear pathway. I’m a strong advocate for pursuing your passions alongside your day job, continuing to learn, shifting across different areas, and expanding the range of tools and perspectives available to you. The work environment is dynamic, and the people who thrive in it tend to be the ones who’ve kept themselves curious and adaptable.
I’m a strong advocate for pursuing your passions alongside your day job.
The third, and perhaps the most important to me personally, is to build some form of reflection into your life. Living with intention is one of the great challenges of our generation. Every moment of downtime is filled with new information and stimulus, and lessons that could be formative just disappear into the noise. Whether it’s journalling, conversations with close friends, a mindfulness practice, or simply walking without a podcast, find a way to internalise what you’re learning, so it actually shapes your decisions rather than just passing through.
Whether it’s journalling, conversations with close friends, a mindfulness practice, or simply walking without a podcast, find a way to internalise what you’re learning, so it actually shapes your decisions rather than just passing through.
Can you recommend a book?
I’d encourage any young person to read The Resilience Project by Hugh van Cuylenburg. Hugh is an author, speaker, and founder of a not-for-profit in Australia built around three core principles: gratitude, empathy, and mindfulness. He’s spent over a decade working in the education sector, developing resilience programs for schools across the country, and is someone I look up to as a role model.
His book was the one that first inspired me to reflect more deliberately on my own practices, to be more intentional about how I live and how I process the world around me. For any young person navigating big decisions or busy seasons of life, it’s exactly the kind of read that stays with you.
Queen’s DPhil student Melody is bringing research out of the library and into the Ashmolean Museum this term, leading a series of tea-tasting sessions to explore ‘sensory archaeology’ and the role of taste in understanding historical cultures, using tea in China as a case study.
Supported by a highly competitive Public and Community Engagement with Research (PCER) grant, the sessions offer a rare opportunity for the public to take part in student research at the Ashmolean and bring together academics, artists and heritage specialists. We asked Melody to tell us about her research.
Can you tell us a bit about what is meant by the phrase ‘sensory archaeology’?
Sensory archaeology is a theoretical stance that argues past human senses can and should be studied through material culture. It is important to understand the sensory world of the past because the cultural value we give to different senses also shapes how society was (and is still) structured.
It is important to understand the sensory world of the past because the cultural value we give to different senses also shapes how society was (and is still) structured.
Your current PCER grant-supported project asks a deceptively simple question: what makes the perfect cup of tea? How and why are you testing that at the Ashmolean?
We will test this through a sensory evaluation (like a survey), which is a standard practice in the food and beverage industry. We are testing this at the Ashmolean Museum as many of the cup designs will be based on vessels from the Ashmolean’s collection, which also correspond to archaeological examples of cups I have encountered during my research. We need 100 participants, so this is also a chance to create an immersive experience where people not just visit the museum and look at objects, but ‘taste’ them too.
This project brings together archaeologists, scientists, artists, and a museum. How have those different perspectives shaped the way the experiment has been designed?
The experiment design has become a balance of addressing the most fundamental needs and limitations of each perspective. Archaeologists and scientists want rigour in terms of controlling all the variables, the museum needs a format that will be comfortable and enjoyable for participants, while working with the artist has given a maker’s, rather than a user’s, view of these cups. We also ran two special sessions with the local Chinese community, and the experiment also had to accommodate community needs such as providing Chinese language facilitation and bilingual surveys and consent forms.
There’s a strong sensory element: taste, smell, even the absence of perfume or strong flavours beforehand. Why is controlling those factors so important?
Our perception of the taste/smell of food and drink are easily influenced by many factors, so we need to remove as many interferences as possible.
What have been both the key challenges and the most enjoyable elements of leading a public-facing research project in a space like the Ashmolean as a DPhil student?
The most enjoyable elements have been working with the Ashmolean Museum staff and local community leads to create an event that will be not just be useful for my research but also enjoyable for the participants. Finally sharing the event with our initial Chinese community sessions was so exciting — seeing my research actually bring enjoyment to other people, especially non-academics, was so meaningful. However the biggest challenge has also been trying to make sure all the logistical puzzle pieces are in place while observing museum guidelines.
Seeing my research actually bring enjoyment to other people, especially non-academics, was so meaningful.
This is a collaborative project funded by the PCER grant, co-designed and executed with the help and expertise of the following people:
PI: Dr Anke Hein, School of Archaeology
Prof Charles Spence, Crossmodal Research Laboratory
The Eglesfield Musical Society’s summer show is an annual highlight in the Queen’s Trinity Term calendar of events. This year, the College gardens provides the backdrop for Guys and Dolls bringing together students from colleges across Oxford. Musical Director and Queen’s MCR President Kyle tells us more.
You describe this production as “fast, playful, and a little bit different”; what can audiences expect that they wouldn’t get from a traditional staging?
The most obvious answer to this is the fact that this production is outside in the beautiful setting of the Fellows’ Garden at Queen’s. The audience is completely surrounded by the action, and for the first time in recent Queen’s history, the band is also in the garden with the audience. This means that the band becomes part of the action, and the audience sees what’s going on onstage, and what is happening in the pit. It is truly immersive.
Outdoor theatre always comes with the unexpected. What have been some of the challenges during the preparation and how have you adapted?
As with the previous EMS musicals I have been involved in, I’ve learnt that it’s best not to stress about the weather. These things tend to sort themselves out! Nonetheless, we are prepared with three very grand marquees to cover the band and the technical elements of the show, and we advise the audience to bring warm coats, as it can get chilly when the sun goes down.
For those who might not know Guys & Dolls, what makes it such an enduring musical?
As a musical director, my natural answer to this questions is the highly enjoyable and memorable score. The music in this musical is simply perfect. Each song is ubiquitous in its own right, but the whole musical is tied together by a set of recurring themes that are as much joyful as they are deeply moving to listen to. I think there are very few people who leave Guys and Dolls without humming or whistling the tunes they’ve just enjoyed for days after they’ve seen it. Having worked on it for several months, I fear that for me, I will be humming these tunes for months.
The music in this musical is simply perfect.
Music is central to the show’s energy: how are you approaching the score to match the immersive, close-up setting?
The score has got a lot of energy and contrasting moments to it, which require the band and singers to really pay attention to the dynamics and phrasing across the music. Paying to attention to the differences between the long singing musical lines and the short sharp funky music (and everything in between) across the score really brings the audience into the setting and mood of a specific scene or moment in the show. Having such engaging choreography has also helped bring out these moments in the cast’s performances.
What are you finding most enjoyable about preparing for the show?
Working with so many people from across the collegiate university is by far the most rewarding aspect of all the EMS musicals I have done. You meet so many people, all of whom are incredibly talented, and get to work on this amazing and unique piece of art together over several months. Making music together, dancing together, and laughing together is infectious and something very special. Seeing it all come together in the garden is always incredibly satisfying, and brings us all together to create (if you’ll excuse the cheese) memories that last a lifetime.
Making music together, dancing together, and laughing together is infectious and something very special.
Congratulations to first-year student Luke Chalmers (German and Spanish, 2025) who has been selected for the Laidlaw Scholarship programme, an international programme that brings together undergraduates from leading universities.
Combining research, leadership development, and practical social impact projects, the scholarship recognises students with both academic strength and a commitment to addressing real-world challenges, qualities Luke has already demonstrated through his work in education and community initiatives. We asked him to tell us more.
Can you explain what the Laidlaw Scholarship is and what drew you to apply?
The Laidlaw Scholarship is an 18-month leadership and research programme targeted at undergraduates with cohorts from universities such as Cambridge, MIT, Oxford and many others. It gives students the chance to develop research skills, take on local and global impact projects, and reflect on putting ethical leadership into practice. What stood out to me is the focus not simply on being academically strong, but about learning how to use research collaboratively and responsively to address real social challenges.
What stood out to me is the focus not simply on being academically strong, but about learning how to use research collaboratively and responsively to address real social challenges.
As an Oxford student, I am constantly surrounded by academic curiosity and highly ambitious students, but I think the real test is being able to translate that intellectual energy into something with real world impact outside of the University. I was drawn to apply to the programme because it combined research, leadership training, and practical engagement with communities on the local and international scales. I wanted to be a part of an organisation that would push me to make use of all of my skillset in a purposeful manner.
What part of the programme are you most excited about?
The individual part of the programme I’m most excited by is the Laidlaw Scholars Annual Conference. I see it as a testament to the most valuable aspects of the scholarship: being part of a wider international community of students who are all thinking seriously about leadership and social impact.
The ability to present my research in front of an engaged and motivated audience, alongside the opportunity to hear others express what they have learned will certainly be an invaluable personal growth experience. I am looking forward to meeting scholars from across the world and learning from them as I, in turn, share what I have learnt.
Was there a particular moment or experience that shaped your interest in leadership or global issues?
I have been interested in the SDG Goals from a very early age, visiting the United Nations Geneva headquarters in primary school and being exposed to what ethical leadership looks like on the global stage. Since then, alongside my studies, I have devoted a lot of time to addressing the global issues that mattered the most on my local scale, namely that of quality education. Before starting as Oxford, I founded and was involved in various charitable organisations that dedicated themselves to helping underfunded state schools pay off their debts as well as providing them with core curriculum materials such as books and pens. The three years that I spent involved in these projects shapes my view of leadership as well as making me more passionate and driven to bring about change as I got to experience first-hand how children had been positively affected by the work we had done. Reading with Year 5 students the books we had provided them, and receiving thank you letters from GCSE students we had tutored, were among the most rewarding experiences of my life.
Reading with Year 5 students the books we had provided them, and receiving thank you letters from GCSE students we had tutored, were among the most rewarding experiences of my life.
You’ve already had experience in law, finance, and consulting: how has this shaped your thinking?
Having experiences across law, finance, and consulting has really shaped the way I think about problems. Each environment has given me a different lens. Through being involved with the Oxford Alpha Fund, and my internships in private wealth management and asset management, I have become much more comfortable thinking analytically about markets, risk, incentives, and long-term value. Finance has taught me how decisions are shaped by both numbers and human behaviour.
Moreover, working for the Oxford Strategy Group as a consultant, project leader, and most recently as the Associate Director of Operations has taught me how to break down complex problems into compartmentalised issues and then address them each individually. Additionally, my ability to communicate ideas clearly and efficiently, as well as managing a team with differing backgrounds, has equipped me with the skillset to approach any leadership setting with confidence and ability.
Finally, being exposed to law at Oxford and outside, such as through my insight day at Gibson Dunn, has added another dimension. It showed me the importance of precision, judgement, and understanding the very framework under which decisions are made. Law encourages you to think carefully about the consequences of your decisions and what arises from obligations.
Overall, these experiences have equipped me with a strong mental framework to tackle global issues. They have taught me that leadership is not simply being analytical and confident, but about judgement, responsibility, and the ability to unite different perspectives. That is exactly why the Laidlaw programme appeals to me: it offers a new environment for me to continue developing those skills in a values-driven, interdisciplinary setting that is focused on real-world impact.
What’s one piece of advice you’d give to students coming to study Oxford next year?
Oxford is a weird and wonderful place, but your time here flies, so it is really important to make the most of it. If you have been offered a place here, then in all likelihood you were a very academic student at school. I personally sat six A-Levels and spent much of my spare time competing in maths Olympiads or essay competitions, so I completely understand the desire to focus entirely on your studies.
And, of course, Oxford is academically extraordinary. You have unrivalled access to books, specialists, tutorials, lectures, and people who are genuinely world-class in their fields. But Oxford is more than the academics.
My number one piece of advice would be to throw yourself into every opportunity that presents itself to you.
My number one piece of advice would be to throw yourself into every opportunity that presents itself to you, and, when necessary, to make your own opportunities. You can dance tango, go skydiving, act in a play, write for a magazine, join a student consultancy, and learn almost any subject you have even had the most remote interest in.
I would also recommend not to wait until you feel completely ready. A lot of the best and most unique experiences here start with feeling out of your depth. Growth happens where you say yes to things that challenge you, introduce yourself to different people, and push yourself beyond the version of yourself that arrived here.
Growth happens where you say yes to things that challenge you, introduce yourself to different people, and push yourself beyond the version of yourself that arrived here.
So, my advice is to take the academics seriously, but not to let them define you. Be curious, ambitious, and proactive. Oxford can open a lot of doors, but you still have to be willing to walk through them.
Graduate student Ella (DPhil in Genomic Medicine and Statistics), ran her first marathon this Easter vacation alongside her mum, combining a personal challenge with a cause close to home. Their decision to support Alzheimer’s Society builds on earlier fundraising efforts inspired by Ella’s grandmother’s diagnosis with frontotemporal dementia. Ella tells us more.
What inspired you to take on a marathon in support of this charity?
My mum and I previously fundraised for Alzheimer’s Society back in 2024, when we ran six runs in six months and finished off by running the Great North Run together, a half-marathon. We enjoyed the experience so much that we decided to take on the challenge of running a full marathon together, too!
We initially chose to support Alzheimer’s Society after my Nana was diagnosed with frontotemporal dementia. The work they do with those affected by dementia is invaluable, and they also fund research aimed at finding effective treatments. It feels even more important to be supporting them now that I’ve started a DPhil focused on neurodegenerative disease research.
How have you balanced marathon training with the demands of your course?
Marathon training while working full-time in a lab has meant lots of late-night runs in the dark. I’ve gotten quite good at finding routes with the best streetlights in Oxford!
Do you have a favourite running route in Oxford, and what makes it special?
When it isn’t completely flooded (which I’m beginning to realise is a rare occurrence), I love running from Venneit Close up towards Port Meadow along the Thames Path. It’s nice to pretend you’re out in the countryside, despite still being so close to the city centre.
What advice would you give to someone considering training for their first marathon?
I’m no expert, as this is also my first marathon, but I would definitely recommend following a training plan that includes strength training (your joints will thank you). Plus, don’t underestimate the power of a bit of sugar on a long run – I’ve always got a few jelly beans in my pocket.
What’s your favourite running track when you need a boost?
Hypersonic Missiles by Sam Fender always makes me speed up a little bit.
Graduate student Erica holds the the Cyril and Phyllis Long scholarship in partnership with Oxford’s Academic Futures scholarship programme. We asked her about her research into a disease that affects millions worldwide, often without symptoms until serious damage has occured.
Your research looks at Metabolic Dysfunction-Associated Steatotic Liver Disease. Many people will be unfamiliar with this term; can you explain a bit about what it is and how your academic background has led to explore this area?
Metabolic Dysfunction–Associated Steatotic Liver Disease, or MASLD, is the newer term for what was previously called non-alcoholic fatty liver disease (NAFLD). It describes a condition where excess fat builds up in the liver in people who have metabolic risk factors such as obesity, type 2 diabetes, high blood pressure, or abnormal cholesterol. For many people it causes no symptoms, but in some it progresses scarring (fibrosis), and in advanced cases can lead to cirrhosis, liver failure, or liver cancer.
I enjoyed the breath of my Biomedical Sciences degree, particularly anatomy and physiology, and completed my final year project on genetic biomarkers for Duchenne muscular dystrophy. My interests lay in translational research as I think it is inherently interdisciplinary and rewarding to see the potential from bench to bedside. I was subsequently awarded an NIHR MPhil studentship targeting cytomegalovirus in kidneys before transplantation at Cambridge resulting in a Phase 1 trial application. I particularly enjoyed testing for an array of kidney injury biomarkers, histology, and discussions on medical statistics. Although the learning curve was steep, I learned a lot personally and academically and I was encouraged to apply for PhD projects and stumbled on this project which combined my interests in imaging and diagnostics and offers the opportunity to gain skills in statistics.
My interests lay in translational research as I think it is inherently interdisciplinary and rewarding to see the potential from bench to bedside.
Your work explores diagnosis and prognosis using non-invasive tools such as MRI. How does this approach differ from traditional methods, and what advantages does it offer patients?
The gold standard in MASLD diagnosis is liver biopsy which can provide detailed information about inflammation and fibrosis, but it is invasive, uncomfortable for patients, carries small but real risks (bleeding, pain), and samples only a tiny portion of the liver. It’s also not practical for repeated monitoring.
Non-invasive tools like MRI measure liver characteristics across a much larger volume of the organ. Depending on the technique, MRI can quantify fat, detect iron, and estimate fibrosis. This makes it well suited both for diagnosis and for tracking changes over time. We are evaluating how biomarkers change over time and the relationship between these changes and clinical outcomes. Combined with other tests, MRI may help identify people at higher risk of progression earlier, enabling timely referral and targeted follow-up while avoiding unnecessary invasive testing for lower-risk patients.
If your research achieves what you hope it will, how might it change clinical practice or patient outcomes in the next decade?
We hope it could help shift MASLD care from reactive to proactive over the next decade by improving how we identify who is at risk and what happens after we identify them. I hope it can help establish a clear pathway linking primary care and liver clinics. If they are identified earlier, there is a bigger window to address modifiable drivers—weight, glycaemic control, cardiovascular risk—and to introduce liver-directed therapies as they become available. Additionally, it could enable more patient-centred monitoring. Non-invasive measures such as MRI-derived markers are repeatable, so clinicians could track whether risk is improving with treatment or lifestyle changes. This would also make follow-up more efficient by targeting resources to those who need them most.
You hold an Academic Futures scholarship. What has that support enabled you to do, academically or personally, that might otherwise have been more difficult?
This funding, as generously provided for by the Cyril and Phyllis Long scholarship, has allowed me to pursue this project and work alongside leading experts in the field who are just an Oxford email away! The Academic Futures programme has fostered a community of supportive graduate students outside academic and college life and I have already enjoyed the enriching activities on offer be it pottery classes or theatre trips! The Enrichment Fund also encourages scholars to pursue extracurricular activities that otherwise would not be accessible. The team behind this programme have been exceptionally helpful even before moving to Oxford.
Medical Science increasingly relies on collaboration across disciplines. How has your time at Oxford, and at Queen’s in particular, shaped the way you think about interdisciplinary research?
I see interdisciplinary work as lightening the load, speeding up processes, and providing assurance for rigorous research. At the Oxford Centre for Magnetic Resonance (OCMR) where I am based, the team is made of physicists, clinicians, radiographers, and everyone in between and it has highlighted the importance of learning to “translate” across disciplines—being able to explain statistical reasoning to clinicians, or clinical constraints to statisticians, for example. Being at Queen’s has fostered conversations about other people’s research and this has encouraged me to think about research in terms of real-world applications.
The team is made of physicists, clinicians, radiographers, and everyone in between and it has highlighted the importance of learning to “translate” across disciplines.
How would you describe your experience of the Queen’s community alongside the intensity of DPhil research? What does the College add to your academic life?
Queen’s has been a great a community so far. I think there is a genuine supportive and nurturing atmosphere. It has provided the best flatmates, a calm working space outside of the lab, and wonderful people. Being part of Queen’s has provided the space to step back from the detail of my research and appreciate what Oxford has to offer – be it helping with outreach to schools or MCR events.
When he arrived at Queen’s to begin graduate studies in Economics, Great expected intellectual intensity and ancient traditions but what he did not fully anticipate was how his presence as the only Nigerian in his cohort would reshape his understanding of belonging. In this conversation he reflects on studying Economics at Oxford and what it means to act as a bridge between continents, perspectives, and generations.
What made you choose to leave your home country and pursue an MPhil in Economics at Oxford?
My intellectual curiosity led me to Oxford. I learned, at a very young age, about the depth of training and exposure that Oxford students gain, and I knew I wanted to be in an environment that would stretch me intellectually and as well refine my thinking. I made the decision to study Economics at Oxford while wrapping up an MPhil in Development Studies at Cambridge. My interest in the programme stemmed from the rigour and quality of its academics, particularly in Development Economics, which remains my core area of interest. I had read papers by professors in the Department of Economics and sensed that there was much more to learn here. I’m five months in and I can tell I made the right decision.
What did you imagine Oxford would be like?
I imagined Oxford to be ancient, slightly intimidating, and hyper-competitive. In many ways, that has proven true. But I have also discovered a diverse and thoughtful community that has challenged me to grow academically and personally.
I knew I wanted to be in an environment that would stretch me intellectually and as well refine my thinking.
Can you describe a moment in your first term when you felt like an outsider or unexpectedly at home?
I was stunned when I realised I would be the only African in a class of 90, and even more intrigued when I discovered I was the only Nigerian joining the Queen’s MCR last year. At first, I wondered how I would adjust. “How would I relate? Would I fit in?”, I often asked myself. My line of thought only drifted when I did some research on Oxford’s diversity. I discovered international students make up 43% of student’s population. In a university with students from over 130 countries, I knew I could not possibly be the only one navigating unfamiliar terrain. That awareness shifted my posture and instead of focusing on being different, I focused on building connections.
I have enjoyed the richness of plurality more deeply here because I now have friends from Mongolia, Thailand and China. I also felt so welcomed when the College Provost invited students who could not travel during the Christmas break for dinner in his Lodgings. It’s one of those very quiet gestures that that can be easily overlooked but says a lot about how the collegiate community can enrich one’s experience.
Economics is often framed as universal but lived experience shapes how we interpret data and policy. How has your background influenced the kinds of economic questions you find most meaningful?
Economics is often presented as a universal science, with principles that apply across time, culture, and geography. That idea has been debated in the field, and while I understand the appeal of what some call “monoeconomics,” I have come to believe that context matters far more than we sometimes admit.
My experience growing up in Nigeria drew my attention early to Development Economics and its practical relevance. Indeed, it shaped the kinds of questions I find meaningful. How should policy be designed in economies where institutions are weak? How can growth be inclusive in contexts marked by inequality and informality? How can development strategies respect political and cultural realities rather than assume uniform conditions? I am also particularly interested in how developing countries can industrialise responsibly in an era of climate change, and how structural transformation can occur without repeating the environmental costs of earlier industrialisers. At the same time, my exposure at Oxford has broadened my approach. I am learning to appreciate the analytical discipline of economics more deeply, and to engage with its tools with greater rigour. My perspective is evolving.
I am particularly interested in how developing countries can industrialise responsibly in an era of climate change, and how structural transformation can occur without repeating the environmental costs of earlier industrialisers.
Oxford carries strong institutional traditions. How have you navigated your own identity within that environment?
Oxford’s unique traditions are part of why I love it here. They do not clash with my identity, and I’d rather say they have expanded it. I have immersed myself in them because I believe one should allow their environment to shape them positively. There is really something grounding about participating in rituals that have endured for centuries. Sometimes, I imagine going back in time and conversing with renowned Economists who were at Oxford like Francis Ysidro Edgeworth. While we may have many contemporary or historic Economic issues to discuss, we will sure have a lot to say about our experience with Oxford’s traditions.
Oxford’s unique traditions are part of why I love it here. They do not clash with my identity, and I’d rather say they have expanded it.
Throughout my years of study, I had never worn formal academic dress to sit an examination. Oxford’s sub fusc culture therefore gave me a new perspective. I genuinely enjoy the solemn, almost ceremonial feeling of writing exams in sub fusc. It creates a sense of continuity as though one is momentarily connected to generations of scholars who once sat in similar rooms under similar expectations. It also gives me a glimpse of how serious and exacting academic life must have been for those who came before us. I must admit, however, that I am still adjusting to the use of carnations. One other thing I struggled with initially was the food. For a fussy eater, multiple formals and College dinners have gradually stretched my palate. It has been an unexpected but meaningful part of my adaptation.
International students often have to construct their support networks from scratch. What practical steps did you take to build community at Queen’s or beyond?
I have been in the UK for roughly 18 months, and I must confess that building one’s community requires a great deal of effort. You have to show up, stay present, and sometimes push yourself a little. But surprisingly, there are more communities at Oxford than I anticipated. At Queen’s, the MCR has been a beautiful community for me. I have enjoyed spending time with my flatmates, attending the College Symposium, and meeting new faces at College dinners. In the Economics Department, I joined the EDI and Library Committees, and I have been able to take part in key discussions and decisions in both. The Oxford African Society and Heritage of Faith Church, Oxford, have also been two homely communities that made navigating Oxford less daunting. Although joining these spaces required deliberate effort, I was pleasantly surprised by how naturally I was able to fit in and find my feet once I did.
At the recent Postgraduate Storytelling Series, ‘Journeys of Hope: The International Student Experience and the Making of Global Scholars’, postgraduates were framed as global bridge builders. In your view, what does that mean in practice?
At this point in my life, I see myself as a bridge of possibilities. More as proof that certain pursuits are possible. I could tell that my Oxford story has widened the imagination of many students back home and that means a lot to me. When I started out, Oxford felt distant and almost abstract. I questioned whether dreams like that were practical or even responsible.
Today, studying here signals to younger students in Nigeria and across Africa that spaces like this are not reserved for a select few. Through the African Economic Scholars Program (AESP), which I founded and lead, I try to make that bridge more visible. If I can study here, ask questions here, struggle here, and grow here, then others can too. Many young students are ambitious, but they lack guidance on how to position themselves to build analytical depth and command value in global spaces. My experience at Oxford which connotes the doubts, the discomfort, and the persistence allows me to speak honestly about what it takes, through the mentorship platform at AESP. If someone looks at my path and dares to attempt their own, then the bridge is already active. In a few years, I hope to be even better equipped to build stronger and wider bridges that will allow me to make deeper and more lasting impact in economics and beyond.
If you think about ‘Journeys of Hope’, what does this mean for you now compared to when you first arrived in Oxford?
Upon arrival, my thoughts on ‘journeys of hope’ were largely centred on what I stood to gain, like the knowledge, exposure, ideas, and intellectual formation that would prepare me for the future. At that stage, it was more about acquisition and how Oxford would shape me to change the world. Recently, however, my understanding has widened. I now find myself asking different questions like “What will change in Oxford because I came?” “How will my presence, perspective, and participation contribute, however modestly, to this institution?” This paradigm shift is the reason I have taken the initiative to participate in committee activities. So, “hope,” in my purview, has tilted from my personal advancement to more about mutual transformation. My aspirations are still well intact, but I have decided to couple this with some responsibility.
What will change in Oxford because I came?
What’s your favourite thing about Queen’s?
The library. I spent a good part of my Michaelmas holiday there and thoroughly enjoyed it. Aside from the richness of its collection, what fascinates me most is how seamlessly it blends the old and the new, spanning three centuries. The Upper Library gives me a vivid sense of what studying at Queen’s must have felt like in the seventeenth century. I once spoke with a professor who said it had been his favourite spot during his time here, and that came as no surprise to me. The architectural design is simply beautiful, and I often boast about the library to my friends. I also admire the other floors, especially the New Library, which offers more communal reading spaces that I value during collaborative study sessions and lighter academic days.
Universities celebrate open inquiry, yet some of the most difficult questions can remain quietly sidestepped. The Uncomfortable Conversations series was created by graduate student Arifur (DPhil in Law) at Queen’s to make space for discussions that feel uneasy.
Inspired in part by the stark reframing of Oxford’s history offered by the ‘Uncomfortable Oxford Tours’, and shaped more personally by the experience of academic censorship, the series responds to a pressing need within scholarly communities. It recognises that researchers and students alike navigate not only external constraints on speech, but also the subtler pressures of self-censorship. By inviting the MCR (graduate) community to sit with ideas that unsettle prior assumptions, the series positions discomfort not as a threat to intellectual life, but as one of its necessary conditions. We asked the series founder, Arifur (DPhil in Law), to tell us more.
What prompted the creation of the Uncomfortable Conversations series?
In late October last year, when I had just started my DPhil in Law, I took a tour called ‘Uncomfortable Oxford’ that reveals to you what Oxford hides beneath its honeyed stone and golden late-afternoon buildings: a complex past that intersects power, privilege, and exclusion. The title of the series is inspired by this tour, but the idea of engaging in conversations that bring discomfort is rooted more deeply in my own experience of censorship.
The idea of engaging in conversations that bring discomfort is rooted more deeply in my own experience of censorship.
In late 2024, my op-ed on queering constitution-making in Bangladesh was censored by a leading daily due to the social backlash it generated. That experience made me realise the importance of creating spaces for conversations that challenge us, particularly for researchers who not only often deal with direct censorship but also internalise the pervasive practice of self-censorship as a way of responding to perceived resistance and backlash. As the MCR Equalities Officer, I designed the UncomfortableConversations series to provide the MCR community with an opportunity to sit, listen, and engage with conversations that are uneasy, provocative, or even feel “too much”.
One of our Honorary Fellows contrasts universities that are ‘uncomfortable and empowering’ with those that are ‘comfortable but enfeebling’. How does this series help students develop, both as individuals and members of a community?
The Uncomfortable Conversations series invites students to engage in a reflexive exercise of asking what they have learnt, by what means, and for what purpose. In doing so, it becomes obvious (at least to me) that learning is not self-evidently a complacent practice. Rather, it requires engaging with its twin processes: unlearning and relearning. The series creates a liminal space in which students sit between certainty and doubt while trying to recognise what they know and what they do not yet know. It can certainly be an uncomfortable experience, but one’s intellectual maturity can be shaped in this fashion. Throughout the conversations, as students practise intellectual humility and self-critique, they also, as members of a community, cultivate the habit of disagreeing with respect and listening even when they struggle with the urge to resist. In this sense, the Uncomfortable Conversations series is empowering because our discomfort, instead of constraining us, strengthens our epistemic development, both individually and collectively.
The series creates a liminal space in which students sit between certainty and doubt while trying to recognise what they know and what they do not yet know. It can certainly be an uncomfortable experience, but one’s intellectual maturity can be shaped in this fashion.
What does discomfort mean in an academic context and when is it productive?
I understand discomfort in an academic setting as the experience of intellectual anxiety. It happens when you resist the speaker’s position because you think it would unsettle your prior assumptions and threaten your intellectual security. This fear of destabilisation is the source of your discomfort that subjects your epistemic capacity to vulnerability. Yet such an experience could be productive when the method of handling the vulnerability is not defensive but transformative. To respond defensively is to dismiss another’s position without serious intellectual engagement so as to safeguard your prior belief at any cost. I do not think that is useful. However, if experiencing discomfort leads you to re-evaluate, if not revise, your framework of understanding, it becomes, or at least holds, transformative potential.
How do you decide which topics or speakers to include? What principles guide those choices?
Having conversations that are unsettling is the decisive factor, as long as the conversations cut across matters of equality, broadly understood. Representation definitely matters, both in terms of who is speaking and which issues are addressed. At the same time, logistical realities weigh in. To seal the deal, I ultimately have to consider who is available and willing to speak, often in an informal setting. In some cases, speakers join us via Zoom. My experience has been that while a number of scholars work on difficult or controversial issues, fewer are prepared to discuss them publicly, and not all topics are entertained, even within an academic context. Despite these challenges, I try to curate events across a diverse range of topics. In the past, we have hosted talks on “Palestine as a Queer Issue” and “Gender-Critical Feminism.” Upcoming events include discussions on “The Right to Sex of People with Intellectual Disability”, “Can Men Do Women’s Rights?” and“Sexual Violence Against Men.” Ensuring diversity of perspectives, at the very least in terms of subject matter, is something I consider essential.
Universities are both places of open inquiry and caring communities. How does the series navigate that tension?
The Uncomfortable Conversations series is intended to allow students to raise questions that are otherwise avoided, while ensuring that these discussions take place in a supportive and respectful collegiate environment. We do not promise that the conversations will be easy; quite the opposite. At the same time, we remain mindful that these discussions are not detached from people’s lived experiences. I always try to begin the Conversations by clarifying that the goal is not to reach mutual agreement between speakers and the audience, but to allow space for principled disagreement, if that is where the discussion leads. By learning to remain present in situations of principled disagreement, I think, we can actually ward off the political evil of intolerance. My approach is influenced by David A.J. Richards, my former supervisor at NYU Law, whose work led me to believe that free speech reflects our moral sovereignty and therefore demands respect, above all in allowing others to speak, even when we disagree.
What does a successful event look like to you?
Without relying on the binary agreement/disagreement, the success of the Uncomfortable Conversations series rests on what I call ‘constructive ambivalence’, by which I mean to remain wary of the intrinsic limits of the very ideas, projects, or even the systems in which we retain faith. So as long as there is room for reflections, I think the conversation has done its job. It is more about growing a sense of awareness of limits we might otherwise never recognise than about calling for resolution.
Have you learned anything from the conversations so far that has shifted or challenged your own thinking?
One key takeaway for me is that ideas can survive in an environment that is full of tension and contestation. I used to think that any idea that falls under the category of “controversial” makes mutual engagement impossible and therefore always carries the risk of being shut down. But the last few events of the Uncomfortable Conversations series at the Queen’s MCR have proven me wrong. In fact, I have come to realise that true intellectual growth lies in our willingness to stay in “uncomfortable” conversations which should be the intellectual demand of our time.
As the first recipient of the Old Member-funded Accomplishment Scholarship, Isaac is already demonstrating the transformative power of postgraduate support at Queen’s. He is pursuing a Master’s in History, with research into student culture in late Victorian Oxford that builds on a longstanding fascination with the University’s past. In this interview, he reflects on the freedom the scholarship has made possible and the enduring importance of independent research.
Could you tell us about your academic journey so far, and what drew you to pursue a Master’s in History?
I had the great opportunity to study at Oxford for my undergraduate degree. I read history at Lady Margaret Hall and was taught by a series of inspirational tutors. My passion for the subject only increased as I began to specialise in modern British history during my final year. One highlight was completing a dissertation on the start of women’s education at Oxford. I found the process of independent research incredibly stimulating and became convinced that it was something I wanted to pursue. I felt there was more to say on my dissertation topic and, having had such an amazing experience during my first degree, applied to stay in Oxford for a Master’s.
Your studies are supported by the Old Member-funded Accomplishment Scholarship; what has that support made possible for you during your time at Queen’s?
I am incredibly proud and grateful to be the inaugural recipient of the Accomplishment Scholarship. Without this support I would not have been able to accept my offer to pursue a Master’s degree. Having the costs of my course met by the scholarship has enabled me to commit myself completely to my studies and really throw myself into College life. Without the anxieties of financial pressure I have been able to say ‘yes’ a lot more and embrace all of the opportunities that Oxford and Queen’s have to offer. Being able to travel for research and purchase key texts has also been essential to ensuring that my dissertation is as good as it possibly can be. I am so thankful for the generosity of The Accomplishment Trust for providing the opportunity to live up to my full potential without costs being a barrier.
Without this support I would not have been able to accept my offer to pursue a Master’s degree.
Can you describe your current research project, and why this particular topic is of interest to you?
My current research uses magazines as a way to investigate student culture in late Victorian Oxford. I was drawn to this topic after writing my undergraduate thesis on the early generations of women students. I became fascinated in how, for these pioneering women, creating a magazine was a way to stake a claim within the University and create a legacy that would endure even after they had graduated. I have become increasingly interested in how student culture differed between colleges. The late nineteenth century was a period of dramatic reform within the university, particularly the establishment of new colleges for women and nonconformists. I think that contemporary magazines can tell us a lot about how the students thought about these changes and navigated their place within the city of dreaming spires.
What has been the most exciting or surprising discovery you’ve made in your research so far?
I have been surprised at just how many student magazines were published during the later nineteenth century. One historian estimated there to be as many as 200 which survive in archives. With all this publishing, I wonder how the students had time to do their degrees! In order to define a workable project, I have had to focus on a handful of examples. I am, however, convinced that the extraordinary volume of magazines from this period remain an underutilised body of primary source material.
How has being part of Queen’s academic community shaped the way you think about history?
Queen’s has a long tradition of excellent historians. I feel lucky to be part of such a stimulating and welcoming academic community. One of the best parts about completing postgraduate study in Oxford is belonging to a tight-knit MCR and the conversations that that brings. I have made close friends within the history cohort and enjoy hearing about projects from a wide range of period and geographic specialisms. It is often the case that your best reflections of what it means to be a historian come from discussions with people with very different research interests.
It is often the case that your best reflections of what it means to be a historian come from discussions with people with very different research interests.
What are your hopes for the future and how do you see your Master’s studies contributing to what you want to do next?
I don’t have a concrete plan for the future, which is equal parts exciting and worrying! I know that I love my subject and love sharing that passion with others. It would be a privilege to pursue a career that allows me to take that passion further. From this I have become very interested in working within the heritage or education sectors. Beyond being intellectually stretching and rewarding in itself, completing a Master’s degree has equipped me with a range of transferable skills. At its core, independent research is all about convincing others that your work is interesting and important. History in particular is based on effective communication and I have enjoyed the opportunity to really hone my writing skills. I look forward to applying these skills in new contexts after graduation.
Beyond being intellectually stretching and rewarding in itself, completing a Master’s degree has equipped me with a range of transferable skills.
What’s your favourite place in College?
It has to be the Upper Library! As a history student how could I say anything else? It is such a stunning room and always the highlight whenever I give guests the College tour.
Can you recommend a book?
Persuasion by Jane Austen is a personal favourite that I would recommend to everyone. For those with an interest in history, Matt Houlbrook’s recently published Songs of Seven Dials is brilliant and absolutely full of insights.
Second-year Music student Tom Constantinou was Musical Director for Sondheim’s Company, which ran at the Oxford Playhouse this January. Stepping into a professional theatre space while still an undergraduate, Tom describes the experience as “wonderfully terrifying” as he balanced the heightened scale and expectations of the Playhouse with the creative freedom of student theatre.
We asked Tom to tell us more about conducting, collaboration, and finding your footing, on stage and beyond.
How does your academic work connect or contrast with your life in the theatre?
My degree has much less to do with musical theatre than one might actually think! Much to my dismay, I’m yet to encounter any Sondheim in lectures or tutorials. Saying that, on any Queen’s open day you might overhear me telling of writing a personal statement on Into the Woods, another one of Sondheim’s musicals (and admittedly my favourite).
You’ve described being Musical Director at the Oxford Playhouse as “wonderfully terrifying.” What felt most daunting about stepping into a professional theatre space, and when did it start to feel exhilarating instead?
So much of conducting is about choreography, co-ordination, and responsiveness to the orchestra, much of which changes with each rehearsal room and its different acoustics. As the band were in the ‘pit’ at the Playhouse (a basement level beneath the stage), you suddenly get a completely different acoustic world. You might hear the strings ‘live’ as they play directly in front of you, but for instruments further away you’ll only hear them through the general mixed output (i.e. what the audience hears overall). As the Playhouse normally functions as a professional theatre, there’s also the pressure of being watched by the Artistic Director and of course a paying audience (which on one night included a West End MD who had worked on the 1995 London staging of Company, and several West End producers).
I suppose the state you get in whilst conducting isn’t quite exhilaration, because to maintain that emotion for two and a half hours over five shows would be draining. It’s more of an intense focus to help the 30-40 cast and band make great music. The few brief moments of intense musical exhilaration were always in the final numbers ‘Ladies Who Lunch’ and ‘Being Alive’, some performances of which were the most emotionally involved I’ve ever been in making music. One rather kind reviewer spoke about sitting directly behind me on one evening and seeing the lifeblood of music run through the pit! I suppose what you feel and show are often different things, especially when conducting.
How did working in a venue like the Playhouse change the way you approached musical decision-making, compared to student productions you’ve worked on before?
On the Playhouse stage, the scale of everything has to be multiplied by tenfold. There’s a fine balance between keeping enough subtlety that the audience isn’t bombarded with your artistic choices, whilst keeping them large enough to be understood from the back of the theatre. Musically, I took lots of inspiration from singing in the choir at Queen’s, which often faces the similar acoustic challenges in large concert halls and cathedrals of sending emotion and meaning all the way to the back rows. For me, this often meant going overboard with diction exercises and text projection (a favourite warm-up was making the cast repeat sequences of consonants which appeared frequently in the show ad nauseam). This did amusingly lead them to nickname the show “wet ‘k’ Company” after my insistence that the show was ‘company’ not ‘gumpenny’.
Musically, I took lots of inspiration from singing in the choir at Queen’s, which often faces the similar acoustic challenges in large concert halls and cathedrals of sending emotion and meaning all the way to the back rows.
Company is a musical with a devoted following. How did you balance honouring Sondheim purists while also making the show accessible to audiences who might be seeing live musical theatre for the first time?
It’s such a tricky balancing act—Company doesn’t have a linear plot, and there certainly aren’t as many tunes you might go away humming as other classic musicals. We kept the Sondheim purists happy by keeping pretty true to the original libretto and script, something that hasn’t been done recently as the last major production of Company (London, 2018) gender-swapped the lead and his girlfriends. Sondheim sometimes gets criticised for being less accessible to those seeing live musical theatre for the first time, as his musicals have fewer easily singable tunes. However, I’m of the opinion that his collaboration with George Furth creates libretti and music that are genuinely funny, with enough sprinkling of ‘good hummable tunes’ to keep everyone happy. There was also a lot of non-musical joy to be had – Holly Rust’s set design of a large-scale soft play centre and Hannah Walton’s strikingly 70s costumes created a refreshingly fun visual style. I’m sure getting to fire an industrial confetti cannon at the start of act 2 (much to the surprise/terror of row A) retrieved some high-camp musical theatre joy, whilst probing the notion of plays and playing.
You mention incorporating music often omitted since the show’s premiere. What drew you to those choices, and what did they add to this particular production?
‘Tick Tock’ is one of the more problematic areas of Company when done in original format, for it is essentially a four-minute exaltation of how sexually satisfying the protagonist Bobby is to various women. It has most famously been staged as a dance number for one of Bobby’s girlfriends, an artistic choreography of sexual activity. The song was mostly dropped since its premiere, perhaps due to the difficulty of finding a suitably excellent dancer, singer, and actor in one, or perhaps due to the fairly explicit dialogue which runs over the top.
It was actually the director Joshua Robey who suggested we include it, and upon first listening to the score I could well understand why – ‘Tick Tock’ is arguably some of the best music Sondheim wrote. Working with choreographer Alex Jefferies, we refashioned the staging as Bobby’s surprise birthday party (which is the catalyst for the show’s opening number), descending into a fabulously fluid dream ballet sequence which hinted at some of the original production’s eroticism.
The songs in Company are quite realist, often describing the action of the scenes around them rather than being the action, and so this dream ballet sequence was really an opportunity to tease out more abstract artistic choices and stakes that are otherwise missing from the material.
What was it like leading a 14-piece jazz band as a student, and how did that responsibility shift your sense of yourself as a musician and collaborator?
So, so much fun! I was fortunate enough to get my first fix of big band jazz at school under the fabulous mentorship of Andy Bush and Phil Chevassut, and soon after became obsessed with the great conductor Jules Buckley who often fuses orchestral and big band jazz orchestras. Since then, I’ve really been hunting out opportunities to conduct the jazzier side of orchestras, and Company got very close to scratching that itch! It was my first time conducting such a drum-centred show, which sort of upsets the traditional narrative of the conductor as time-keeper because the drummer ends up doing this job for you. It really encourages you to hand over the reins to the musicians in your band, as they will instinctively (and correctly) respond to the percussion beat. This was a very liberating experience as a conductor, as you can focus on shaping expression rather than having to be consistently metronomic. There’s often a (very true) joke in jazz big bands that the conductor’s only job is starting the piece, after which they walk off the stage. Back playing in a big band, I always remembered the enjoyment of seeing our conductor do the aeroplane-esque arm dance when things were really ‘in the pocket’—as a jazz MD you just need to sit back and let the band be the true artists.
Beyond the confetti, balloons, and boisterous fun, Company asks big questions about relationships and commitment. What do you hope audiences, especially students, leave thinking about after the final note?
I’m interested in the idea of the ‘final note’—there’s many to choose from: the final note of ‘Being Alive’ (what feels like the finale), the final note before the curtain (a short trumpet solo), the final note after the curtain (the curiously sung orchestration of the bow music), the final note of the exit music (which most of the time the audience miss), or the final note of each of the above on the final night.
In true Sondheim-fashion, we never quite know where the show ends, if it ever does. Part of this really forces you to step back from the role of director, because you can’t predict or impose what the audience will treat as the pervading ‘final note’. I also didn’t really think there was a definitive final note, and in fact hearing people’s interpretations of the ending where Bobby finally exits through the rather Chekhovian fire exit (present but never interacted with for the whole show) provoked questions of a final note I hadn’t thought of before.
I’m sure he won’t mind me mentioning this, but Aaron Gelkoff’s (Bobby) performance of the infamous ‘Being Alive’ on the final night inspired such a raw ending of the show which really loosened and questioned the boundary of whether we ever stop playing as audiences, directors, or actors. Minutes of applause erupted immediately after finishing the song, during which Aaron/Bobby stood still on stage and sobbed in front of 600 people – a real and raw emotionality that I’m not sure anyone could have anticipated or directed. This ‘final note’ in many ways made tangible the terror, excitement, anxiety, and isolation that the future conjures.
What happens after this final show, when audiences and the full company leave the theatre and return to the messy, busy realities of Oxford student life? What happens when we graduate, when this world of performing and playing that we inhabit for several years grows distant from us? In a world that is the most globalised yet lonely it has ever been, where politics domestic and internationally is depressingly certain yet ambiguous, how can we ever approach the future with alacrity and hope? Company, like life, offers no answer to what role we play after this one finishes.
What happens after this final show, when audiences and the full company leave the theatre and return to the messy, busy realities of Oxford student life?
From liver disease to the archaeology of trees, What’s Brewing at Queen’s? brings graduate research out of the seminar room and into a relaxed, sociable setting. We spoke to the series’ organiser, Sanjna, about how this informal lecture series is creating space for curiosity, conversation, and cross-disciplinary exchange.
Sanjna
“What’s Brewing at Queen’s is an informal lecture series, designed to give current MCR (graduate) students the chance to talk about their research in a relaxed setting. The lectures are short and aimed at a non-specialist audience, with the goal of sparking conversations between members of the College across different disciplines. Queen’s students do a lot of very interesting research, and the goal is to create a space where students can learn from each other, without the pressure of a more formal academic environment.”
Where did the idea come from?
The lecture series itself was inspired by an event called “Lectures on Tap”, run in New York and other cities around the world, where academics give light-hearted lectures for a lay audience in a bar or brewery, resulting in an entertaining event which also contributes to public engagement with research. One of the highlights of Oxford’s collegiate system is access to an incredibly diverse academic community outside your own discipline, and we wanted to draw on that community in a more fun, light-hearted way.
One of the highlights of Oxford’s collegiate system is access to an incredibly diverse academic community outside your own discipline.
What does a typical evening look like and how is it different from a more traditional academic talk?
A typical evening involves a small group of College members gathering in a cosy venue – most recently the Provost’s Lodgings – to listen to short lectures by two MCR members. The lectures are always delivered over drinks and snacks, resulting in a very relaxed, fun environment, and they are usually interactive. Unlike more traditional academic talks, our lectures are aimed at a non-specialist audience, and are intended to spark discussion. The goal is to make learning accessible and fun, and some speakers have even taken a more comedic/entertaining approach to explaining their research. Since the audience is small and also made up entirely of fellow College members, the environment is more low-stakes, and we hope that this removes any pressure speakers may otherwise face while presenting in a more formal academic setting.
Why was it important to create a space where graduate students could talk about their research informally, and to a mixed audience?
Interdisciplinary conversations can have immense value: they allow one to view their research questions with a new, more diverse lens, and can be a springboard for new ideas and collaborations. Especially as students specialise in their training with higher postgraduate degrees, having access to interdisciplinary spaces becomes even more crucial. However, graduate students typically have a busy schedule with several formal academic commitments, so we felt that adding another would create more barriers to participating in these conversations. Therefore, it was important that we made the environment as relaxed as possible to encourage participation. We want this series to spark more organic conversations that continue even outside the lecture – in the MCR, Hall or Beer Cellar as well. From an audience perspective, the informal setting is also important because it creates a space where there is less hesitation to ask questions. Since the audience is assumed to be non-specialist, there are no “stupid questions” – everyone is here to learn, and all questions are welcome, which makes it easier to engage with the speaker during the Q&A.
Interdisciplinary conversations can have immense value: they allow one to view their research questions with a new, more diverse lens, and can be a springboard for new ideas and collaborations.
What kind of research topics have featured so far, and have any conversations or moments really stayed with you?
The lectures so far have spanned a breadth of topics, ranging from improving diagnostics of liver disease to alternative paradigms for understanding reparations for human rights violations. Upcoming lectures include topics such as the archaeology of trees and the mechanisms underlying inflammation. One thing that’s stood out to me has been that while disciplines vary in the questions they seek to answer, the approaches and tools they employ can be useful even beyond that discipline. For example, a speaker who was researching tree-killing in Canada was using tools and tests usually used by chemists, while another speaker studying music and the cultural experience of listening was combining approaches from musicology, the processing of sound, and audiology in her research, proving that modern-day research is a lot more fluid and interdisciplinary than one might think.
How do speakers approach explaining their research to a non-specialist audience?
We’ve had very engaging speakers so far that have done a wonderful job making their lectures accessible to non-specialists. Speakers vary in their approach to meeting this goal, but typically, lectures are devoid of jargon and technical terms and focus on the bigger picture rather than minute methodological details. There is an emphasis on providing enough context, so the audience understands the story, without getting overwhelmed by details. We’ve also had some very interesting analogies used to explain concepts, and some fantastic visual representations as well. Not all research stories are complete, and those often make for very interesting lectures, since they invite further thought and discussion, and it is fascinating to see how differently trained academics approach the same questions.
What do you think graduate students gain from organising and speaking at events like this, beyond sharing their research?
There is immense value in making your research accessible to a non-specialist audience. Doing so demands that you have a clear and focussed understanding of the problem or question your research seeks to answer, and preparing a lecture helps one narrativise one’s research into a story, which is an important skill for students to develop. Additionally, talking to students outside of your field can help you view your questions with fresh eyes, or bring to light new tools and approaches one could try as well.
If you were trying to convince someone to come along for the first time, what would you say to them?
Studying at Oxford gives you the unique opportunity to interact with brilliant people in all disciplines, who do cutting-edge research. Learning about all the latest research can be incredibly fun, and who better to learn from than the students at the very frontline of it! I’d encourage anyone who wants to learn something new, in a relaxed setting with no pressure, to come along to a lecture with an open mind.
Learning about all the latest research can be incredibly fun, and who better to learn from than the students at the very frontline of it!
What’s surprised you most about how people engage with research in this kind of relaxed setting?
I’ve been pleasantly surprised by the nuanced, and often quite detailed level of engagement speakers get during the Q and A. Even in this relaxed setting, the audience is very perceptive and plays close attention. We’ve had some very interesting questions come up, not only direct questions about lecture content, but also questions that have invited further discussion beyond the scope of the short lecture and made for very interesting conversation at the drinks reception afterwards.
