I have a lot of questions to ask a lot of people. Like, why are ripped jeans more expensive than normal jeans? Or what’s the point of making your bed if you’re going to sleep in it later? And my most recent favorite, why are our major presidential choices both objectively awful? But those are all topics for another day. Right now, I want to talk about two of my favorite things; art and science. Two incredibly entertaining fields of study, and yet we seem to view them as opposites. Surely people who are into organic chemistry know nothing about painting, and classically trained musicians can’t be bothered with thermodynamics (just for the record, thermodynamics can bother me very much). Right?

Not quite. It sounds silly when I put it that way, right? But isn’t that how we view people even subconsciously? I’m not quite sure why or how such stereotypes came about -- in fact, I wouldn’t even know they exist if I hadn’t observed such ideas in my own life. I’m pretty nerdy and outspoken about my love for biology -- all my friends are accustomed to collectively groaning when I launch into some interesting fact about birds (they can’t move their eyes, so that’s why they seem so twitchy. They have to move their whole head to see things outside of their line of sight.

I’m also pretty nerdy and outspoken about painting, sketching, music, photography and my brief foray into the world of pottery. For whatever reason, people who don’t know me are often surprised by the fact that I can like things that are so seemingly different. Many of the best artists I’ve met in college are also engineers, or chemists or biologists. Not computer science majors, though, they’re just as boring as you’d think (jokes, I promise). This goes both ways, of course; I have a history major friend who can describe more about the history of art than I could ever dream of knowing as well as discuss complex biological processes with me. That is, as complex as I’m able to go into.

So why do we think of art and science as such polarizing topics? I can think of a few reasons off the top of my head, but I’d like to focus on one in particular: the decline in the idea of a "Renaissance Man,"or polymath. With increased knowledge and technology in society comes an increase in specialization. Just look at the medical field -- the number of primary care physicians is dwarfed by the number of specialists, focusing on everything from neurology to podiatry. The same goes for artists -- most musicians generally stick to their own genre, artists to a specific medium, and so on. There’s nothing inherently wrong with this, but it does make it difficult to become proficient in other spheres of knowledge when you find yourself focusing on a small subset of a large discipline. When it becomes difficult to study other sub-fields within your own preferred field of study, just think of how much more unobtainable knowledge outside of your field may seem.

The cool thing about having a wide breadth of knowledge lies in your ability to integrate topics. Our brains like linking things, and applying universal concepts to many different, seemingly unrelated information can greatly aid memory and retention of such information. For example, the Fibonacci Spiral is a mathematical principle that often appears in computer algorithms as well as biology -- capturing how tree branches are ordered.

Fractals are another mathematical concept that can double as art; if you ever get the chance, Google fractals. They’re pretty incredible, and they are also found in many natural phenomena. In a more general sense, being at least slightly knowledgeable in multiple fields of study can allow for complex problem solving that is able to utilize multiple different ways of thinking. Approaching art methodically (and patiently) is incredibly similar to many aspects of performing biological research, and the lessons learned in one practice are often conducive to the other.

It would do scientists some good to think outside the box -- a key aspect of many breakthrough discoveries is the ability of the scientist to posit something previously unheard of. Not to mention the fact that a lab is a boring place to spend hours in without music to entertain you, or fun cell culture art to literally blend the two disciplines into one.

While a depth of specific knowledge is becoming increasingly important to form a stable STEM career -- and let’s face it -- it’s fun to call yourself an expert in something weird like the prevalence of Pennsylvania tick-borne diseases; you’re only doing yourself a disservice to discount the possibility of knowing more. Sate your curiosity every now and again, and go peruse an art museum. Or a concert. Or any Smithsonian Museum in D.C. (they’re free!). You may find something interesting that you’ve never thought of, and that can open up a huge realm of possibilities.