New leaves are turning with the new semester ahead. As I rally through nights of research, writing, and reading scientific journals, I crave the solace of painting — the peace that accompanies every brush stroke to make a feather, a wing, and eventually, a bird.

Whenever I feel like an imposter, I let myself go on paper, let the colours spill and allow the paint to take on a life of its own. This puts my mind at ease. I’m reminded of the great paradox of my life. While my art gives me life, I shouldn’t take it too seriously. Art, as other artists know, is something we do just because…