@lily.falke

Let's cut to the chase: I'm an artist that wants to go to med school. I know it's a weird combination, but I've managed to combine these two passions through the self-imposed title of "future medical illustrator". It's relatively unknown career choice, so let me introduce you. I found out about medical illustration during a trip to the Mutter Museum: I was there to see the wall of skulls, but was met by an art exhibit first. The gallery was transverse, coronal, and sagittal cross-sections of the human body created with strips of colored paper. I was amazed that a simple medium was used to showcase such complexities that could not be observed by the unaided eye! In that moment, complex science felt approachable. I could visualize the layers of the skin: this art had elucidated a biological concept and inspired me simultaneously. Despite every wet specimen, bone, or preservation in the museum, nothing magnified the features of the body in the same way the craftsmanship could. At that moment, my passions for art and medicine converged. I truly believe that art is a gateway to discovery, medical inclusion, and education. The conjunction of scientific reasoning and a creative vision has provided me with my own perspective that I already apply in my day-to-day life. I have the power of visualization to convey my hypotheses: a powerful tool to communicate ideas, strengthen understanding, and stimulate higher-level thinking. I want to use these superpowers for the better. I want to be a medical illustrator because it serves as a universal form of communication that could promote medical literacy and advances in science. In a world where medical diagrams in exam rooms and google searches are white-washed and access to information to make an informed decision is inequitable across marginalized communities, my set of colored pencils grants me the privilege of making future medical infographics more inclusive and diverse; my skill and love for drawing allow me to transfer ideas into a universal language. With six million animals killed for dissection each year, I wonder if art, combined with technology, could reduce those numbers and still provide an educational experience for students. Art does foster positive, impactful social change, and I want to be at the forefront of it. In a few years, I'll be applying to medical school with a visual arts degree: and I couldn't be more proud.

Google the Spiral Jetty. It's weird, right? So why is it my favorite piece of art? The Spiral Jetty is a coiling spiral of exhilarating size superimposed into the natural landscape. It's Earth Art - a movement that explores the boundaries between man and nature and concept to product. The piece is counterclockwise: the direction of motion suggests that the artist, Robert Smithson, odes to a theme of immorality due to its suggestive nodes to the concept of infinity. This choice adds a note of irony to the piece. This work is condemned to nature: it will erode. It directly faces the inevitable threat of destruction. Spiral Jetty evokes a dialogue on the boundaries of art. Due to its grand scale, the Spiral Jetty exceeds the boundaries of a museum - it cannot be protected like a painting. It cannot have temperatures and conditions catered in aid to its longevity. This piece is collaborative with the changing natural landscape. Such changes can already be seen - as the American Midwest faces a drought, the Earthwork sees days without being caressed by water, bare only to the sand. On the days when Spiral Jetty does meet the water, trapped minerals and bacteria that frequent the basin can bring the water anywhere from a bright blue to a deep, blood red. Its nature as something to be modified makes this piece unique. I love the Spiral Jetty because it explores the dynamic between concept and product. To turn a daunting idea into a massive, iconic work of art speaks to the traits of imagination, perseverance, and innovation. I see these traits within myself. As someone who needs to work harder to prove myself because of my self-expression, I am able to put my goals and ideas into action: just like Earth art.

Let's cut to the chase: I'm an artist that wants to go to med school. I know it's a weird combination, but I've managed to combine these two passions through the self-imposed title of "future medical illustrator". It's relatively unknown career choice, so let me introduce you. I found out about medical illustration during a trip to the Mutter Museum: I was there to see the wall of skulls, but was met by an art exhibit first. The gallery was transverse, coronal, and sagittal cross-sections of the human body created with strips of colored paper. I was amazed that a simple medium was used to showcase such complexities that could not be observed by the unaided eye! In that moment, complex science felt approachable. I could visualize the layers of the skin: this art had elucidated a biological concept and inspired me simultaneously. Despite every wet specimen, bone, or preservation in the museum, nothing magnified the features of the body in the same way the craftsmanship could. At that moment, my passions for art and medicine converged. I truly believe that art is a gateway to discovery, medical inclusion, and education. The conjunction of scientific reasoning and a creative vision has provided me with my own perspective that I already apply in my day-to-day life. I have the power of visualization to convey my hypotheses: a powerful tool to communicate ideas, strengthen understanding, and stimulate higher-level thinking. I want to use these superpowers for the better. I want to be a medical illustrator because it serves as a universal form of communication that could promote medical literacy and advances in science. In a world where medical diagrams in exam rooms and google searches are white-washed and access to information to make an informed decision is inequitable across marginalized communities, my set of colored pencils grants me the privilege of making future medical infographics more inclusive and diverse; my skill and love for drawing allow me to transfer ideas into a universal language. With six million animals killed for dissection each year, I wonder if art, combined with technology, could reduce those numbers and still provide an educational experience for students. Art does foster positive, impactful social change, and I want to be at the forefront of it. In a few years, I'll be applying to medical school with a visual arts degree: and I couldn't be more proud.

Let's cut to the chase: I'm an artist that wants to go to med school. I know it's a weird combination, but I've managed to combine these two passions through the self-imposed title of "future medical illustrator". It's relatively unknown career choice, so let me introduce you. I found out about medical illustration during a trip to the Mutter Museum: I was there to see the wall of skulls, but was met by an art exhibit first. The gallery was transverse, coronal, and sagittal cross-sections of the human body created with strips of colored paper. I was amazed that a simple medium was used to showcase such complexities that could not be observed by the unaided eye! In that moment, complex science felt approachable. I could visualize the layers of the skin: this art had elucidated a biological concept and inspired me simultaneously. Despite every wet specimen, bone, or preservation in the museum, nothing magnified the features of the body in the same way the craftsmanship could. At that moment, my passions for art and medicine converged. I truly believe that art is a gateway to discovery, medical inclusion, and education. The conjunction of scientific reasoning and a creative vision has provided me with my own perspective that I already apply in my day-to-day life. I have the power of visualization to convey my hypotheses: a powerful tool to communicate ideas, strengthen understanding, and stimulate higher-level thinking. I want to use these superpowers for the better. I want to be a medical illustrator because it serves as a universal form of communication that could promote medical literacy and advances in science. In a world where medical diagrams in exam rooms and google searches are white-washed and access to information to make an informed decision is inequitable across marginalized communities, my set of colored pencils grants me the privilege of making future medical infographics more inclusive and diverse; my skill and love for drawing allow me to transfer ideas into a universal language. With six million animals killed for dissection each year, I wonder if art, combined with technology, could reduce those numbers and still provide an educational experience for students. Art does foster positive, impactful social change, and I want to be at the forefront of it. In a few years, I'll be applying to medical school with a visual arts degree: and I couldn't be more proud.

As someone who used to struggle appreciating 3d art, the Spiral Jetty really confused me. The Spiral Jetty is a coiling spiral of exhilarating size superimposed into the natural landscape. It's Earth Art - a movement that explores the boundaries between man and nature and concept to product. The piece is counterclockwise: the direction of motion suggests that the artist, Robert Smithson, odes to a theme of immorality due to its suggestive nodes to the concept of infinity. This choice adds a note of irony to the piece. This work is condemned to nature: it will erode. It directly faces the inevitable threat of destruction. Spiral Jetty evokes a dialogue on the boundaries of art. Due to its grand scale, the Spiral Jetty exceeds the boundaries of a museum - it cannot be protected like a painting. It cannot have temperatures and conditions catered in aid to its longevity. This piece is collaborative with the changing natural landscape. Such changes can already be seen - as the American Midwest faces a drought, the Earthwork sees days without being caressed by water, bare only to the sand. On the days where Spiral Jetty does meet the water, trapped minerals and bacteria that frequent the basin can bring the water anywhere from a bright blue to a deep, blood red. Its nature as something to be modified makes this piece unique. I love the Spiral Jetty because it explores the dynamic between concept and product. To turn a daunting idea into a massive, iconic work of art speaks to the traits of imagination, perseverance, and innovation. I see these traits within myself. As someone who needs to work harder to prove myself because of my self-expression, I am able to put my goals and ideas into action: just like Earth art.

Just like any other holiday, a father’s day celebration was planned for my kindergarten class. As all the tall, broad-shouldered fathers filed into our cozy classroom, my short mom stood out from the crowd. Clad in a Spongebob tie from the local Goodwill, and her best interpretation of the formal work attire of her male counterparts, she let me sing the father’s day songs to her so I didn’t feel left out. I was the only fatherless 5-year-old, and I felt different as much as I felt loved. It was the first time that I realized my circumstances were abnormal. Later, on the playground, my friends would ask where my dad was. I didn't have an answer. It'd take a few years before I got an answer. My mom sat me down and explained to me that my biological dad picked addiction over a relationship with me. I never felt a gaping hole in my life because of my lack of a father figure, but that didn't prevent him from leaking into my consciousness. It hurts that someone could abandon their child. It hurts even more that, years later, he has no interest in learning about the young woman I've become. We discuss him from time to time, and it is inevitable in these conservations to remember that he has missed my graduations, my performances, my piano recitals, and my races. He didn't deserve to be present for any of those events, though. It was me who put in the effort to achieve everything I have thus far. His absence has only highlighted my capabilities. Nonetheless, I will continue to accomplish my goals and aspirations. When my mom and I sit down to talk about him, I no longer feel hurt. Instead, I remember my capacity to succeed.

Stacked cubicles stores my prized possessions. I drag my finger across the spines of countless sleeves until I determine the perfect soundtrack for the occasion. You guessed it - I still collect vinyl records. Carefully, I slip the record out of the sleeve, put it on the record plate, and release the tonearm. The gentle rotations of the record whisper until the needle hits the groove. Upon contact, the needle reads the grooves ingrained into the vinyl record, which are translated into sound vibrations that are then converted into electrical signals and amplified by my speaker. The music commences, and I can’t help but smile: memories flood my mind as the laws of physics make it possible for me to enjoy my favorite tunes. Although streaming services have made music more accessible, listening to a vinyl record is superior for me because I'm reminded of all the connections I've made from them. I've inherited my great-uncle's and mom's record collections: we'll venture into the basement, and flip through the hundreds of accumulated records stored in dusky milk crates. My family will point out the music they enjoyed at my age or small anecdotes summoned by the sight of an album cover. At record stores, I'll be stopped by older individuals. Some will roll up their sleeves to reveal band logos tattooed on aged skin, while others have lamented over the shows I've missed (by not being born yet). Family of friends, neighbors, and peers all gift me their records, hoping I can appreciate them as much as they once did. Records have taught me the beauty of fostering relationships from simple connections. The stories I've been told, laughs I've shared, and music I've been introduced to because of vinyl all bring me an incredible amount of joy.

With a wardrobe drained of color, spiked accessories, and dyed hair, I've always been questioned for my drastic appearance. As a punk rock kid, I've always been told that academia and punk don't mix, but I beg to differ. My identity doesn’t revolve around the aesthetics of punk rock, but rather the mindset: passionately being myself. These tenets have become assets for me, as I develop into a stronger, more critical thinker and learner. My modes of self-expression - and the beliefs my appearance embody - have empowered me to stand for change. My school district's dress code became my first task. It was terrifying, standing in front of the city’s administrators, and essentially telling them that I - the blue-haired student - thought their dress code was unfair. I had more than just a speech though: I had spent the previous two weeks meticulously analyzing the dress code and preparing data. I had concluded that the dress code did not accommodate for the female body, nor the trends of clothing that stores catered to. I invaded retail stores, armed with a trusty measuring tape and graphing paper, measuring the lengths of shorts. With data and a striking argument, I was able to open a dialogue between the students and administration to work towards a liberating dress code. Perhaps my presentation had a slight tone of teen angst, but it was effective: the next year, our dress code was revamped. The victory made me realize that striving for change was infectious and instilled in me that my future needed to include making real contributions to the world. I’ve definitely dropped some of the tackier accessories, but the punk rock mantra remains. I can't wait to be in a lab one day, adorned in my platform boots.

After my father was ventilated because of COVID-19 complications, I wanted to help battle a pandemic that impacted my family so personally: so, I carried my intentions to my retail job. I volunteered to be the employee who stood at the door and enforced the mask mandate. Upon sight of a maskless customer, my outstretched hand offered a mask and a snarky comment; customers whose small talk at the register included their opinion on the vaccine were met with snippy answers. I’d engage immediately in argument, offended. I was armed with science, yet my efforts were always misconstrued: the numbers I'd memorized seemed to have no impact on people. To try and understand the perspectives of the uninformed, I took my questions to my AP Research class at school. This year, I began study on how COVID-19 hoaxes, conspiracies, and fake news spread on social media. As much as I love social media to share relevant news information with my peers, or stay up-to-date on current events, I realized how much information was unfounded. As much as social media can help connect and educate the world, it also poses a deadly threat: the future doctors and educators of our world have social media as an adversary. The results I've gotten so far have allowed me to understand why some people were vaccine-hesitant, or questioned mask mandates. With so much information being spread at a rate faster than ever, it's easy to get caught up in misleading article titles or false information. With this new information, I realized what I'd been doing wrong. My initial strategy immediately lost any hope of persuasion because I was callous and harsh. By being so combative, I was reinforcing the divide between the viewpoints. Finally, I know how to approach the anti-maskers and vaccine-hesitant people not only in my store, but in my life. Now equipped with empathy and patience, I can open a dialogue to address the roots of one’s concerns.Though data is important, compassion is too. I don't need a degree to make a positive impact on others (though I certainly am excited to have a degree!). I can start now, just by embracing transparency, trust, and honestly in difficult conversations. As an aspiring doctor, I want to make a difference by providing people with the information they need to make an informed decision, not just with immunization, but any medical knowledge. I will exercise patience when in conversation with those who hold differing perspectives from me, because informed decision-making is a right that all deserve. There are many discrepancies and gaps in health care, medical literacy, and education. I hope that, as both a future doctor, educator, friend, family member, or even stranger, I can help others exercise their knowledge to make the best decisions for themselves. After all, the sciences are dynamic fields of study: with new information, researchers must learn and adapt. I want to help others embrace new perspectives, just like my future field of study does.

I’ve always wanted to go into science, yet I once feared the idea that I’d have to drop my hobby, drawing, in order to pursue my professional goals. This changed when I visited the Mutter Museum. Nestled within the narrow, bustling streets of Philadelphia, entering the museum not only offered a sanctuary from the sweltering August heat, but immediately piqued my interest. Situated in the atrium of the museum, I was soon introduced to the bust and belongings of Dr. Thomas Dent Mütter. Considering this stop was initially only on the itinerary because of the gleaming Yelp reviews, I wasn’t too familiar with the physician. Luckily, the placards throughout the museum - alongside some independent reading - acquainted us. Within just a few minutes of being in his assortment of anatomical anomalies, I felt an excitement rise in my spirit. The gross structures from the body fascinated me. I felt a longing for knowledge that I had never felt before, and it was only enhanced as I traveled throughout the museum. The highlight of my first visit to the museum wasn’t Einstein’s brain, as Yelp highlighted: it was the accompanying art gallery. I had the honor of viewing an exhibition entitled, “Connective Tissue" by Lisa Nilsson. The gallery was a curation of paper works detailing the human body from angles I had never seen before. The artist replicated transverse, coronal, and sagittal cross-sections of the human body using strips of fine, colored paper. Nilson intricately folded, twisted, and twirled the paper to duplicate the organic shapes of the human body. As a budding artist and developing admirer of biomedical sciences, I was amazed that she had used such a simple medium to showcase the human body in ways that could not be observed by the human eye unaided. Despite every wet specimen, bone, or preservation in the museum, nothing magnified the slivers of the body as her veristic craftsmanship could. My pilgrimage to the Mutter Museum became an annual event. The following summer, the featured gallery used embroidery, crochet, and strings to depict the human body. Again, I was astonished by how unsophisticated materials were manipulated to contribute to the body of medical knowledge. The yarns, threads, and beads would never be in a research lab. Regardless, I was still inspired from the previous summer. My hands held a sketchbook and B3 pencil. My brain treasured all of my newfound knowledge of the human body. I was much more equipped to link the left and right sides of my brain. My artistic eye actively engaged my curious mind: I’ve since applied this skill in the classroom, or to satisfy my own intellectual curiosity. I practice medical illustration because drawing is an intimate learning experience that allows me to explore the human body and enrich my understanding of anatomy and physiology. If I’m not drawing, I’m admiring the works of Frank Netter, Andreas Vesalius, or Max Brödel. Art is a gateway to scientific discovery and education. In addition to pursuing a research doctorate, I'd love to become qualified as a medical illustrator.The conjunction of scientific reasoning and a creative vision has provided me with a perspective that I will apply to medicine. I have the power of visualization to convey my hypotheses: a powerful tool to communicate ideas, strengthen understanding, and stimulate higher-level thinking. As a doctor and an artist, I believe that I will be able to educate and inform my generation to promote medical literacy: a right that all deserve to exercise.