During my graduate school years, as part of a class on Documentary Photography, I worked on a project titled Arts to Sciences, which reflects who I am and where I belong most of the time—as a graduate student. Initially, it started as a simple project where I wanted to document the transition of a semester using my study table. However, I noticed that despite the books and other items moving around, certain things—like a travel map and Broadway show brochures—remained constant. This struck me as a reflection of my desire to explore the city amidst the academic chaos surrounding me. As the semester progressed, this idea evolved into a broader project: photographing study tables of other students to see what remained consistent in their lives amidst the ever-changing clutter.

As I started photographing study tables, I felt the project was becoming monotonous, so I included people in the pictures, pretending to study. Then, I read Coles’ differentiation between Natural Scientists and Social Scientists. He states, "...careers usually made in the social sciences as a consequence of one's willingness and capacity to move from the specific instance to the more general, the conceptual," and "...we hear of science, a systematic ordering of knowledge presumably based on the sorting and sorting of information..." (Coles, 1997). He defines natural science as specific and orderly, whereas social science is more general and conceptual. Being a natural science student who transitioned into social sciences, I related deeply to what Coles was conveying. This inspired me to study the workspaces of natural science students, such as their labs and desks. I wasn’t able to draw a clear distinction, but I did observe that labs in the natural sciences exuded a sense of order and specificity. An interesting extension to this project would be capturing the workspaces of arts students engaged in pottery and sculpting.

The overarching goal of this project was to explore three different academic realms—natural sciences, social sciences, and the arts—and uncover subtle similarities within their stark differences. I also feel that if academics had a spectrum, arts and sciences would sit on opposite ends, with social sciences lingering somewhere in between.

Determined to expand the project, I started reaching out to gain access to an art room and a science lab. Fortunately, I secured entry into two chemistry labs and a sculpting studio. For social sciences, we primarily have workspaces, so I asked a few friends if I could photograph their cubicles around campus. When I began compiling the pictures, my initial intention was to depict the specificity and order of a science lab, transition to the structured workspaces of social sciences, and end with the chaotic freedom of an arts room. However, as I progressed, I struggled to find three representative pictures from each category to form consistent triptychs. Ultimately, I decided to drop social sciences and instead pair images of sculpting rooms with chemistry labs. Surprisingly, I found more similarities than differences.

Here is the result of my four-month-long project.

REFERENCES

Coles, R. (1997). Doing documentary work. New York Public Library.

Despite our early departure, we still got caught in traffic. When we finally broke free, I found myself in a completely unfamiliar side of Mumbai. We passed through unguarded railway tracks and massive, eerie storage godowns that reminded me of scenes from horror movies—places where people are chased and never seen again. Even in the morning, the area felt so deserted and spooky that I didn’t dare stop for a picture. The search for the bay seemed endless, but after asking several locals and getting lost multiple times, we finally arrived at our destination.

The atmosphere was quiet, with a few photographers already there, their cameras pointed toward distant white specks that barely resembled birds. However, my attention was first drawn to a series of abandoned boats lying in the murky water and a barren tree standing nearby. The scene was disheartening—it looked nothing like the vibrant images I had seen online.

To keep my disappointment from growing, I decided to eat before continuing my exploration. The sandwiches and hot coffee gave me a renewed sense of determination to find the flamingos. It was January, well within the expected season for their presence.

Yet, there were none in sight—at least not within my camera’s range. Frustrated, I decided to leave before Mumbai’s traffic transitioned from vicious to unbearable. As I reached for my car keys, I realized they weren’t in my pocket. Without hesitation, and with my camera still around my neck, I ran back to where I suspected I had dropped them. Thankfully, they were there—losing my car keys on top of not spotting a single flamingo would have been a major setback.

As I made my way back to the car, I noticed a narrow path veering to the left of the broad road, flanked by the sea on both sides. It was littered with filth, yet some people were carefully making their way along it. Intrigued, I decided to follow them and signaled my friend to join me. Navigating the slippery rocks with caution, I soon spotted a group of photographers pointing their lenses beyond a cluster of trees. And there they were—an enormous flock of beautiful white birds, just waiting to be captured! They weren’t the flamingos I had come for, but the sight was still spectacular.

I clicked a few pictures, but the results weren’t great—the sun was in the opposite direction, and my lens lacked the range needed for a clear shot. Still, the moment was worth capturing. As I turned my attention elsewhere, I noticed a solitary tree standing in the middle of the water, its branch appearing to rise directly from the shimmering surface. I never imagined I’d witness such beauty in a city like Mumbai.

The path wasn’t very long, and there was no way to get closer to the birds. I later tried identifying them by asking four bird watchers, consulting friends interested in wildlife photography, and scouring the internet, but I never found a definitive answer. To be honest, I no longer mind—not being pink and not being flamingos, they were a mystery best left unsolved.

As I turned back, I spotted a fisherman casting his net into the water. The deep blue sea seemed to merge seamlessly with the sky. From a distance, I could only capture his silhouette. Nearby, wooden stilt-like structures protruded from the water. Their purpose was unclear, but I guessed they were used to gauge water levels. Apart from the photographers, the fisherman was the only sign of human activity in the bay area.

Satisfied with the day’s discoveries, I finally urged my friend to get in the car. The drive home was another battle against Mumbai’s relentless traffic, but despite the struggles, the experience left me with a newfound appreciation for the hidden pockets of nature within the city.