**This interview was conducted January 2025**
About Dr. Barnes
Would you better describe yourself as a psychologist, neuropsychologist, or neuroscientist?
Behavioural neuroscientist, if that’s okay. On top of that, I like to consider myself a bit of an artist.
How did you know you picked the right field?
Do you mind if I back up and tell you a bit of the story?
Go ahead, please!
I entered a Bachelor of science here at UBC (and actually did all my degrees here). My first year of science was not very pleasurable. Teaching in science has changed quite a bit, but at the time (mid-90s), it was very dry. I remember one chemistry professor reading from his own textbook for an entire two-term course. I was disillusioned and started looking through the list of majors. I tried to choose something I thought was the least science-y, which was listed as a BSc in psychology. I really had no idea what that meant at the time.
Then, in Year 2, I took a class with Dr. Boris Gorzalka, who is now retired. I was totally sold on behavioural neuroscience and neuroscience in general. What caught my attention was the story-driven, contextualized historical approach he and others in the psychology department used. That’s something I’ve tried to emulate in my teaching. By my third undergraduate year, I knew this field was for me. Originally, I had my eyes set on medicine, but that changed quickly.
After that third year, were there any moments that made you question whether you were on the right path?
The first couple months in my master’s degree, I was very intimidated. Suddenly you’re thrown into classrooms of people/students who are just as high calibre as you. And I got quite depressed and got quite sick that year. I had to drop out for a year, so that was tough, but I came back. And I think about halfway through the year that I dropped out, I started working in the lab, not as a student but as an employee of my two PhD supervisors.
What keeps you engaged and prevents burnout?
Great question. I was originally trained as a visual artist. I went to one of these high schools where you have to audition to get in. Once I started undergrad, art was pushed aside because classes were all-consuming, especially if you have your goals set on medical school or grad school. I pushed art to the side right through grad school as well. Around 2006, I began reinvigorating that creative side. Over the last 3-4 years, I’ve realized I need it. Swimming also helps. I swim almost every morning. I just came from swimming in the ocean—it’s cold, but that’s another important thing for me these days.
Do you think it would have been possible to pursue creative or physical activities during undergrad? Would that have improved your university experience?
I tried to take visual arts classes during undergrad. I even auditioned and submitted a portfolio. The problem was that, as a non-major, I got last pick of courses, and I wasn’t happy with the professors I got. That was my initial effort. If I had been more disciplined about doing it, I think it would’ve been good and probably made the process of getting through those degrees a lot smoother.
Would you say your work and art influence one another? If so, how?
Yeah, quite a bit. From 2012 to 2014, I worked on an interactive installation project with a friend during my post-doc at SFU’s School for Interactive Arts and Technology. We drew inspiration from neuroscience, particularly Donald Hebb’s work. Hebb’s ideas are foundational in AI and machine learning. We also drew from Gordon Pask’s work on cybernetics. Cybernetics is a very interesting field; I think people have associations with it that aren’t true to the origins of it. It’s all sort of about interactionism—the idea that you can’t study things in isolation, and that ultimately everything is ecological. We created a vat filled with tin chloride solution. When you pass electrical current through it, it grows wires that follow the current’s flow and look dendritic. We fed sensor inputs from cameras and audio equipment into the vat, recording activity in the studio. Based on the interactions of the gallery visitors, it basically started growing. And what was quite beautiful about it, is in addition to growing when people were active and talking in the space, when the gallery closed at night and there was no one there, it all kind of ungrouped and went back into solution. The reason we were exploring it, is it really was an activity-dependent system that was non-biological, and helped make the point that even inorganic systems have things that are very reminiscent of neural systems.
That’s fascinating! So, from your example, I can definitely see how your creative perspective influences your work and gives you a unique outlook on it.
That’s right.
What is the most challenging part of becoming a behavioural neuroscientist?
Constantly exploring new subfields. The literature is dense, and you have to educate yourself about new biochemical systems, genetic manipulations, etc. It can be daunting. What I found works is reading with no apprehension—just immersing yourself in articles. At first, you don’t understand half of what you’re reading, but with time and effort, things click. When you’re new, you also spot problems insiders might miss, which is actually really helpful.
Do you think there should be more support for grad students, or is it good for them to be independent at the start?
I think a mix is best. You’ll need to be self-directed eventually, but the transition period can be difficult in general. Providing recommended readings when entering grad school helps a lot. And many supervisors do provide them.
So, setting up that general guidance.
Yeah, the foundation, the scaffolding.
And now that you’re very established in your field, what would you say is a challenge that you deal with on a day-to-day basis?
Right now, I’m director of new undergraduate program in neuroscience, which opened in Fall 2022. This is basically a merging of multiple departments. Psychology used to have the behavioural neuroscience program, and that was folded into this new program. That has been challenging. It’s a tri-faculty program, I don’t think there’s another one that I can think of in Canada, where you have three deans and three faculty offices. Basically, having to negotiate with three faculties for any particular decision has been challenging.
A lot of coordination must go into that.
Oh yeah. And you know, you kind of walk into it not appreciating the fact that any time a substantive decision has to be made, you must have three meetings. Actually four, because you meet with each dean separately, and then you have to come together and sort of decide. And different faculties have different budgetary constraints and different motivations, so it can be tricky. So right now, what I’m dealing with is politics, to some degree.
And would you say that that’s been getting easier to manage over time?
I don’t know if easier is the right word, but it’s become part of the job. I’ve become used to it. I expect it. And then I also know how to offset disagreements.
How would you say you offset it?
Well, I mentioned I have to meet with three faculties separately, and that’s critical. Originally, I would walk into these meetings with all three faculties present, and it would just go nowhere. But if you deal with their individual concerns separately, then when they come together those concerns have already been addressed, and things go a lot smoother.
So, by taking a longer approach, it actually goes by a lot quicker.
It does, yeah.
And what would you say is the most rewarding part of your job?
Well right now, it’s nice seeing the first program cohort nearing graduation. Seeing where they’ve come from and where they’re going. It’s just amazing to see what they’re going to do. We’re going to have a party in April for them—you have to for the first graduating class.
If you could give one piece of advice to your past self in undergrad, what would it be?
One thing I would tell my younger self, is to not second-guess myself. That you need to walk into, especially a graduate degree, with a certain degree of self-assurance, and feeling that your ideas are valid. That your concerns about a field and your questions about the validity of a field of research are valid. You can approach people who are in that field and question their assumptions without them necessarily being offended. That’s the spirit of academia, right? Now some people will be offended, but in general that’s the spirit. You have to maintain that spirit. Also, it’s important to be receptive to criticism, and to not take it too personally. It’s hard not to, but it’s something that comes with growth and experience.
That’s great advice. If I can ask, how long do you think it took for you to reach that level of self-assurance?
Yeah, I think it was when I was defending my PhD thesis. What I always remember is I was walking into my defense, and my PhD supervisor, who was a fantastic person, now retired, told me “No one in this room knows this material better than you.” And you always walk into these situations, even after that, where you feel like someone’s going to poke a hole in you. But again, after studying a graduate degree and a topic like that for so long, 6 years, you are the expert.
So, I guess that self-assurance really comes with the experience.
It comes with the experience, and sort of dipping your feet in different things. For these days, for example, I do a lot of visual artworks, and I do what I do here at UBC. And just taking pride in having multiple things going on in your life, because it brings unique perspective.
Thank you for answering and thank you for your time! It’s been very great!
Feel free to check out some of Dr. Barnes’ fantastic artwork on his website:
Interview conducted and transcribed by Lily Moteva & Alyssa Wood
