Dream big

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An Earth scientist, Kathy Sullivan spends many hours contemplating the world around her and how its systems work. But unlike most Earthbound scientists, she has also studied the planet from a space-shuttle window.

In an attempt to sate her curiosity, Sullivan has held several 'dream' jobs in one lifetime: astronaut, Naval reserve captain, presidential appointee and science adviser at the Center of Science and Industry museum in Columbus, Ohio. For her, going from field expeditions to space exploration seemed like a natural progression, though she realizes that hopping through wildly different career options is not for everyone. "It has never been about titles or pay cheques," she says. For Sullivan, it's about discovery and sharing her story.

Scientists who tap into the artistic and adventurous sides of their personalities, like Sullivan, have great stories to share. They use the same problem-solving and technical expertise required for any scientific work, along with extras such as a creative urge, an appreciation of aesthetics or a desire to whet the public's curiosity. On these pages, some of those who have found success in the aerospace, museum and entertainment arenas provide tips for anyone seeking their own dream job.

Space stars: Kathy Sullivan and Kenyatta Ruffin.NASA

Astronaut-scientists tend to be generalists and self-starters, like Loren Acton, a solar physicist at Montana State University in Bozeman, who flew into space in 1985 as a payload specialist. He oversaw experiments in solar energy, biology and cosmology. Acton says his experience in flying instruments on rockets and his ability to work to deadlines landed him the job. Even so, he admits the pressures of space science got to him.

"I overdosed on responsibility," he says. In an intense week, he agonized about a couple of blunders that wrecked experiments. In space, there are no second chances — a fact that can catch researchers unaware.

Acton and Sullivan note that chances for scientists to enter the astronaut corps in mid-career, as they did, have fallen to almost zero, especially given the uncertainty surrounding the shuttle programme. But these lessons also apply to scientists sending research into space from the ground, as Acton still does with rocket-based instruments and satellites.

First Lieutenant Kenyatta Ruffin hopes to become a pilot astronaut, following a more traditional path from Air Force fighter pilot to test pilot and finally to NASA. A degree in aeronautical engineering was the first step towards being entrusted with a $25-million aircraft.

Ruffin says that flying F-16 Falcons requires as much maths as machismo. He has to calculate those dreaded word problems — if a plane on your radar is 40 miles away and travelling 5 miles a minute, how many minutes before you are in critical range? — in his head. The job also requires a working knowledge of your aircraft and weapons systems as well as those of the enemy.

Problem-solving in his "office at 20,000 feet going at the speed of sound" differs from other scientific disciplines, Ruffin says. But he enjoys approaching problems from many equally acceptable directions. After all, an aerospace-engineering degree could also land you in a job like Christine Lear's, designing Formula 1 race cars for the Sauber-Petronas team in Basel, Switzerland (see Nature 431, 736–738; 2004).

And all high-flying scientists must possess one trait: courage under fire. Sullivan asks: "When things start getting scary or ugly, how do you respond?"

The big picture: top, Randy Olson between actors Ben Stiller and Dustin Hoffman, with conservationist Scott Burns, far right; above, the artwork for Olson's forthcoming film.M. SULLIVAN/WIREIMAGE.COM

If things turn ugly where Hank Driskill works, he simply sends everyone back to the drawing boards, at Walt Disney Feature Animation in Burbank, California. Like other scientists in the world of Hollywood entertainment, Driskill had an early love of both science and art.

He was inspired in high school by video-arcade games and the movie Tron, which featured a hero trapped inside a computer system. He thought how someone must create those digitized worlds, and says "I realized these people were using math and science to do art". While pursuing a doctorate in computer science, Driskill attended the large computer-graphics conference SIGGRAPH as a student volunteer, aiming to meet people working at visual-effects studios.

Projects he has worked on include designing software tools to simulate the muscle and skin of a Godzilla-like character, dragon fireballs in the live-action movie Reign of Fire, and billows of smoke and spray in Apollo 13. He draws heavily on his physics background to evoke realistic simulations of fire, fluid and cloth dynamics. He notes that the science and art don't always mesh perfectly when eye-pleasing entertainment is the bottom line.

One might imagine Disney's computer scientists zooming around on scooters wearing mouse ears, but, Driskill says, the fun environment is also a serious one, aiming to produce beautiful and lasting films.

Dan Spitzley, a video-game programmer with Obsidian Entertainment in Santa Ana, says he and his colleagues do a fair amount of game-playing, but also put in long hours to get games on the shelves.

Obsidian focuses on role-playing games such as the forthcoming Neverwinter Nights 2, which call for the creation of complex character–player interactions, fantasy worlds and reward systems for advancement. "It's an interesting beast that requires knowledge of many different programming disciplines — graphics, databases, compilers, dialogue tools," says Spitzley, contrasting it with business-software design.

These computer scientists consider themselves entertainers and say that an eye for aesthetics and a love of the product is a must for success.

Cutting edge: Dan Spitzley and Obsidian's Knights of the Old Republic II.LUCASARTSJ. MORGAN

"If you don't play games and understand what it is about them that gamers expect, your products will reflect that," says Spitzley. Both he and Driskill encourage newcomers to read up on industry magazines or interview industry leaders to understand the business. And play around with available software tools to create a demo game or visual effect.

Marine biologist Randy Olson — a writer-director with a PhD in biology from Harvard — has similar advice for scientists who might want to leap into film-making, as he did a decade ago.

"Just start shooting film," he says. With current technology, anyone can become an amateur director. Olson left a tenured position at the University of New Hampshire in 1994 to attend film school at the University of Southern California.

He has tried screenwriting and directs the Shifting Baselines public awareness campaign on ocean decline, rubbing elbows with celebrity conservationists. Most recently, he has just finished Flock of Dodos: The Evolution–Intelligent Design Circus, which he describes as a "polite Michael Moore film". Olson travelled to his home state of Kansas and other parts of the country to challenge proponents of intelligent design.

"It's been almost 15 years for me and I'm still not a billionaire," Olson jokes. "But it's extremely gratifying and fun." Olson sees himself as a communicator conveying serious scientific messages through humour and popular media.

A Hollywood career requires working and communicating with people "whose brains work differently from yours", says Driskill. Competition among players in this world also has a different spin from that of academia. "It's a great friendly sense of one-upmanship. We want people to keep upping the artistic bar," Driskill says.

The artistic bar is considerably lower for the crayon art at the Butterfly Pavilion in Westminster, Colorado, but the environment is no less enchanting. Entomologist Mary Ann Colley is the acting curator at the only free-standing insect zoo in the United States. In the middle of a Colorado winter, the conservatory holds a tropical rainforest and 1,200 free-flying Lepidoptera, Colley says, as a palm-sized blue mountain swallowtail flashes cyan over her shoulder.

The pavilion is seeking a PhD entomologist to become curator, a job that Colley says includes a little bit of everything from research to paying the bills. Colley answers lots of questions from visitors and the public — including how to cure a family's ailing pet scorpion. Pavilion scientists also perform lifespan and breeding studies that will help exhibitions run more effectively. Colley is also a natural with children, which is essential as there are 36,000 school visitors each year.

"You have to know your stuff when kids ask the really big questions," says Olympia Brown, Science for Schools coordinator at the Royal Institution in London. Brown's passion for the history and philosophy of science led her to work in public outreach. She uses her broad view of science to help scientists and educators figure out exciting ways to demonstrate and present ideas to children aged from 8 to 18.

Brown warns, though, that one key skill cannot be learned. "You need the ability to infect other people with your enthusiasm," she says. Both she and Colley suggest testing the water by working as a volunteer at outreach events or museums before seeking a job.

Astronomer Ka Chun Yu, curator of space science at the Denver Museum of Nature and Science, spends his time under the stars in the Gates planetarium and the Space Odyssey exhibition, which combines a lesson on the planets with the flashing lasers of a Star Trek set. Yu was originally hired to revamp the planetarium with an interactive, immersive show in which a visitor 'navigates' through a digital simulation of the Universe.

It was a "continuously interesting project", he says, that used both his astronomy background and computer-programming skills. Museum research differs from his graduate work on star formation, says Yu. "I'm blazing a path without much guidance. But I'm doing something that is radically different from what has been done before — and that's important to all scientists."