View Large Image | View Hi-Res Image | Download PowerPoint SlideIrene Miguel-Aliaga is Professor of Genetics and Physiology at Imperial College London and Programme Leader at the London MRC London Institute of Medical Sciences. Following completion of a PhD with Kay Davies at the University of Oxford, she explored how neurons acquire their identity during postdoctoral work, first with Stefan Thor at Harvard and Linkoping University and then with Alex Gould at NIMR (now Crick Institute), London. Irene has an interest in cellular and organ plasticity. First at Cambridge and now in London, her research group is exploring the mechanisms by which organs sense and respond to change: the molecules, cellular events and physiological adaptations involved. Their work has primarily focused on the fly intestine and its neurons, which they have used to discover that digestive systems know their sex, are resized and reprogrammed during reproduction, and use their neurons to orchestrate metabolic adaptations to malnutrition and reproduction. Irene was elected to the EMBO YIP programme in 2012 and is the recipient of an ERC Starting Grant. You can follow what her lab is up to on Twitter @FlyGutLab.What turned you on to biology in the first place? As a little girl I was not fond of princesses. I preferred to star gaze, walk on wet grass, watch raindrops and draw different kinds of bugs — it all felt so exotic from the flat in urban Barcelona where I grew up. That girl turned into an easily bored bookworm who, having read Carl Sagan’s Cosmos, Gerald Durrell’s My Family and other Animals and Jane Goodall’s accounts of what it’s like to live with chimpanzees in Africa, wondered whether she might be able to turn her independence and scientific mind into some sort of adventure. As a teenager, I got a bit distracted by a saxophone and the discovery of other humans, so I guess it was Boris Vian and his two wonderful books L’Arrache-coeur and, particularly, L’Herbe Rouge, that revived my passion for science. He seamlessly combined science with humour, music, romanticism, politics and a taste for absurdity, making it part of an everyday adventure that suddenly seemed a lot less remote from my own existence.I loved learning about biology, first at university but also well into my postdoc. But it was a time also plagued with self-doubt. Would I be smart enough? Would I have what it takes, whatever that might be? It took me a long time to realise that I was trying too hard to conform and be like everyone else, when I should have been nurturing what was different. Gaining that self-awareness and developing more confidence not only felt liberating, but it greatly improved my science thereafter.What do you like most about your job? It indulges my incurable and persistent curiosity. I am also a very visual person; I seem to derive joy from anything that looks beautiful or striking, and this includes the scientific images we generate. But I guess my main drive is that I just love questions — unexpected, logically structured questions. If they’re really good questions, I don’t even mind if they are not answered! I feel privileged to make a living out of asking them, and I am particularly pleased when, through the efforts of everyone in the lab, we manage to find unexpected answers to some of them. So I like surprises too… like most of us.My science also seems to have turned out to be rather personal and visceral in more ways than one — perhaps this is why we work with guts. I first realised this soon after the birth of my two children as I was writing a paper about how physiology changes during reproduction. I think it was Polanyi who said that there is no science without passion and, in my case, my scientific output has been, at times, reflective of my personal passions and obsessions.So what scientific questions excite you? In the lab, I find plasticity fascinating — are some cells or cellular states more plastic than others at every level? If so, why? Our recent work suggests that the plasticity of gut cells is sexually dimorphic. Female cells are more plastic — does that make them less stable, robust, resourceful or prone to crash? When cellular plasticity is considered at the organ level, these questions acquire behavioural and physiological implications; in the context of sex differences, is the sole purpose of this enhanced plasticity in females to allow the organ/organism to cope with reproduction?But I am generally interested in all sorts of things. As a community, we are working on so few of them — often with several people tackling the same question in exactly the same way. And we are often unable to answer the simple yet fascinating questions that a curious child may ask. If you buy me a beer, I will go on about how we may have become excessively fixated with genes and epigenetics, and I am always curious about alternative mechanisms of information transfer. I also find it intriguing that single cells can display agency and behaviours that we often attribute to complex intercellular processes in multicellular organisms (e.g. perseverance, decision making). What is that saying about how we study these processes? As seasons go by, I am also fascinated by how much they do to our biology and how little we know about it.Do you have any scientific heroes? I do have my own favourite scientific minds, conflicted and unorthodox, with whom I enjoy talking over drinks or dinner. But I try not to have scientific heroes — they often fail to live up to the hype and we already have too much of a celebrity culture in biology. I have spent too many dinners discussing Dr. X and Prof. Y. It is hard not to do it because we all like stories full of heroes and villains, and grey areas can be boring. But a good storyteller should be able to tell an enticing and memorable story of an amazing finding and the long, arduous path to its discovery — which may include many people we have not even heard of.Any advice for someone starting a career in science? There may not be one-size-fits-all advice — some people listen to others too much, some should listen more. But perhaps we should all try to have fun. The older generation managed it very well, but younger scientists seem to find it harder because of various pressures — short-term funding etc. Finding joy in what you do may require pursuing your interests and passions, even if they are unusual. In my case, this involved cataloguing different kinds of fly excreta, which at the time was met with a mixture of amusement at best and scepticism and disgust at worst. But I have faith in fun; that work led to many of the projects and findings that have kept us motivated, productive and funded in recent years. It also left me with an excellent collection of poo memorabilia, which may be my most significant contribution to the next generation.Do you feel a push towards more applied science? Should we still use model systems? We need to acknowledge the difference between ‘applied’ and ‘human’. There seems to be a push towards using human material in research (e.g. embryonic stem cells, organoids, patient tissue) with the underlying assumption that we can only prevent or treat human disease by studying human disease. But we can also improve human health by understanding human health, as well as the bacteria that infect us, the pests that eat our crops, the mosquitoes that bite us and the parasites that are costly to livestock producers. With this broader picture in mind, should we still use model systems? Absolutely. I have always wondered what ‘model’ means anyway — model for what? It sounds too hypothesis-driven. It seems to me that an effective path to translation is to use whatever organism/system is likely to lead to new findings (Drosophila is a powerful example) and then explore any potential applications of such findings. The latter process may require a bit of lateral, outside-the-box thinking; the CRISPR story provides an obvious example. Another example closer to my PhD work is the work on alternative splicing — a fundamental cellular process — that led to the development of nusinersen: a promising drug for the treatment of spinal muscular atrophy. Nurturing and funding such creativity and lateral thinking is key to effective translation.How else can we do better science? I often see the lab as a building site that needs builders, bulldozers and surveyors. Relentless data generation can send you down the wrong scientific path, too much revolutionising/dogma-breaking and nothing meaningful will get built, and continuously checking the foundations may stall progress. So a scientific team needs builders, bulldozers and surveyors in the right ratio. Because they’re not following an architect’s plan, the team will also need time to fail, prove themselves wrong, wonder how and why, and start again. The current system is not particularly conducive to this process and could benefit from longer-term funding, publishing less and providing vehicles (journals, talk formats) to present, report and discuss negative results.How about the work–life balance? Another phrase we could do without… It makes it sound like work is bad and life is good, and that they must be distinct. Just as I bring science to my life — for example by mixing cream of tartar, baking soda and food dyes to make bath bombs with my little girls — we should bring more life to the workplace by making it more ‘friends and family’ friendly. Research institutes should have nurseries, bars, green open spaces and somewhere to nap. Sleep–life balance: that is a better concept… I could also go on for hours about how we underestimate the importance of sleep!If you hadn’t made it as a scientist, what would you have become? A failed novelist, a lousy saxophone player AND a tormented wanabee astronaut. Or a time traveller. So it’s just as well that I have made it.