Tell us about yourself!
My name is Tanishka — I am a resident doctor, fine artist and environmentalist invested in propagating how art and the medical humanities can improve clinical care. As a multimedia artist, I use art to connect emotions and stories with evidence-based research to accelerate action. As a healthcare professional, I also believe making and experiencing art can promote culturally sensitive care, build empathy, observation skills and a crucial tolerance for ambiguity. At present, I am particularly interested in using art as a health and climate advocacy tool — a practice known as Artivism. Clinically, my areas of interest include anaesthesia and critical care, with special interests in quality improvement and planetary health.
Can you tell us a bit about your research project Do No Harm: Reflections on Healthcare?
Do No Harm: Reflections on Healthcare (DNH) is a public-facing exhibition series and research project advocating for planetary health awareness, a concept which acknowledges the intrinsic link between human health and natural systems. This project has been the culmination of my Wattle Fellowship, supported by Australian organisations Doctors for the Environment Australia, CLIMARTE and Medical Pantry. The exhibition debuted in October 2025, bringing together 10 artists, 39 works, over 400 attendees and stakeholders spanning national climate bodies and local government. DNH will also form the basis of an impact evaluation exploring Artivism as an intervention in encouraging planetary health-conscious attitudes to motivate climate action.
What is the meaning behind your piece, ‘Reclamation’, and what have you learned about the carbon emissions derived from intravenous anaesthesia?
This work was actually inspired by a research piece published in the British Journal of Anaesthesia titled Environmental and financial impacts of perioperative paracetamol use: a multicentre international life-cycle assessment (Davies et. al, 2024).
‘Reclamation’ stages a quiet meeting between endings and beginnings. Cleaned intravenous drug vials cradle seed pods from Australian native flora, bringing together two opposing forces: sterility and vitality. Australian native seed pods — species evolved to survive cycles of drought, fire, and renewal — stand as powerful symbols of resilience and hope. The numerous discarded IV vials represent opportunities to opt for more sustainable clinical care, premised on data that shows intravenous paracetamol has 12-fold greater life-cycle carbon emissions than the oral tablet form. Glass vials also have higher greenhouse-gas emissions than plastic vials. So, I hoped to connect the themes of hope and opportunity with the message that intravenous administration should be sustainably reserved for when oral formulations are not feasible.
I remember reading this paper for the first time and realising I was underestimating the power of daily decisions. It shifted something in me. We rarely stop to attach our values and emotions to data. ‘Reclamation’ was an ode to how small collective actions can compound to real change over time — which can even begin with de-prescribing IV paracetamol where appropriate to minimise carbon emissions.
Has your experience as an artist shaped the way you practise medicine? Do any of your skills as an artist translate to your work as a doctor with interests in anaesthesia?
One of the core aspects of my journey is advocating for the combination of knowledge systems. Science-based research and artistic practices are both investigative methodologies which can be synergised to offer us rich frameworks to navigate the world.
As a resident, I’ve grown to love scientific certainty — protocols, textbooks and peer reviewed papers are the cornerstone of my learning. However, in my first few years of practice, I’ve equally realised that actual patient care can be steeped in uncertainty. Humans are complex, sometimes unpredictable, and the scaffolds we build to make clinical decisions never entirely resolve us of this. These areas of uncomfortable grey are exactly what the humanities can teach us to reckon with. The arts don’t shy away from open-ended answers, but flourish in the depth of the unknown. Engaging with the arts teaches us to slow down, look deeper and contemplate. They let us reflect, debrief and process on occasions when outcomes are unexpected. Many of the anaesthetists I’ve been mentored by echo the importance of this, particularly in cases of crisis management or high acuity care. Indeed, we are rarely taught how to emotionally reflect on the work we do.
I also acknowledge that scientific data is not always accessible or communicated in ways that suit every learning style. Exploring data visualisation in my artistic practice has shown me how visual impact can help us communicate effectively. Giving patients agency and democratising evidence-based medicine is about empowering informed patient-centred care.
How do you think the arts can help push for more sustainable healthcare practices, particularly in anaesthesia?
Art helps us imagine alternative futures, visualise difficult concepts, use multiple senses to solidify understanding, and develop a tolerance for ambiguity that is crucial to problem solving. It can offer hope by presenting narratives of resilience, collaboration, and innovation. By centring storytelling, art draws on the knowledge systems of various cultures and indigenous communities who exemplify environmental stewardship. And ultimately art transcends language, and socioeconomic and cultural barriers. All it asks for is an open mind and a willingness to engage.
Anaesthetists also continue to exemplify how they are well-placed to be leaders in sustainable healthcare. Many mentors I’ve had the privilege of learning from steward high-value, low-carbon care by limiting interventions which don’t benefit a patient’s quality of life, engaging in quality improvement to minimise low-value care, considering minimally-invasive ways to optimise pain and recovery (hypnotherapy sounds fascinating!), and educating patients about preventative care.
Ultimately, if we hope to accelerate sustainable reform amidst a climate crisis, as health professionals we must be opportune in how we inject moments to reflect and reconsider our actions. I believe curated art in public, educational and clinical spaces can help accelerate this.
Dr Tanishka Brahmanand
Resident Doctor, Austin Health and The University of Melbourne, Victoria, Australia
Find more of Tanishka’s work on her…
website: tanishka.au
instagram: @ByTanishka
linkedIn: Tanishka Brahmanand
Images by Sanjaka Wickremasinghe
Want to find out more about the intersections between art and anaesthesia? Visit Between Feeling and Unfeeling, running until April 2027.
Your work changes the scale at which a clinical decision can be seen. A single discarded vial is small enough to ignore. The same choice, repeated across a system thousands of times a day, is large enough to matter. Art holds those two scales in one frame.
That is why the vials and seed pods work. They do not accuse anyone. They slow the automatic gesture down long enough for a thrown-away object to become legible: a decision with consequences that outlast the case.
And it lets the clinician feel the link before it hardens into another abstract obligation. A number in a life-cycle study asks to be believed. An object you once held asks to be reconsidered.