cynthiagealach

Independent But Not Alone: Making Your First Solo Research Project Work

(about 40% of the full text you will find here on Ko-fi)

Choosing your first independent project can feel like standing at a crossroads with no signs. After university, many of us discover that support networks vanish, replaced by the pressure to get “any stable job.” While some family guidance can help, it’s your own self-knowledge — your skills, interests, and resilience — that will guide you through burnout and uncertainty.

When I went to Japan for my thesis in Religions and Philosophies of Eastern Asia, preparation was my lifeline: language skills, a strong network of local friends, cultural immersion, and precise planning. These steps let me collect rare research materials, connect with people beyond the textbook, and still have space for rest and community.

Solo doesn’t mean isolated — it means building a quiet network that will carry you through. In my full post on Ko-fi, I share practical advice, field lessons, and preparation tips for making your first project truly yours.

Read the full article and get early access to upcoming posts on the future of research mobility and global talent flows — available through Membership (on Ko-fi) only.

This post is part of my upcoming Ko-fi series on independent research and creative work.

Supporters will get early access to the next two articles:

🔹 The New Geography of Research: Why Mobility Still Matters in a Fractured World (Coming Soon)

🔹 Where Talent Gets Stuck: Countries That Are Losing Their Researchers (Coming Soon)

🌱 Finding Community Without a Department

Solo work can feel isolating—but it doesn’t have to be. Sometimes, community isn’t made of colleagues in your field. It can be found in artist collectives, local archives, librarians, or online writing rooms.

I’ll offer some unconventional ways I’ve stayed connected while working outside the system.

🤍 Why “Solo” Doesn’t Mean “Alone”

One of the myths we’re breaking here is that independence means isolation.

Instead, I believe in quiet support systems: the friend who checks in, the online group that reads your drafts, the quiet reader sipping tea in another part of the world who sees your project and says “yes.”

This space—right here—is one of those systems.

— Cyn

🖋️ The Inkwell by Cynthia C. — Now Live on Ko-fi

Support My Work & Read the Full Articles on Ko-fi

Hello dear readers,

Over the years, I’ve poured heart, time, and deep reflection into the articles and essays you’ve found here. From cultural insights, ethical analysis, travel stories, reflections…I’ve always aimed to offer not just content—but meaningful conversation.

🌿 Now, I’m taking the next step:

You can now support my work on Ko-fi!

By contributing, you’ll help me dedicate more time to writing, researching for side-projects that would otherwise be left locked in a drawer , and producing the thoughtful, in-depth posts you’ve told me you appreciate.

In return, supporters will get exclusive access to the full-length versions of my newest work, early releases, and more behind-the-scenes reflections.

There is much speculation and exploitation in the Research communities (and apparently in Rome particularly from political influences), and having saw my materials being used by others that have not even said a thank-you to me, I have now to put a stop to even conversations with university ex-colleagues and allow those who care about not only their results, but of the worker behind the data they need, to benefit from exclusive access.

🔗 Visit and support here:

👉 ko-fi.com/cynthiacalzolari

📝 What You’ll Find on Ko-fi

On my Ko-fi page, I’ll be publishing:

🧠 Full analyses of themes I only touch on here;

📜 Unpublished chapters or essays I’ve been working on quietly for years;

✍️ Behind-the-scenes notes on research, inspiration, and thought process;

🎁 Bonus material for those who support monthly or one-time.

Every article will still have a preview here on WordPress, but if you want the full piece and to be part of my creative process, Ko-fi is where I’ll be posting it all.

🔍 What You’ll Find in 2025

Every month, I’ll be publishing exclusive material for readers, researchers, and those curious about cultural work across borders.

Here’s what’s coming:

🧳 Research & Opportunities Abroad

Where to find international research opportunities and how to prepare;

What to expect before starting an independent project (with no supervisors);

How to approach a short-term research stay in Japan;

Cultural breakdowns from firsthand experience in Italy, France, Japan, Germany, and the UK.

🌍 Mobility, Migration & Reflection

Brexit is not the end — real opportunities still exist in the UK;

Where young researchers, freelancers, and creatives are moving in 2025 ? ;

Are some countries becoming inhospitable to researchers? (And what does it mean if they are?)

☕ Why I Chose Ko-fi

As an independent researcher, I often work without institutional frameworks.

That means no set funding, no built-in support—only my experience, tools, and ongoing curiosity.

Ko-fi allows me to keep writing, illustrating, and sharing freely—even between formal projects.

If something I write resonates with you, teaches you something new, or inspires your journey,

you can now support my work directly:

👉 ko-fi.com/cynthiacalzolari

Whether it’s a one-time coffee or a monthly gesture—it truly makes a difference.

🩷 Why This Matters

Writing independently has always meant freedom—but never ease. Every share, comment, and bit of support counts. If you’ve ever found something meaningful in my writing, I invite you to join me on Ko-fi to help sustain and grow this space.

With appreciation,

Cynthia C.

✒️ The Inkwell

———

#IndependentResearch #ResearchAbroad #LifeInJapan #CulturalWork #AcademicNomad #YoungResearchers #DigitalNomads2025 #FundingYourResearch #ItalyToJapan #KoFiCreators #PostBrexitOpportunities

Ink between the days

It’s a rainy evening here in the South Pacific.

The kind of rain that doesn’t storm its way through the landscape, but folds itself into the darkness —thickening it, perfuming it, softening everything it touches. The clouds have lingered since late afternoon, and now the wind moves lazily between the palms, slow and salt-sweet.

Strangely familiar to my memory this kind of rain settles on the garden with weight—steady, silvered, not dramatic but constant. It’s not just the temperature that has shifted, but something subtler. A quiet slowing. The light drapes itself low across the late afternoon, and by evening, a soft gloom has gathered outside.

Winter’s breath still hovered in the evenings and mornings, even while the afternoons radiate with summer’s leftover brilliance. The warmth would surge in, bold and insistent, only to be replaced again by that cooling, unsettled dusk. I step out early, wrapped in a scarf, and by noon i can discover a nicely sunny and warm enough day while swimming in the Pacific.

Disorienting and beautiful. I feel some of that season change.

And here we are, comfort-writing with my first Blog entry for my Inkwell – my space.

But, WHY this title?

Because I am probably one of the rare humans left to have learned to write using a true ink pen. Not a cartridge fountain pen. Not a disposable. But one that needed to be dipped—held thoughtfully, refilled, cared for. I still remember the particular scratch of the nib on the page, the way the ink would pool slightly if I paused too long.

I learned to be careful with my gestures, to be intentional.

Ink taught me that ideas take space and time..and carry values, intentions, commitment.

As an archaeologist, I can’t help but look at this simple fact with a certain awareness.

As a cultural anthropologist, I’ve continued to observe how our methods of expression change—and what they reveal about the kind of attention we give to our tools, and to each other.

I’ve always had a passion for inks and brushes—not only in the scripts I know best (Italian, English, French), but also Japanese, which opened a world of form and discipline that continues to inspire me.

My admiration extends across other cultures too—Arabic, Chinese, Korean—where calligraphy still holds reverence, where writing is both language and art, movement and meditation.

The Inkwell Blog will be a space apart from my journal. Less focused on professional reflections and more rooted in the quiet rituals and practices that form the undercurrent of my days.

This is where I’ll explore personal passions—calligraphy, tea, gardening—not only as hobbies but as cultural expressions, deeply intertwined with the places and cultures I’ve studied, lived, and learned from.

I want to explore and present the way these traditions still live and breathe—not only in ceremonies or textbooks, but in small, daily choices: the way I brew a pot of tea, the way I trim a garden branch, or the way at times I need to reach for my brush rather than a keyboard.

These are not distractions. They are forms of attention. Of care.

And tonight, with this week rain, I feel this.

So here begins The Inkwell Blog.

A small space. A steady practice. And outside, with the rain that still speaks.

My latest independent project in New Caledonia (FR)

*View of the Western Coast of Province Sud – New Caledonia (FR) 2014.*

It all started with this photo I took while travelling South towards Ile des Pins, in 2014.

I was with a colleague from Finland, and we had decided to head south to reflect on some problems we had faced over the past weeks while travelling from Nouméa to the North – she was preparing her PhD project, and I was working on my Master’s thesis in which I was already considering issues related to the environment.

While on a boat we were talking about challenges and difficulties met and would have been worth already a whole academic study, when all of a sudden, whilst looking over the sea horizon towards the coast, my sight got captured by what seemed an historical building, which at the beginning I had failed to identify: it seemed clinging on the remains of a submerged coral coast…and so I started to reflect on what I was seeing, and what I couldn’t but was unfolding as a scenario I would have found some years ago as confirmed and consolidated.

Even if that was only 10 year ago, coastal erosion wasn’t really an internationally shared concern at that time: increased attention for this is consequence of the Glasgow COP, when representatives of the Pacific Islands got a chance to explain to the rest of the world how their homes, their islands indeed are disappearing…now – and how this is a problem that connects us all.

From this moment, whilst the public opinion starts to understand this as being part of the consequences of climate change and ways global warming is impacting people lives, the increased interest will lean towards possible solutions to support cities and countries worldwide – one of the most famous examples being New York City for instance building structures in order to prevent sea levels rising eating away the coastline.

Italy had already got a chance to learn about this problem though, and that was in Venice when at the end of the 1900s it was starting one of the most ambitious projects ever seen on the territory, a serie of mobile gates known as M.o.S.e : it would have become active in 2020 protecting the lagoon and its architectural treasures from flooding, high tides and sea rise -which had dramatically increased over the last years affecting tourism and leaving empty stores in Piazza San Marco for many months.

Despite these examples, there has never been a continuum of reflections and programmes as the global situation would demand especially from rich countries: as too often happens, everyone was minding its own little garden not looking much farther .

After having finished a project supported by the Japan Foundation in 2020, I had got a chance to be back to New Caledonia in 2022, and finally in 2024 a project I had proposed to the European Union and Goethe Institut got approved and supported for a short research grant.

This has allowed me to study and analyse the way historical building of New Caledonia (a French Overseas territory) are affected by climate change and how locals are working in order to tackle risks posed by extreme weather conditions.

I had got the chance to talk to many in charge for cultural heritage on different levels, and understand how indeed, for both preservation and safeguard, there is no common programme at all – which is clearly quite risky and dangerous on the long term.

This time I’ve got in contact with a charity that has worked on several restoration projects, and was invited to be part of a workshop where I was able to introduce some students from the countryside communities to the reality of this – I have used photos taken during the restoration works to show them what extreme weather conditions damages look like, and discussed with them the importance of specialised interventions in order to preserve particularly degradable materials like wood and glass.

More from this work will be presented next month as I will take part in a conference at the St. Andrew’s University of Scotland, meanwhile I’m implementing some side projects that I hope I will be allowed to finalise through a PhD.

If you’re interested about this and want to follow the process feel free to keep an eye on this blog and my instagram page…and write me!

Tout commençait avec cette photo que j’avais pris en voyageant vers Île des Pins, dans le Sud, en 2014.

J’étais avec une collègue finlandaise et nous avions décidé de partir vers le sud pour réfléchir à certains problèmes auxquels nous avions été confrontés pendant les dernières semaines lors d’un voyage de Nouméa vers le Nord – elle préparait son projet de doctorat et moi je travaillais sur ma thèse de Master’s (dans lequel je réfléchissais déjà aux questions liées à l’environnement).

Alors que sur un bateau nous parlions des défis et des difficultés rencontrés et qui auraient déjà valu toute une étude académique, quand tout d’un coup, alors que je regardais l’horizon de la mer vers la côte, mon regard s’est arrêté sur ce qui semblait être un bâtiment historique, que je n’avais pas réussi à identifier au début : il semblait accroché aux restes d’une côte corallienne submergée… et j’ai donc commencé à réfléchir à ce que je voyais, et à ce que je ne pouvais pas voir mais allait se dérouler comme un scénario que j’aurais trouvé il y a quelques années, très bien confirmé et consolidé.

Il y a seulement 10 ans que ça se passé, mais l’érosion côtière n’était pas vraiment une préoccupation internationale à ce moment-là: une attention accrue à ce sujet est une conséquence de la COP de Glasgow, où les représentants des îles du Pacifique ont eu l’occasion d’expliquer au reste de la communauté internationale comment leurs maisons, leurs îles, disparaissent… dans ce moment – et comment c’est un problème qui nous relie tous.

À partir de ça, alors que l’opinion publique commence à comprendre les conséquences du changement climatique et comment le réchauffement climatique affecte déjà la vie des gens, l’intérêt croissant se portera vers des solutions possibles pour soutenir les villes et les pays du monde entier – l’un des plus célèbres des exemples étant la ville de New York, qui a construit des structures afin d’empêcher que la montée du niveau de la mer puisse ronger le littoral.

L’Italie avait déjà eu l’occasion de se renseigner sur ce problème, et c’était à Venise lorsqu’à la fin des années 1900 elle commençait l’un des projets les plus ambitieux jamais vus sur le territoire, une série de portes mobiles connues sous le nom de M.o.S.e : il serait devenu actif en 2020 pour protéger la lagune et ses trésors architecturaux des inondations, des marées hautes et de la montée de la mer – qui ont considérablement augmenté ces dernières années, affectant le tourisme et laissant les magasins vides sur la place Saint-Marc pendant de nombreux mois.

Malgré ces exemples, il n’y a jamais eu un continuum de réflexions et de programmes comme la situation mondiale l’exigerait, notamment de la part des pays riches : comme cela arrive trop souvent, chacun s’occupait de son petit jardin sans aller voir beaucoup plus loin.

Après avoir terminé un projet soutenu par la Japan Foundation en 2020, j’ai eu la chance de retourner en Nouvelle-Calédonie en 2022, et finalement en 2024 un projet que j’avais proposé à l’Union européenne et au Goethe Institut a été approuvé et soutenu pour une short-research grant .

Cela m’a permis d’étudier et d’analyser la manière dont les bâtiments historiques de Nouvelle-Calédonie (territoire français d’outre-mer) sont affectés par le changement climatique et comment les habitants travaillent pour faire face aux risques posés par les conditions météorologiques extrêmes.

J’ai eu l’occasion de discuter avec de nombreux responsables du patrimoine culturel à différents niveaux et de comprendre qu’en effet, tant pour la préservation que pour la sauvegarde, il n’existe aucun programme commun – ce qui est clairement assez risqué et dangereux à long terme.

Cette fois, j’ai pris contact avec une association caritative qui a travaillé sur plusieurs projets de restauration et j’ai été invité à participer à un atelier où j’ai pu faire découvrir la réalité à quelques étudiants des communautés rurales – j’ai utilisé des photos prises lors des travaux de restauration pour leur montrer à quoi ressemblent les dommages causés par les conditions climatiques extrêmes, et ont discuté avec eux de l’importance d’interventions spécialisées afin de préserver les matériaux particulièrement dégradables comme le bois et le verre.

Plus détails sur ce travail seront présentées le mois prochain alors que je participerai à une conférence à l’Université St. Andrew’s d’Écosse, tandis que je mets en œuvre des projets parallèles que j’espère pouvoir finaliser grâce à un doctorat.

Si cela vous intéresse et souhaitez suivre le processus, n’hésitez pas à garder un œil sur ce blog et ma page instagram… et à m’écrire !

New projects (Feb2024)

Omikuji from a Shinto shrine in Japan I visited in 2012 for my first thesis in Religious Studies.

When I started this blog, as a little something more to add to my digital portfolio (which is something I’ve been asked for more and more when applying to the last international call for projects and was much needed) where I could have got possibly a chance to help and provide some hints to new researchers.

If I look at my career as a researcher, there have been many difficulties I have got to face – many occasions turned out to be more like what in Japan is known as a Omikuji rather than something where competence and experience were actually valued…but yet, I out myself together, and moved on.

Over the last 10 years I have worked on so many projects, both for international calls and PhD that I have lost count…not all of these got the support I wished for, but all of these have been definitely helpful – they have shaped my temper, helped me understand what was worth keeping and what better leaving behind, and ultimately made me relise that even when you don’t get the funds you need for progressing with your work, you can keep that aside, let it grow…

I have got good experiences and bad – and and supervisors I have been so blessed to have got for my training at museums, and when writing that still I feel happy when thinking of our work together – for others, I would really think of them as some of those daikyo you just need to tie at a tree…and let kami deal with – hopefully not having to worry for them anymore in the future.

It’s true that time helps understanding and dealing with difficult times – and as I often say, what doesn’t become a PhD will become an article…or a book.

Even if I haven’t got a PhD yet, I feel very happy to have got the courage to stand for my values, to fight for what it’s important for me and keep my integrity through consistant work – it’s not easy, but it’s really up to each of us to make the difference and say no when it’s necessary.

With the new materials and reflections I’ve collected in this time, I see a book unfolding and many more articles and conferences where to discuss and exchange in respectful ways…with no sexism and discriminations as those I have suffered even as a student.

This is something I’m proud of and would make me feel I’m doing what I hoped for when I started with my studies.

I hope you can say the same.

If there will be more, or some opportunities that could provide me with continuity for work and the research I have already started – I can’t say. I hope, but we will see!

Quand j’ai commencé ce blog, comme un petit quelque chose en plus à ajouter à mon portfolio numérique (ce qu’on m’a de plus en plus demandé lors de ma candidature au dernier appel à projets international et qui était indispensable) j’ai pensé j’aurais pu éventuellement trouver une chance d’aider et de fournir quelques conseils aux nouveaux chercheurs.

Si je regarde ma carrière de chercheuse, j’ai dû faire face à de nombreuses difficultés – de nombreuses occasions se sont avérées ressembler davantage à ce qu’on appelle au Japon un Omikuji plutôt qu’à quelque chose où la compétence et l’expérience étaient réellement valorisées… mais pourtant , je me suis sorti ensemble et j’ai continué.

Au cours des 10 dernières années, j’ai travaillé sur tellement de projets, tant pour des appels internationaux que pour des doctorats, que j’en ai perdu le compte… tous n’ont pas reçu le soutien que je souhaitais, mais tous ont été vraiment utiles – ils ont façonné mon caractère, aidée à comprendre ce qui valait la peine d’être gardé et ce qu’il valait mieux de laisser derrière moi, et m’a finalement fait réaliser que même lorsque vous n’obtenez pas les fonds dont vous avez besoin pour avancer dans votre travail, vous pouvez garder cela de côté, le laisser grandir…

J’ai eu de bonnes et de mauvaises expériences – et des superviseurs que j’ai eu la chance d’avoir pour ma formation dans les musées, et en écrivant, je me sens toujours heureux en pensant à notre travail ensemble – mais pour d’autres…je les considérerais vraiment comme certains de ces daikyo qu’il vous suffit d’attacher à un arbre… et de laisser les kami s’en occuper – avec un peu de chance, vous n’aurez plus à vous inquiéter pour eux à l’avenir.

Il est vrai que le temps aide à comprendre et à gérer les moments difficiles – et comme je le dis souvent, ce qui ne devient pas un doctorat deviendra un article… ou un livre.

Même si je n’ai pas encore un doctorat, je me sens très heureux d’avoir eu le courage de défendre mes valeurs, de me battre pour ce qui est important pour moi et de garder mon intégrité grâce à un travail consistant – ce n’est pas facile, mais c’est vraiment une réussite….à chacun de faire la différence et de dire non quand c’est nécessaire.

Avec les nouveaux matériaux et réflexions que j’ai rassemblés au cours de cette période, je vois se dérouler un livre et bien d’autres articles et conférences où discuter et échanger de manière respectueuse…sans du sexisme et discriminations comme ces que j’ai souffert comme étudiante.

C’est quelque chose dont je suis fier et qui me donnerait le sentiment de faire ce que j’espérais lorsque j’ai commencé mes études.

J’espère tu peux dire le même .

S’il y aura plus, ou des opportunités qui pourraient m’assurer une continuité dans le travail et les recherches que j’ai déjà commencées, je ne peux pas le dire. J’espère, bien sûr….mais, on verra !