We truly believe these more sustainable coatings represent the future.
Beneath the surfaces of everyday objects — the cabinet door, the car hood, the chip bag — lies a thin layer of chemistry that determines how long things endure. Tommaso Frison, a polymer chemist working between industry and academia in the Netherlands, spent years mapping the molecular behavior of electron beam curing, a radiation-based method that hardens protective coatings faster, more uniformly, and without the toxic additives that have long constrained UV-based alternatives. His work, completed as a doctoral dissertation at Eindhoven University of Technology in June 2026, represents a quiet but consequential step in the ongoing human effort to make things last longer and harm less.
- UV-cured coatings — the industry standard for decades — require toxic chemical initiators that disqualify them from food packaging and other sensitive uses, creating a persistent gap between performance and safety.
- Electron beam curing closes that gap by hardening coatings instantly without chemical additives, but the technology had been underleveraged because its molecular mechanics were poorly understood.
- Frison built a detailed chemical map of the electron beam curing process, tracking which bonds form and break under specific conditions — turning a black box into a blueprint.
- Using that blueprint, he engineered new multiphase and block copolymer materials that are tougher and more weathering-resistant than anything UV methods currently produce.
- The research is already pointing toward real applications — harder surfaces for kitchen countertops, more durable automotive finishes, and safer coatings for food packaging — with industrial production lines able to run faster than UV systems allow.
You rarely notice coatings, but they are everywhere — on cabinet doors, car bodies, soda cans, chip bags. They exist to make things last. Tommaso Frison, a polymer chemist at Dutch technology center Nemho Innovations, found his entry point into this invisible world through gel nail polish. The chemistry is the same: expose liquid acrylate monomers to ultraviolet light, and they harden into a protective layer. For decades, UV curing has dominated the coatings industry. But it has real limits — UV light penetrates thick coatings unevenly, and the chemical initiators it requires are often toxic, ruling it out for food packaging and other sensitive applications.
Frison turned his attention to an overlooked alternative: electron beam radiation. Inside a vacuum chamber, electrons released from a heated filament are accelerated into a beam. Material passes through on a conveyor belt and hardens almost instantly — faster than UV systems, and without any toxic additives. Working simultaneously as an industrial chemist and a part-time doctoral researcher at Eindhoven University of Technology, Frison spent several years mapping exactly what happens at the molecular level when an electron beam strikes a coating. His analysis revealed that EB-cured coatings form more uniform, more weathering-resistant layers than their UV counterparts — a structural advantage, not just a speed one.
That chemical map became a design tool. Frison used it to develop new coating materials that hadn't existed before — combinations of acrylates and epoxies that are individually weak but together produce something far stronger, and block copolymers offering even greater surface durability. The potential applications range from kitchen countertops and laboratory benches to automotive finishes and food-safe packaging.
The path wasn't easy. Frison describes his early years in the dual academic-industrial role as drowning rather than swimming, pulled between the expectations of fundamental science and the demands of practical output. He opens his dissertation with a David Foster Wallace quote — "What the hell is water?" — a nod to the disorientation of straddling two worlds. But he found his footing, and the work he produced reflects that balance: science precise enough to publish, and materials solid enough to touch.
You see coatings everywhere, though you rarely notice them. They're the invisible armor on kitchen cabinets, the protective skin on car bodies, the thin shield that keeps moisture and rust away from a soda can or chip bag. They exist to make things last. Tommaso Frison, a polymer chemist, noticed something about the coatings most people do pay attention to: gel nail polish. When he talks about his research, his eyes go straight to unpainted fingernails, and he laughs. The chemistry of curing nail polish, he explains, is the perfect entry point to understanding what he's spent years investigating—a faster, tougher way to harden protective coatings without the toxic chemicals that traditional methods require.
Gel polish works through a simple principle. The liquid consists of small molecular building blocks called acrylate monomers and oligomers. Expose them to ultraviolet light, and they rapidly harden into a protective plastic layer. For decades, this UV-curing approach has dominated the coatings industry. But it has real limitations. UV light doesn't penetrate thick coatings evenly. It requires chemical initiators called photoinitiators to trigger the hardening reaction—and many of these additives are toxic, making UV-cured coatings unsuitable for food packaging and other sensitive applications. There's an alternative that's been largely overlooked: electron beam radiation. Frison, working as a polymer chemist at Nemho Innovations, a Dutch technology center, decided to understand exactly how and why it works better. Over several years, he combined his industrial role with a part-time doctoral track at Eindhoven University of Technology, defending his dissertation in June 2026.
Electron beam curing operates on a different principle entirely. Inside a vacuum chamber, electrons are released from a heated filament—the same basic mechanism as an old incandescent light bulb. An electrical voltage accelerates those electrons into a beam. Material passes through on a conveyor belt and hardens almost instantly. The speed is remarkable. In printing and packaging industries, this means production lines can move faster than UV systems allow. But speed is only part of the advantage. Frison's detailed chemical analysis revealed something more significant: electron beam coatings form more uniform, more robust protective layers than their UV counterparts. They resist weathering and chemical exposure more effectively. And they eliminate the need for toxic photoinitiators entirely.
To reach these conclusions, Frison mapped out exactly what happens at the molecular level when an electron beam hits a coating. He tracked which chemical bonds formed and which broke under specific conditions, building what he calls a chemical map of the curing process. This wasn't purely academic work. His supervisor made clear that graphs weren't the goal—products were. Using his chemical map as a blueprint, Frison developed several new coating materials that didn't exist before. One approach combined different polymers in precise proportions: acrylates mixed with epoxies, materials that individually produce weak coatings but together create something far stronger. Another innovation used block copolymers, which offer even more durable surface properties. These new materials could protect kitchen countertops and laboratory benches more effectively than existing options.
The path to these discoveries wasn't straightforward. Frison spent his first years in the dual role of academic researcher and industrial chemist feeling, by his own account, like he was drowning rather than swimming. The expectations pulled in different directions. The balance between fundamental science and practical application didn't come naturally. He opens his dissertation to the acknowledgments page, where he begins with a quote from David Foster Wallace's famous fish parable: "What the hell is water?" The question captures something real about straddling two worlds. But he found his equilibrium. The industrial Ph.D. track, for all its friction, taught him something he now wants to build on: the ability to bridge academia and industry, to move between the two worlds with purpose. The electron beam technology he helped advance represents that bridge in material form—science that becomes something you can touch, something that protects, something that lasts.
Notable Quotes
UV curing requires toxic chemical initiators that make coatings unsuitable for food packaging, while electron beam coatings eliminate this problem entirely.— Tommaso Frison, polymer chemist
In an industrial Ph.D. project, you have to balance multiple expectations—it took time to find the right equilibrium, but it gave me a lot.— Tommaso Frison
The Hearth Conversation Another angle on the story
Why does electron beam curing matter more than UV? It seems like UV is already everywhere.
UV works fine for thin coatings, but it can't penetrate thick layers evenly. And it requires toxic chemical additives to start the reaction. For food packaging, that's a real problem. Electron beams don't have that limitation.
So it's faster and safer. But what makes the actual coating itself better?
The chemistry is different. When electrons hit the material, they trigger a reaction that creates a more uniform, tighter protective layer. It's more resistant to weathering and chemicals. UV coatings have weak points; EB coatings don't.
That sounds like it should already be standard in industry. Why isn't it?
Cost. EB equipment is much more expensive than UV equipment. That's the main barrier. But as the technology matures and production scales up, that gap will narrow.
You mentioned developing new materials. What's the practical difference someone would actually feel?
Imagine a kitchen countertop. An EB-cured coating would resist scratches, stains, and weathering far better than what's on most countertops now. It would last longer and stay looking better. That's the real-world payoff.
And this all came from studying nail polish?
Not really from studying it, but using it as an analogy to explain the concept. The actual work was mapping the chemistry at the molecular level—seeing exactly what happens when electrons hit the coating material. That's what led to the new materials.