Medicinal chemistry stretches back further than textbooks can cover, and every generation of chemists seems hungry to discover and refine new candidates. One such example, 5-bromo-N-(4,5-dihydro-1H-imidazol-2-yl)-6-quinoxalinamine tartrate, didn’t show up overnight. The parent quinoxaline platform attracted serious attention in the early days of antibacterial research, and since then, the addition of various functional groups has opened new doors to therapeutic potential. Pharmaceutical research journals from the 1980s carried initial papers that dove into the synthetic flexibility offered by quinoxalines. That journey has continued, and each twist — from new brominated derivatives to nuanced imidazole fusions — underscores the discipline’s relentless search for compounds with stronger bioactivity and better safety profiles. The tartrate salt, in particular, entered the scene as researchers began to solve the problem of solubility and formulation integrity, bridging the world of bench chemistry and real therapeutic development.
Chemists and life science professionals searching for new molecular scaffolds talk a lot about derivatives like this one, blending functional diversity with drug-like stability. The quinoxalinamine family stands out for its balance of chemical reactivity and metabolic stability, and this brominated variant goes further by showing structural motifs amenable to both biological screening and scale-up. The tartrate counterion isn’t just a finishing touch; it improves shelf life and simplifies downstream processing, from crystallization to tablet formulation. The imidazole group, sitting just off the main ring, introduces basicity and forms hydrogen bonds, which often translates to increased binding in early-stage biological screens. Researchers I’ve met using this compound usually focus on oncology, infectious disease, and, more recently, neurobiology, reflecting the broad promise seen in the parent scaffold.
Holding a sample of 5-bromo-N-(4,5-dihydro-1H-imidazol-2-yl)-6-quinoxalinamine tartrate, the powder’s off-white to light yellow tint gives a clue to the electron-rich systems inside. Density sits comfortably just above 1 g/cm³, and the crystalline nature shows itself quickly under polarized light. Melting point reaches upwards of 180°C, depending on residual solvent content, and the tartrate helps tame hygroscopicity, which plagued earlier non-salt forms. Water solubility tracks with other tartrate salts: enough for formulation scientists to breathe easy, but not so high that stability goes out the window. Chemically, the core remains fairly robust, but studies show susceptibility to strong oxidizers due to the bromine and imidazole. That’s a double-edged sword — valuable for modular synthetic work, but it means you need clean handling.
Every batch comes with a detailed label, and regulatory scrutiny means every value matters. Purity usually exceeds 98% by HPLC, and residual solvents must stay below ICH thresholds. Assay methods rely on both LC-MS and quantitative NMR, and any reputable supplier provides full spectral data. Moisture content, typically below 1.5%, makes a difference for analytical repeatability. Labels also list UN numbers for transport, appropriate pictograms for laboratory use, and hazard statements for both immediate and cumulative exposure. I’ve found that documentation for this compound follows an increasingly standardized format: full structure, salt form, and relevant batch analysis certificates, since end-users in pharma and academic research need rigorous traceability.
Getting from simple building blocks to this finely tuned molecule takes meticulous planning. Chemists typically start from commercially available 6-bromoquinoxaline, which undergoes nucleophilic amination using protected imidazoline intermediates. Careful control during coupling — using a base like diisopropylethylamine and mild heating — limits byproducts and drives selectivity. Work-up involves careful pH adjustment and, often, column chromatography or recrystallization from a polar organic solvent. Finally, reacting the base with tartaric acid completes the salt formation step, yielding the stable tartrate form. Each step can be improved with small tweaks, like optimizing the order of deprotection or adjusting solvent ratios for precipitation. Scale-up teams in industry spend weeks on each parameter, searching for the sweet spot between maximum yield and minimum impurity profile.
Organic chemists love this scaffold because it plays well with a host of common transformations. The bromine at position 5 serves as a launching point for Suzuki couplings or traditional nucleophilic substitutions, letting teams plug in everything from alkyl groups to more elaborate aryl structures. The imidazoline ring tolerates mild acid and base but needs protection during stronger conditions, and the core quinoxaline can be selectively re-oxidized or further reduced for structure-activity work. I’ve watched teams generate small libraries by swapping the bromine for iodine or even trifluoromethyl groups, searching for hints of improved activity or easier purification. Subsequent work on prodrugs, PEGylation, or bioconjugation has shown that the molecule’s backbone can carry a surprising amount of synthetic baggage without breaking down.
To avoid mix-ups, research teams track this molecule across quite a few synonyms in chemical inventories. Common variants include its full IUPAC name, shortened trade monikers, and internal lab codes. Sometimes suppliers bundle it under catalogs for quinoxaline derivatives or imidazoline-functionalized bioactives, which can make tracking a challenge if you aren’t sharp-eyed about structural verification. Labs I’ve worked in keep CAS numbers and registry entries handy to avoid duplicate orders or regulatory headaches. Despite these naming quirks, the base structure’s fingerprints show up clearly in NMR spectra and mass spectrometry, helping prevent confusion down the line.
Lab teams need no reminders on the importance of documented safety practice. This compound falls under standard protocols for handling aromatic amines and brominated small molecules. Nitrile gloves and safety glasses stay on at all times, and powdered forms require use of a fume hood during both weighing and transfer. Dust inhalation, eye contact, and skin exposure risk triggering mild irritation, though reviews suggest acute toxicity remains low. Waste disposal lines up with most nitrogen heterocycles: organic solvents and mother liquors go into halogenated waste streams for safe incineration. Documentation of spills, storage under dry conditions, and temperature monitoring help teams avoid batch degradation or accidental exposure. Safety data sheets spell out every final precaution, reinforced by internal audits and spot checks.
Researchers exploring therapeutic targets routinely evaluate quinoxaline-imidazoline combinations for activity against cancer cell lines, antibiotic-resistant bacteria, and emerging viral threats. Some early reports describe potent kinase inhibition, while others see promise in modulating oxidative pathways in neurodegenerative disease. I’ve seen collaborations between medicinal chemists and biochemists speed up when a versatile scaffold like this enters the screening pool: it opens new chemical space and builds on a track record already earned by related analogs. Outside pharma, specialty materials chemists look for derivatives that improve electron transfer or serve as charge carriers, hinting at uses that go beyond medicine. The compound’s flexible reactivity and strong binding motifs make it a staple in chemoinformatics efforts and lead discovery projects.
Teams facing the grind of discovery chemistry are drawn to molecules like this one for their modularity. Most start with in silico modeling, docking the compound into computational models of target proteins, and then move to cell-based screens. Promising activity often triggers a round of SAR work, with every new analog tracked, purified, and evaluated. My own experience watching cross-disciplinary teams at work underscores how the molecule’s physical and chemical stability supports a fast feedback loop between chemistry and biology. The presence of both bromine and imidazoline invites side projects: isotope labeling for tracking studies, or fluorescent tagging for imaging. Over the last decade, I’ve seen a growing pipeline of patent applications centered on these modifications, as well as several grant-funded collaborations between academia and industry.
No compound makes it far without rigorous safety data, and this tartrate salt sits under the same microscope as any small-molecule candidate. Standard models start with acute toxicity in rodents, checking not just LD50 values but any behavioral side effects or histopathological changes. Reports to date suggest that the tartrate form keeps irritation low, but late-stage metabolite analysis tracks for any reactive intermediates. Chronic dosing, genotoxicity screens, and environmental impact all fall under regulatory review, and the bromine atom draws special attention for potential bioaccumulation. At the academic level, I’ve seen in vitro studies check for off-target toxicity in hepatocyte and neuronal cell cultures. Each step refines our understanding, and recent reviews stress the need for better long-term safety studies if the molecule heads toward the clinic.
Innovation in pharmaceuticals depends on scaffolds that not only show promise but also adapt to changing scientific needs, and 5-bromo-N-(4,5-dihydro-1H-imidazol-2-yl)-6-quinoxalinamine tartrate fits that criteria. Research into targeted therapies increases every year, and this compound’s reactivity profile means it’s well-positioned for rapid analog synthesis. Advances in bioconjugation — using linkers to attach the molecule to peptides or antibodies — stand to unlock more selective treatments. Efforts in machine learning and cheminformatics now make efficient use of the scaffold’s physical and electronic fingerprints, predicting new derivatives before they’re ever made on the bench. In my conversations with industry veterans, the message is clear: the blend of synthetic versatility, safety notches, and diverse biological activity moves this molecule from a chemical curiosity to a potential future staple in drug discovery and chemical biology. Regulatory paths remain complex, but each new round of research brings more clarity to both opportunities and challenges ahead.
Chemical names can feel intimidating, but 5-bromo-n-(4,5-dihydro-1h-imidazol-2-yl)-6-quinoxalinamine tartrate packs more value than its syllables suggest. This compound isn’t found on the shelf at your neighborhood store, but it holds a spot in labs focusing on neurobiology, pharmacology, and targeted medicinal research. Over the years, I've seen interest in such quinoxaline derivatives grow as scientists search for specialized molecules to probe complex biological systems. The real drive here is about impact—trying to bring new knowledge or tools to fields where disease still gets the upper hand.
Every department focused on neural development or synaptic communication, sooner or later, comes across quinoxaline-based markers and inhibitors. The quinoxaline skeleton in this molecule gives it a knack for interacting with specific receptors in the nervous system. Studies on glutamate and its receptors depend on using blockers that behave predictably and consistently. This compound, with its bromine twist and imidazolyl add-on, lines up as a candidate for studying AMPA-type glutamate receptors. I remember reading about patch-clamp experiments and neurotransmission studies where researchers banked on such selective blockers to watch how signals flow—or don’t—across neuron clusters.
It’s not just about observing nature; sometimes, these compounds jump into the heart of discovery efforts. I’ve talked with researchers who used quinoxalinamine derivatives as templates to build drugs aimed at central nervous system disorders. Seizure management and neurodegenerative diseases cry out for medications with fewer side effects and sharper focus. By studying how molecules like this block communication between cells, scientists can map receptor activity in live tissue. That’s the foundation for building better drugs that put the brakes on overexcited neural pathways without quieting needed signals.
Scientists like reliable reagents. This compound, supplied as the tartrate salt for better solubility, ends up in in vitro assays where the goal is to block specific pathways cleanly. In experiments measuring neurotoxicity, the ability to shut down a single receptor helps separate cause from effect. Research papers point to its use in exploring synaptic plasticity, learning, and memory. Every discovery about synapse behavior stands on reagents that work as advertised, batch after batch. If a molecule disrupts receptor function accurately, whole branches of research become possible, from mapping potential new drug targets to unraveling the tangled causes behind psychiatric conditions.
Every strong tool brings risk. Working with such a compound means respecting its bioactivity and possible toxicity. Safety data sheets become kitchen-table reading for lab teams. Proper storage, handling, and disposal aren’t just protocol—they protect both the scientist and the environment. From my experience, researchers who prioritize accuracy and safety turn out results that others trust and replicate. Reliable experimental design doesn’t happen in a vacuum; it stands on both good science and smart stewardship of every material in play.
Looking at the spread of uses, this molecule helps light new paths in brain research, drug screening, and disease modeling. Each experiment brings science closer to solutions for disorders that steal years from people’s lives. As labs keep refining techniques, it’s the careful use of molecules like 5-bromo-n-(4,5-dihydro-1h-imidazol-2-yl)-6-quinoxalinamine tartrate that keeps the field moving forward—always chasing a new breakthrough or the next answer that just might change treatment or understanding forever.
Every time I step into a supply room, I read more than just the names on bottles and jars. I see the work—someone searched for reliable protocols, checked the facts, and put their trust in labels. Nothing wrecks a research day like spoiled material, and a single misstep with storage can send good money out the window. There’s science behind every storage recommendation: the right temperature, humidity, light exposure, and the choice of container shape all matter. It's not just about following rules—it’s about keeping things safe for people and the planet. This matters in every setting, from a student’s first project to the shelves of a biotech firm.
I remember thinking room temperature storage meant just finding an empty spot on a shelf. That got me in trouble once with a fragile dye. It didn’t like light—or heat for that matter—and it faded faster than last week’s flower bouquet. Turns out, “store at room temperature” really means somewhere steady, dry, and away from sunlight. Some compounds, like certain reagents and vitamins, lose their punch even at “average” indoor heat. A few degrees can make or break the next experiment. Precision in storage guards both health and discovery.
Those three words line the guides for a reason. A cold storage unit makes sense for powders and solutions that react quickly in warmth. Water-based materials might need more than a regular fridge—think back to an enzyme that never survived in a crowded, repeatedly opened refrigerator. Freezers and desiccators act as insurance against degraded quality. Many biologics and chemicals break down with moisture in the air, and a desiccant packet works small miracles in stoppered bottles or inside drying cabinets. Wrap something sensitive, like light-reactive compounds, in foil, and keep the bottle capped tight; a little effort stretches shelf life and keeps purity high.
Some people laugh at the variety of bottles and vials on my bench. Glass beats plastic for acids and solvents because it resists chemical reactions. Plastics can leach, so I save those for buffer solutions. Screw caps seal better than corks, though every lab tech has fought a stubborn cap at least once. Labeling is half the battle. A clear, readable label saves a ton of confusion and cuts down the risk of mixing lookalike substances. Date everything, always—old stock belongs in the chemical waste, not in today’s protocol.
Everyone in research or manufacturing knows someone burned by a storage mistake. The most reliable organizations take proper storage seriously: regular checks, clear hazard icons, documented protocols, and staff who look after their supplies as carefully as their own tools. Regulatory bodies, like OSHA and FDA, check these things for a reason—the cost of poor storage isn’t just lost product, but risked health and wasted work hours. Strong habits, rooted in real lives and hard lessons, safeguard both discovery and safety.
The right storage condition for a compound can save lives, budgets, and hard-won data. No mystery here—just care, attention, and a healthy respect for details. If you’ve ever lost a reagent to heat or forgotten to protect it from humidity, you remember the lesson. Trusted protocols exist for a reason, and everyone wins when we keep them front and center.
On almost every chemical product, you’ll see two strings of characters that don’t mean much until you start asking questions: the chemical formula and the molecular weight. Whether you’re working in a lab or grabbing cleaning supplies at the store, these two pieces of information might seem out of reach, but they shape how we use, dispose, and even transport products.
The chemical formula spells out which atoms make up a molecule. Each letter and number stands for a specific atom, like H2O for water, where two hydrogens hook up with one oxygen. The molecular weight, given in grams per mole, tallies up the weight of all those atoms. For water, it’s about 18 g/mol. Simple numbers, but they tell a bigger story.
These aren't just numbers for chemists. Take aspirin. Its formula, C9H8O4, shows nine carbons, eight hydrogens, and four oxygens. The molecular weight lands at 180 g/mol. This information guides pharmacists, doctors, and patients alike. If the dose is off, the effects change. Knowledge about the product’s chemistry supports better health—not fancy terminology, but facts that keep people safe.
A missing or incorrect molecular weight on a label can tip off bigger problems. The thalidomide disaster from the 1950s and '60s highlighted just how much trust people have in chemical information. Errors in a drug’s molecular profile led to tragic consequences, with thousands born with birth defects. Chemistry teaches caution—knowing structure and weight stops mistakes before they hurt people.
Food additives tell a similar story. The simple sodium chloride (NaCl) makes salt. Its molecular weight, 58.44 g/mol, helps food scientists balance recipe safety, nutritional information, and shelf stability. Those values aren’t complicated, but they connect science to daily choices. On a personal note, watching my aunt measure out her sodium intake after a heart scare drove this home. Every gram counted, and that knowledge stemmed straight from a chemical formula most folks don’t even notice.
Proper chemical formulas and accurate molecular weights help first responders handle spills or fires. If a tanker overturns carrying C2H6O (ethanol), getting the weight and structure right can mean the difference between a safe cleanup and a hazardous scene. Data on volatility, toxicity, and environmental persistence all trace back to these two basics.
Waste treatment plants depend on molecular weights to figure out how much carbon, nitrogen, or phosphorus is coming in. Precision here saves ecosystems and, down the line, keeps lakes and rivers swimmable and full of life.
Better science communication could help more people see the value in knowing what sits behind a product label. Chefs, medical staff, mechanics, and city planners all lean on formulas and weights, sometimes without realizing it. Public trust starts with showing the work—not just the outcome. Listing a product’s formula and molecular weight clearly, backed by strong third-party verification, could stop accidents, save money, and even save lives.
Even at home, this information empowers better decisions. Safety in household cleaners, medication dosages, and nutrition labels all depend on transparent, correct chemical details. The chemistry isn’t distant or cold—it sits on the kitchen shelf and in the medicine cabinet, asking to be respected and understood.
Many researchers stand at a crossroads when deciding whether a product will suit in vivo or in vitro applications. This question shapes not only the design of an experiment but also the reliability of the conclusions. Over the years, I’ve seen how a mismatch can delay whole projects—and waste resources—simply because the product used was not designed for that environment.
In vitro research happens outside a living organism, often in test tubes or culture dishes. Here, the focus is on controlling conditions tightly. For example, culturing cells may mean checking for sterility, purity, pH, and chemical compatibility. Most laboratory media get manufactured with these needs in mind, focusing on ingredients and shelf stability. Animal origin-free products often play a big role in cell culture due to contamination concerns, as seen during the rise of stem cell work. In this space, small differences in the source or handling of a product—like endotoxin levels or protein folding—can turn repeated trials into a headache.
In vivo, by contrast, means working within a living organism—whether mouse, rat, or another animal model. Here, safety expectations rise much higher. Safety testing grows far more rigorous, and product batches that work on the bench might trigger unwanted immune responses in a living animal. My own experience in pre-clinical research reminded me constantly that something tolerated in vitro could trigger toxicity due to trace impurities—a reality that sent us back to quality assurance again and again.
Anyone who has worked with reagents knows that product labels and datasheets aren’t always straightforward. Stretching a product to an application for which it has not been validated invites risk. If a manufacturer has stamped the words “for research use only”, this usually means the product remains untested for safety in live animals or humans. Digging deeper into technical information and requesting a certificate of analysis or product validation data can reveal inclusion or absence of harmful contaminants or preservatives. Taking shortcuts here, I’ve learned, often brings hidden costs.
Several years ago, I consulted for a research lab that switched to a cheap buffer for animal injections. They failed to review its source or batch testing detail. Reactions in test tubes seemed routine; results in mice were anything but. Weeks of animal experiments unraveled because the buffer came with a trace contaminant. Had the team cross-checked the intended applications or asked for batch documentation, they could have avoided pain for the animals and lost resources.
Researchers do well to reach out to the supplier’s technical support for proof of suitability before a product goes into animals or expensive cultures. Look for references to animal-free testing, endotoxin analysis, or direct evidence of applications claimed. Checking peer-reviewed articles or case studies helps—if others have used the product for either in vivo or in vitro research, their published results offer a real-world benchmark.
If the supplier can’t provide direct information, consider validating the product yourself in a pilot run. This means running the same product in a small, controlled experiment and checking for expected effects. Keep in mind, budget limitations do tempt labs to cut corners. My advice—save on non-critical consumables, but never compromise on source material meant for direct contact with living tissue or cells.
Product selection in science goes beyond price tags and datasheet promises. Choosing between in vivo and in vitro suitability calls for a close look at manufacturing standards, safety measures, and published evidence. The right product clears the way for robust and credible results; the wrong one can set back an entire field by years. Lab work has taught me more than anything that solid groundwork at the start saves time and reputation down the line.
Many researchers rely on chemicals like 5-bromo-n-(4,5-dihydro-1h-imidazol-2-yl)-6-quinoxalinamine tartrate in their daily work. It's tough to ignore the need for safety when working with this kind of compound. A few years back, I watched a postdoc rush into a new synthesis without checking the material safety sheet. It didn't end well—a minor spill, but enough for a scare. If we learn anything in the lab, it's that skipping safety steps never pays off.
Every chemical carries risks. This one combines a quinoxaline structure with a bromine atom and an imidazoline group, so there’s a good chance for both toxicity and irritation. Many scientific suppliers flag it for causing eye, skin, and respiratory irritation. The tartrate salt can add an extra level of unpredictability if you skip hazard checks.
Protection starts with what you wear. Grab a lab coat that fits, gloves (nitrile usually does the trick), and splash-proof goggles. I’ve seen people try to get away with less, but all it takes is one slip or unplanned splash for regret to set in. If your skin starts to itch or burn, even a little, wash that area with running water right away. Delays make things worse.
Always open containers inside a chemical fume hood. Inhaling dust or vapors can lead to coughing, headaches, even longer-term health issues. I once saw a colleague mix up bottles at the bench and release a tiny cloud—no odor, but their throat burned almost instantly. Once, that’s enough to change your habits forever.
Label storage bottles clearly. This compound can look like a fine powder, easily mistaken for something less hazardous. Mixing up containers leads to confusion and could create nasty reactions if two incompatible compounds meet. Store it away from food and drink—no snacks near the workspace, no matter how quick your break. Accidents often happen when someone’s guard drops.
Gloves should come off before touching keyboards, phones, or notebooks. Contaminating surfaces can turn a single exposure into an ongoing problem. Wipe down benches, tools, and balances right after handling the powder. If a spill hits the bench, use damp disposable towels or specialized absorbent pads to pick it up, and toss those materials in the hazardous waste bin—not regular trash.
Wash hands with soap and water right after leaving the lab, not just after glove removal. The first year I worked in chemistry, I let that step slip a few times and paid a price: cracked, red skin. Regular soap and time under flowing water helps remove hidden residues.
Nobody masters chemical safety overnight. Every lab session builds habits—double-checking bottle labels, working in the hood, and planning disposal methods before uncapping anything. Safety data sheets exist for a reason. I’ve made it routine to read them before even thinking about a new chemical. Not every hazard will jump out at you, but careful reading fills in a lot of gaps.
Keep emergency eyewash and showers working and accessible. If you wouldn’t trust them during an accident, demand repair or replacement. Speak up if safety gear runs low; nobody should feel pressured to take chances because supplies dried up.
Veteran researchers shape new scientists’ attitudes. Demonstrating careful handling, slow and steady technique, and respectful disposal practices speaks louder than signs on the door. I remember one supervisor who always moved methodically, never rushing through preparation or cleanup. That example sticks with you. Building a strong safety culture depends on each person making the right call, every time.
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