About

I call this place Fine Art Studio, but I secretly see myself more as a fisherman or a hunter than an artist. This is in the sense that art feels less like something I make with passion, and more like something I find with patience. So while I am completely incapable of making fish or antelopes, I have become acquainted with the regions they frequent. The central skill I have acquired is the patience to sit still and wait for as long as it takes. Eventually, the fish lands in the net, and that antelope finds its way into the field of vision.

I stumbled upon the arts purely by accident. When I established a corporate advisory firm in 2020, the business's strategy hinged on one question: What’s my vision for this business? It became clear to me that for the business vision to have any sustenance, it had to be derived from my own vision for my life. But what is my vision for my life? What do I want from life? What is life and how did I find myself living it? The enquiry propelled me into myself so deeply that I lost all inspiration to continue the business. 

Not only did I lose interest in the business, but I felt like I could no longer return to my corporate career, that somehow I had become incompatible with it. During breaks from contemplating what I was going to do for work now, I would pick up a pencil and write or draw. Gradually, over a period of more than a year, the pencil made way for charcoal and then ink, watercolours and oils. Then one day I came across a verse by the 13th-century Persian poet, Rumi: