Heading 1
Heading 2
Heading 3
Heading 4
Heading 5
Heading 6
Lorem ipsum dolor sit amet, consectetur adipiscing elit, sed do eiusmod tempor incididunt ut labore et dolore magna aliqua. Ut enim ad minim veniam, quis nostrud exercitation ullamco laboris nisi ut aliquip ex ea commodo consequat. Duis aute irure dolor in reprehenderit in voluptate velit esse cillum dolore eu fugiat nulla pariatur.
Lorem ipum dolor sit amet, consect
Ordered list
- Item 1
- Item 2
- Item 3
Unordered list
- Item A
- Item B
- Item C
Bold text
Emphasis
Superscript
Subscript
Sometimes we forget the sheer fascination that drawings can evoke. In the design world, drawings– or illustrations– serve the very specific purpose of solving design problems. While this is a legitimate application of the field of drawing, it is not the only one. Priya’s illustrations stand as a reminder of all the other wondrous and evocative possibilities that images contain.
Thoughtfully composed, and sharply constructed, her illustrations pull you out of the numbness towards visuals that inevitably sets in in an image-saturated culture. Each stroke in her drawings is bold and intentional; it carries a trace of the artist’s hand. When surrounded by a sea of smooth, digitally processed images, a raw charcoal mark (as opposed to a poor Procreate simulation) feels precious. It is precisely the imperfections: the slight quiver of the hand, or an unforeseen smudge of charcoal– that make her drawings so deeply human.
First in our series of blog posts titled Process Please, this conversation with Bangalore based illustrator Priya Sebastian, unpacks the journey that led her to making the work that she does today. What has her journey so far been like? What roadblocks has she faced, and how did she overcome them? What are the sites, spaces, and processes that have helped her grow as an artist, find a footing in the field? And finally, what is the core idea or the motivation driving her practice?
Art and Illustration: Early Forays
Purvi Rajpuria: How did you enter this elusive field called “Illustration”? Did you always know you wanted to be part of it?
Priya Sebastian: I always loved drawing, but in those days (early to mid 90s) I had no idea this field (“illustration”) existed. I had just graduated from a local art college in Bangalore, and was working at a design studio doing illustrations for children. I used to make these cartoon figures in Rotring pen, and fill them in with watercolour. Then, the head of the design studio went to something called the Bologna Children’s Book Fair. This was the pre-internet era. What did we know about the Bologna Book Fair? We didn’t even know that such a thing as an “illustrator” existed. And when I found out about a book fair primarily dealing in illustrated books, I remember thinking “Oh my god, there is a profession such as this, where somebody will give me a story and I can illustrate it!”
That’s when I started exploring options. One thing led to the other, and I applied to the Queensland College of Art in Australia for a Masters in Illustration.
Purvi: That’s fascinating. I can’t picture you working with Rotring pens and watercolours (laughs). I imagine the Masters program changed that. How would you say your illustration course in Australia was different from what you studied at the local art college in Bangalore?
Priya: In the art college here, they made us do a lot of still lifes and pencil shading during the Foundations course. To move away from that, I decided to specialise in Applied Art. That was the name given to Graphic Design. This was the pre-computer era, so if pencil shading was traumatic in its precision and rigidity, we now had to do hand lettering with Rotring pens and brushes. It was horrible. I used to use comic sans font everywhere to make my life easier (laughs). Nothing that was taught there is relevant today…It was a waste of three years.
In Australia, though, as fate would have it, my supervisor and mentor was Armin Greder, who had a very profound influence on my approach to illustration. He asked me to keep my pencil aside, and gave me a stick of charcoal. So basically from a sharp instrument, I had to use a blunt instrument. And how do you draw with a blunt instrument? I had to overturn my thinking completely. I had to think in the form of shapes, rather than looking at and drawing what was in front of me. And I had to learn how to create a composition. I realised that how you compose an image is part of how you tell a story. It's about what you choose to bring into focus, and what you choose to delete from an image.
He asked me to keep my pencil aside, and gave me a stick of charcoal. So basically from a sharp instrument, I had to use a blunt instrument. I had to overturn my thinking completely. I had to think in the form of shapes, rather than looking at and drawing what was in front of me.
And I also learnt how to combine image and text. It’s a very classical form of illustration, and there is a science behind how you interpret the text in front of you. If for example you are given the word "vision", drawing a pair of eyes to illustrate that word would be very trite. However, if you draw, say…an apple on a child's head…and an arrow through the apple…it would be a far superior illustration of the word!
Purvi: It’s really interesting how this tool– a stick of charcoal– changed the way you approached your work. It also seems to be a shift from a technical approach to a conceptual one. When I look at your work, I can tell that you spend a lot of time thinking about what you want to show in relation to the text, in addition how you show it.
Priya: Yes, I approach it like problem solving. I go back to the Old Masters a lot. Especially the Italian Renaissance, to see how they solve problems of composition. You have to stylise images in such a way that it tells a story, within the composition. That’s what I try to look for.
Back in India: Finding a Footing in the Field
Purvi: Can you tell me about your early years as an illustrator in India? How did you apply all that you had learnt in Australia to your practise after you returned to the country? What was the creative landscape here like?
Priya: When I came back to Bangalore in 1999, there was nothing over here. It was like reentering a cage after two years of freedom, something a lot of Indian students felt when they returned from studying abroad in the 90s. I found it very difficult to fit back in.
Professionally, there was no design firm that I could apply to. I taught at a local design college in Bangalore for a year, and then did a web-design course to work at a dot-com. It paid well, but I was very unhappy. I was sitting in an air conditioned office, changing a screen from green to blue, that’s all. I wasn’t doing any illustration or drawing at all. And there were my parents with a very rigid and parochial mentality, who I felt obliged to prove myself to. Life was not alright then.
I had studied so much in Australia and returned with an entire thesis on the role and representation of women in Grimm’s Fairy Tales and their contemporary retellings. I had a body of illustration work accompanying the thesis, but there was no outlet for all this in Bangalore. I was constantly looking out to see where I could fit in or make use of the knowledge and skills I had acquired. Nowadays you can put up your work on the internet, and things happen. You can engage with others who do similar work. Back then I was very isolated. Also the fact that my pictures aren’t pretty, colourful or cute resulted in pretty much no outlet for them at all. My former boss, the one for whom I used to do Rotring pen illustrations at the design studio, told me my portfolio illustrations were very bleak. Those who saw my work then, all those years ago didn’t quite know what to do with it. Most only asked me two questions: “Oh you didn’t want to stay back in Australia?” And, “You didn’t find anybody to get married to?” Their lack of imagination was very sad, actually.
Purvi: So how did you finally find your footing in the illustration world here? Were there some people or tools that helped you find good work?
Priya: A few years after I moved back to Bangalore from Australia both my parents died within a few months of each other, and I was suddenly completely alone. It was an extremely challenging few years, but I also realised then that I had no societal obligations, no parental, religious or community pressures, I alone was in charge of my life and I would have to make the decision which direction I would want to take it in. That is a privilege actually. Most women don’t even have that choice with the obligations they are expected to fulfil. That is when I sat at my desk and began drawing. It was the only thing I knew to do at that time. I found it a hugely validating process. I began searching for my voice in my drawing and when I did that I found myself reclaiming parts of me that had been erased. When you do what you love, the self-confidence it gives you is enormous.
That is when I sat at my desk and began drawing. It was the only thing I knew to do at that time. I began searching for my voice in my drawing and found myself reclaiming parts of me that had been erased.
And, I think that is where this foundation that I had tried to build in Australia– that had kept getting knocked down over and over again– I rebuilt it again in a stronger way.
During that time I had just moved into an apartment in Cooke Town. A friend took me to visit an artist, Milind Nayak, who lived down the road. That’s when I saw an artist’s studio for the first time, and noticed how it was structured. He kept his art-materials on one side, neatly sorted out in cubicles and boxes, all his drawings had tracing sheets covering them. He had an assistant who numbered and documented each of his paintings, and every work of art was mounted and framed in a spare room.
He also had this chest of drawers similar to that you see in my living room, with a lightbox on top, and all his charcoal and pastel works were laid out flat in those drawers. Irrespective of the quality of his work, he took a great deal of pride in it. And I realised, I who had been blessed with so much talent and skill took no pride in my work at all because society and family taught me that what I was doing was not important. I had been taught to be apologetic for doing what I did and loved. I realised that I had to change that mindset. That what I do is important because it matters to me, my presence matters, I matter and what I do matters. Irrespective of the judgements of others.
