Biography long long verson by priya
Alaveddy
The first paint brush - fiber from the outside of a coconut, I held was given to me by my grandfather. We painted snakes on the bark of coconut trees with paint derived from used car engine oil. This was to prevent insects from destroying the tree. Today in my studio, in Alfortville, a suburb of Paris, I work with a variety of brushes, including coconut fiber.
Aleveddy in Jaffna Peninsula, in Northern Sri Lanka heard my first cries on earth in 1977. From the front gate of my home, the paddy fields adorn the earth as far as the eye can see. I painted a watercolor of this scene, later in Paris, I painted this very scene with acrylic on canvas. In Ms. Indra teacher’s kindergarten class, we learned to draw tropical flowers. She taught us how to extract dye from the hibiscus flower by pressing the petals on paper. Also to use a cut okra and dip it in saffron ink (kunkuman) to create patterns. This was my first introduction to an art class. (learned to write mother Tamil)
As the oldest grandson, I had the privilege of spending many hours on my grandfather’s farmstead. Alongside him, I watched as he tended to his plants and domestic animals. During paddy harvesting season, as the afternoon sun graced the courtyard, I helped my grandfather roll the abnormally large mat made of palmyra leaves. My hands have memorized this technique as it is identical to the manner in which I unroll and roll canvas to make my own frames.
The influence of Arab, Portuguese, Dutch and British is evident in the island’s art, language, cuisine, fashion and architecture. My village has retained traditional Tamil architecture to this day. Kanthaiah was my grandfather and the Chairman of the Village Council of North Alaveddy. He was instrumental in securing land to build the Veerapathirar guardian temple in Aleveddy visible as you enter the village from Keerimalai. The village priest made all the sculptures to mark the end of Thai Pongal annually. In the evening, en route to collect coconuts and grass to feed the goats at my grandfather’s vegetable field, I would stop to watch him create sculptures of horse and mask of tiger, monkey and various other animals with paper mache technique. I used these identical techniques to create paper masks for the carnival at the Municipality Council of Pontiose, France. The paper masks from this collection were also shown at an Indoor and outdoor exhibition in Kagoshima, Japan Nov 2016. Few of these paper masks are now in private collection in Japan.
The village is renowned for producing generations of various artists. Our neighbor Kalaichellvi, the daughter of Thavil (percussion instrument) player Thedchanamoorthy, was able to decorate intricate kolam designs to include peacocks, swans and snakes. Kolam, ephemeral in its nature, is a traditional art drawn during festivals and special occasions. Rice flour is guided through the thumb and index finger to create the design. Kolam is birthed with a points and lines. This influence is evident in my work in subtle ways, as when I incorporate pigments and turmeric into my art
Ammamma, my maternal grandmother, was an exceptional cook. She taught Tamil and history at a governmental school. From curries to sweets, she would meticulously clench sweet kolukkattai to prepare the perfect shape. I use the same method she used to shape dough into kolukkattai in my new clay series 'Clench.' I inherited her love of cooking. This led me to pursue higher studies in hotel management in Cyprus.
Appamma and Appappa, my paternal grandparents, lived in the picturesque town of Semantheevu, Murunkan, north west part of the Island known for the rich black and red clay its earth produced. Families who made their living making pottery lived along the Kattukarai lagoon. Hundreds of red clay pots adorned the large courtyards as they lay upside under the sun. In their workshop, I was given the clay to mold to my imagination. I often created miniature figures. This memory has followed me to my workshop and influenced how I work with the series Guardian Deities of Paddy Field with ceramics and clay masks.
Art is a compulsory subject in the Sri Lankan education system. The combination of value given to art at Mahajana College - Thellippalai, the art teacher Mr Thiyagarasa and a specific classroom dedicated to art solidified a foundation. The varieties of ways in which nature has arranged color in flowers, butterflies, fish and birds have always found their way onto my drawing paper. Appa, my father, bound drawing books for me and brought back standard watercolors and brushes from Colombo. They have all been lost during the countless times we were displaced. I left my green village in the late 90s for the last time without hope, but full of thoughts. The light and landscape of my birthplace continue to be the foundation of my art.
The first paint brush - fiber from the outside of a coconut, I held was given to me by my grandfather. We painted snakes on the bark of coconut trees with paint derived from used car engine oil. This was to prevent insects from destroying the tree. Today in my studio, in Alfortville, a suburb of Paris, I work with a variety of brushes, including coconut fiber.
Aleveddy in Jaffna Peninsula, in Northern Sri Lanka heard my first cries on earth in 1977. From the front gate of my home, the paddy fields adorn the earth as far as the eye can see. I painted a watercolor of this scene, later in Paris, I painted this very scene with acrylic on canvas. In Ms. Indra teacher’s kindergarten class, we learned to draw tropical flowers. She taught us how to extract dye from the hibiscus flower by pressing the petals on paper. Also to use a cut okra and dip it in saffron ink (kunkuman) to create patterns. This was my first introduction to an art class. (learned to write mother Tamil)
As the oldest grandson, I had the privilege of spending many hours on my grandfather’s farmstead. Alongside him, I watched as he tended to his plants and domestic animals. During paddy harvesting season, as the afternoon sun graced the courtyard, I helped my grandfather roll the abnormally large mat made of palmyra leaves. My hands have memorized this technique as it is identical to the manner in which I unroll and roll canvas to make my own frames.
The influence of Arab, Portuguese, Dutch and British is evident in the island’s art, language, cuisine, fashion and architecture. My village has retained traditional Tamil architecture to this day. Kanthaiah was my grandfather and the Chairman of the Village Council of North Alaveddy. He was instrumental in securing land to build the Veerapathirar guardian temple in Aleveddy visible as you enter the village from Keerimalai. The village priest made all the sculptures to mark the end of Thai Pongal annually. In the evening, en route to collect coconuts and grass to feed the goats at my grandfather’s vegetable field, I would stop to watch him create sculptures of horse and mask of tiger, monkey and various other animals with paper mache technique. I used these identical techniques to create paper masks for the carnival at the Municipality Council of Pontiose, France. The paper masks from this collection were also shown at an Indoor and outdoor exhibition in Kagoshima, Japan Nov 2016. Few of these paper masks are now in private collection in Japan.
The village is renowned for producing generations of various artists. Our neighbor Kalaichellvi, the daughter of Thavil (percussion instrument) player Thedchanamoorthy, was able to decorate intricate kolam designs to include peacocks, swans and snakes. Kolam, ephemeral in its nature, is a traditional art drawn during festivals and special occasions. Rice flour is guided through the thumb and index finger to create the design. Kolam is birthed with a points and lines. This influence is evident in my work in subtle ways, as when I incorporate pigments and turmeric into my art
Ammamma, my maternal grandmother, was an exceptional cook. She taught Tamil and history at a governmental school. From curries to sweets, she would meticulously clench sweet kolukkattai to prepare the perfect shape. I use the same method she used to shape dough into kolukkattai in my new clay series 'Clench.' I inherited her love of cooking. This led me to pursue higher studies in hotel management in Cyprus.
Appamma and Appappa, my paternal grandparents, lived in the picturesque town of Semantheevu, Murunkan, north west part of the Island known for the rich black and red clay its earth produced. Families who made their living making pottery lived along the Kattukarai lagoon. Hundreds of red clay pots adorned the large courtyards as they lay upside under the sun. In their workshop, I was given the clay to mold to my imagination. I often created miniature figures. This memory has followed me to my workshop and influenced how I work with the series Guardian Deities of Paddy Field with ceramics and clay masks.
Art is a compulsory subject in the Sri Lankan education system. The combination of value given to art at Mahajana College - Thellippalai, the art teacher Mr Thiyagarasa and a specific classroom dedicated to art solidified a foundation. The varieties of ways in which nature has arranged color in flowers, butterflies, fish and birds have always found their way onto my drawing paper. Appa, my father, bound drawing books for me and brought back standard watercolors and brushes from Colombo. They have all been lost during the countless times we were displaced. I left my green village in the late 90s for the last time without hope, but full of thoughts. The light and landscape of my birthplace continue to be the foundation of my art.
Colombo
Amma, my mother, Thevaki as the ethnic conflict escalated, was smart enough to send me to live in Colombo with Appa at thirteen. We first lived in Battaramulla, next to the new parliament and then moved to Colombo. Appa worked for the government, his work allowed him to travel throughout the island and be fluent in the three languages. Mrs Lalitha Nadarajah and Mr Prapakaran Master were my art teachers at Colombo Hindu College. The school was located in front of a commercial factory that produced plaster sculptures. The art teachers at Colombo Hindu College were instrumental in nurturing my curiosity and love of art.
I was exposed to independent street artists in Thummulla Junction and international art fairs like Bandaranaike memorial hall and Star Hotels.. I had access to art books, at the British Council Library and Colombo Public Library, otherwise unavailable in Jaffna. In Colombo, I discovered museums, fashion, the Singhalese language and culture, a new cityscape and countryside. Archaeological cities such as Polonnaruwa and Anuradhapura allowed me to widen the aperture of my art. I discovered Fresco paintings and Batik. Particularly the paintings of mythical female figures in Sigiriya of Apsaras had a significant impact on my figurative work. My fifth exhibition, in 2005, titled Apsara5, where the majority of my painting used the marufle technique.
When Amma arrived in Colombo with my two younger sisters, she upgraded her manual Singer sewing machine to an electric one. As a boy, I pushed the pedals of the Singer sewing machine, it was years later in Colombo I learned to sew. My exhibition in Japan “Tha-Varam” assimilated what Amma taught me on the Singer.
Amma, my mother, Thevaki as the ethnic conflict escalated, was smart enough to send me to live in Colombo with Appa at thirteen. We first lived in Battaramulla, next to the new parliament and then moved to Colombo. Appa worked for the government, his work allowed him to travel throughout the island and be fluent in the three languages. Mrs Lalitha Nadarajah and Mr Prapakaran Master were my art teachers at Colombo Hindu College. The school was located in front of a commercial factory that produced plaster sculptures. The art teachers at Colombo Hindu College were instrumental in nurturing my curiosity and love of art.
I was exposed to independent street artists in Thummulla Junction and international art fairs like Bandaranaike memorial hall and Star Hotels.. I had access to art books, at the British Council Library and Colombo Public Library, otherwise unavailable in Jaffna. In Colombo, I discovered museums, fashion, the Singhalese language and culture, a new cityscape and countryside. Archaeological cities such as Polonnaruwa and Anuradhapura allowed me to widen the aperture of my art. I discovered Fresco paintings and Batik. Particularly the paintings of mythical female figures in Sigiriya of Apsaras had a significant impact on my figurative work. My fifth exhibition, in 2005, titled Apsara5, where the majority of my painting used the marufle technique.
When Amma arrived in Colombo with my two younger sisters, she upgraded her manual Singer sewing machine to an electric one. As a boy, I pushed the pedals of the Singer sewing machine, it was years later in Colombo I learned to sew. My exhibition in Japan “Tha-Varam” assimilated what Amma taught me on the Singer.
Nicosia
Island of Cyprus and its energy felt like my second motherland. I arrived in Nicosia in March 1996 to pursue higher education. I was nineteen and homesick. In Cyprus, I was introduced to Greek, in terms of both the language and culture, its archeology and new landscape and heat. I lived in downtown Nicosia , and later on moved to Lakatamia. I traveled by cruise ship to Israel and Egypt in the summer of 1996. This gave me a deeper understanding of Mediterranean civilization. The scenes of the Mediterranean with it’s dry land and pine trees were breathtaking. Aphrodite's Rock and the surrounding seascape is my favorite place on the island. Here, one can witness the sun and the moon simultaneously. Naturally, these new ideas and concepts found their way into my paintings. The Mediterranean sea with its migrant birds, its surrounding olive and fig trees will always be my muse. A friend of mine, who both modeled for a group of artists and worked in an olive factory, introduced me to Glyn Hughes, (1931-2014) in the spring of 1996 in Kaimakli. This is where I felt an earthquake for the first time next to the Kaimakli train station.
Hughes, a Welshman, was a modern painter and art critic. He arrived in Cyprus in 1956 and made the island his home. Hughes opened the first space for contemporary artists in 1960 with Christopher Savva. For the Jubilee celebrations in 1977, Hughes used batik and applique agin for a room wide curtain at the British Council offices in Nicosia.
Hughes and I had an immediate connection and he took me under his wing. The manner in which he treated his fellow man, whether friend or foe, taught me invaluable lessons. Though we were from the opposite ends of the world, art was our common denominator. He took the initiative to admit me to a local art school in Kaimakli run by Master Yannis, in order to develop my understanding of portrait and figurative painting with model. With Hughes’ mentorship I learned painting, organizing exhibitions, writing, photography, and theater work. Hughes introduced me to documentary films like Jean Michel Basquiat. I accompanied him to lectures around the island of artists like David Nash and Francis Bacon. Hughes and Basquiat have been a major influence on my work. Hughes nicknamed me Sri Lankan Monet. In 1997, I participated in a group exhibition “French homage Artistes 1900 - 1960” at E.K.A.T.E. Nicosia that was organized by Hughes. In an article about this exhibition, my name appeared in the Cyprus Weekly. This was instrumental in me identifying as an artist for the first time.
Island of Cyprus and its energy felt like my second motherland. I arrived in Nicosia in March 1996 to pursue higher education. I was nineteen and homesick. In Cyprus, I was introduced to Greek, in terms of both the language and culture, its archeology and new landscape and heat. I lived in downtown Nicosia , and later on moved to Lakatamia. I traveled by cruise ship to Israel and Egypt in the summer of 1996. This gave me a deeper understanding of Mediterranean civilization. The scenes of the Mediterranean with it’s dry land and pine trees were breathtaking. Aphrodite's Rock and the surrounding seascape is my favorite place on the island. Here, one can witness the sun and the moon simultaneously. Naturally, these new ideas and concepts found their way into my paintings. The Mediterranean sea with its migrant birds, its surrounding olive and fig trees will always be my muse. A friend of mine, who both modeled for a group of artists and worked in an olive factory, introduced me to Glyn Hughes, (1931-2014) in the spring of 1996 in Kaimakli. This is where I felt an earthquake for the first time next to the Kaimakli train station.
Hughes, a Welshman, was a modern painter and art critic. He arrived in Cyprus in 1956 and made the island his home. Hughes opened the first space for contemporary artists in 1960 with Christopher Savva. For the Jubilee celebrations in 1977, Hughes used batik and applique agin for a room wide curtain at the British Council offices in Nicosia.
Hughes and I had an immediate connection and he took me under his wing. The manner in which he treated his fellow man, whether friend or foe, taught me invaluable lessons. Though we were from the opposite ends of the world, art was our common denominator. He took the initiative to admit me to a local art school in Kaimakli run by Master Yannis, in order to develop my understanding of portrait and figurative painting with model. With Hughes’ mentorship I learned painting, organizing exhibitions, writing, photography, and theater work. Hughes introduced me to documentary films like Jean Michel Basquiat. I accompanied him to lectures around the island of artists like David Nash and Francis Bacon. Hughes and Basquiat have been a major influence on my work. Hughes nicknamed me Sri Lankan Monet. In 1997, I participated in a group exhibition “French homage Artistes 1900 - 1960” at E.K.A.T.E. Nicosia that was organized by Hughes. In an article about this exhibition, my name appeared in the Cyprus Weekly. This was instrumental in me identifying as an artist for the first time.
Paris
“If you want to continue painting, go to Paris,” these were Hughes' words to me as I struggled to determine where to put down my feet on permanent land. Upon my arrival in France 2001, I had the pleasure of working in Île de Ré, a beautiful coastal town on the Atlantic ocean. Like myself, both migratory and native birds danced on this island. The beaches were adorned with female nudists and birds. I would sit there and do many sketches with models free of charge. Out of this, the masterpiece “Mermaid & Mouette” made it to canvas.
Returning to Paris from Île de Ré, my life was monastic in the sense that I had only lived on islands. The early days as a refugee in Paris were difficult. I felt like salt being thrown back in the ocean. My claim for refugee status was denied four times. I was restricted from traveling beyond the borders of France. This was a blessing in disguise as it allowed me to travel extensively throughout the country. I purchased a professional Canon camera with a film roll and photographed. The photographs from during this period both serve as a reminder and reference. I often went to La Chapelle in Paris 10 Arrondissement, known as Little Jaffna. This environment was the closest to home in Paris. I held a handful of exhibitions during this time. After years of struggle, Annick Sansoni organized my first solo exhibition in April 2004 at Bayadere titled “No Name, No Face.” It was opened by the Deputy Mayor of St Ouen Valarie (D of Birth). At the end of the same year, Hughes opened my second solo exhibition and continued to do so, until his last trip abroad in 2009. With the proceeds from the sale of my first painting; Annick and I dined at Zagros restaurant, and later held an exhibition here.
From 2009, I attended courses in art and documentary filmmaking at the University of Villetaneuse. In May 2009, three decades of civil unrest and war ended in a genocide in Sri Lanka. In July 2009, I traveled to Florence to gain an understanding of the Renaissance period. July I visited Davinci’s home and Michelangelo’s “The Creation of Adam” I still recall the memory of amma taking me to the Ganesh temple to watch as the artist Sivapragrasam painted the roof of the temple.
At the end of 2009, I was invited for an interview for a permanent visa. This allowed me to begin to build a permanent life in Paris. Simultaneously, the shifts in the world that year had a monumental impact on my psyche as I began the process of forging a new identity. I was left with more questions than answers as I reflected on the end of the civil war in Sri Lanka, the faces of humans from other conflict regions seeking refuge in Paris and my new permanency in the City of Lights.
I felt as though I was a scarecrow, “alone in the paddy fields'' amongst this backdrop of events both in the world and within myself. I found solace in my “faces and masks” series paintings. Here, I attempt to answer how we as a civilization arrived at where we are. Inspired by the Sri Lankan traditional mask, the wesmuna, I continue to work through these complex questions in my “faces and masks” series. The autoportrait of me as a green monkey symbolizes the answers I was searching.
Farmers in my village sow seeds of paddy in red soil, then uproot and replant them in black soil. This procedure ensures their growth. This mimicked my refugee life. Regardless of the myriad of challenges I faced, every phone conversation with Hughes’ ended with “think about painting.” I held my first online "live exhibition” titled “Think about Painting” during the first lockdown period and was pleasantly surprised by its success. During periods of lockdown, I repurposed cardboard and brown paper bags to create collage work. I began a new series “Catamaran,” using lockdown paper and started work on this art book.
I held a solo exhibition at a renowned Bondy municipality council titled “HanUMAN’s Dancing Brush” Oct 2009. “La Couleur de l’exil” was held in 2010, a decade after struggling to establish a permanent home in France. The spirit of the paintings at this exhibition was a testament to the trials leading up to that point and the joy of a sense of belonging. Emiko Mizushina, a Japanese gallerist in Paris, had a profound impact on my “faces and masks.” In 2011, “Man in the Mask” was held and I continued annually to exhibit at her gallery.
My first travel exhibition was in March 2011 in Martinique. This coincided with their carnival season. This experience gave me a deeper understanding of how masks are portrayed in other cultures. The landscape’s similarity to Sri Lanka and traces of my culture in Martinque was nostalgic as it holds deep roots to South India and Africa. This exhibition had a positive impact on my career. I am thankful for the live interviews on television and newspaper articles.
In 2012, my father in law introduced me to the local art club 4A - Alfortville. Every Saturday, approximately twenty artists gathered with a nude model to hone our figurative drawing skills. This space allowed me to keep my fingers busy with oil pastels until the pandemic.
My wife and I welcomed our son Nadiyaan into this world in 2014. His birth forced me to examine my art on a level that was unbeknownst to me. “Blooming Series” was inspired by Nadiyaan and remains in my private collection. I wanted to teach him his heritage, and the only way I knew was through food, language and my art. Each year on his birthday, we make a painting together that is included in my series “Identity.” This series was mostly done on charcoal. One of my paintings is titled “Life is Full of Surprises.” I have given great thought to the titles associated with my paintings and exhibitions. They have been influenced by personal life experience, the people I met in my travels, archeological sites I have visited, art books and nature.
“Les Salon Indien” was a restaurant and art gallery I co owned with Aravid Appadorai, a poet and writer, from 2013 to 2016. We were honored to receive the best critic award on “Guide de Retard.” At “Les Salon Indien,” I organized exhibitions for various local and overseas artists.
In November 2016, I held an exhibition in Kagoshima, Japan. As I wandered through the Tokyo National Museum, I was inspired by works from the Nara period. Upon returning to Paris, I began to incorporate collage and earth colors.
Both Chinese and Tamil are one of the oldest languages. I have always been fascinated with the cross influence between these two cultures. Tamil children first write a letter of the vowel in rice in a traditional ceremony prior to starting kindergarten. Mounaguru held my son’s finger as he wrote his first letter. My son and I experiment writing Tamil letters with Chinese ink and watercolor. This produced a large body of work that was exhibited at “L' Escalier Espace d' Art” October 2021. On the vernissage of this exhibition, I performed on the wall the thirteen Tamil vowels in calligraphic style.
Via Jaffna, Colombo, Nicosia and Paris, this journey, with my signature, has given me the ability to push the boundaries of art.
“If you want to continue painting, go to Paris,” these were Hughes' words to me as I struggled to determine where to put down my feet on permanent land. Upon my arrival in France 2001, I had the pleasure of working in Île de Ré, a beautiful coastal town on the Atlantic ocean. Like myself, both migratory and native birds danced on this island. The beaches were adorned with female nudists and birds. I would sit there and do many sketches with models free of charge. Out of this, the masterpiece “Mermaid & Mouette” made it to canvas.
Returning to Paris from Île de Ré, my life was monastic in the sense that I had only lived on islands. The early days as a refugee in Paris were difficult. I felt like salt being thrown back in the ocean. My claim for refugee status was denied four times. I was restricted from traveling beyond the borders of France. This was a blessing in disguise as it allowed me to travel extensively throughout the country. I purchased a professional Canon camera with a film roll and photographed. The photographs from during this period both serve as a reminder and reference. I often went to La Chapelle in Paris 10 Arrondissement, known as Little Jaffna. This environment was the closest to home in Paris. I held a handful of exhibitions during this time. After years of struggle, Annick Sansoni organized my first solo exhibition in April 2004 at Bayadere titled “No Name, No Face.” It was opened by the Deputy Mayor of St Ouen Valarie (D of Birth). At the end of the same year, Hughes opened my second solo exhibition and continued to do so, until his last trip abroad in 2009. With the proceeds from the sale of my first painting; Annick and I dined at Zagros restaurant, and later held an exhibition here.
From 2009, I attended courses in art and documentary filmmaking at the University of Villetaneuse. In May 2009, three decades of civil unrest and war ended in a genocide in Sri Lanka. In July 2009, I traveled to Florence to gain an understanding of the Renaissance period. July I visited Davinci’s home and Michelangelo’s “The Creation of Adam” I still recall the memory of amma taking me to the Ganesh temple to watch as the artist Sivapragrasam painted the roof of the temple.
At the end of 2009, I was invited for an interview for a permanent visa. This allowed me to begin to build a permanent life in Paris. Simultaneously, the shifts in the world that year had a monumental impact on my psyche as I began the process of forging a new identity. I was left with more questions than answers as I reflected on the end of the civil war in Sri Lanka, the faces of humans from other conflict regions seeking refuge in Paris and my new permanency in the City of Lights.
I felt as though I was a scarecrow, “alone in the paddy fields'' amongst this backdrop of events both in the world and within myself. I found solace in my “faces and masks” series paintings. Here, I attempt to answer how we as a civilization arrived at where we are. Inspired by the Sri Lankan traditional mask, the wesmuna, I continue to work through these complex questions in my “faces and masks” series. The autoportrait of me as a green monkey symbolizes the answers I was searching.
Farmers in my village sow seeds of paddy in red soil, then uproot and replant them in black soil. This procedure ensures their growth. This mimicked my refugee life. Regardless of the myriad of challenges I faced, every phone conversation with Hughes’ ended with “think about painting.” I held my first online "live exhibition” titled “Think about Painting” during the first lockdown period and was pleasantly surprised by its success. During periods of lockdown, I repurposed cardboard and brown paper bags to create collage work. I began a new series “Catamaran,” using lockdown paper and started work on this art book.
I held a solo exhibition at a renowned Bondy municipality council titled “HanUMAN’s Dancing Brush” Oct 2009. “La Couleur de l’exil” was held in 2010, a decade after struggling to establish a permanent home in France. The spirit of the paintings at this exhibition was a testament to the trials leading up to that point and the joy of a sense of belonging. Emiko Mizushina, a Japanese gallerist in Paris, had a profound impact on my “faces and masks.” In 2011, “Man in the Mask” was held and I continued annually to exhibit at her gallery.
My first travel exhibition was in March 2011 in Martinique. This coincided with their carnival season. This experience gave me a deeper understanding of how masks are portrayed in other cultures. The landscape’s similarity to Sri Lanka and traces of my culture in Martinque was nostalgic as it holds deep roots to South India and Africa. This exhibition had a positive impact on my career. I am thankful for the live interviews on television and newspaper articles.
In 2012, my father in law introduced me to the local art club 4A - Alfortville. Every Saturday, approximately twenty artists gathered with a nude model to hone our figurative drawing skills. This space allowed me to keep my fingers busy with oil pastels until the pandemic.
My wife and I welcomed our son Nadiyaan into this world in 2014. His birth forced me to examine my art on a level that was unbeknownst to me. “Blooming Series” was inspired by Nadiyaan and remains in my private collection. I wanted to teach him his heritage, and the only way I knew was through food, language and my art. Each year on his birthday, we make a painting together that is included in my series “Identity.” This series was mostly done on charcoal. One of my paintings is titled “Life is Full of Surprises.” I have given great thought to the titles associated with my paintings and exhibitions. They have been influenced by personal life experience, the people I met in my travels, archeological sites I have visited, art books and nature.
“Les Salon Indien” was a restaurant and art gallery I co owned with Aravid Appadorai, a poet and writer, from 2013 to 2016. We were honored to receive the best critic award on “Guide de Retard.” At “Les Salon Indien,” I organized exhibitions for various local and overseas artists.
In November 2016, I held an exhibition in Kagoshima, Japan. As I wandered through the Tokyo National Museum, I was inspired by works from the Nara period. Upon returning to Paris, I began to incorporate collage and earth colors.
Both Chinese and Tamil are one of the oldest languages. I have always been fascinated with the cross influence between these two cultures. Tamil children first write a letter of the vowel in rice in a traditional ceremony prior to starting kindergarten. Mounaguru held my son’s finger as he wrote his first letter. My son and I experiment writing Tamil letters with Chinese ink and watercolor. This produced a large body of work that was exhibited at “L' Escalier Espace d' Art” October 2021. On the vernissage of this exhibition, I performed on the wall the thirteen Tamil vowels in calligraphic style.
Via Jaffna, Colombo, Nicosia and Paris, this journey, with my signature, has given me the ability to push the boundaries of art.
- within walking distance to my home, “Atelier de Pa.P.A”