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Topics to Read

  • Searching for a Change of Consciousness: A Reflection on Art, Activism, and Change
  • The Geography of Stillness
  • The Art Baba Next Door
  • From "Weird Art Student" to Mentor
  • Art Across Borders
  • Artist Soul: The Unfiltered Blueprint
  • The Introvert’s Art: Selective Energy and Silent Brilliance
  • Art Through an Unlikely Tribe
  • The Authority of Absence
  • Clarity Through Less
  • A Decade with One Laptop
  • Beyond the Grind: Raft as Living Art
  • How Games Taught me to Draw again
  • How a Stubborn Gamer Helped Me Build Discipline in Art Through Games

Searching for a Change of Consciousness: A Reflection on Art, Activism, and Change

Sahana

Zoe Walker and Neil Bromwich’s exhibition, Searching for Consciousness, is an immersive exploration of transformation, interconnectivity, and the environmental and social issues that define our time. 
Featuring their signature inflatable sculptures, films, and drawings, the show captures themes such as capitalism, extractivism, and climate change.

The inflatable sculptures take center stage, capturing the viewer’s attention as they enter the space.
At first glance, these large, soft, air‑filled forms might seem like simple installations. However, they are deeply connected to the history of protests and social movements. Their mobility and lightweight, adaptable nature symbolize the resilience needed in times of societal change. Throughout history, inflatable objects have been used in protests for their visual impact and their ability to draw attention to critical causes. 
Walker and Bromwich channel this rich legacy, creating pieces that resonate with the energy of resistance and transformation. 

One such work, the Love Cannon, reimagines a traditional weapon by replacing bullets with balloons—turning aggression into softness and shooting love instead of death. Traditionally, cannons symbolize the state’s monopoly on violence—a concept first introduced by political philosopher Max Weber, who argued that the 
state is the sole legitimate wielder of force. However, by substituting bullets with balloons, the cannon transforms from an instrument of destruction into something playful, positive, and harmless—much like the joy and whimsy of a bouncy castle. Just as bouncy castles offer a space for carefree enjoyment, the Love Cannon redefines the very concept of weaponry, transforming it into a symbol of community, unity, and a peaceful approach to resolving conflicts.

Another standout piece, the Serpent of Capitalism, is a towering, ominous inflatable sculpture whose sheer scale and presence demand attention. Rooted in mythological symbolism, the serpent has long been a powerful emblem across cultures—particularly within Mayan mythology, where it appears in various forms representing transformation, creation, and the structure of civilization. One can’t help but draw a connection to Kukulkan, the feathered serpent deity associated with cosmic order, calendars, and rebirth. In this work, however, the serpent has evolved—or perhaps devolved—into a symbol of modern domination. The artists’ choice to depict a serpent of capitalism reflects a commentary on the current agent shaping the very fabric of our world: capitalism itself. 
No longer a force of divine creation, this serpent now embodies economic systems that wind their way into every part of life. Carried through the streets of Edinburgh alongside other inflatable artworks, the sculpture becomes more than a static object—it slithers, looms, and haunts the urban landscape. Its movement evokes the image of capitalism itself coursing through the city, wrapping around its inhabitants with an invisible, yet inescapable grip. This enormous, imposing creature feels less like a float and more like a living force, strangling the streets in a venomous embrace of money and power. 

The artists’ work highlights the importance of art as a tool for activism. These inflatable structures are not just aesthetically captivating but serve as vehicles for change, inviting viewers to reflect on the pressing issues of our time—extractivism, climate change, and the urgent call for justice. As you step into the exhibition, you’re invited not just to observe but to engage with the work, to question and reflect on the world around us. In addition to the inflatable sculptures, the exhibition also features films and drawings that further explore the themes of resistance, hope, and societal shifts. These works challenge us to consider our relationship with the environment, the power of collective action, and the role of art in sparking social change.

Searching for Consciousness is more than just an exhibition—it’s an invitation to reflect, discuss, and act. It’s a celebration of the transformative power of art and the role we all play in shaping the future. The inflatable sculptures, in their beauty and significance, are a testament to art’s potential to move and inspire. For more information about the exhibition .

Visit the official Talbot Rice Gallery website:

https://www.trg.ed.ac.uk/exhibition/walker-bromwich-searching-change-consciousness

References

Walker, Zoe & Bromwich, Neil. Searching for a Change in Consciousness. Talbot Rice Gallery, University of Edinburgh, 2024.


The Geography of Stillness

In my artist life, I’ve started looking at every human interaction as an exchange of maps.

There is so much noise now, and I’ve learned to value the stillness of just seeing someone for who they are.

It’s not about how long an interaction lasts or where it’s going. It’s about that quiet moment where you trade perspectives and help someone see a deeper part of themselves they hadn't navigated yet. In that same space, they help you see yourself just as deeply. It is a mutual discovery. They mark a spot on your map you didn't even know was there, just as you do for them.

This is the core of what my art is about. It is straight up deep in the soul and the mind. This is who we are. I draw from these soul to soul moments and how they make me feel. 

Using strings, I tell a story of my own evolution. My work is a journey into the deeper artistic parts of myself. Each string represents the heart and the light of that personal growth. Through this process, I navigate my own purpose. Art gives me the power to be creative and finally silence the mind from worldly distractions and noise.

You can't just make these moments happen. They are a gift of being present. You just have to be raw enough to experience it. The way you navigate these thoughts changes everything. It’s a creative exchange where you walk away carrying a piece of that shared world. You don’t need to stay in the same place to keep the discovery. You just fold up the map and keep going, closer to your own purpose.


The Art Baba Next Door

The memory of the "Baba" next door began with his persistent invitations. He would always ask my family to come and see his art. Eventually, I decided to go, but the sight inside surprised me. There was no furniture at all, just stark white walls and a profound sense of quiet.

I called him a Baba because of how he looked and lived. He was like a sage, wearing the most basic clothing and appearing so comfortable, radiating a calm and peaceful energy. The vast, empty room held his sketches and one single, massive canvas that dominated the space.

He offered us grapes soaked in saltwater, a part of his strict satvic diet.

He lived in total isolation, explaining that a client from the West bought his most special painting every year. It was always of a rare flower that bloomed only once in the Himalayas. He would travel a great distance just to sit and paint that flower before returning to his solitude.

Six years later, I realize he was the truth. Now, I think about being in a big, nice empty room with limited supplies carefully chosen to not go to waste. I think about being in clothing I actually want to wear that is comfortable and perfect. I would buy the same shirt five times just to repeat that same comfort. Do we really need more?


From "Weird Art Student" to Mentor

My journey through art wasn’t about fitting into a box. It was about finding mentors who truly saw the work behind the unconventional. Years later, I finally understand why I loved being around them. They didn't just teach technique. They made me see the world differently. I'm grateful.

I've learned that the secret to growth is simply taking that guidance to heart. Now, as I step into teaching, I carry the memory of that "understood" feeling with me.

My goal is to be the educator who validates those unique voices, providing the same foundation and encouragement my professors once gave me.

I’m ready to help the next generation turn their unique perspectives into their greatest strengths.


Art Across Borders

My journey as an artist began in India, where I often felt like I was shouting into a void. I poured my soul into my work, yet it felt invisible, unrecognized by the environment around me. 

I questioned if my art had merit, or if perhaps I was simply speaking a language no one else cared to learn.

Everything changed when I moved to Scotland.
In the heart of Edinburgh, I finally felt "seen." 

People there didn’t just look at my work; they truly appreciated it, valuing it enough to bring it into their own lives. That moment was a revelation: I wasn't a failed artist, I simply hadn't found my audience yet.

Those buyers taught me that you don't need a massive following to have a real impact. Today, I don’t measure my success by likes or numbers. Instead, I choose to mirror the kindness I received by reaching out to inspire others. Art is a bridge, and sometimes, all it takes is crossing a few borders to find the people who are waiting to understand your heart.


Artist Soul: The Unfiltered Blueprint

A couple of years ago, during my Yoga Teacher Training, I heard a story that really stayed in my mind. It was about a kind, wealthy woman who hosted her house help, a fisherman’s wife, on a rainy night. 

Despite the luxury of the guest room and the scent of expensive flowers, the fisherman’s wife couldn't sleep well because she missed the smell of her fish basket. 
For her, that scent wasn't a stench. It was her comfort.

I see art the same way now. What is nice for one person is different for another, so it’s not about art being good or bad, or one person being better than another. When you stop judging the surface and look at the artist’s backstory instead, you see the raw blueprint of their soul. 

You begin to appreciate the work differently, and suddenly, every piece of art is profound.

Every piece in that gallery, whether you like the colors or not, becomes a beautiful and honest map of a human life.


The Introvert’s Art: Selective Energy and Silent Brilliance

Being around these quietest souls has taught me that true intelligence is a resource to be guarded, not spent on the surface.
They’ve shown me that the most profound insights aren’t found in a crowded room, but in the deliberate silence of those who only speak when they have something real to say. 

Their presence lingers on my mind because it carries a weight that noise simply cannot match.

By observing how introverts selectively share themselves, I’ve learned to treat my own art with the same level of reverence. 
They have taught me that vulnerability is the highest form of strength, a raw and unfiltered truth that cuts through the artificial. 
My work has shifted from a performance into a quiet dialogue, inspired by the brilliance of those who choose to stay to themselves.


Art Through an Unlikely Tribe 
I have always been driven by an obsession for art that feels almost magnetic, fueling a constant need to create. Making those art connections wasn't as easy as I expected because my own process is so unpredictable and I often don't know when a creative idea will strike. Since I am so selective and self-critical, I tend to overanalyze every detail until I’m truly happy with it, which makes my progress even slower.

Instead, I found my tribe in an unexpected circle of architects, paleontologists, and historians. My close friend, a Data Analyst, has even become my favorite person to talk to in between projects. 

There is beauty in these unique perspectives because you simply cannot study everything yourself. By surrounding yourself with interesting people, you can gain such cool inspiration and perspectives to see what the world has to offer.


The Authority of Absence  
During my Masters, I took the risk to go deeper into my style, moving from the joy of filling every inch of paper to the quiet power of the essential. I spent years in a "slow and chill" exploration, only to realize in a single minute of clarity that, for me, true mastery lies in subtraction.

My current exploration is to take out the color because it is the most naked, honest form of my art. Without it, I can no longer hide the structural truth of a drawing.
I am stepping into this style as a personal challenge that keeps the work interesting for me. It is far harder to create depth and emotion when I am limited to just lines. While reducing complexity is a struggle, it makes me happy because every mark is now intentional.

Simplifying the details to find this minimalist depth isn't about doing less. It is about ensuring the few elements that remain are beautiful enough to stand entirely on their own.


Clarity Through Less
Sometimes we are so distracted by the way the world moves around us, its noise and constant motion, that we lose sight of what is real. This is exactly why I started exploring minimalism, to simplify, focus, and move closer to the essence of life and self..

The journey reflects the five koshas, the layers of our being: the physical body, the energy that animates it, the mind with its thoughts, the wisdom that observes, and finally the bliss, or Ananda, that is our true self. By removing what is unnecessary and moving intentionally through these layers, I arrive at quiet clarity.

I follow the same process with my art. The result is the same: a sense of fulfillment, balance, and alignment. It is not about being happy or sad. It is about being fully present, fully myself, and experiencing Ananda in its purest form. 


A Decade with One Laptop
I was emotionally attached to one laptop for 10 years. Sounds crazy, right? But I couldn’t mentally fixate on getting a new one. There was just… a bond.
Fun fact: the colours were all off, so my work never looked exactly like I intended, but back then I didn’t care.

It’s been a while since I finally switched to a new laptop, and wow… the colours are beautiful. Vibrant. True to life. My art suddenly feels like it’s living in the right world.

Funny story: five years ago, my drawings were the best. Why? Because it took me 10 seconds to draw a single line, and I obsessed over perfecting it. The times my work suffered were when I used the iPad because everything felt too fast, too easy, and too limitless.

Now, I’ve gone back to more traditional means. I like being limited. Constraints make me focus. They force direction. And honestly? I think my art loves it too.


Beyond the Grind: Raft as Living Art
After a series of exhausting workdays, my friends and I finally found our escape in Raft. As the host, I carry the burden of our shared progress, which is a terrifying prospect for my two nerdy teammates. While they dive into the survival hustle, catching fish and calculating basics, I focus on the soul of the raft. 

Just as I start my real-world mornings by making my bed, I bring that ritual to the game. I spend my hours hunting for flower petals and crafting the perfect chairs.

My friends have accepted my role as the aesthetic thief. 
I might use their hard-earned wood to build a beautiful place for them to sit, provided I eventually replace the snacks I’ve scavenged.

To me, games are a form of art. They are about experiencing a space without the pressure of productivity.

Of course, my artistic lifestyle has its risks.In a moment of quiet rebellion, I wanted to swim so badly that I ignored the shark, leading to a secret, watery demise. Now, I have to gather my resources all over again. 

I cannot wait to get back on that raft and keep building.


How Games Taught Me to Draw again
Creative burnouts are real, and I feel like people don’t talk about them enough. Honestly, I didn’t even realize I was experiencing a creative burnout. I remember someone once telling me that working through stress can sometimes help, but this time I decided to switch things up. I started to relax, take more breaks, sleep on time, and change my routines.

I began to focus on learning something completely new. I started playing video games, something I never imagined myself getting into, and yet I found meaning in it. It became a creative escape, and every day I had lots of ideas. I thought about doing still-life drawings from games, taking a screenshot of my favorite moment and trying to draw it. It didn’t work, though, because it felt creatively limiting.

Then I discovered Passpartout: The Starving Artist, and I started drawing within the game. I wasn’t overthinking ideas or stressing about outcomes; I was just drawing whatever I felt. It felt funny and freeing to create art inside a game. I even thought about making a project out of it, drawing in a game every day and making a small collection of ten to fifteen drawings, but I didn’t fully pursue the idea.

Eventually, I realized that if I wanted to improve my focus, I needed to excel in my own art style. I started studying what excites me. People often say you should draw around a specific theme, but that felt stressful. Instead, I focused on the patterns of my style, using bold, thick lines to capture textures. I kept returning to drawing yarn, hair, or anything that defined my line work. Trying to force compositions to fit my style started to feel limiting and unnatural.

So I returned to playing games and exploring freely. After experimenting, Unravel Two really connected with me. It was cute, fun, and showed me how strings and lines could capture emotions. That was it. My drawings didn’t have to fit into realistic scenarios or what I see in everyday life. I realized my line work could depict emotions, feelings, or moods.

Slowly, I started to really enjoy drawing again. Sometimes we just need to try something we never thought we would, and ideas can spring from it. Currently, my favorite game is Sons of the Forest.


How a Stubborn Gamer Helped Me Build Discipline in Art Through Games

When I first started playing games, I was obviously terrible at it. Luckily, I had very patient friends who taught me the game mechanics. The first game I truly got into was Plate Up, which required a lot of communication and teamwork. One of my friends was extremely serious, very particular about his time, and took the game very seriously. He was strict with me, and I knew that every day after work I had to show up at a specific time and join the game.

I realized I wouldn’t be able to focus on the game if I hadn’t finished my artwork beforehand. Knowing this motivated me to complete my work so my mind could fully concentrate on playing. Doing this not only made me more focused in the game, but it also improved my performance. It’s kind of funny, but it’s true .I got better at drawing and better at playing games at the same time.

Through this, I naturally developed a routine. Games taught me patience, consistency, and how structure can help me grow creatively and personally. Recently playing GTFO made me realize just how scatterbrained I am.

To work hard, you have to first play hard.