Artist Jayasri Burman on using cowries in her recent works and painting Radhika Merchant Ambani’s lehenga

You often work on mythological themes but the stories are your own.

When I’m painting, I usually start with one figure and the rest keep coming to build a story. I enjoy listening to mythological stories. As a child, I heard several from my mother and at the jatras we attended. Even today, any new story intrigues me. These emerge in the artworks in myriad forms. For instance, a cousin recently told me how during the Samudra Manthan, a lot of cowries also emerged with the amrit (nectar). A symbol of growth and germination, the cowries also represent the body of a woman. So when I’m using them, I am also referencing the symbolism, it’s like a cosmic churn within me. The canvas is my performance stage, through which I am presenting a story and imparting a message.

You often paint strong female characters from mythology. Whom do you admire the most?

It would be Draupadi. To me, she is extremely powerful. Her twin brother Dhrishtadyumna and she were born from a fire sacrifice to fulfill Drupada’s desire for a son who could kill Drona. Her father wasn’t expecting her. Dark and beautiful, she always felt she was different from others and spent most of her time indoors, listening to lessons Krishna imparted to her brother. She wanted to marry Krishna but he refused, saying her destiny was to marry five men. Later, she was told couldn’t marry Karna either. She eventually married the Pandavas and was committed to all of them, but she loved Arjun most. Later, when they were heading to swarg, she questioned how it was unfair that her death came first. To me, she is Maha Saraswati, who had abundant gyan (knowledge), Maha Lakshmi who looked after the Pandavas, and Maha Kali, who raised her voice and asked for justice when she was disrobed by Duryodhana and Dushasana.

You studied at Kala Bhavan in Santiniketan and later went to Paris to learn printmaking. How did the two places influence you?

Santiniketan nurtures your mind and soul. It teaches you how to view things from your own unique perspective, and how no one can control your thoughts and creativity. I was fortunate to have teachers such as Sanat Kar and Ganesh Haloi.

When I first went to France in 1984, I was on the verge of crying. I had seen works by the Western masters in books but to see them in reality was a completely different experience. Inspired by how (Vincent) van Gogh used colours, I did many big oil paintings when I returned to India. I played a lot with colour, developing my own style and vocabulary.

The lehenga you painted for Radhika Merchant Ambani’s ‘Shubh Aashirwad’ ceremony last year received a lot of accolades. You worked on it for a month. If you could share the process.

I have known the Ambanis for many years and am really fond of the children (Isha, Anant and Akash) who had reached out to me more than 10 years ago for a big painting they wanted to gift their mother (Nita Ambani) for her birthday. I have met the family a couple of times and they have several of my paintings in their collection. When I was approached for the lehenga, I was initially reluctant as there was very little time, but after an interaction with Radhika I didn’t have the heart to say no. It couldn’t have been done on silk as that would have taken much longer, so the designers Abu Jani-Sandeep Khosla sent me an Italian canvas that could fall like cloth. I drew directly on the fabric and used tones of orange and pink, a colour I know the Ambanis like. It depicts togetherness and is a celebration of life with birds, animals, water, the wind and flowers in peace with humans. The musicians are playing instruments and celebrating the wedding. Painted as an art form, I have titled it Pranaya (marriage and togetherness, in Bengali). I have decided that I won’t paint another; some things should be unique.