What is the best thing that I love about my work?

What I love most about my work is that it lets me create meaning from silence, memory, and lived experience. I began with literature, so I have always believed that stories shape people. For me, art became another language through which stories could breathe. I love the process of researching, writing, and discovering how an artwork can hold history, emotion, and resistance all at once. Curating allows me to work with artists, ideas, and communities in a way that feels alive and necessary. Every project teaches me something new about the world and about myself.

What is my idea of happiness?

My idea of happiness is freedom – emotional freedom, financial independence, and the quiet peace of living life on my own terms without fear or apology. It is doing work that feels meaningful and not just practical. It is having enough courage to leave behind old versions of myself that no longer fit. It is sitting by a lake at sunset, feeling still for a moment, and knowing I am moving in the right direction. Sometimes happiness is very simple like watching the sunset by the lake in my city, or finishing a piece of writing that feels honest. It is also being able to help other women who come from difficult beginnings like mine.

What is my greatest fear?

My greatest fear is living a life that feels half-lived – staying in places, relationships, or expectations that slowly make me disappear. I fear becoming a version of myself shaped only by fear, compromise, or obligation. Coming from a conventional and restrictive background, I have always been aware of how easily people can lose themselves while trying to please others. I fear emotional stagnation more than failure. Failure can teach you something; regret stays much longer. I also fear not doing enough with the potential I know I carry. More than anything, I fear becoming comfortable in a life that was never truly mine.

What is the trait that I most deplore in myself?

I sometimes dislike how hyper-independent I have become. It comes from strength, but also from survival. I find it difficult to ask for help, to trust fully, or to let people stay close for too long. I have learned to rely on myself so deeply that vulnerability often feels unfamiliar. While independence has shaped me, I also know that softness is not weakness. I am still learning how to balance both.

Which living persons in my profession do I most admire?

I deeply admire women like Bharti Kher, Anjolie Ela Menon, and Nalini Malani for the way they have created fearless artistic languages of their own. I also admire curators and thinkers who make art accessible, political, and emotionally honest rather than decorative. I respect people who do not follow trends but create work with depth and integrity. In literature, voices like Kamala Das and Ismat Chughtai continue to inspire me for their courage and truthfulness.

What is the thing that I dislike the most in my work?

What I dislike most in my work is the constant uncertainty that comes with it. Creative fields demand immense emotional, intellectual, and physical labour, but they do not always offer stability or fair compensation. There is passion, but passion does not pay rent unfortunately. I dislike how many talented artists are forced to compromise because of financial insecurity. I also feel that art sometimes becomes too inaccessible, treated as something exclusive rather than something meant to create dialogue. When exhibitions become more about appearances than genuine engagement, something important is lost. Art deserves seriousness, honesty, and space to breathe.

When and where was I the happiest, in my work?

I feel happiest in my work when it creates real connection, when someone sees themselves in it. The most meaningful moments are not during openings or applause, but when an artist or a viewer comes to me and says they could relate to the work, that it made them feel seen, understood, or less alone. I try to work with themes that already exist quietly in our daily lives – unpaid labour, emotional fatigue, women’s invisible struggles, inherited silences but are often ignored or normalised. When my work helps bring those conversations into light, even in a small way, I feel I am doing something worthwhile. That is when I know I am in the right direction, and that is when I feel the happiest.

If I could, what would I change about myself?

If I could change one thing about myself, I would probably learn to be less hard on myself. I carry a strong sense of responsibility and often feel the need to handle everything alone. Hyper-independence has been both my strength and my defence mechanism. I push myself constantly, sometimes forgetting that rest is also part of growth. I would like to be softer with myself without feeling guilty for it, and more patient without feeling like I am falling behind. I am learning that not every battle needs armour. Sometimes strength also looks like allowing yourself to pause.

What is my greatest achievement in work?

My greatest achievement in work is not one single title or institution, but the fact that I built my place in the art world without coming from it. I studied literature, not fine arts, and everything I learned about art came through curiosity, discipline, and self-teaching. Working with institutions like the Museum of Goa and on independent curatorial projects gave me confidence that I could create my own path. I am especially proud of building projects that centre women’s voices and lived experiences, like my exhibition concept What We Inherit from Exhausted Women. For me, the real achievement is turning instinct into work that matters.

Where would I most like to live?

I would most like to live in Rome. There is something about the city that feels like memory and beauty existing in the same breath. I am drawn to places where history is not preserved behind glass but lives in the streets, in old walls, in ordinary conversations. Rome feels like art, chaos, ruin, and romance all at once which, honestly, sounds like a very believable life plan. I imagine living there with my best friend, walking endlessly, drinking good coffee, and writing better sentences. It feels like the kind of city where I would not just live, but become more myself.

What is my most treasured possession?

My most treasured possession is not really a big thing, but my journals. I have always written thoughts, observations, unfinished ideas, grief, ambition, questions I could not ask anyone else. They hold versions of me that no longer exist and remind me of how far I have come. I think writing has always been my first form of survival. In a way, my journals are proof that even in difficult phases, I kept choosing myself. They are messy, honest, and irreplaceable.

What is my most marked characteristic?

I think my most marked characteristic is my resilience, though it often looks like stubbornness from the outside. I do not give up easily, especially on the things that matter to me. Life has made me independent, ambitious, and sometimes fiercely protective of my own peace. I question things, I challenge expectations, and I rarely follow paths just because they are considered safe. I may bend, but I do not break easily. I think that refusal to settle, to shrink, to disappear is probably the clearest part of who I am.

What is my most inspirational location, in my city?

My most inspirational place in my city is Ambrai Ghat. I love sitting there by the lake, especially during sunset, when the whole city feels softer and quieter. It gives me a kind of stillness that is difficult to find anywhere else. Water has always felt like a reflection to me, it slows my thoughts and helps me listen to myself better. Some of my best ideas, and some of my most honest decisions, have arrived while watching that sunset. It reminds me that beauty and chaos can exist in the same frame.

What is my favorite place to eat and drink in my city?

I do not have one favourite place because every place carries a different mood. Green Grotto is where I go for slow brunches, coffee, and long daytime conversations. Royal Repast when I’m in a mood for some fancy. It feels special with its vintage haveli setting, jazz music, and beautiful mix of desi and fusion food. Abaar is where I go for lively evenings, good music, and spontaneous weekends. Then there’s Jajam, which has a quieter charm, perfect for poetry sessions, muffins, and simple conversations. I choose places the way I choose music, depending on my mood and the kind of memory I want to make there.

What books influenced my life and how?

If I had to name three books immediately, they would be The Old Man and the Sea by Ernest Hemingway, A Room of One’s Own by Virginia Woolf, and After Dark by Haruki Murakami. The Old Man and the Sea taught me resilience, the quiet dignity of continuing even when life feels heavier than expected. A Room of One’s Own gave me language for independence and reminded me how necessary space – both physical and emotional, is for a woman to create and become herself. After Dark influenced me because it made ordinary loneliness feel strangely beautiful and familiar. I return to books not for answers, but for recognition. The right book does not change your life loudly; it simply helps you understand yourself better.

You Only Die Once. What music would I listen to on my last day?

On my last day, I would choose music that feels like memory, something timeless, intimate, and deeply human. I would probably listen to ghazals by Jagjit Singh, Mehdi Hassan, or Ghulam Ali, because ghazals hold longing, beauty, and truth in the gentlest way. I would also love to hear a Hindustani classical jugalbandi of tabla, & sitar, or santoor speaking to each other without words. There is something sacred about that kind of music; it feels older than language and closer to silence. I think endings should sound like that – graceful, honest, and a little unfinished.

Who is my hero or heroine in fiction?

I choose Draupadi as my heroine from Indian mythology. I have always been deeply moved by her strength, intelligence, and her refusal to be reduced by the circumstances around her. She carries rage, dignity, and resilience all at once, and she never allows herself to disappear quietly. I admire women who refuse silence, and Draupadi represents that power for me. I also feel deeply connected to Jane Eyre for her self-respect and emotional courage. Both, in very different ways, remind me that survival itself is also a form of resistance.

Who are my heroes and heroines in real life?

I admire women who refused to live quietly just because society expected them to. To name a few, Amrita Sher-Gil for the fearless way she lived and created, Kamala Das for writing about female desire and vulnerability with such honesty, and Ismat Chughtai for her courage to question social norms and speak without fear. Their work was never only art or writing, it was truth. I am inspired by people who choose honesty over approval and courage over comfort. Women like them remind me that creating your own path is also a form of rebellion.

Which movie would I recommend to see once in a lifetime?

If I had to recommend one film to watch once in a lifetime, it would be Capernaum by Nadine Labaki. It is one of those films that stays with you long after it ends. What moved me most was its raw honesty and the way it shows survival, injustice, and childhood with such painful tenderness. It forces you to look at realities that people often choose to ignore. It is not an easy film to watch, but I think important films rarely are. Some films entertain you; this one changes the way you look at the world.

What role stories play in my life and work?

Stories are at the centre of both my life and my work. I began with literature, so I have always understood the world through stories first. Whether I am writing, curating, or simply observing people, I am always looking for the hidden narrative beneath the surface. Stories help me make sense of pain, memory, and human behaviour. In curatorial work, I see exhibitions as another form of storytelling, spaces where people can recognise themselves, question something, or feel less alone. For me, stories are not escape; they are a way of understanding truth.

What do the words ‘You are the storyteller of your own life’ mean to me?

To me, these words mean responsibility and freedom. Life does not always give us ideal circumstances, but we still choose how we respond to them and what we become. Coming from a conventional and difficult background, I learned early that if I did not shape my own life, someone else would do it for me. Being the storyteller of my own life means refusing to live only by inherited expectations. It means choosing my own voice, my own work, and my own direction. The past may explain you, but it does not have to define you.

Who is my greatest fan, sponsor, partner in crime?

My greatest fan, sponsor, and partner in crime is my sister. She is younger than me, but in many ways, she has been one of my strongest sources of support. She has seen every version of me – the struggling one, the rebellious one, the exhausted one, and the ambitious one still trying to build everything from scratch. Support is not always financial; sometimes it is simply someone who believes in you without conditions. She reminds me of who I am when I forget. My best friend and a few close people in my life have also been that quiet strength. But my sister has always been my constant.

Which people or companies would I like to work with?

I would love to work with institutions and platforms that believe art should create dialogue, not just decoration. Spaces like the Kochi-Muziris Biennale, Venice Biennale, Bukhara Biennial, Jaipur Art Week, and Serendipity Arts Foundation inspire me because they make art feel alive and socially relevant. I would also love to collaborate with spaces like Jaipur Centre for Art and Rajiv Menon Contemporary, along with artists and curators who centre women’s voices, memory, and lived experience in their work. I am drawn to projects that are honest, political, and emotionally intelligent. Good work, for me, always begins with meaningful conversation.

What project am I looking forward to working on?

The project I am most looking forward to is my exhibition What We Inherit from Exhausted Women. It explores unpaid labour, intergenerational trauma, emotional fatigue, and the invisible weight many women carry across generations. It is a deeply personal project because it comes from lived experience as much as research. I want it to become a space where women feel seen, and where silence around these realities is gently broken. I am currently working on building collaborations and raising support for the project so it can reach the scale it deserves. It is not just an exhibition for me, but a conversation that needs space, visibility, and collective participation. I believe meaningful work grows stronger when people believe in it together. Alongside this, I am also building platforms to work more closely with local and emerging artists

Where can you see me or my work?

You can see my work through the exhibitions I curate, independent projects, and my writing around art and culture. I share my professional work on LinkedIn and Instagram, where I post about exhibitions, curatorial projects, research, and collaborations. My upcoming exhibition What We Inherit from Exhausted Women is also a major part of my current work.

What do the words “Passion Never Retires” mean to me?

To me, “Passion Never Retires” means that if something truly belongs to you, it stays with you for life. Passion is not limited by age, time, or circumstances. It keeps finding its way back, no matter how far life takes you. For me, art, writing, and creating are not just career choices, they are part of who I am. Even when life becomes difficult, passion remains the reason to keep going. It grows, changes, and matures, but it never really leaves.

Which creative heroines should Peter invite to tell their story?

I would love to recommend women whose work I have seen closely and whose journeys deserve more visibility. Shri Raval, my closest friend, is a thoughtful scholar based in Rome, deeply immersed in art, literature, fashion, and cultural studies. She has a beautiful way of seeing the world through detail, beauty, and intellect.

Dr. Sonali Pattnaik, who was my professor during my Master’s. She is a fierce feminist poet, speaker, and academician whose words and ideas leave a lasting impact. She has always represented intellectual courage and the importance of speaking with honesty and conviction. Her presence, both as a teacher and as a woman, has been deeply inspiring to me.  

Pallavi Jha, who leads marketing for KFC India, brings creativity into beauty, fashion, and brand storytelling with remarkable energy. She balances corporate leadership with personal creative expression in a very inspiring way.

Chandani Aggarwal, founder of Transforming Travels, is creating meaningful travel experiences through cultural journeys, women-only trips, and thoughtfully curated national and international travel experiences. She brings intention and independence into the way people experience places.

Maya Suthar is an artist and interior designer whose work I discovered during Jaipur Art Week. Her practice explores themes of gaze, especially colonial and ethnographic gaze, in a way that feels sharp and necessary.

And Poojan Gupta is another artist whose work stayed with me. She transforms found and everyday objects into large sculptural works, especially using pharmaceutical waste like medical blister packs. I admire how she redefines beauty and material through something people usually ignore.

I believe women like them should be seen and heard more often, because their stories are not only successful but deeply original.

How can you contact me?
Email – official.urvashi97@gmail.com
LinkedIn – http://www.linkedin.com/in/urvashi10
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