1. Tell us about your background; what inspired you to start your creative journey?
I was always that kid who was drawing, but I never thought of it as a future career. My family wasn’t supportive at first, but in high school, I started selling prints of my work and made 30,000 rupees in a day. I used that money to fly to Mumbai and take my mom to a OneRepublic concert—paid for the flights, tickets, everything. That’s when she realized I could make a living from this, and I did too. I never felt passionate about anything else—I can’t imagine not being creative. When applying for university, I knew I wanted to study in the UK. I found GSA by accident and chose Communication Design because it was broader than illustration. That’s where I truly discovered graphic design—I hadn’t realised how much it shapes how people navigate the world, and that’s what I love about it.
My background is a bit complicated. I was born in Kenya, fourth-generation on my dad’s side—he’s Kashmiri Muslim. My mom’s Goan and grew up in Kenya. When I was 11 or 12, we moved to Goa. I went to international schools and experienced different cultural influences—my mom’s family is Catholic, but I attended a Muslim school in Kenya even though I’m neither. Now I’m in London, after Glasgow, and even people I work with get confused about where I’m from. That’s why my work focuses on reframing identity through a fragmented lens—because that’s how I experience it.
2. How does your identity influence your practice? Are there particular cultural elements that continue to inspire you?
You can see my identity in my work, especially in my degree show project—the blue and white Portuguese tiles you find all over Goa. I’ve been researching them since I was 16, so they’ve been a big part of my life. It’s strange because they’re not Goan, they’re Portuguese, but when I ask people from Portugal, they see them as Goan. No one really knows where they fit, which feels similar to me. That in-between space is a big part of what inspires my work.
3.a. Reframing Goan Identity is a deeply personal project. What sparked the idea for it, and what was the research process like?
When I started my fourth year at GSA, I knew I wanted to make a film, an installation, and incorporate these tiles—it just made sense. I’d been working on Goan identity since my first year, so this project felt like the culmination of everything. The installation pushed me into ceramics, which was unexpected since I was a graphic designer. The tutors questioned it, and at first, I considered alternatives like 3D printing, but terracotta felt more authentic. Reframing Goan Identity was about taking the Portuguese visual language, dismantling it, and making it modular—letting people create their own identity and visual language, like building with Legos. I ended up making around 700 pieces, laser-cutting and painting them terracotta instead of the traditional blue and white, using indigenous Goan materials that have been around for thousands of years.
At first, the project felt disjointed, and even my tutors doubted I could pull it off. But as I read more about postcolonial theory, I came across Homi Bhabha’s concept of ambivalence and mimicry. It explains how colonized people, when forced to use the colonizer’s language, are both subjugated and empowered—they can now speak back in a way the colonizer understands. I applied this idea visually, breaking down the Portuguese-inspired tilework into modular pieces that Goans could rearrange and reclaim, using the colonizer’s visual language to assert their own identity.
The project was called Reframing Goan Identity because it was literally about reframing—giving Goans the space to redefine how they are seen. I designed the installation so it could be projected onto, allowing Goans to display their own narratives. Goa is often reduced to a party state, a playground for tourists, but that comes at the cost of locals. There’s resentment, which some see as extreme, but it stems from real displacement. I wanted to create a space where Goans could say, This is who we are, this is how we want to be seen.
3.b.Your project consists of several moving parts - an installation, a typeface and a documentary - tell us about the process of making them, what were the challenges you faced while implementing them?
The documentary came together at the end; over spring break, I went back to Goa to shoot it. I had already planned out most of the pieces, and I knew I needed something to go inside the frame of my installation. The documentary was built to fit into that frame, so I had already thought through the shots, keeping everything central.
One key voice in the documentary was Frederick Noronha, an independent publisher focused on open-source publishing and democratizing knowledge in Goa. I interviewed him and, through him, connected with a WhatsApp group of Goan academics and enthusiasts. I asked them, What does Goa mean to you? What would you want people to see if you had to show them Goa? Their responses became the voiceover, and I had to clean up the recordings, which was a challenge. I had a ton of material at first—over an hour of voice notes—but I needed to cut it down to around five to seven minutes, making sure I didn’t lose their core message.
The images were filmed before the voice recordings, so I had to figure out how to make them fit. I was inspired by old documentaries from the '60s, shot on film, with a nostalgic vibe. Even the typeface for the subtitles was from an old Goan documentary. Everything in the video had a reason for being there. At one point, someone said they wanted Goa to be clean, so I paired it with an image of pigs eating garbage. I wanted the video to engage people but also show the contrast in Goa: a beautiful place in need of help and development but in the right way.
3. c. If you could expand Reframing Goan Identity further, what direction would you take it in?
Someone actually suggested creating a website with modular parts where people could engage with the project and build on it. I think that would be really cool, so maybe if I find the time or get really bored one day, I’d explore that. But honestly, I don’t want to close the chapter on this project, especially because reaching out to me has kind of reopened it. I’m a bit rusty and don’t remember everything, but it’s really nice that you reached out—it’s made me reflect on it again. I always wanted it to be more than just a degree show.
In Glasgow, it wasn’t always easy because it’s not a very diverse place, so people didn’t always fully understand the project or why I was doing it. That’s part of why I ended up moving to London—it’s much more diverse, and I found people who really engaged with and understood my work. That’s been really meaningful to me.
4. MOZAIC brings together BIPOC creatives into a single visual "mosaic." What was the catalyst for this idea?
I can’t take credit for that idea. It started with Lizzie, someone from illustration, who approached me because I was one of the few POC graphic designers. She asked if I’d help start a zine, and I agreed. It was challenging because I was juggling another project at the same time, but I’m glad I did it. I handled the branding, design, and photography, and helped with printing, while Lizzie took care of the admin—organising submissions, securing funding from Newspaper Club, and getting permissions. She was the driving force behind it.
For me, it was about creating a tangible document, something to show, "This is something POCs have done." It gave people a platform, a stage. I really believe in publishing as a way to advocate for yourself—it gives you a voice, a sense of purpose. When your work is out there, especially when it’s collaborative, it feels like part of something bigger.
It was also just really nice to bring people together. At GSA, there are so few people of colour, and this was a chance to connect across departments. I met people from fine art, master’s courses, and places I’d never interacted with before. It wasn’t just about creating as POCs—it was about meeting other POCs at GSA. Lizzie made that happen, and it was a really meaningful experience.
5.a. I absolutely love the idea of Rat Press Inc! How did this project come about, and what kind of work do you publish?
The project started with Christine, who was also in graphic design. In our second year at GSA, we had the freedom to do any project we wanted, and I said to her, "What if we made a magazine about rats?" So we did it—she handled all the illustrations, and I took care of the design, printing, and everything else. Our tutor told us, "If you're going to make something, make loads of them. It’s the only way to learn," so we made 100 copies. We sold them at Good Press, and they sold out. We were like, "Oh, people actually like this random thing!"
The next year, we made another edition called Cappy Drama, inspired by capybaras because they were trendy at the time. It was full of AI-generated images of capybaras doing silly things, like juggling oranges or singing at Eurovision. It was really fun, and that one sold out too. People just really liked these quirky animal magazines.
I think there’s a bigger theme here about giving voices to things that are often overlooked or marginalized, like rats. People usually think, "Oh, gross, kill them," but they’re not really respected. Giving them their own magazine felt like giving them a platform. And the magazines were rat-sized, about A9, which added to the charm.
5.b. You mention that your practice involves giving voice to inanimate objects to convey their narratives. Why is that important for you?
I see publishing as a form of self-advocacy—it gives you a voice, a sense of purpose, and the feeling of creating something real and bigger than yourself. For me, it’s really interesting to explore things from different perspectives. A lot of my projects try to approach things from unique angles, like asking, "What if this paperclip had a voice? What would it say?" I actually made a love letter to paper once, a poem about how it binds, holds, and keeps things together.
I think it’s a creative exercise that opens up so many possibilities. Imagining the world from the perspective of random, inanimate objects feels playful but also meaningful. And if you take that idea into society, it helps too—like putting yourself in someone else’s shoes and seeing things from their view. It makes you more open-minded. I think it’s just a nice thing to do, to imagine and explore those perspectives
6. Now that you’ve graduated, how do you reflect on your time at GSA? What were some of the most valuable lessons or challenges?
Reflecting on my time at GSA, I’d say the degree show felt like the be-all and end-all, but it’s not. The culture there is so focused on it, like it’s the ultimate goal, but I felt deflated afterwards—it was almost like grief or disappointment. I’d spent months working on 700 pieces for that wall, and then it was like, "What now?" I actually talked to one of my tutors about this, and they’re trying to help students see life after GSA as a stepping stone, not the final destination. I wish I’d thought more about what comes next instead of procrastinating and thinking, "I’ll figure it out after the degree show."
Another challenge is balancing life and work, especially as a creative. It’s hard to separate the two because creativity feels so tied to your identity—you’re the "artsy kid," and then it becomes your job. When you go home, you’re left wondering, "What do I do for fun now?" I still haven’t figured that out.
Now that I’m working in branding, it’s even trickier. Art school teaches you to be ethical and morally right, but in the real world, it’s hard to find jobs that align perfectly with those values. I’m working with big brands, and some of their practices are questionable, but I have to remind myself that this is a learning experience, a way to pay bills and grow. Publishing feels like my true passion, something I can do outside of work. At the end of the day, I’m not doing anything terrible, and someone else would do these jobs anyway. It’s a balance I’m still navigating.
7. What are your aspirations for the South Asian creative community in the future? Do you have any advice for other creatives like yourself?
My aspirations for the South Asian creative community are rooted in making creativity more accessible. In India, it often feels like an elitist space—many from disenfranchised backgrounds don’t see it as a viable career and are pushed toward fields like engineering or medicine. Even if they want to pursue design, the costs are a huge barrier. But we’re so tech-savvy and adaptable that I believe creative industries should be nurtured at a grassroots level. There’s so much untapped talent.
I’ve noticed more South Asian creatives coming together, especially in London, but it’s still very concentrated there. I wish there were more opportunities in places like Glasgow or smaller cities in India, like Goa, where I’m from. That’s part of why I came to the UK—to escape that bubble where not much was happening creatively.
I’d also love to see a shift in design aesthetics. While some studios are pushing boundaries, there’s still this perception that "good design" comes from the West, and that needs to change.
As for advice, it’s hard when people don’t understand your work, especially if they’re not from your background. Job searching as a creative is personal—your portfolio is like your baby, and it’s hard to put yourself out there. Find something you’re genuinely passionate about, and don’t rush. Something good will come because someone will see what you see in yourself.
Don’t be afraid to reach out to POC creatives in higher positions. I reached out to a POC creative director on LinkedIn, and she was incredibly supportive, offering mentorship and portfolio advice. The community is growing, and most POC creatives are willing to help because we know how hard it is. If someone reached out to me, I’d help in a heartbeat. It’s about having the courage to ask—what’s the worst that could happen? Someone ghosts you? So what?
8. What are you currently working on that can we look forward to in the coming months? Where can we find your work?
Right now, I’m finishing up my internship at Depth and planning to do some freelance work afterwards. I’m at a point where I know what I want—and don’t want—in a workplace, especially after interning in different environments. I’ve learned that people and culture matter just as much as the work itself. I’ve had experiences where the work was great, but the people made it unbearable, and vice versa. The previous creative director here said you’ll never get all three—money, culture, and people—so you have to prioritize. For me, culture and people come first. I’d rather be in a good environment with great people than somewhere that pays well but makes me miserable.
As for my work, I’m not great at social media—I should post more. You can find me on Instagram, if anyone wants to reach out, I’m always happy to give advice. I’ve learned so much after uni, especially about the importance of people and finding the right balance in a creative career.
9.And finally, the most important question—what is your favourite South Asian sweet?
Bebinca! It is a Goan sweet, baked in layers with coconut milk and eggs. It was created by a nun by the same name who just happened to have a lot of eggs.
