Kenistudio

This was one of my early milestones that stood out in my journey, and these two oil paintings mark a truly memorable chapter for me. ​These were the two works I submitted for a national-level exhibition held in Hyderabad. Each participating artist was invited to display two pieces, and seeing both of them framed and presented together on the gallery walls was an incredible experience. ​The still life featuring an ornate floral pitcher, a metallic bowl overflowing with dark cherries, apples, and grapes, proved to be particularly special. ​The companion piece I exhibited alongside it is this stylized oil study of Lord Ganesha, rendered in rich, earthy tones, warm ochres, deep terracottas, and quiet mossy greens. The compositions rely on bold contours, expressive forms, and textured brushwork. The focal point rests on His expressive eye, bringing a calm, spiritual presence to the stylized geometry of the figure. These were awarded a national-level gold medal! To top off the thrill of rece...

Someone recently asked me why I paint. I didn't have an answer. Although, "I paint because I enjoy painting" is a perfectly appropriate answer, I would not say that it encompasses every aspect of my affinity towards creativity. The answer to this question is not easy. I had asked this very same question to myself when I was treating my patients as a dentist. Initially, I found satisfaction in knowing that because of my knowledge and skill, I could make a person's life better, maybe ease their pain, or give them a better quality of life. But later on, I began to understand that doing something for another person gives me a false sense of importance. Also, patients can ignore my advice, choose somebody else, misunderstand what I said, or simply make decisions I couldn't possibly control. If my sense of meaning depended on the other person's response, I was handing part of my inner equilibrium to them. Now, whatever I do, I try to do it with the understanding tha...

The Divine Story of Vamana and Mahabali Multiple lifetimes ago, the souls of Vasudeva and Devaki engaged in long and grueling austerities. When Lord Shri Hari appeared, pleased with their devotion, and asked them, they wished for only one thing - to bear the Supreme Lord Himself as their child. While we famously know them as the parents of Lord Krishna, their divine wish was first fulfilled when Shri Hari took avatar as Vamana, a brahmin boy, born to them in an earlier incarnation as Kashyapa and Aditi. The Tale of King Mahabali During the era of King Mahabali, a formidable ruler who had conquered the heavens, completed 99 grand yagnyas. As he began his 100th, Indra grew fearful. Completing a hundred yagnyas would automatically grant Mahabali the throne of Indra. Desperate to safeguard the balance, Indra approached Lord Shri Hari for help. Responding to the prayers of the devas, Shri Hari took the form of Vamana. Shortly after His upanayana, the young Lord walked toward Mahabali’s yagn...

Beyond the Three Paces - Capturing Mahabali’s True Sacrifice in the Vamana Avatar Painting   Finding the perfect narrative moment to depict an Avatar of Vishnu is always a spiritual and a creative challenge. My goal is never to just illustrate a story. It is to capture the absolute essence and philosophical core of the Avatara.  When I began conceptualizing the Vamana Avatar painting, I knew I had to go beyond the usual dynamic imagery of the three paces and Trivikrama’s giant form. Those are powerful moments, but they are not the central points. My composition is a direct expression of the Avatar's core: Atma Nivedana, or the total surrender of oneself. The true resolution of the Vamana story isn't about Mahabali losing his kingdom. It is about his offering. Him realizing that after everything else has been claimed, the only real thing he could offer is his own self. He asks Vamana, who is both the Supreme Lord and his beloved guest, to place the final step upon his ego, effe...

 This is an extraordinary subject and a profoundly moving story. There is a visual contrast between her quiet, physical fragility in the painting and the immense, unbreakable strength of her spirit. The soft, luminous highlights catching the curve of her shoulders, the thoughtful glint behind her wire-rimmed glasses, and the gentle, unassuming posture capture that exact essence - unspoken resilience. Painting the Quiet Giant: Strength in Humility There are people who pass through this life like a quiet thunderstorm. Unassuming in presence, yet shifting the trajectory of everything around them. My grandaunt is one of those rare ones. She is the youngest of five siblings who form the bedrock of our family. Without a shadow of a doubt, every single one of us owes our lives, our opportunities, and our foundation to those five. Yet, to look at her today in her eighties, with a deceptively frail frame and slender arms, you would never guess the monumental weight she has carried. Her life...

Alla prima oil portrait painting time lapse ​We have people in our lives who step into the role of a protector so naturally that we hardly realize the sheer weight they carry on their shoulders. They are the steady anchors in a turbulent sea. The ones who cheer for everyone else from the sidelines, asking for nothing in return. ​This portrait is my oil painting of such a wonderful woman, whose life is a masterclass in resilience, grit, and quiet devotion. ​From a very young age, she stepped up to become the maternal spine of the family. She took on the nurturing and guidance of her three younger siblings, steering them through school, extra-curriculars, financial hurdles, and all of life’s early crossroads. When life throws storms at the family, whether navigating tough personal crises or standing by people who she cares about, during their difficult seasons, she is always the immovable force standing guard. ​Her strength isn’t loud or demanding. It is fiercely determined. She is someo...

In 2022, I painted this portrait for my parents' 40th wedding anniversary. But looking at it today, I see details in their presence that I was only beginning to understand when my brush touched the canvas. ​My mother, at 65, is the quiet force that holds our universe together. To an outsider, she is in the crowd, cheering gently from the sidelines. But the truth is, she has spent decades carrying this family on her shoulders. Her sacrifices aren't grand, dramatic statements. They live in the smallest, daily details that most people overlook or take for granted. The tiny concessions, the invisible choices, the ceaseless everyday labor. When you look closely, you realize we are all standing on her shoulders. ​My father is a different kind of anchor. Retired over a decade ago, he exists in a rhythm entirely his own. He doesn't cheer. He observes, giving a slight, silent nod of approval when it matters. Being with him often reminds me of the Bhishma Parva. It isn't a Guru-...