Prasad Beaven

Recurring themes in my work are often archetypal and spiritual in nature. I’m consistently drawn to exploring the eternal tension between light and darkness, the struggle toward transcendence, and the quiet yet persistent journey of seeking. Figures in my work frequently appear as searchers, pilgrims, or witnesses—not tied to narrative, but representing inner states of longing, vision, or awakening. A central question in my work is: What lies beyond the visible? Through layered processes—such as ink marbling, intuitive mark-making, and tonal veils—I attempt to dissolve the solidity of the material world and invite a more ethereal, spiritual presence to emerge. My aim is not to describe what is seen, but to evoke what is felt or sensed, and to express that in the purest, most distilled form possible.

A pivotal moment in my journey came when I stopped trying to replicate nature’s outward form and began to express my felt experience of it. That shift transformed not only how I painted, but the very purpose of my practice. Before, technique was simply a means to render what I saw. But when I turned inward, the brushstroke itself became expressive - not of what I observed, but of what I sensed. A single mark could carry the vital force of nature more truthfully than any representational detail. During this time, a phrase I would often say to myself was: “Seek not outside for the garden of paradise, for it lies within you.” This quiet mantra led me away from surface appearances toward inner attunement. My work became less about description and more about revelation—a search for the spiritual within the physical, the eternal within the temporal.

The process begins as an act of surrender—a letting go of preconception, control, and the idea of what the painting should be. Through the spontaneous medium of ink marbling, I allow the image to form itself. It’s a way of opening the process to accident, letting something unexpected emerge. From there, I enter a state of thoughtless awareness, responding to the forms that have surfaced. Often they begin to reveal something back to me—a quiet unfolding of internal imagery or feeling through the abstract language of nature. It becomes a process conscious of the unconscious. The painting evolves through soft, subtle layers of ink, followed by watercolour washes to shape light and tone. Toward the end, I may introduce pastel, used sparingly to soften transitions and unify the surface. Each material contributes to a balance between spontaneity and clarity—between what is felt and what is gradually revealed.

I hope people feel reflective—as if the painting invites them on a quiet journey from the known to the unknown. Much of my work plays with the space between clarity and openness: some forms are gently revealed, while others remain undefined, allowing the viewer to enter their own process of discovery. I want the work to draw people inward—from form to formlessness, from outside to within. My hope is that looking becomes a subtle kind of transformation; an opening of awareness, a shift toward sensing the subtleties of existence.

I usually begin my day early with meditation, which helps me settle into a quiet, receptive state. After that, I attend to admin and practical tasks—emails, messages, anything that needs to be cleared. Once that’s done, I spend time with my journal, which allows me to reflect on the work, check in with where things are heading, and stay aligned with the deeper direction of my practice. Only after that do I begin painting. I try to enter the process without pressure, allowing the forms and mood of the work to guide me. I’ll often paint through the late morning into the afternoon, then take a break—sometimes going for a walk in the park, which helps to reset and reconnect with the natural world. After the break, I return to the studio and will often continue painting into the evening, working with fresh eyes and a quiet focus.

My hopes as an artist are rooted less in recognition, and more in the integrity of the work itself. I carry a quiet but clear vision—one that continues to refine itself as my paintings evolve. My deepest ambition is to realise that vision fully—to give form to something that feels both deeply personal and universally resonant. I hope that the work, when it reaches its fullest expression, will carry a kind of timelessness. That it can stand apart from trend or fashion and speak instead to something eternal—something unchanging beneath the flux of the world. We live in a time marked by noise, distraction, and contradiction. Amid that, I want my paintings to offer clarity, stillness, and a sense of truth. Not as dogma, but as felt insight—a reminder of the unseen, the subtle, and the spiritual dimensions of life that often go overlooked. If my work can help even a few people reconnect with that sense of inner depth, or feel less alone in their longing for meaning, then I would feel I’ve fulfilled my role as an artist.