Former data scientist turned visual artist, Sanjukta Mitra, makes her India debut with a new show

Spiritus is a Latin word meaning breath or spirit and for me, it perfectly captures the essence of this exhibition. It represents something unseen but deeply felt. The invisible thread that connects us to ourselves, to each other, to the divine. This exhibition was never meant to be just a display of artworks — it was envisioned as a spiritual retreat through canvas and colour. A place where ancient myths, sacred archetypes and personal truths could coexist and spark reflection. From Shiva’s cosmic dance to the serenity of the Buddha and the grace of Greco-Roman angels and warriors, Spiritus reflects my belief that the world is not fragmented but intimately, mysteriously connected.

I’ve always been deeply fascinated by mythology — not just as stories of gods and heroes, but as symbolic maps of the human spirit. Indian and GrecoRoman mythologies may appear culturally distinct, but when I started immersing myself in them as an artist, I realised they are all speaking to the same deeper truths: love, sacrifice, transformation, inner power and transcendence. In Spiritus, I consciously bring these worlds together — not to compare them, but to show their shared soul. Ultimately, I believe all mythologies are just mirrors — reflecting the same quest for meaning, belonging and transcendence. Through art, I try to make those invisible threads visible.

Oil paint feels almost sacred to me — it’s wholesome, grounding and incredibly versatile. There’s a richness to its texture that allows me to build layers, not just visually, but metaphorically. Every layer of oil holds a piece of the story, a truth, an emotion that reveals itself over time. What I love most about oil is its depth. It can be heavy and opaque or light and transparent, depending on how I use it. That duality gives me an emotional vocabulary I haven’t found in any other medium. Oil gives me time — it dries slowly, which means I can reflect, revise and be in conversation with the work as it evolves. That slowness is part of my process.

This initial layer is often chaotic, filled with energy, colour, movement — what I call beautiful noise. If you walked into my studio at that stage, you might genuinely question my painting skills! But I’ve come to trust that mess. It’s part of my process. Over time, I begin to cull out form, message and meaning from that chaos. I paint in multiple sessions, allowing each layer to dry before moving on. Sometimes I use glazing to create depth or transparency, other times I build rich texture with thicker strokes or a palette knife.

Yes, for the most part, I do start with a baseline colour story already forming in my mind — even before I sketch or touch the canvas. For example, when I painted Ardhanareshwar, I saw it immediately in a deep, almost primal red. Red, with hints of blue, felt like the perfect expression — Shiva’s calm intensity merging with Shakti’s fierce grace. As I explored it further, I realised it was because I feel Shakti is always present where Shiva is — inseparable, even in form.

The motifs — serpents, wings, moons — are more than just symbolic elements in my work; they are vessels of energy. They help convey the emotional and spiritual essence of each piece. I use them intuitively, almost like visual mantras, to channel the vibration I want the viewer to feel. Each one carries a frequency that shapes the emotional atmosphere of the canvas.

View the artworks on sanjuktaart.com

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