How Saumya Kashyap’s Veyari technique is transforming rattan and thread into contemporary Indian narrative art

Veyari really started because of a silence I couldn’t ignore. I was making these simple panels of rattan cane framed in teakwood. They were beautiful and minimal, but after a while, I realised they were just being admired rather than felt. There was nothing being said, only shown. That absence became a question for me: What would it take for this material to actually express something? So I started experimenting with thread, not to decorate the cane, but to give it a language. It became a discipline when I further realised that to communicate clearly, I needed rules. There is no outline that can be drawn on the canvas (in this case cane), the threads must be put by hands only. Veyari movement also encourages artists to adopt sustainable material and processes for their work.

I was initially drawn to rattan because of the warmth and texture it brought to a space. It is such an honest material. The weave acts like a natural grid that receives the thread. Because rattan is so strong, it allows me to pull the threads with incredible tension without the frame warping. That tension is what gives the work its durability and its life. The holes in the cane create a built-in rhythm, so even when my threadwork is expressive, the cane keeps it grounded. It is a material already rich with meaning, and the thread just gives it a voice.

They all taught me how to see structure in different ways. Engineering gave me a logic-based approach where I count every cane hole and thread pass almost like I am writing code. Photography taught me to value negative space and to understand how light creates contrast. Spatial exploration is what helps me see the work as part of a room rather than just an object. These backgrounds keep me from over-embellishing. They push me toward a kind of restraint where I am painting with threads on a canvas. In Veyari, that involvement and precision is what makes the final story feel effortless.

The biggest challenge is time and the pressure to produce more. Every piece is built line by line, and you simply cannot rush that process without losing the depth. Because these are hand-drawn stories in thread, they are almost impossible to replicate perfectly. That makes growth a very slow and thoughtful process. But this approach is essential because speed kills the soul of the work. Veyari is about presence and depth. If we took shortcuts, it would just be another decorative product. By staying slow, we make sure each piece actually says something.

I start by imagining various spaces an art or an object with Veyari art could inhabit. I think about how the light will hit the threads at different times of the day or how a screen might divide a room while still letting it breathe. For furniture, the utility has to be perfect, but the narrative lives inside that utility. I don’t want the story to be a caption on a wall. I want it to be embedded in the choices of texture and colour. When you use a Veyari piece every day, that narrative becomes part of your own ritual. Both function and the story co-exist in harmony. 

There is a huge expectation for Indian craft to be ornamental or "pretty". Veyari rejects the idea of being a garnish. We aren’t just adding thread to make the cane look better. We are using thread as a medium to compose stories. Veyari can exist on other surfaces too. It repositions craft because it demands to be read as art. It’s not a pattern that repeats over and over. It is an emotional arc captured in rhythm and tension. In a modern interior, it stands as a focal point that invites the viewer to go deeper rather than just looking at the surface.

Materially, longevity means using high-quality threads and wood (we use teakwood) that ages beautifully with time. We engineer the anchors so they stay taut for decades. But emotional longevity is the real goal. I want to create something that a person refuses to throw away because it has become a family chronicle. To me, an heirloom is an object that has gathered the memories of a home. I design with an intent so that the piece stays relevant even as tastes change, allowing it to age alongside the people who own it. Beyond the art, every piece gathers stories every day that it lives in a space. Each piece evolves in a new story that the owners of that piece choose to tell. Art does not belong to one artist. Art lives through experiences and becomes more meaningful through the eyes of those who witness it.

We don’t teach shortcuts, we teach a language. The training starts with the basics of tension and anchoring on small panels, and it takes months to move into freehand storytelling. I maintain  integrity by setting very high standards for the ‘logic’ of the thread. Once the artisans understand the rhythm, they start to take real ownership of the precision. It is a sustainable ecosystem because we are investing in a rare skill that gives these women a unique professional identity. We are all custodians of this new craft together.

Sustainability for us is about the health of the whole system. In my view, sustainability has three parts: 1) sustainable material, 2) longevity so that there is no need to replace it for a very long time (both material and the design), and 3) sustainable practice - that is kind to everyone.  We pay our artisans fair wages that reflect the intense cognitive labour of Veyari. We avoid the rush of trend-driven design because that leads to burnout and waste. Daily decisions are based on respect for the maker and the material. If we don’t treat the people with fairness, the craft itself loses its spirit. Ethical practice is the only way to ensure this art form survives long enough to become a legacy.

I see it as a language that is still finding its full range of expression. It started in wood and cane, but the spirit of Veyari can live in anything that holds and receives thread. It is a new category because it blurs the lines between textile, sculpture, and furniture. As it grows, I hope it stays an artist-led movement that encourages people to see craft as a deep, narrative medium. We are just at the beginning of discovering what this language can say.