17/08/2026
“The inspiration for this painting came from a moment of looking up, then looking down.”
In Kathmandu, the sky is not open; it is a roof of tangled iron. I was walking through a busy alley when I paused and looked up. That utility pole stood like a dark, gnarled tree, shooting out hundreds of thick, heavy wires in every direction. They crossed over each other, fighting for space against the crumbling buildings. To me, those wires weren’t just electricity—they looked like the city’s own nervous system, a physical map of its rapid, chaotic growth over decades.
But as I stood there, I lowered my gaze. Right beneath that dense, oppressive canopy, the city was alive. People were moving—not rushing, but flowing. They walked in and out of the deep shadows cast by the awnings, carrying umbrellas against the sharp sun. They didn’t look up at the wires; they were completely used to them. They simply navigated the narrow space below, a river of humanity flowing effortlessly under the heavy metal sky.
That contrast is what inspired me to paint this. The heavy, rigid, unyielding black lines above against the fluid, colorful, breathing shapes below. I wanted to capture the strange harmony of Kathmandu: a city that feels tangled and overwhelming to the eye, yet somehow keeps moving with a natural, beautiful rhythm. I left the figures as anonymous shapes because they aren’t individuals—they are the spirit of the street, moving in sync with the chaotic pulse of the city above them.
The Tangled Pulse of Kathmandu
Watercolour on paper
51cm x 36cm.