Studio Visit: Inside Priya Sharma's Practice

Thread, Pattern, and the Language of Cloth

Priya Sharma's East London studio is a riot of colour and texture. Skeins of naturally dyed wool — indigo, madder, turmeric, weld — hang from a rack near the window. Rolls of silk lean against the wall. On the loom, a piece in progress: a geometric grid that might take another four months to complete.

"In India, textile is not a minor art form," Sharma says. "The tradition of weaving, of embroidery, of dyeing — these are arts that have the same status as painting or sculpture. Coming to art school in London, I had to learn to defend them. Now I think that work has made me a better artist."

Mango Grove

Her newest large-scale piece, Mango Grove, took eighteen months. The silk was hand-dyed using traditional Indian mordant techniques — metal salts that fix the dye to the fibre — and the embroidery was executed over hundreds of hours. Real gold leaf was applied in the final stages, giving the piece its characteristic shimmer.

"Gold is not decorative for me. It's spiritual. In Indian art, gold is the colour of the divine. I'm not making a religious work, but I'm drawing on that vocabulary — the idea that something handmade, made with this much care and time, partakes of something sacred."

Geometric Language

Sharma's geometric vocabulary is drawn from Mughal architecture, Islamic tile-work, and the traditional patterns of Rajasthani weaving. "These are not my personal inventions. They are inherited forms — forms that carry centuries of use and meaning. My role is to bring them into conversation with the present."