Surendra Babu Gantenapati

Your practice moves between the precision of architecture and the spontaneity of hand drawing. How do these two ways of thinking influence each other in your work?

As an architect I was trained to think about spatial relationships, while hand drawing allows me to respond instinctively to emotion, movement, and observation. Rather than existing in opposition, these approaches complement one another. The discipline of architecture provides a strong foundation, while drawing offers the freedom to explore ideas beyond technical constraints. Together, they create a balance between precision and intuition that defines my artistic practice.

You use several distinct techniques, including stippling, continuous line, contour drawing, and expressive scribbling. What determines which visual language you choose for a particular subject?

The subject and the emotion I want to communicate are my key ideas, not the medium or the technique. Dot rendering allows me to build depth and subtle tonal transitions through patience and precision. Expressive scribbling helps me capture movement, emotion, and spontaneity. I select the approach that best reflects the subject’s mood and character, allowing each drawing to develop its own visual identity with ease and flow.

In your stippled portraits, the image gradually emerges through the accumulation of countless small marks. What attracts you to such a slow and repetitive process?

For me, dot rendering is more than a technique—it is a process of observation and patience. Every dot is placed intentionally, and over time those individual marks come together to reveal form, light, and emotion. I enjoy the discipline the process demands because it allows me to connect deeply with the subject. The gradual emergence of the portrait reflects my belief that meaningful work is built through consistency, attention to detail, and persistence.

How do you balance accuracy and likeness in portraiture with the desire to preserve the expressive quality of the individual marks?

I don’t chase perfection or try to compete with a photograph. I’m more interested in capturing the feeling, personality, and presence of a person than creating an exact copy. If someone recognizes that essence in the portrait, I’ve achieved what I set out to do.

At the same time, I want the drawing to remain honest to its process. Every dot stays visible because those marks tell the story of how the artwork came to life. Up close, you see thousands of individual marks and the time behind them; from a distance, they come together as a single image. I find that transformation fascinating. For me, the beauty lies in the handmade marks and the subtle imperfections—they give the work its character and remind us that every portrait is not just an image of someone, but a record of the artist’s journey in creating it.

Your figure drawings often convey movement with relatively minimal means. What do you look for in a gesture or pose before you begin drawing?

I created this piece as a gift to myself. It serves as a reminder to slow down, pause, appreciate the present moment, and practice self-love. In the midst of life’s constant demands, it encourages me to reconnect with myself and value the quiet moments of reflection and gratitude.

How does your training in landscape architecture influence the way you perceive organic forms, patterns, or relationships between the human figure and surrounding space?

My background in landscape architecture has strengthened my understanding of natural systems, spatial relationships, and organic patterns. It encourages me to see the human figure as part of a broader environment rather than an isolated subject. This perspective influences both my compositions and the way I observe balance, rhythm, and harmony in my drawings.

Your work ranges from highly controlled mark-making to much looser and more spontaneous drawing. Do you consider these approaches opposites, or different expressions of the same artistic investigation?

I see them as two sides of the same creative journey. Some days I enjoy the patience and focus of dot rendering, where every mark is intentional. Other days, expressive scribbling lets me draw freely without overthinking, capturing emotion and energy in the moment.

Both approaches help me understand the world in different ways. One teaches me to slow down and observe, while the other reminds me to trust my instincts and simply enjoy creating. I don’t see them as opposites—I see them as different ways of expressing myself, depending on what I feel and what the subject inspires.