“I call her my Krishna-kali, the dark flower / though the villagers call her the dark girl.” — Rabindranath Tagore

My name is Krishanakali. (pronounced Krish-no-ko-li). While I have often gone by "Krishna"—a name I still hold dear—I am gently returning to my full name as I begin this artistic chapter. It translates to “Dark Flower,” a title from a poem by Rabindranath Tagore that evokes a soft yet profound resistance to the collective bias. When my parents immigrated from Calcutta to Canada, my father hoped to give me a Western name to make my path easier. The nurse suggested Patricia as I was born on St. Patricks day—but my mother insisted on a Bengali name. My father eventually agreed, but in the transition of settling into a new country, he added an extra 'A' to my birth certificate. For me, leaning into this name—with the extra letter—is a way of embracing the unpolished, the quiet, and the beauty of simply "unfitting." It is about standing in my own light.

Seeing the Unseen

I use the honest nature of watercolour to honour the parts of our stories that are often left unsaid. This is the lens through which I paint. I am a designer, a mom, and an emerging artist. My design side, my Artist Mentor, my studies at Ontario College of Art and Design and practice have given me a more innate and intuitive eye for colour, value and composition. My daughter has shown me how to let go and play more in my art and in life. I’ve found that painting is where I nourish myself. It is a space of "inward noticing"—a place to offer myself grace, recovery, grounding and the complete freedom to choose my own path—discovering, in the process, a deeper sense of who I am and what my truths are.

Standing in my Own Light

This internal journey is reflected in the medium I choose. For years, I worked in heavy acrylics, perhaps matching a certain heaviness I faced in my own life. Today, I find myself drawn to the transparency of water. I used to be wary of watercolour because it reveals every "mistake," but I have come to see those marks as the honesty of the painting—similar to the unpolished 'A' in my name. They are what make the work human. While dark washes still appear, they are simply part of the light and shadow we all navigate. Choosing watercolour has been my way of inviting more lightness into my world.

The Journey & The Nudge

For a long time, my sense of discovery came from the road, travelling to over 30 countries. Today, that nomadic pace has found a new home at my kitchen table on evenings and weekends. My practice was shaped by a luminary Artist Mentor who taught me the joy of abstract and how to refine my discernment, guiding me through an exploration of every medium imaginable—until I finally met the delicate balance of branches and watercolour. The final spark for this journey happened in a small coffee shop in Iceland. I met a lettuce farmer who compared his garden to a Rothko painting. When I told him I wasn't "ready" to share my art yet, he offered me a simple, life-changing truth:"No one is ever 'ready'—it is all just a journey we are meant to share."

A Tribute

This journey is a tribute to my late parents—the first to call me "The Artist"—and it is shared now with my daughter, who remains my greatest cheerleader.

I am so glad you’re here to share this journey with me. I hope my artwork offers a space for your unsaid stories to feel seen and become your full, whole self.