Samanta Batra Mehta and Nirupa Rao approach their artistic practice very differently, each with a unique voice and creative process. The work of both artists, however, is rooted in a love for botany. New York City-based Samanta works with illustration, text and photography to create multi-layered, mixed-media installations that draw connections between the environment and the human condition.

Nirupa's botanical illustrations are inspired by her regular field visits into the wild–the most recent of which was to the forests of the Western Ghats. The Bangalore-based artist collaborates closely with botanists to achieve scientific accuracy in her illustrations and has published two books: Hidden Kingdom—Fantastical Plants of the Western Ghats (2019) and Pillars of Life—Magnificent Trees of the Western Ghats (2018).

Monsoon Malabar connected with Samantha and Nirupa via email to discuss their varied inspirations, love of books and how covid has changed the way they work in their respective cities.

Your interest in the natural world was inspired by botanists in your own family; how did they influence your practice?

Samanta Batra Mehta: Nirupa and I had a lively discussion about our practices and there seemed to be many similarities in how we started working with botanical themes. My grandfather was indeed a botanist, an agricultural scientist and a college professor. In 1947, he became a refugee due to the Partition of India and Pakistan. Later, he developed drought resistant rice for the newly independent India. In my art, I evoke the extensive ornamental and “kitchen” gardens in Northern India that he painstakingly re-created, along with his stories of the home that him and my grandmother lost during Partition. These fantastical gardens conjured up by my families’ collective imagination, the larger debates underpinning them and themes relating to my own migration from Bombay to New York appear frequently in my art. 

Nirupa Rao: My mother's uncle, Fr Cecil, was a very well-known botanist who documented the flora of Karnataka back in the '70s, using my grandfather's house in Hassan as his base. He passed away when I was twelve, and my memories of him are honestly more of a personal nature. I can't claim to have inherited any real botanical knowledge from him, but I think the influence he had on me was to bring plants to my imagination. My mother has memories of watching his botanical expeditions unfold, and I consequently came to associate plants with that sense of intrigue and discovery. Though I grew up in a city (Bangalore), my parents would whisk us away to the hills every chance we got. From when I was younger than I can remember, the grown-ups would take us cousins on trekking ‘adventures’ in the Western Ghats, even if we had to sit on their shoulders most of the way up. This led to an automatic association of nature with fun and freedom. Those are the emotions I try to communicate through my work. I feel like we'll only strive to protect what we deeply love. 

There are so many layers to each of your works. How do you plan and construct your compositions before you begin?

SBM: I get creative ideas a mile a minute and have kept detailed notebooks over the years where I record my thoughts and inspirations. As the ideas move onto a physical, manifested form, the work inevitably changes along the way. What I am currently working on usually feeds into my next idea, and so on. I do have to consciously edit along the way and make choices about what to work on. The studio is not a limiting space for me – I don't have to be in the proverbial creative zone or waiting for a muse because I feel like I am in a perpetual state of creativity. The only limiting factor for me is the time I have to manifest these ideas. 

NR: A lot of my work has been project-based—such as books, or games for educational curricula. As far as possible, I like to have a strong idea of the whole project, and plan each illustration accordingly. In my books, for instance, there is accompanying text for each illustration, and I like them to complement each other. 

Have recent events and the covid crisis changed the way you work, in terms of your process and subject?

SBM: Gosh, yes, in every imaginable way and we are still responding and changing. The crisis is very much here and the way we live is changing seismically. The initial reaction was to be in a meditative and introspective state. I wasn't able to work in the beginning because of the immediate demands of my family. The lockdown made us think of small living as a family, to embrace the economy and ecology of all things, to use what we have: re-using, re-purposing, repairing, making things from scratch at home and growing plants from discarded seeds. 

I have taken great joy in watching plants emerge and grow from seeds that I would have otherwise thrown away. This act of co-creating with nature while the world around us in disarray, has redefined my connection with our planet and to consumption/disposability, responsibility/stewardship. There is sadness and uncertainty all around, but I keep bringing my awareness back to the centre, back to the point, back to the seed and the smaller joys in life. 

As for what my personal life will look like after this scourge lifts – I definitely see us living with much less and living a life of deep and direct connection with nature. These visions and hopes for the future are very gestalt and not very specific. I am feeling my way through it.

As for my work, I’m fulfilling prior commitments for several private commissions, a site-specific project in London and an exhibition in New York  This will see me through the end of the year and into Spring 2021.

NR: Before the covid crisis, field work was quite a big part of my process. I often travelled within the Western Ghats to see my subjects in person, sketch them and take reference photos. Obviously that isn't an option right now. I'm working on a set of orchid illustrations for an American nature magazine at the moment. I'm working from photographs, botanical descriptions and historic illustrations. It also definitely helps that orchids are a subject I'm very familiar with.

Can you describe your relationship with books and their importance in your work?

SBM: My relationship to books is intensely personal and expansive. Growing up there was a lot of exposure to books. We lived on a ship and my mother would spend hours reading and doing creative projects with me. With a view and the sound of the ocean, tit was idyllic and wonderful.

When we settled in Bombay so I could start school, my Mom would scour every imaginable bookstore to source good reading material or me. Growing up in the 1980s in socialist India, it wasn't always easy. I remember walking through dark warehouses and godowns with her in the back-streets of Bombay looking for books. There used to be an annual book exhibition at Azad Maidan and she would take me there and I was allowed to buy every book that I wanted- just imagine that! My mind exploded with all those creative inputs. I have been a voracious reader and book collector since then- and when we last moved house I had 22 boxes of books and 2 for clothes. Last year, writer Avni Doshi asked me to illustrate and design the cover of her debut novel, Girl in White Cotton (Burnt Sugar) , which incidentally has been nominated for the Booker Prize. At some point I would love to write and illustrate my own book – perhaps in collaboration with my kids who love making handmade illustrated books. As you can see, this love is being passed down through generations.   

NR: I was quite a bookish child. I don't recall having any dolls or stuffed toys, but at one point my parents had to impose a ban on reading at the dinner table because my sisters and I were so attached to our books. When I was in college, I spent two summers interning at Bloomsbury Publishers in London, in the children's department. It's the same department they published the likes of Harry Potter, and they imbued all their books with that same kind of magic. My job was to help liaise with organisations like the Zoological Society of London or the Royal Society for the Protection of Birds on books teaching British kids about their native wildlife. It made me realise that even though I had been surrounded by incredible books as a child, very few of them related to my own surroundings in this way. From that point onward I dreamed of creating books that translated deep scientific, historical or social content into a format that anyone could enjoy, specifically for the Indian context.

Does the city inspire your work at all?

SBM: Plants are everywhere, even in the urban scrawl. In Mumbai, the monsoons are a powerful, regenerative force. In New York, the change of seasons, especially from the bleak winter into verdant spring, is delightful and curative. Right before covid shut everything down, I was part of an art residency at Wave Hill, a public botanical garden right here in New York City. The opportunity to create artwork while being surrounded with stunning plants and gardens was inspiring. We also live very close to Central Park which has been my refuge through the years.

NR: Since most of my work is project-based, they are usually inspired by my field trips. Bangalore does inspire me in a way, though—back in the '70s, we had about 70% green cover, which now stands at about 3%. So this city is a constant reminder of how much we have lost with our negligence. 

Which artists and places have inspired you the most?

SBM: The large swathe of medieval art has really interested me. While I place my work right in the contemporary space, the mystical, magical world of European religious art has drawn me in. 

NR: Last year, I spent a month at the Dumbarton Oaks Research Centre in Washington DC. They have a rare books collection that specialises in historic botanical art, which we were able to handle and study up close. That entire experience with botanical art from Asia to Europe to South America was unlike any other I've had before. There was one tiny pocket herbal from around the 16th century, with the most exquisite illustrations, but no text besides the plant names. The owner had scribbled some of his own notes in pencil in the margins, and the edges of the pages were still caked with (presumably) 16th-century mud. It was surreal. As I recall, the illustrations were copies of those made for (German botanist) Leonhart Fuchs' herbal. 

What do you think the Indian art industry can learn and how would you like to see the art world come out of this crisis?

SBM: From an industry perspective, all constituents – curators, artists, galleries and museums – have really taken a hit. The experiential nature of engagement with art has suffered. The whole future of the art world as we know it is tenuous right now. But artists adapt and are used to living with less. Creativity feeds and drives us.  We will find a way to create!

NR: I would love to see the Indian art industry and the whole world in general move away from trend and over-consumption. I think the notion of 'luxury' can consist in design, authenticity and attention to detail rather than in material extravagance. 

www.samantabatramehta.com / @samanta_batra_mehta

www.nirupa-rao.com / @niruparao