Calligraphy
Bringing Consistent Work
From self-taught Devanagari calligraphy to building a distinct creative practice, Sheetaltara reflects on visibility, pricing, identity, and meaningful work.
If a young creative told you, “I get projects, but not consistently,” - what would you say first?
Inconsistency often stems from unclear positioning rather than a lack of talent. It’s crucial to define what you do and who your audience is. This clarity will attract clients and referrals.
To assess your positioning, ask: “If someone wanted to commission me based on my work, would they know what to request?” If not, that’s where you start. Clarity leads to consistency.
What were your early days like before recognition and commissions? Were you chasing work or building your practice?
I primarily focused on creating and building distribution. Initially, I wasn’t thinking about commissions; instead, I was teaching myself Devanagari and understanding the script out of necessity. Aksharkala Wari began in 2018 as a personal commitment to honour the Wari pilgrimage through calligraphy. That first year, during the pilgrimage season, I created 21 pieces. My work was devotional before becoming professional. It resonated with an audience as it was authentic, and not because I was strategically promoting it. I quickly realised that experimentation was key to staying ahead. Following a conventional path might have been easier, but creating my own way was challenging. However, that process brought me satisfaction and peace.
You’ve built a very distinct space through Devanagari calligraphy. Did you consciously choose this niche, or did it emerge naturally over time?
Before I started focusing on calligraphy, I was able to create beautiful works in various forms, such as drawing rangoli, painting, crocheting, pencil sketching, applying mehendi, and making origami, among others. When I began writing normally, I experienced a natural flow state. Devanagari is my mother script; I didn’t choose it in the way one might select items from a market, it felt entirely mine from the start.
What I consciously chose was to remain committed to Devanagari, even when there was a commercial trend towards Latin lettering or more widely accessible styles. Instead of branching out into different styles, I chose to delve deeper into Devanagari. This commitment to depth ultimately became a part of my identity
Many artists struggle between doing ‘what sells’ and ‘what feels right.’ Have you ever felt tempted to change your style or move away from Devanagari for more work?
No, not once. I don’t create to sell; I share a piece of my existence. Chasing trends isn’t tempting; it’s not the game I’m playing. I believe every piece of art has a home yet to be found. The issue isn’t the work itself, but its distribution. My approach to getting more work has always been to keep creating and sharing with a wider audience. The broader my reach, the better my chances of connecting with those meant to receive my art. My creative intuition leads my work, not the market.
What were the biggest challenges you faced as a self-taught artist getting commissioned work?
Credibility was my biggest hurdle. Without institutional backing, I had to build trust through my work and consistent presence over the years. I’ve largely overcome this challenge, though it took time.
Pricing was another issue. Without external benchmarks, I tended to undercharge, leading to resentment. I learned to price my work based on its true worth, and while I’m still refining this, I no longer approach it from a place of fear.
Recently, a client questioned my logo pricing in light of available AI options. This revealed their perspective, and I chose not to engage with that mindset. AI and hand-made Devanagari are not the same, and if someone believes they are, they aren’t the right client for me.
Did living abroad make it harder to find clients? Did you ever feel disconnected from your audience or culture?
I am currently far from Maharashtra, where there’s a deep connection to my work. While my art would be appreciated here, it serves as a link to our homeland for the Indian diaspora in the U.S. Many miss their home, and seeing Marathi script on the wall provides comfort.
To reach a broader audience, I write English captions for my exhibition pieces and social media posts. Sometimes, even Marathi speakers here find it challenging to grasp the context of my work, which often relates to experiences back home. My goal is to create a sense of familiarity that resonates globally, making my art meaningful to anyone who has been away from something they love.
Having seen both worlds, how would you describe the difference between Indian and international creative ecosystems?
In India, calligraphy and typography are often viewed as trivial skills unless one is at the top with a large following. This perception, partly created by the artists themselves, leads to widespread undercharging, causing clients to expect specialised work at hobby prices and becoming confused by professional rates. In contrast, the international market values lettering and typographic work as skilled services with appropriate pricing. While there is some interest in Devanagari as a visual form, clients often require education about the script, which adds to the workload.
Although Devanagari calligraphy as a fine art is not yet mainstream in the U.S., calligraphy is gaining recognition as a serious art form, and I believe Devanagari will eventually follow. However, it remains a long journey.
Your work combines traditional script with modern use. Has this helped you attract more meaningful work over time?
I realised early on that most Devanagari work centred on spirituality or classic literature, highlighting its untapped potential. This insight liberated me; I began to explore innovative letterforms and designs beyond tradition. Curiosity about how Devanagari fits into new design ideas initially gained me visibility and credibility. As people became intrigued by the script in unexpected forms, it eventually led to building trust and securing commissions.
Projects like Aksharkala Wari feel personal and consistent. Did they help attract commissions, even if unintentionally?
My work is deeply personal, rooted in childhood memories of the Wari festival in Pandharpur. I noticed that Vithhal’s representation often lacks artistic depth, and I draw inspiration from the lesser-known Abhangas of Varkari saints.
In 2018, I began illustrating Vithhal alongside these Abhangas during a 21-day pilgrimage. Now, nine years later, my series resonates widely, with many recognising it without knowing it’s mine.
This visibility has led to commissions, including a wall installation inspired by my Wari work. However, I choose to protect this series from commercialisation to preserve its power.
Many young creatives rely heavily on social 09 media for visibility. What has actually worked for you when it comes to turning visibility into real, paid work?
Social media can trap creators by encouraging them to cater to community desires, which can diminish the joy of creation. For me, it serves as a channel for inquiries rather than a tool to convert followers into clients. When the focus is on performance, the community notices. Authentic and consistent work gradually shapes your audience’s understanding and taste, fostering genuine interest in your art and leading to commissions. This slow process has proven effective for me.
Let’s talk about consistency, creatively and financially. When did things feel stable for you? Was there a mindset shift that helped?
I’m not focused on financial stability yet; my goal is to cover my material costs, which is tough due to my impulsive buys.
The practice comes first, and I have time before considering commercialisation. I want to preserve the essence of my work.
Right now, I’m exploring the art form, and I’m not rushing the financial aspect.
Pricing, communication, and follow-ups are often overlooked topics. What’s a lesson you learned the hard way about client interactions?
Pricing was a challenge for me as a self- taught artist, often leading to underpricing my work and feeling a deep sense of sorrow about it. This wasn’t about the money, but rather how it impacted my perception of my worth. I realised, I needed to separate my value from the price of my artwork and also understand that clients view value differently. I can control the price I set for my work, and it doesn’t need to validate my art. Now, I approach pricing without anxiety or fear, focusing solely on the business aspect.
For someone building a niche practice like yours. Do you think it’s better to be highly specific or more versatile in the beginning?
Be versatile and embrace the unexpected. Reflect on your creations and avoid repeating them; this challenging process helps you find your unique niche. Choosing a niche too quickly can lead to doubt, especially when comparing yourself to others. Trust in your journey to reveal your true path.
When your niche emerges through your work after years of exploration, you may find you’re ahead of the curve without even realising it. Let your work define you; it knows you better than you do.
Looking back, what do you think actually brings consistent work?
I’m still figuring it out. Anyone claiming to have a definitive answer isn’t being fully truthful.
I believe consistency in work comes from a community recognising your unique voice and sensibility. This recognition is built through the work itself.
Two key elements contribute: relatability, when the work resonates with what the audience already feels, and the wow factor, where it exceeds their expectations. Both are essential; relatability without surprise becomes forgettable, while surprise without relatability can feel alienating.
When you combine both effectively, you build a loyal audience that returns, eventually leading to commissions and referrals. That’s my best theory, and I’m still testing it.
If a young artist wants to move from “occasional projects” to “consistent work,” what’s one honest piece of advice you’d give them?
I’m hesitant to advise because every artist’s journey is influenced by factors beyond their control, like timing and luck. It feels dishonest to condense my experience into a single piece of advice. What I can say is that what I’ve shared reflects my path. Take what resonates and leave the rest. The only certainty is that the work must come first; everything else is uncertain. Anyone claiming otherwise is likely trying to sell something.
