In this candid conversation, Surabhi reflects on her evolving visual language, navigating creative duality, and why embracing the blur between disciplines led to her most authentic work.
Surabhi, be honest—has anyone ever told you to “just pick one”? Architecture or illustration. What’s your go-to response when people expect you to choose?
Yes, but that's an easy one- I'd pick drawing any day. But that being said I would like to believe that Architecture is the reason for my experimentation in different art styles which led me to look at a career in Illustrating. My work is heavily influenced by all that I have learned from my Architecture school and professional career as an Architect.
Architecture comes with structure and rules; illustration is more fluid and emotive. How do you switch gears between those two modes of making?
The difference that exists between what I illustrate and architectural drawings lies in the fictional aspect I try to incorporate in my illustrations. In my artwork, I get to annihilate the rules of structure and physics and focus more on the story. I have been highly fortunate to have had teachers and mentors who have nudged me to persistently challenge myself in the illustrative drawings for architectural juries, client meetings and competition entries.
Do you think your architectural lens has changed the way you draw—or even the way you see the world around you?
I draw on many visual techniques from my architectural practice—many of which are probably subconscious—that naturally influence my illustrative work. My architectural education has instilled in me a strong representational style of drawing, including classic techniques like superimposing plans onto elevations. Incorporating these methods into my artwork has allowed my style to evolve in ways I never imagined when I first began. Additionally, I have become more attuned to composition within a space and to how characters inhabit and interact with that environment.
Tell us about your illustration style—it’s so detailed, cinematic, and intimate. Did it evolve naturally or was it something you intentionally shaped over time?
And which software do you use to create the illustrations?
My illustrations are playful, nostalgic, colourful, and narrative-driven. I primarily use Photoshop and Procreate for my work. Initially, my illustrations were created solely in Photoshop, resulting in visibly clumsy pieces with choppy edges, as I drew everything using just a mouse. Over time, my style evolved into more defined shapes and line work after I started using Procreate.
Additionally, I’ve always been a collector (or perhaps a hoarder!) of items that I find important and beautiful. In a sense, I aim to recreate the feeling of walking through a hidden antique shop filled with trinkets and memorabilia every single day. It’s a sensation that brings me joy and fulfilment.
Was there a moment when your illustrations started getting attention? How did that impact your confidence or creative direction?
I’m not sure there was a single defining moment, but my second year of freelancing felt significantly different from the first. During that time, I experienced a noticeable increase in demand—more clients began reaching out to me for commissions. I am incredibly grateful to everyone I’ve had the privilege to work with. Honestly, I still don’t know how many of them discovered my work, but it has been an amazing journey so far.
Your drawings often feel like personal stories. Is there one piece that felt particularly vulnerable—or important—to share?
I would choose "Hidden Archives" and "Baubles" as artworks that embody fragments of my childhood. One artwork depicts a wall of family photographs, while the other features a Christmas tree. Both reflect the values I still cherish today: spaces of comfort, joy, and happiness.
Have you ever started with an architectural idea that transformed into an illustration—or vice versa? We’d love to hear how those disciplines overlap.
All the renders I created during school and my professional practice eventually transformed into illustrations. I received a lot of criticism from jurors in school for this, as the focus often shifted more toward the drawings than the technical aspects of the buildings. Naturally, I found myself leaning into that—evolving my work into more than just technical drawings. In hindsight, that should have been a sign. I began to envision spaces filled with people, plants, and life.
A lot of creatives struggle with being labelled. Do you think being “multidisciplinary” is freeing or challenging while you’re still evolving your voice?
I believe it’s both freeing and challenging to be multidisciplinary. On one hand, it allows me to draw from various practices—like architecture, storytelling, and graphic design—and integrate them into my illustrations. This cross-pollination has significantly influenced my artistic voice. However, it can be difficult when people expect to categorize me into a single box. I often find myself explaining what type of illustrator I am or clarifying what I do, which can feel limiting, especially since the goal of my journey is to break free from such labels. While I appreciate the creative freedom that comes with being multidisciplinary, I’ve also had to learn to be comfortable with not fitting neatly into a defined category—and perhaps that is the essence of my work.
What’s one misconception about pursuing more than one creative path that you’ve learned to ignore?
You have to choose one path to be taken seriously. I hear that a lot—people saying you need to focus on just one thing to truly master it. However, for me, architecture, illustration, and storytelling all complement each other. The way I compose a frame, build a scene, or think about spatial narratives is directly influenced by my architectural training. Pursuing multiple paths hasn’t diluted my voice; instead, it has enriched and layered it. I’ve learned to ignore that external pressure and follow what feels natural to me, even if it doesn’t align with a conventional trajectory.
For creatives juggling multiple passions, what helped you stop choosing and start embracing the overlap?
For a long time, I believed I had to keep my interests separate. However, I eventually realised that the different aspects I was trying to compartmentalise were influencing each other in unexpected ways. My understanding of scale and how people navigate space comes from my architectural training. The clutter, textures, and the way light interacts in my illustrations stem from my memories, stories, and the fragments I've collected over time.
I found that when I stopped seeking a “clean category” and instead embraced the chaos, I discovered that the overlaps weren’t instances of confusion; they were expressions of my identity. Allowing my various interests to blend together made my work richer and more authentic. It shifted my approach from juggling separate elements to weaving them into a cohesive whole. That’s when I truly began to find my voice.
Growing up in Mumbai, now based in Bangalore—how have your environments shaped the stories you tell through your work?
I’m an introvert, and a lot of my work comes from a place of silent observation—documenting and archiving things quietly, whether they’re objects, spaces, or memories. I wouldn’t say Mumbai or Bangalore specifically shaped my work in a drastically different way, but both cities have been part of the backdrop. It’s more about the books I’ve read, the people I’ve met, the fragments I’ve collected over time. Those personal experiences—often small, quiet moments—have shaped how I draw and what I choose to draw. My environments may shift, but it’s the stories I carry with me that tend to surface in my illustrations.
Document and Archive obsessively to build visual vocabulary. Make things just for yourself. Look back at old work not to cringe, but to trace growth. Read books, comics, graphic novels - increase the input fuel, and not be afraid to let your style evolve.
What would you say to a younger creative struggling to grow in more than one direction at once?
Growth doesn’t always move in straight lines. Instead of forcing clarity, focus on consistency. Show up for each version of yourself with patience. The bigger picture only reveals itself with time—and it’s often far more layered and magical than anything you could've planned.
And finally—if your creative journey were a chapter in a book, what would the title be?
The Language of Things.
