Interview with Harshil Chauhan
- Cista Arts team
- Jan 15
- 4 min read
An interview with Harshil Chauhan: visual storyteller and multidisciplinary artist
What initially sparked your interest in pursuing art, and how has your journey evolved since then?
My interest in art began through photography as a way of learning how to see rather than explain. I was drawn to the medium’s ability to hold quiet, emotionally charged moments, spaces, gestures, and pauses that resist clear narratives. While my early training focused on technical skill, my curiosity gradually shifted toward what images could suggest rather than what they could describe. As my practice evolved, I moved away from documentation and began working with stillness, scale, and absence. Landscape, architecture, and the human body became interconnected elements within my work, each carrying traces of time and memory.
Today, my photography is less about capturing events and more about tracing what remains, allowing images to exist as open-ended moments rather than fixed conclusions.
I was drawn to the medium’s ability to hold quiet, emotionally charged moments, spaces, gestures, and pauses that resist clear narratives. While my early training focused on technical skill, my curiosity gradually shifted toward what images could suggest rather than what they could describe.
Can you tell us about a specific piece of your artwork that holds particular significance to you, and what inspired its creation?
One piece that holds particular significance for me is A Breath Between Flesh and Flight, from my ongoing series The Body as a Site of Becoming. The work emerged from an interest in the body not as a fixed subject, but as a transitional space, a place where vulnerability, rest, and transformation quietly coexist. The image was inspired by moments of physical and emotional suspension, when the body feels neither fully grounded nor in motion. Rather than presenting the figure as active or performative, I wanted to capture a state of soft tension, a breath held just before release. Light and posture play a crucial role here, allowing the body to feel both present and on the verge of departure. Within the larger series, this work reflects my broader interest in becoming rather than being. It suggests transformation not as a dramatic event but as something subtle and internal, unfolding in stillness. The piece invites the viewer to sit with that pause, where change is sensed but not yet visible.
How do you navigate the balance between staying true to your artistic vision and experimenting with new techniques or styles?
I think of my artistic vision as a framework rather than a fixed style. What remains consistent is my interest in stillness, transition, and what exists between presence and absence. That core allows me to experiment with technique without losing direction. When I explore new approaches, it’s usually in service of the same questions: how a body occupies space, how environments hold memory, or how an image can remain unresolved. If a new technique amplifies those concerns, it becomes part of the work; if it distracts from them, I let it go. Experimentation, for me, is less about change for its own sake and more about refining how an idea is held visually. This balance allows the work to evolve organically, without feeling
disconnected from the principles that first drew me to the medium.
What role do you believe art plays in society, and how do you envision your work contributing to the artistic dialogue?
I believe art plays an essential role in slowing us down. In a culture driven by speed, clarity, and constant output, art creates space for ambiguity, reflection, and emotional complexity. It doesn’t need to provide answers; often its value lies in allowing questions to remain open. I see my work contributing to this dialogue by offering moments of quiet attention. Through images that focus on stillness, absence, and transition, I aim to create spaces where viewers can pause and reflect on their own relationship to time, memory, and presence. Rather than making directstatements, the work invites interpretation and personal resonance. In this way, my practice sits within a broader artistic conversation that values sensitivity over spectacle and contemplation over certainty, positioning photography as a medium capable of holding nuance in an increasingly accelerated world.
I believe art plays an essential role in slowing us down. In a culture driven by speed, clarity, and constant output, art creates space for ambiguity, reflection, and emotional complexity.
Are there any upcoming projects or themes that you're excited to explore in your future artworks, and if so, what draws you to these ideas?
I’m interested in continuing to explore themes of transition, but with a growing focus on duration and repetition, on how spaces, bodies, and gestures change when observed over time rather than in a single moment. I’m drawn to the idea of returning to the same locations or physical states and allowing subtle shifts to shape the work. I’m also excited to push my engagement with the body further, particularly in relation to rest, vulnerability, and endurance. These are quiet states that often go unnoticed, yet they reveal a lot about how we exist within larger systems and environments. What draws me to these ideas is their openness. They allow the work to remain restrained and contemplative while creating room for deeper emotional and conceptual layering as the practice evolves.
How do you hope your art will impact viewers, and what message or emotion do you aspire to convey through your creative expressions?
I hope my work meets viewers quietly, rather than demanding attention. I want the images to create a sense of pause, a moment where time feels slightly slow, and emotions are allowed to surface without being named. What I’m drawn to is a feeling of tenderness and suspension, where the body, space, or structure holds something fragile or unresolved. The work isn’t meant to instruct or persuade but to offer an emotional atmosphere, one that viewers can enter and respond to through their own memories and sensitivities. If anything lingers, I hope it’s a subtle shift in awareness: a softness, a breath, or a moment of recognition that stays with them after they’ve moved on from the image.
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