My work can be very expressive and experimental. I'm deeply interested in gesture and anything to do with our hands. I've always been a prolific doodler and I love drawing, handwriting, graffiti, anything that shows gesture at its most authentic. What fascinates me is how our gestures are changing with technology: the zoom, the swipe, these universal hand movements that have become second nature.

My practice is materially rooted in craft. I have a background in metalwork, but I recently am drawn to materials that feel more ‘immediate’, like paint or henna. Through this, I explore the intersection of technology and my own Desi culture.

I'm exploring henna as a material, looking at its fascinating history across multiple countries from North and West Africa to the Middle East and South Asia.

Currently I'm obsessed with the Infinite Scroll, this algorithm created to endlessly load content and keep us engaged.

I find this concept fascinating, that we need constant stimulation. The Infinite Scroll feels like a beautiful summary of something we respond to instinctively. I wanted to see how these gestures feel when you remove the content, using henna instead of a screen.

Right now I'm in a period of play, experimenting with henna and exploring photography. I'm interested in the modular nature of image galleries on our phones and how that might relate to my work.

I'm also developing ideas for a possible group show around gesture, bringing together artists who celebrate the hand through painting, wood carving, metal engraving. It's early days, but I'm excited about it for later this year.

Digital habits fascinate me. I practiced scrolling gestures, studying all the different ways we interact with screens. These behaviours have become so intuitive. I attempted it in a book the other day when I unthinkingly tried to double-tap an image to zoom in. I get frustrated when I can't manipulate physical objects the same way.

My work is grounded in letting go. I try not to keep perfecting things and I definitely don't compose my works. When I see a blank canvas, I prime it with henna and the lines start. I gamify each piece. Although they can look clinical or minimalist from far away because of the repetition, when you look closely it becomes very expressive. You can see every mark my hand made.

Authenticity is crucial. I'm not precious about my work. I brought all my work from the studio and whatever fit would fit. If it didn't, it wasn't meant to be shown. I work in a dimly lit studio, so low lighting and organic materials are part of my aesthetic. I like rough and ready rather than overly polished presentations.

I keep a studio log, which is more like an evolving collection of reflections than a formal diary. I also use post-it notes and voice memos during my practice. My mind becomes very fertile when I'm drawing lines because it engages the part of my brain that's liable to get distracted. The titles of my works come from soundbites or thoughts that emerge during this process.

My metalwork background definitely shows. People who came to my show said they could tell I was a jeweller. There's a delicacy, attention to detail and fineness that comes from that training.

The repetitive line-making has become central, but what's really signature is this intersection of craft traditions with contemporary digital research. I recently made a metal sculpture, hand-sawing copper sheet, and it was exhausting, much more like how the Infinite Scroll actually makes us feel – drained - versus my paintings which leave me feeling free and lighter.

I want to explore instant cameras where you only get one shot, bringing back that temporality and letting go. I'm also considering making a zine from my studio notes, but it needs to feel gestural, not too polished.

I'm interested in accessibility, even thinking about spaces like corner shops as potential pop-up galleries. There's something appealing about bringing art into unexpected, everyday spaces.

More exhibitions in unconventional spaces and more collaboration with other artists. This upcoming group show about gesture is a first step in that direction.

I also want to bring metalwork back into my practice in subtle ways. The physical exhaustion of working with metal mirrors the digital fatigue we all experience.

The large painting I called "The Reader" was particularly meaningful. I started it in November and kept stopping because it didn't feel right. It ended up reflecting my journey through the year, showing how things I learned from other paintings started to creep in.