Shany Perera’s journey unfolds at the intersection of structure and intuition, where years in banking, aviation, and marketing gradually gave way to a full embrace of art. A corporate path offered security, yet creative impulses quietly persisted until the moment demanded attention. Work emerges from observation, memory, and everyday details, shaped with patience through digital sketches, bright underpainting, and hours beneath a mango tree. Each piece carries evidence of deliberate choice, careful experimentation, and the quiet courage to step into uncertainty, translating personal experience into visual form.

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Have you ever felt drawn toward a conventional career path?
What made you take the "creative leap" despite the risks?

For many years, I followed what could be considered a conventional career path. I completed my MBA and spent nearly eighteen years working in banking, aviation, and marketing. Except for my time in aviation, I often felt out of place in other fields. I felt like an imposter trying to fit into a mold that didn’t align with my personality or passions. No matter how comfortable or prestigious the position appeared from the outside, internally I knew something was missing.

Art, on the other hand, had always been quietly present in my life even though I never explored it seriously until 2017. By 2024, I reached a turning point. I knew I no longer wanted to divide my energy between corporate work and my artistic practice, even though my corporate job provided financial security and stability. For me, choosing to focus on art meant stepping into uncertainty. It was a significant risk, but I felt it was necessary to align my professional life with my true self. When I create and share my work, I feel aligned, authentic, and fully myself. 

How do you reignite creativity during those inevitable periods of self-doubt or stagnation?

During periods of creative stagnation, I try not to force the process. I believe those phases are a natural and deeply human part of any artist’s life. Pushing myself to produce work when I don’t feel connected often leads to results that feel empty and I end up frustrated by what I’ve created. So, I allow myself to step back and take time off. During this period, I often find myself looking at work by other artists to get inspiration, to explore new ideas and techniques. Sometimes inspiration comes from unexpected sources: a memory, a simple coffee or a fleeting moment that sparks a visual idea, like the colors in a sunset.

I’ve also come to understand that these slower periods are not setbacks; they are an essential part of creativity. They give me space to reflect, experiment, and approach my art with a new insight. In fact, s most favourite paintings such as the Leopard I painted after taking time to pause and let ideas develop organically. I’ve learned that creativity cannot be rushed, and that patience often leads to more meaningful work that satisfies me.

Periods of self-doubt in an artist’s life are inevitable. It is something I experience often as a self-taught artist, and over time, I’ve learned to accept it as a natural part of growth. What grounds me is remembering that art is subjective. There is no single standard to meet and no one to impress but myself. I try to focus on creating work that feels meaningful and authentic, work that I can be proud of regardless of how it might be received. Accepting this has allowed me to move through those moments of uncertainty, trusting that my creative journey is uniquely my own. 

Do you believe an artist's passion is something destined or a conscious choice?

I believe an artist’s passion is a combination of destiny and conscious choice. I feel that there’s a certain “calling” that guides us toward the work we are meant to do and at the same time, there’s a conscious decision involved in following that path. For me personally, I feel destined to create art. Even though I didn’t pursue it professionally early on, I recognize now that it has always been a part of who I am. From childhood, I was drawn to drawing, but for some reason I wanted to explore other paths first. It was only later that I realized my connection to art, and that this was the path I was meant to follow. 

Choosing to follow this path was a conscious decision. Turning passion into a profession required courage, discipline, and practical planning. I had to take a leap of faith, accepting the uncertainty that comes with pursuing an art career full-time. This conscious choice, combined with the sense of destiny, is what shapes my practice as an artist. It is not simply that I am drawn to create; it is also that I actively decide to dedicate time, energy, and focus to developing my skills, exploring new ideas, and sharing my work with the world.

I find the words of the German philosopher Arthur Schopenhauer particularly resonant: “Man can do what he wills, but he cannot will what he wills.” In other words, while we can make choices and act on them, the deepest inclinations of our hearts often emerge from forces within us that we do not control. For me, this reflects the interplay of destiny and conscious choice. 

Can you take us through the evolution of an artwork, from that first spark of inspiration to the finished piece?

My creative process usually begins with inspiration drawn from everyday life, memories, social media and visual moments that catch my attention. I often start by collecting references using my own photographs or stock images from royalty-free websites. Once I’ve gathered enough visual material, I bring everything together on my iPad, where I experiment with composition and color palettes. This digital stage helps me visualize and allows me to make changes freely before committing to canvas. When I feel confident about the direction, I move on to the canvas. 

To ensure that the composition translates accurately from the iPad to the canvas, I usually use a grid system. This helps me maintain proportions and balance, especially when working on larger surfaces. Recently, I purchased a projector, which I plan to experiment with more in the future. I see it as a helpful tool, particularly for scaling up work and eventually creating murals. Most of my painting happens on my balcony, shaded by a mango tree. That space has become my studio and I love working with natural light. 

One consistent element in my process is the use of bright underpainting. I enjoy starting with bold colors such as reds or bright pinks, and it genuinely makes me happy when those colors subtly peek through the final layers of the painting. Even when they’re barely visible, they add depth and a positive bright energy to the work.

Not every painting turns out the way I initially imagined, and I’ve learned to accept that as part of being an artist. Sometimes, what works in my mind or on the iPad doesn’t translate exactly onto the canvas. In those moments, I start over, and I’ve often used more than one canvas for a single piece. The second attempt usually comes together more clearly because I’ve already learned what needs to change and how to approach it differently. I don’t see this as a failure or a waste of time or money, but rather as an important learning experience. Creating an artwork can take several days, and I’m comfortable with that pace. I believe creativity shouldn’t be rushed. 

Do you feel a personal connection to your subject matter is essential? How has this connection shaped your work?

For me, having a personal connection to my subject matter is essential. My art is a reflection of my experiences, memories, and surroundings. When I paint something that feels familiar or emotionally connected, the process becomes more enjoyable and true to myself. 

For example, my “Untold” series explored the evolution of a relationship through table settings. Each painting represented a different stage, beginning with a simple coffee date and gradually moving toward more intimate moments. I used subtle details—such as coffee rings, placement of objects, and the atmosphere of the table—to reflect emotions like nervousness, comfort and closeness. This series was drawn from my own experiences, and while the visuals were quiet and minimal, every piece carried a personal narrative.

The “Ceilan” series focuses on my country, Sri Lanka. Growing up surrounded by the ocean, wildlife, and vibrant food culture has shaped who I am, both as a person and as an artist. Bringing these familiar subjects into my paintings allowed me to celebrate my identity and reflect on the environment that has influenced me throughout my life. Recently, I’ve been thinking about creating a new series centered on my childhood.

Do academic institutions still play a vital role in shaping artists today, or has self-taught creativity disrupted this tradition?

I believe that both self-taught and formal paths have unique advantages. I’m a self-taught artist, and that path has allowed me the freedom to explore, experiment, and develop a style that feels truly my own. From the beginning, I’ve learned through trial and error, observation and discovering techniques, compositions that resonate with me in ways that feel authentic. Being self-taught has allowed me to take risks and try unconventional approaches that might not fit within traditional academic frameworks.

That said, I do believe academic institutions still play a vital role in shaping artists today. Formal training provides a structured foundation in art history, theory, and technical skills that can be incredibly valuable for developing artists. For many artists, this kind of training accelerates growth and helps refine their craft in ways that self-directed study alone may not.

At the same time, self-taught creativity has certainly disrupted this traditional model. With access to online courses, tutorials, and free resources, artists today can build strong technical skills, learn theory, and connect with experts without attending a formal school. Platforms like these, allow individuals to develop their unique voices while gaining knowledge that previously required institutional access. In my own practice, I balance this by consciously learning from online courses, practicing consistently, and experimenting freely to combine both structured knowledge and intuitive exploration. For me, the most important aspect is that each artist finds a path that supports their growth and personal expression. 

If you had the chance to sit down with any creative mind from history, who would it be and what would you ask?

It would definitely be Henri de Toulouse-Lautrec. I first discovered his work when I visited Paris and came across his painting “La Toilette”. From the moment I saw it, I was struck by his extraordinary mastery of color and the brush strokes. The way he used purples, grays, beiges, and subtle variations to portray skin was remarkable.. The painting inspired me so much that I bought a print and placed it in my bedroom, where it serves as a constant source of inspiration.

What fascinates me is that Toulouse‑Lautrec was not only a painter but also a printmaker and poster artist. He was famous for his iconic posters for the Moulin Rouge and Parisian nightlife. His posters have a stylized minimalism, while his oil paintings are textured and layered with so many colours and different brushstrokes. Despite these different approaches, each piece has a distinct, personal identity that feels unmistakably his. That ability to shift between styles and mediums while keeping an artistic identity that was true to him is something I deeply admire and often think about in my own creative practice.

I also find his personal story incredibly inspiring. Toulouse‑Lautrec faced significant challenges throughout his life, including physical disabilities from childhood injuries, and he navigated a world that was not always kind or easy for someone in his situation. Despite that, he pursued art with determination.

If I could meet him, I would love to ask how he approached color and composition, and how he managed to create such varied work while keeping his own style consistent. I would also love to ask him what it was like to spend time with so many talented artists at Le Consulat in Montmartre during the late 1800s and stayed true to his own vision in an era that was full of artistic movements. Meeting him would be about learning not just technique but mindset: how to be curious, brave, and authentic in a creative life.

Can you imagine ever choosing to stop creating art? What might lead you to such a decision?

I don’t think there will ever be a point in my life where I would choose to stop creating art, because it has become such an important part of who I am. Even when I am not actively painting or drawing, my mind is constantly engaged in creating art. I often think to myself, “Next time I paint, I want to capture the shadow like this,” or when I notice different colours in nature, I think about how they compliment each other. Those moments quietly shape my ideas and approach. Art has become a lens through which I experience the world, and I feel that disconnecting from it would be impossible now. Art is not just a part of my life, it is who I am.

The idea that my art becomes part of someone’s personal space is one of the most rewarding aspects and one of the reasons I am so committed to continuing it. The thought that someone might feel joy or inspiration from a painting I created is incredibly meaningful. I hope that my work can reach beyond me, beyond where I live, finding a place in people’s homes across different countries.

Ultimately, I know for a fact that I will never stop creating. With my existence, art exists. I imagine myself growing old surrounded by art. Even as an older woman, I hope to remain curious, capturing fleeting moments or emotions that inspire me. I want my art practice to continue evolving alongside me, and I hope that one day, my work will exist in homes and spaces around the world, connecting with people in ways that feel meaningful and personal. 

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Across series like “Untold” and “Ceilan,” Shany Perera’s art balances self-taught exploration with disciplined practice, blending intuition, reflection, and technical skill. Pauses and repeated attempts become part of creation, allowing color, light, and composition to carry memory and emotion. Art serves as both lens and connection, shaping life and extending into the spaces of others. With existence, art exists; each painting embodies a commitment to authenticity, curiosity, and the ongoing pursuit of work that resonates, inspires, and reflects the truth of lived experience.