In the spotlight

What’s your story? How did your journey start, and what has shaped you along the way?

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My story actually begins a little outside Pakistan. I was born in Spain and spent my early childhood in Malaga before my family moved back to Karachi when I was about seven. That early shift between places always stayed with me—there’s something about feeling slightly between cultures that makes you more observant of the world around you. 

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Art was always around me growing up. My mother is an incredibly creative person—she would design our homes, invent games for us, and encourage us to paint and make things. As the eldest child and the only daughter at the time, I spent a lot of time drawing and imagining stories on my own. That habit never really left me. 

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When it came time for university, like many desi kids I was expected to do something “practical.” Architecture was suggested, but within a few months I realised it wasn’t for me and pushed to move into design instead. That decision eventually led me to study Communication Design at the Indus Valley School of Art and Architecture, where illustration slowly became the centre of my practice. 

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The journey after graduation wasn’t straightforward. There were hardly any illustration jobs in Pakistan then, so I worked in web design, NGOs, random design roles—anything that paid the bills. Eventually freelance illustration started picking up and I carved out a space for myself. Looking back, those uncertain years probably shaped me the most—they forced me to be resilient and to really believe in the kind of work I wanted to make.

What sparks your creativity, and how do you bring those sparks to life in your illustrations?

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A lot of my creative sparks come from things that allow you to escape reality a little—films, fantasy stories, music, and travel. As a kid I was obsessed with fantasy worlds, animation, and books like The Chronicles of Narnia. I spent a lot of time alone drawing and imagining alternate worlds, so that sense of “escape” naturally seeped into my work later on. 

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Cinema has been a huge influence too. I’ve always been a bit of a cinephile, and I often think of illustrations almost like film stills—moments suspended in time that hint at a larger story. Music also plays a big role in my process. I almost always work with music or a film playing in the background. 

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My relationship with music deepened in art school when I met my partner, Talha Asim Wynne. He introduced me to a whole universe of music—shoegaze, electronic, experimental sounds—and that psychedelic quality definitely found its way into my visual language. 
 

So usually a project begins with a mood rather than a clear concept. I gather references, textures, colours, music, films—anything that builds an atmosphere. From there the figures start appearing almost like characters in a story.

Your work often explores women and the spaces they inhabit — how do you approach that in your art?
 

Drawing women actually came very naturally to me long before I even thought about feminism consciously. If you look at my childhood sketchbooks, almost all the characters are women or girls. I think I was always inventing stories around them. 

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Growing up in Pakistan, there’s a lot of pressure on women—how they look, how they behave, what they’re allowed to want. I definitely felt some of that growing up and I think my drawings became a place where I could process it. I would draw these dramatic, complicated female characters with entire fictional lives—falling in love, getting divorced, drinking, rebelling. 

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Over time that evolved into a deeper exploration of women’s interior worlds. I’m interested in the emotional spaces women inhabit—their desires, frustrations, fantasies, and the worlds they escape to. A lot of my work tries to question how society labels women or confines them to certain narratives.

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But at the same time I don’t like my work to feel overly didactic. I prefer leaving room for ambiguity so viewers can bring their own experiences to the image.

Looking back, are there any projects or collaborations that stand out as particularly memorable, and why?
 

Some of my earliest collaborations with musicians remain very close to my heart because they were so organic. My first album artwork was actually for Talha’s electronic music project, and I remember just sharing some drawings I had lying around without thinking much of it. Those visuals started circulating among musicians in Karachi’s underground scene and suddenly more bands began approaching me. 
 

That was a really exciting moment because the music and visual art scenes here were growing together. Places like The Second Floor were hubs where artists, designers, and musicians all crossed paths. 
 

Another memorable milestone was seeing my design work appear in unexpected places internationally—from editorial illustrations to projects like the Taxi Fabric collaboration that appeared in the music video for "Hymn for the Weekend" by Coldplay.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Moments like that remind you how far your work can travel beyond your own studio. 

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But honestly, the most meaningful projects are still the ones where there’s creative trust and freedom—especially book covers or music-related work where narrative and atmosphere come together.

In terms of work you admire created by others, what stands out for you and why?

I’m drawn to work that feels emotionally immersive—where the viewer can almost enter the image or atmosphere. In visual art, I’ve always admired painters like Mark Rothko because his work strips everything down to feeling and colour. Looking at his paintings is almost like looking into yourself, and that kind of emotional resonance is something I think about in my own work. 













 

Cinema is another huge influence. Directors like Jim Jarmusch or Ingmar Bergman create worlds where mood and silence say more than dialogue. I find that incredibly inspiring as someone who tells stories visually.

Ultimately what I admire most in other artists is a strong, distinct voice—people who continue evolving without losing the essence of what makes their work uniquely theirs.

As a DJ in Karachi’s underground music scene, what would you say is the best song of all time, and why?
 

This is such an impossible question because my taste in music is all over the place. I grew up listening to a lot of rock—bands like Nirvana during my teenage years—and over time that expanded into electronic music, techno, shoegaze, and all sorts of experimental sounds through Karachi’s underground scene.
 

But if I had to pick a song that still completely hypnotises me every time I hear it, it would be Loomer by My Bloody Valentine.

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It’s one of those tracks that feels less like a song and more like a sensory experience. The guitars are so dense and immersive that they almost feel like waves of sound washing over you. There’s something very dreamy and disorienting about it, but also strangely comforting. For me, it captures that perfect balance between chaos and beauty — which is something I’m always drawn to, both in music and in visual art.

 

If you could give one piece of advice to your younger self, what would it be?
 

I would probably tell my younger self not to panic so much about the uncertainty of choosing an artistic path. In Pakistan especially, pursuing art can feel like stepping into the unknown because the infrastructure and opportunities are still limited.
 

But the truth is that if you keep making work consistently and stay curious, things slowly start opening up. When I graduated, illustration barely existed as a viable career here. Over time, through persistence, collaborations, and the internet connecting artists globally, that landscape has changed a lot.

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So my advice would simply be: keep making work, keep experimenting, and don’t wait for permission.