Brushstrokes of belonging

Auroville Today: Could you tell me about the very beginning? Art was in your life from the start?

Nathalie: My brother and I grew up with art around us. My mom, who was divorced and still very young, was attending art school in Paris at the time. Her father, my grandfather, was a painter, so there was this artistic lineage. Being a single mom, she was very busy, especially as she was doing photography during that period. She would often leave us with our grandparents. I remember sleeping in my grandfather's studio and vividly recall the smell of oil paint, turpentine, and linseed oil. Those scents are etched in my memory.

How did you make the move to India?

I was born and grew up in Paris until I was seven, and then we moved to India, though not directly to Auroville. My mom, Anita, always had this idea of going to India. She had even tried to go once before without my brother and I. She attempted the journey in a caravan with an American student at the time, but it didn’t work out. They got as far as Russia before she had this instinctual feeling that something wasn’t right about leaving us behind. So, she turned around and came back to Paris.

Later, circumstances – including a fire in our Paris apartment – seemed to signal that it was time to leave. This time, we took a flight to India. We first landed in Mysore, where my brother and I were enrolled in an Indian school. We didn’t speak English back then; we only knew French. My mom gave us one instruction: if someone asks, “What is your name?” we should answer, “My name is Nathalie.” That was it, our key to everything.

And how did you adapt to this new environment?

Surprisingly well! Kids adapt so quickly. In no time, we were immersed in school life. Every morning, we’d sing the Indian national anthem – though I didn’t know what the words meant until much later. I felt like I became a little Indian girl. I wore Indian dresses and made friends easily. Mysore was my first real introduction to India, but my strongest memories began when we arrived in Auroville.

What were your first impressions of Auroville?

When we came to Auroville, one year later, it felt like a dream. I vividly remember the huge hole in the ground where they were building the Matrimandir. It seemed monumental to me as a child. I remember standing there, staring at the workers and the stairs leading down. On our first day, I met other children my age, like Gopal and Rose, and I immediately felt a sense of belonging. That feeling of “I’m home” was very strong.

One of the traditions back then was to send a photo to The Mother. My mom had a picture taken of us – her and her two kids – and sent it to Mother. She approved it, and soon after, we met her. Meeting Mother was unforgettable. I was convinced she could see everything about me – all my thoughts, even the naughty ones! I brought her flowers, and when someone else took them from me, I remember feeling puzzled, thinking, “But they were meant for her.” Mother saw my expression and laughed.

It sounds like that meeting left a deep impression.

Oh, absolutely. I lived in a sort of semi-fantasy world as a child, and meeting Mother felt like stepping into something beyond reality. When I knelt before her, I put my head on her lap and felt her hand on my head. I remember looking up at her, and she was smiling. She started speaking to me, but I couldn’t hear her. I later thought maybe she was speaking without sound. My mom recollects Mother responded to me with such joy, and that she said something about it with laughter to Champaklal.

How did life evolve for you after that?

Arriving in Auroville for me felt like life truly began. Things became stable for the first time – no more moving schools or shifting environments. I loved it. There was freedom but also discipline. For instance, every morning, the whole school meditated together. It was a mix of structure and openness.

Auroville was unique because of the sheer diversity of people. There were Indian kids, Tibetan kids, and children from all over the world. I remember making friends instantly, like with Renu, with whom I had an immediate and deep connection. There was also a constant flow of interesting personalities passing through the school. Artists, thinkers, and educators came to share their knowledge with us. It was a rich environment.

And as you grew older?

My teenage years in Auroville were intense. The community faced challenges, especially during the societal conflicts of the time. Suddenly, we were part of an adult world where big decisions were being made, and we were exposed to the complexities of collective decision-making. It was a lot to absorb, but I learned so much about human behaviour, conflict resolution, and society.

At 16, I visited Europe for the first time to meet my father. That was an emotionally complex experience, but it bridged something essential in me, and created a deep bond with my father. Eventually, I left Auroville to explore the world.

What motivated you to leave?

I wanted to know who I was outside the context of Auroville and rediscover myself as an adult. I wanted to experience life beyond the boundaries of Auroville. I felt like I needed to step out of the rooted identity I had grown up with. I was drawn to art, beauty, and intellectual pursuits. In Paris, I immersed myself in museums, galleries, and books. It was like being a sponge, soaking up everything I had missed. I also worked various jobs, including fashion photography, and discovered different facets of myself. The city has a history that speaks through its walls and streets. Walking through its avenues, peeking through open doors – it felt alive with stories of those who had passed through before me.

I immersed myself in the art world, devouring everything from exhibitions to books. Paris fulfilled my need for intellectual and artistic growth, and those years shaped me profoundly. Eventually, after ten years away, I felt a calling to return to Auroville. By then, I had gained a broader perspective on life and could see the bigger picture of what Auroville represented.

How did your art evolve through these experiences?

My art has always been a way to connect to my inner world. Whether through painting, writing, or photography, I find it’s a space where I can express something deeply personal and timeless. In Auroville, as a child, we enjoyed painting in Last School with friends. I used to send some of my paintings to Mother. As an adult, I rediscovered that joy of creation. Each medium – watercolours, acrylics, writing – has its unique charm and challenges. For me, it’s more about the essence of what I feel coming through.

Could you share more about your creative process?

It often begins with a feeling or an essence that I’m trying to capture. Sometimes, it’s like holding onto something intangible that hasn’t yet taken form. Whether I’m painting or writing, it’s about letting that essence guide me. I’ve learned not to overthink or control the process too much. It’s about trust and allowing the flow.

Do you face challenges during this process?

Oh, definitely. Criticism, for example, can be both a blessing and a burden. Early on, I received a lot of feedback, sometimes harsh, from more experienced artists. While it helped me grow, it also planted doubts. There’s always that inner voice saying, “You’re not good enough.” Over time, I’ve learned to use criticism as a stepping stone rather than letting it stifle me. Creating art is a deeply personal journey, and you have to find your own balance between listening to others and staying true to yourself.

It seems like your philosophy goes beyond art – it feels almost spiritual. How does that tie into your experience with beauty?

For me, the need for refinement and beauty is essential in life. It’s not about grand gestures or perfection but finding harmony and meaning in the simplest things. Beauty sustains me. Without it, I feel like I can’t breathe. This is especially true now in Auroville, where so much has changed. I think beauty – in all its forms – is a kind of nourishment for the soul. It reminds us of what’s possible, of the higher aspirations we’re capable of as human beings. Whether it’s a painting, a song, or even just the way sunlight filters through a tree, beauty has the power to uplift and inspire.

Has Sri Aurobindo’s philosophy influenced your art and life?

His work has been a profound influence, especially his interpretations of the Vedas. What struck me was how he uncovers layers of meaning that go beyond the literal. For example, a word in Sanskrit might represent something physical, but with his interpretation, it uncovers a deeper spiritual Reality that is revealed within the many layers. Reading his work feels like unlocking doors within myself, connecting to something beyond the mental realm. It’s almost like a map of the soul, guiding me to explore inner spaces that I then try to express in my art.

And your recent work – how has that evolved?

Lately, I’ve been experimenting with new techniques, like using gel plate for monoprints. It’s been incredibly liberating. The unpredictability of the process, the layering of colours, and the surprises that come out of it – it’s like being a child again, discovering something for the first time. I recently exhibited some of this work, and it felt different this time. I wasn’t worried about how it would be received. It was about sharing my playful exploration and creativity. That’s a freeing feeling. I also feel like this work captures a sense of immediacy and rawness that’s different from anything I’ve done before. There’s something powerful about embracing the unknown and letting the process guide you – it’s both exhilarating and humbling.

How do you see these recent experiments fitting into your overall artistic journey?

Well, I think it ties into my desire to keep learning and exploring. I’ve always felt that art is a journey, not a destination. These monoprints have reminded me of the joy of experimentation – the way art can surprise you, even when you think you know where you're headed. Sometimes I feel like I’m rediscovering why I fell in love with art in the first place. There’s something so pure about creating without worrying about perfection. This phase feels like an affirmation of that philosophy, and it’s helping me reconnect with the essence of why I create –to express, to explore, and to just play. It’s also allowed me to step away from self-imposed expectations and simply let the art happen, which is deeply liberating.

Do you find that this freedom influences other aspects of your creative process?

Absolutely. It’s like a ripple effect. When I allow myself to be spontaneous with one medium, it spills over into others. Even with my children's book illustrations, I notice a new lightness and sense of play that wasn’t as present before. It’s funny how letting go of control in one area can open doors in unexpected ways. I’ve been trying to incorporate this spirit of exploration into everything I do, whether it’s painting, writing, or even teaching workshops. It’s become a central part of how I approach creativity. I think it’s also helped me connect more deeply with my audience. When you’re authentic and open in your work, people respond to that – it creates a dialogue, even if it’s unspoken.

Speaking of your children’s books, do you approach those projects differently?

Writing for children is such a joy – a magical balance between storytelling and visual creativity. I begin with the story itself, letting the narrative unfold naturally, almost like a conversation in my mind.

Once the essence of the story is captured, I start thinking about how to bring it to life visually. The illustrations come later, as an extension of the writing, designed to complement the words and evoke a world that feels alive and captivating for young readers.

For me, creating for children is not just about telling a story; it’s about building a little universe for them to explore. Children have such vivid imaginations, and I feel a deep responsibility to honour that. Every detail matters, and it’s incredibly rewarding to see how kids interpret and engage with the worlds you’ve created. I often use watercolours for their softness and playfulness, which match the tone of children’s stories perfectly.

The process is intuitive, flowing, and deeply personal – similar to my painting in general. It’s both humbling and exhilarating, as it taps into the joy of my inner child while creating something honest and heartfelt. Ultimately, it’s about crafting a universe that resonates with a child’s sense of curiosity and wonder.

And the connection to your inner child seems to be a recurring theme for you.

It really is. I think we all carry a part of ourselves that never grows up, that remains curious and imaginative no matter how old we get. For me, tapping into that part is vital, not just for my art but for staying connected to the things that make life meaningful. When I’m able to access that sense of wonder and play, it feels like coming home to myself. It’s a space where anything is possible, and I think that’s where the best art comes from.