Migration in Dialogue – Anoushka Bhalla

And titled yellow oil painting with terracotta, young girl staring at viewer in unexplained expression, Anoushka Bhalla, Indian artist works with postcolonial history.

Anoushka Bhalla, Untitled (2024). 24 x 18 in. Oil, terracotta, PVA on canvas. Courtesy of the artist.

Anoushka Bhalla (b. 1997, India) is a New York-based visual artist. Her work draws upon historical archives and mythology, meditating on the lasting effects of colonialism and the erosion of collective memory. Through the use of materials like terracotta, carbon, and ash, her art oscillates between the abstract and representational as it explores the weight of time, trauma, and loss of ancestral memory.

In this conversation, Bhalla reflects on the process of attaining her O-1 Visa, her career, and the ever-changing political landscape in the United States. 

Sara Yossef: Just for some background, where are you from?

Anoushka Bhalla: I'm from Gujarat, India, and currently live in New York, where I've been for the past three years.  In India, it doesn’t matter where you were born or where you grew up. It matters where you're from ancestrally. And ancestrally, I'm from the north, which is the border between India and Pakistan. As you can see, it's quite rife with politics

Studio portrait of Anoushka Bhalla, International Indian artists based in New York, creates works in oil terracotta, and PVA, addresses post-colonial archives and history.

Anoushka Bhalla studio portrait. Courtesy of the artist.

SY: How did you begin your career?

AB: I did not want to be an artist. I wanted to be a medical doctor, a surgeon, actually. My parents have always been a part of the arts ecosystem. My father is a big proponent of the arts. He used to collect, occasionally, modern masters. Not a lot of contemporary art, but he had friends who used to do it, and they were big art patrons. When they suggested that I should look into being an artist when I was around 16, I absolutely shunned the idea because I was not into it at the moment. As soon as I got into my medical career, I went through a bout of depression because med school was so tough and depressing. I decided that I could not pursue this career anymore. My parents suggested that I should look into being an artist and that I should apply to a few art schools. So, I applied to a few art schools in India, some of the best ones. The thing is, I had always been a hobby artist. I always knew how to sketch or paint. I knew the basics, and I wasn't so bad at it. So somehow, I got into a really good art school, which was life-changing for me. I did my BFA and master's in sculpture. I had the best time. I really fell in love with the arts, and that's when I decided, no, this is it. This is what I want to do for the rest of my life. 

SY: Where do you find inspiration, and what first inspired you?

AB: I always had an interest in humanities; it wasn’t so much visual art as poetry and literature. I feel like that was a proper gateway for me into the arts. I was reading E. E. Cummings, Paul Celan, Nelly Sachs, Mary Shelley, and Robert Browning. I really like Kafka, Dostoevsky, and Tolstoy, but my favorite is Ivan Turgenev. These literary interests led me to explore artists like Anselm Kiefer, Anish Kapoor, Marlene Dumas, and Adrian Ghenie. Their artworks spoke to me; I thought to myself: If I were to be an artist, I would like to make something along these lines. 

My art doesn’t directly reflect my literary interest, but many of the themes that inspire my artwork are themes you see in literature. I'm looking at historical archives of colonialism, the collective unconscious, and the existential lived experiences of diasporic communities. 

Anoushka Bhalla, the waiting room, oil terracotta painting, PVA, Indian artist International based in New York addressing postcolonial historical archives.

Anoushka Bhalla, The Waiting Room (2024). 24 x 24 in. Oil, terracotta, PVA on canvas. Courtesy of the artist.

SY: What motivates you to keep creating?

AB: I'm going to say, by the process of elimination. There's nothing else that I can do with my life. I’ve invested so much emotional and mental energy into art that I don’t know what else I would do with my life if not this.

SY: When did you decide to move to the US and why?

AB: I wasn’t planning on moving to the US initially. When I was in India back in 2019, I felt the art scene there was a bit nascent compared to some other countries. I wanted to be somewhere where there was an institutional structure to support art and emerging artists. I was deciding between the UK and the US. I aimed for London, but my plans changed due to Brexit and visa restrictions. Of course, when I was looking at the US, I was looking at New York. I moved after getting into the School of Visual Arts in New York on an F-1 visa. The issue is that there are barely any structures or institutions supporting the arts in the world. When you weigh your options, New York stands out. I then moved to OPT, which is up to a year. I applied for the O-1 visa earlier than necessary due to the uncertainty of my status.

SY: Was it difficult to get the O-1 visa?

AB: Yes, it was time-consuming and anxiety-inducing. It didn’t help that my friends who got it or were still in the process freaked me out. It seemed very difficult for everyone. If you look at the stats, around 85% of people get the O-1 visa yearly.  I don’t think they give out the numbers of how many people get it on their first attempt or if they get an RFE. Luckily, I was successful.

Anoushka bhalla, blue carnations oil painting with mixed media on canvas, Indian girl holding a bouquet of flowers, artist internationally based in New York addresses Colonial archives and photographs.

Anoushka Bhalla, Blue Carnations (2024). 24 × 20 in. Oil and mixed media on canvas. Courtesy of the artist.

SY: How would you define success for yourself and other artists? Did the O-1 requirements change your viewpoint?

AB: Success in the art world is very subjective, depending on what kind of artist you are. I think I would kind of be in the commercial sphere, as I’m speaking and working with galleries to sell the artworks to collectors. A lot of people who inhabit this space would want similar things in the sense that they want a really good, established gallery representation. That can come with a certain price point for your artworks, maybe with an established market in the primary and the secondary. Just making a name for yourself—I feel like everybody in the arts wants that. A lot of my work is impacted by social politics, so I would like the works to have a reach by way of museums or institutions. 

For artists outside the commercial sphere, such as those working in avant-garde performance or with new media, success might look a bit different. The one thing that I think everybody wants is for their work to be recognized and reach a large audience. Everyone thinks their work is important. That's why they're in it. 

SY: Did the O-1 requirements change your viewpoint on success?

AB: I had to; I had a very unrealistic timeline in my head. I feel like it’s the same with a lot of people applying for O-1. We see certain barriers in the art world lowered for American nationals, in the sense that they don't have to go through all of these time-consuming and expensive hoops. Their efforts can be more concentrated towards what they actually want as opposed to all these visas—we have our attention in 20 places. With your timeline affected, you cannot expect to be moving at the same pace as your friends.

SY: Has the visa process affected your creative output?

AB: Yes, it slowed me down in certain aspects, but it also gave me the motivation to build connections. You need endorsements from lots of successful people in your field. It takes away a lot of your attention from creative pursuits. So yes, it has affected my creative outlook. But, it also gets me in touch with professionals who might enjoy my work or look to support me in the future. So there are pros and cons. 

SY: Has the visa process impacted your personal relationships?

AB: Definitely my boyfriend, because he was the one at the mercy of all of my mood swings when I was anxious. And my family, of course. It's stressful for everybody who's even slightly involved in the process. I was feeling bad for my friends. Some of my friends haven't applied yet, and every time I see them, they're asking me for pointers, you know, who should I consult? What lawyer should I take? How much do they charge? Is it even worth it? My lawyer fee was on the higher end because I wanted that assurance. It takes so much away from you that those close to you feel the anxiety vicariously.

SY: How is the current socio-political landscape in the U.S. affecting you?

AB: I feel like everybody is just a bit nihilistic about it. Everybody. Nobody's got a good feeling about this. Especially with what's happening in the world, it's difficult to choose leaders. I don't want to go there, but you know what I'm talking about. None of the choices is the right choice. 

SY: Has the current landscape impacted your art and the subjects you are dealing with?

AB: Yes, along the themes of loss and lost history. I feel a certain way about what's happening in the world. I've been looking at my art and the subjects in it through a more humane lens. There are so many accounts now of people who are suffering in the world. So many videos and photos that crop up all the time in the news. They are difficult to look at, but also to look away from. A lot of my works deal with similar histories. I initially started this practice because I was looking at these traumatic histories, and I was also fresh out of medical school. I had that component of the human body and its viscerality in the back of my mind, which translated into my practice. When I look at archives now, especially with my own history, I've decided not to replicate it the way I did before. In the past, I was directly looking at pictorial archives and translating them into my work, but now I'm trying to build an archetype around them so that they're a little farther from the tragedy that materialized. Only now, by seeing what's happening around the world, are we becoming aware of the impacts of what actually happens in all these colonized societies. It's important for me to not just regurgitate that narrative. In no way do I feel entitled to the pain of the subjects of my art.

Green oil and terracotta painting on canvas, PVA, no figure leaning against fence against dark green Forest background, Anoushka Bhalla, Indian artist addressing Colonial archives history photographs.

Anoushka Bhalla, The Waiting (2024). 24 x 18 in. Oil, terracotta, PVA on canvas. Courtesy of the artist.

SY: Will election results affect your decision to stay in the U.S.?

AB: I've poured so much of my resources, time, energy, and money, and I know everything that I have is here. Leaving is not an option. Unfortunately, that means whoever comes into power, I still have to be here. That's the hard pill to swallow.

SY: What are your future plans?

AB: For the time being, I'm breathing a sigh of relief for the next three years because I have my O-1. So I'm going to continue working in my studio, with galleries and curators, and I'm doing a lot of studio visits at the moment. I have very interesting dealers, writers, and curators coming in, and I've decided to work with them. I feel so free about it. I feel like things are more optimistic now. I don't have to worry about all the unnecessary admin but instead focus on my work and career. Things are good!

This interview has been edited for length and clarity.


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Sara Yossef

Sara Yossef is a writer based in New York City currently pursuing an MFA in Fiction Writing at NYU. Her writing focuses on themes of immigration, arts, culture, and feminism and works to shed light on conversations happening underneath buzzwords.

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