FABLES WITHOUT ORIGIN: IN CONVERSATION WITH KARAN DHANKANI

I don’t particularly believe I’ve had experiences that make me fundamentally different from anyone else moving through life. Like everyone, I have simply passed through my own series of moments and situations, some positive and some more difficult.

For me, visual art has always been a way of reflecting on those experiences, on feelings, and on the lessons that come with them. I don’t have any formal art education, so the process of making work has naturally become a form of self-regulation. It is a way for impressions and thoughts to slowly take shape through the images and the worlds I try to build.

For me, most pieces begin with a narrative. I usually start by reflecting on the feeling or underlying narrative I want the work to hold. I often draw on stories and fables, especially the small lessons hidden within them, because they offer something symbolic that can be reimagined visually.

Once the story is set, the materials become just as important as the subject itself. The figure or object might appear central, but the textures carry their own meaning. Roughness, grain, and surface all shape the atmosphere of the image.

From there, I try to keep the process playful. The stages are never completely fixed, and the tone of the work often reveals itself along the way, sometimes darker, sometimes lighter or more reflective. I often add more than I need and gradually remove it to reach the final piece. It is more demanding, but through that restraint, the image becomes clearer and more deliberate.

Yes, definitely. I often feel that each of my artworks exists within its own separate world. Some feel quite close to our reality, while others feel much further removed, but it is never entirely consistent. Each piece seems to develop its own atmosphere and internal logic as it comes together.

One idea I would love to explore in the future is creating something closer to a tapestry or long illustration, almost like a visual sequence. Instead of a single image, it would function more like a small series, where I focus entirely on one of these imagined worlds and what unfolds within it. The idea of building a contained visual universe, and allowing its symbols, characters, and environments to interact across several scenes is something that really interests me.

Usually, it is something instinctive. I am drawn to images that already have a strong presence on their own, especially where there is a sense of expression, whether it is a human face or even an animal. A gesture, a look, or a strange detail can make an image feel alive or slightly unsettling.

When I collect images, I am not really thinking about how they will fit together yet. I am more interested in whether the image has enough character to stand on its own.

I tend to leave them quite open. I don’t usually approach them as symbols with fixed meaning. Most of the time, I’m simply drawn to the shape itself: the curve of a serpent, the structure of a crown, the posture of an animal.

There are a couple of symbols that I personally hold with greater significance, but in general, I prefer them to remain flexible so they can take on different meanings depending on the image.

My main influence is literature. I am really drawn to works such as Emil Cioran’s A Short History of Decay, as well as Henry Miller’s Tropic of Cancer and the poetry of Charles Baudelaire in Les Fleurs du Mal, which was so important in the Symbolist movement. I am very interested in the spiritual tension and reflection on existence that runs through them.

Cinematically, Ingmar Bergman, Luis Buñuel, and David Lynch influence my work, and the symbolic imagery in Alejandro Jodorowsky’s The Holy Mountain was huge for me. Recently, I watched Begotten, directed by E. Elias Merhige, which is very visually intense but feels more like witnessing an ancient ritual than a conventional story.

Weirdly enough, video games have also influenced me quite a lot, especially the worlds created by Hidetaka Miyazaki at FromSoftware. Games like Bloodborne and Dark Souls are some of my favourites because of the way they build these decaying worlds through fragments and symbolism rather than direct explanation.

They are usually more instinctive than symbolic for me. I am often drawn to the balance of shapes within the composition, to how certain forms interact with each other visually. Crowns or eyes can feel almost like anchors within the image, helping to structure the piece.

These are also elements that don’t necessarily have to hold one fixed form, but are just about recognisable enough to be what they are, which I find particularly fun to explore.

I really like this question because that tension is very important in my work. When I use older imagery alongside contemporary production methods, I try to approach the original material carefully, treating it with respect and thinking about where it comes from, rather than just using it for its aesthetic.

For me, bringing the past and present together in my techniques allows past imagery to be reinterpreted so it can feel significant again, while still acknowledging its origins.

I think this partly comes from my interest in older fables and mythic stories. I have always been drawn to the way animals appear in those narratives, like the story of the scorpion and the frog, and the idea of the white stag in Celtic mythology that leads people deeper into the forest and into something unknown.

That is probably where my emphasis on animals comes from. I find that animals can convey atmosphere very naturally, and many of them carry a strong sense of expression in their faces and posture.

Honestly, I have so many ideas, and sometimes it can be difficult to stay grounded and focus on developing just one of them at a time. One thing I would really like to do at some point is make a magazine. I would also love to collaborate more with other artists.

Recently, I have become very interested in working with linen. The surface of the material is beautiful, and it absorbs ink in a very unpredictable way. The texture gives the image a slightly aged, almost weathered quality, which I find really appealing. I also love the way the material stains with ink, especially how it bleeds into the fibres of the linen and spreads into organic shapes.