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Portraits have a way of looking back at you, and in Whispers of Inner Self, they do so quietly and honestly without asking for permission. In his recent solo exhibition, Suchin Shrestha brings together fragments of emotion, desire and inner reflection gathered over years of making. 

From the beginning Suchin Shrestha has been his own compass. During his residency, the canvas became his mirror, a space to pour every flicker of feeling, every shadow of desire, every restless thought. He moved through the full spectrum of being:  joy, longing,frustration , tenderness, curiosity, solitude, all lived and felt through him, then traced onto the surface. Each painting reflects the self, quietly reckoning with what it means to be human, and gently inviting us to see the fragments of experience we carry but rarely name. For Shrestha colour is never accidental, it carries feeling, memory and story. Some works shine with rays of hope, while others linger in the gentle warmth of togetherness.

During our conversation, he spoke about how the exhibition traces different phases of his life. The bachelor years, when companionship was still an abstract idea, appear in works shaped by inward observation, moments held in solitude, and longing. He described how after marriage the work began to shift. The figures open into a quieter sense of shared existence, reflecting mutual understanding and the unspoken routines that grow between two lives. Shrestha explains that this evolution reflects a gradual shift from introspection toward companionship , from solitary to the reassurance of shared presence. 

He also spoke about how this inward focus begins quite literally in front of a mirror. Standing there, he watches his expressions change, moods rise and fall, thoughts pass across his face. Each nuance, each change became a subject in itself, a spark for what would later appear on canvas. I found it striking that he chose to observe himself, turning in a way we rarely do in the rush of modern life. There is something almost meditative in this self observation, a slowing down, a patience, a willingness to witness fleeting emotions, contradictions, and small, private moments. Through this inward gaze , he does more than capture a likeness or a mood, he captures a living, a shifting interior world, a portrait of the self in constant dialogue with itself. It is in these quiet, introspective moments that his paintings find their resonance, gently reminding us how seldom we truly pause to watch ourselves. 

In a noisy world, the exhibition offers a quiet presence, soft, vulnerable, still, yet brimming with life. Solo shows like these are vital for the Nepali contemporary art sphere, offering artists the space to explore personal narratives and the depths of their inner life. They allow viewers to engage with work that is introspective, layered and deeply human. Whispers of the Inner Self exemplifies how such exhibitions create a dialogue between artist and audience, between the personal and the universal , showing that contemporary art can be as much about reflection and emotional depth as it is about form or spectacle. Visitors can experience the exhibition at Artudio, Patan, until Jan 10, and immerse  themselves in the reflective world of Shrestha’s art.

A few months ago, this space was loud with chants, rage, and police sirens. Now it is quieter, filled with canvases, broken objects, photographs, and people speaking in low voices. Unsilenced Voices stands right outside the Parliament building, in a space shaped to represent authority and separation from the street. Its placement is deliberate. The works do not decorate the space, they interrupt it. Using fragments of the protest,  materials left behind, fleeting images, half-remembered words, it asserts memory.

The installation emerged in the aftermath of youth-led protests that swept through Kathmandu, fueled by frustration with governance, accountability, and political indifference. What began as demonstrations demanding change escalated into confrontations, met with heavy police response, leaving injuries, arrests, and even deaths among protesters. Though the streets eventually quieted, the questions the protests raised remain.

What stands out is not just the works themselves, but the way people move through the space. There is no hurry, no performative outrage. Visitors pause, read, return. Some speak in hushed tones, others remain silent. The space demands a different kind of attention than the streets once did, one that is slower, heavier, and impossible to ignore.

For the artists, this is not about turning resistance into decoration. It is a refusal to let memory fade. In a city that quickly moves on, that rebrands unrest as disruption and treats loss as collateral, Unsilenced Voices insists that September did not end quietly. It recalls the streets alive with chants, the smoke of burning tires, the sirens cutting through the air, and the grief of families who lost children, friends, and neighbors.

The installation does not offer easy answers, comforting slogans, or tidy conclusions. Instead, it asks viewers to engage with grief, to feel the weight of anger that still simmers, and to confront what was left unresolved when the protests subsided. Every visitor moving through the space is reminded of what was lost, what was fought for, and what was silenced in September. This is not art for walls,it is the echo of streets that demanded to be heard, now transformed into objects that will not let the city forget.

The protests may have ended, but the forces that sparked them remain. In this light, the installation is not a memorial meant to close a chapter; it marks the consequences the city has yet to reckon with. Even as the streets grow quiet, the calls for justice and accountability persist, carried in images, objects, and words that demand to be seen and felt. The city may appear calm, but the questions raised in September have not been answered.

“Living amid beauty comes with responsibility, not just pride.” 

Gratitude isn’t just a feeling, it’s how we treat the place we call home. We wake up surrounded by mountains people cross oceans to see, and yet somehow forget to thank the land we live on daily. In Nepal, beauty that surrounds us constantly risks becoming invisible. The mountains, the fresh air, the rivers and open spaces….. These aren't things everyone gets to live with but are a part of our everyday lives and maybe that’s why we barely notice them anymore, except in pictures or in moments of nostalgia. 

Kathmandu didn’t always feel this heavy. Over the years the city has changed quietly but drastically. Streets that once felt open and walkable are now crowded with concrete , dust and constant construction. In the rush  to modernise, we built quickly and rarely stopped to think about what we are leaving behind. The old Kathmandu one with charm and balance now exists only in a few corners of the valley. 

A lot of this shift comes from taking our surroundings for granted: Rivers turned into dumping sites, roads turned into endless construction sites and vanishing public spaces. This does not mean we are against development, only that it shouldn't come at the cost of neglect. Every winter the difference becomes impossible to ignore. Just across the border, many cities in neighboring India wake up to hazardous air quality day after day,  people stay indoors, schools shut, masks become a part of their daily routine, and stepping outside becomes a health risk. Kathmandu hasn’t reached that point yet but the signs are there: dry air, dust-filled streets and pollution that affects daily life. What we should be aiming for is a city that feels distinct, not just another capital. With tourism as one of our major sources of income, the city should leave visitors wanting more, not looking for the next place to escape. 

Perhaps the real question is: How do we show gratitude for the place we call home? And what can we do as citizens to treat our city with the same care we give our homes and the basic comforts we depend on every day? 

In the grand scheme of things, it starts with the basics: keeping our streets clean, respecting shared spaces and teaching children basic good habits. With technology at our fingertips, we can do a lot more than just doomscroll, we can actually make a difference. Real change doesn’t come from grand gestures or perfect systems, but in the everyday habits we have learned to ignore. It's tempting to point fingers, but cities don't change unless the people living in them do. We have a shared responsibility to lead by example, help others learn and change our own habits because you can’t change the world until you change yourself. 

Gratitude in this sense isn't about pride or praise, it’s about care. It shows up in how we treat public spaces, in the discipline we practise and in the choices we make when no one is watching and the effort we put into what we have been given. It’s reflected less in words and more in everyday actions that slowly shape the city we live in. 

Kathmandu doesn’t need to be perfect, it needs care, care from people we are willing to try, be mindful and to take responsibility in small but consistent ways. Over time, it's these small efforts that turn a city into a place we are proud to call home.

Celebrating a decade in the photography scene, PhotoKTM’s sixth edition continues to shape visual culture at home and abroad. This year, PhotoKTM brought together hundreds of photographers and visual artists from across the world, drawing in massive crowds to its exhibitions, talks, workshops, and community conversations. Over the years, the festival has covered subjects like who we are, how we live, and the power dynamics between people, using photography to show different stories and communities and how they shape the world around us.

The 2025 edition, themed “Global South Solidarities” tapped into the energy of the GenZ movement, sparking conversations about resistance, solidarity, and how communities across the Global South are shaping their own futures. The festival featured over 40 artists around the world, including Nepali photographers , along with eight emerging Nepali talents from the 2025 photo.circle offering a fresh and varied look at contemporary photography. The works on display told bold visual stories, reflecting shared histories, identities and cultural connections.

Guided by a clear curatorial direction,the exhibition included everything from documented photography to more experimental pieces, using archives to personal narratives. Some projects focused on everyday life and community stories while others looked at memory, a sense of belonging, and social change, showing how photography is being used in a more thoughtful and meaningful way.

By bringing local and international artists together the festival has opened doors for emerging photographers, encouraged fresh conversations about storytelling and strengthened the country’s creative community. These events give artists a platform to grow, collaborate and play a part in developing Nepal’s visual culture. It’s a space where photographers can experiment, learn from peers and find their voice. The diversity of work pushes local artists to challenge themselves and explore fresh approaches to storytelling.

For artists and the creative community, PhotoKTM shows that photography is more than just pictures, it’s a way to connect, share stories and bring people together, looking beyond individual works, the festival shows how photography in Nepal is evolving as a whole, opening doors and new ways of seeing the world.

And for readers and audiences the festival offered a chance to see stories, histories and cultures across the Global South that they might not have encountered otherwise. The images encouraged reflection, sparked conversations and offered insights into shared struggles, solidarity and ways communities connect and support each other. PhotoKTM’s impact went beyond the exhibitions, helping audiences see how photography can tell powerful stories and connect people from different places and experiences.