It’s easy, almost instinctive, to grow into the version of yourself others expect. Family, friends, even distant relatives who feel entitled to comment on everything from your career to your weight begin to shape an idea of who you 'should' be. In many of our cultures, this moulding is constant. And while it can feel restrictive, I’ve come to realise it often comes from a place of fear rather than control, the fear of uncertainty and the unknown. 

I remember my mother spending most of my eleventh grade trying to convince me to switch back to science and pursue engineering. At the time, it felt suffocating, and I resented her for it. But growing older has given me perspective. I understand now that her insistence wasn’t about limiting me, it was about protecting me in the only way she knew how. 

For London based, Welsh-Sri Lankan artist Murugiah, becoming a full-time artist wasn’t a straight line, it was a journey that began, somewhat reluctantly, in architecture school. 

Like many children of “strict Asian parents”, he found himself nudged toward a stable profession. Architecture fundamentally shaped the way he approached his work. Describing its impact on his artistry he says, “I tend to start out with a very rough sketch thinking about shapes and form on a page then I start to build more refined elements and details to construct an image. It’s very similar to the way an architect works when they are first ‘massing’ a building, starting very broad and then refining it. The thing that makes it even more architectural is the thought process behind positive and negative space; forgoing all rules of realism I will add motifs and patterns to a piece or work because it makes sense to me visually.”

There’s also the less romantic, but equally formative, side of architectural training: the relentless critique. Long nights, endless iterations, and work that gets “torn to shreds” every few weeks. For Murugiah, it became a process that builds a certain kind of resilience that serves any creative navigating rejection. 

Yet, it wasn’t until years later that he fully stepped into his identity as an artist. After leaving architecture in 2012, he spent time freelancing, then working as an illustrator and designer across industries, from greeting cards to restaurant branding. “Throughout this time I was working on evenings and weekends to develop an illustration practice. I bit the bullet and decided it was time to go fully freelance without any safety nets so I could make a real go of it. Sometimes you have to really jump to let yourself fly," says Murugiah, describing what made him finally go all in.

What defines Murugiah’s work today is its unmistakable vibrancy. His pieces burst with colour and there's a tactile richness that seems to extend beyond the canvas. "This visual language draws from an eclectic mix of influences: the surrealist dreamscapes of Salvador Dalí and Leonora Carrington, the graphic boldness of Moebius, and the immersive worlds of Yayoi Kusama," he says. “From the more pop contemporary side, the Saturday morning cartoons & video games I watched and played as a kid, like the X-men, and the world of Nintendo, or the Pokemon cards I collected. It's all in there and mashed together with Sri Lankan iconography, reflecting all my early life exposures. I hope it offers something quite unique that is also a representation of my very being; as a western born person with heritage from South Asia.“

This sense of in-betweenness; of 'code-switching' between cultures, has also shaped his inner world. Growing up, it often came with confusion, a lingering question of where one truly belongs. But as an adult, Murugiah has transformed that uncertainty into creative fuel. His work, including his upcoming exhibition  ‘Ever Feel Like…’ at the Quentin Black Centre for Illustration, in London from May 2026 onwards, explores themes of identity and mental health with a lightness that never diminishes their depth.

“It (growing up feeling different) can feel confusing while being young; as an adult it offers plenty of inspiration to make art from!" he says. "I sometimes struggle with my mental health and I'm sure some of the difficulties I felt when I was young contributed to that. I'm grateful to be born in the time and place I have been, where increasingly I feel I can talk to friends and professionals when I need help without feeling archaic stigmas.”

If there’s a defining quality to his journey, it’s this balance between discipline and play that bursts through his work. Even in moments when his artistry might be questioned, there’s a sense of whimsy he refuses to let go of. And while the art industry can be notoriously difficult to break into, especially as a person of colour, Murugiah’s experience has been shaped as much by support as by challenge. He points out not only the barriers, but also the values he has carried with him along the way, underlinging that hard work, and a refusal to feel entitled to success have paved his way forward.

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