Geethu Chandramohan

I’m a self-taught artist with a background in aerospace engineering - two worlds that might seem far apart, but for me, they both hold a kind of precision, a kind of wonder. I never went to art school, but I’ve spent years immersed in colour, texture, and emotion, teaching myself through exploration and building a global community of students along the way. Over 35,000 artists around the world have learned from my online classes, and through every painting, I continue to learn too. My training wasn’t formal. It was lived - layered through years of practice, intuition, and a relentless belief that art is something we grow into by doing.

My art explores identity, transformation, and the quiet power of becoming. I’m deeply drawn to the in-between places - the moments when we’re no longer who we were, but not yet who we’re becoming. That’s where my work lives. In the layers. In the unspoken. In the softness we carry alongside our strength.

Through each piece, I reflect on what it means to hold contradictions - to be bold and tender, structured and wild, certain and searching. Many of my portraits are not about physical likeness, but about emotional resonance. They’re stories in skin and texture, in colour and silence. They speak of the parts of ourselves we often keep hidden, and the beauty of bringing them into the light.

I also explore what it means to follow every part of yourself - to be a mother and an artist, a scientist and a dreamer, without having to choose just one. My work invites the viewer to do the same. To soften. To expand. To remember.

At its core, my art is about becoming - again and again, with grace.

Artistic background

I came to painting not through the traditional path, but through the one I made for myself. My studies was in aerospace systems, a world that runs on precision and logic, and for years people would look at my studio and then look at my work badge and not quite know what to make of it. I understood the confusion. I had it too, for a while. What I eventually realised is that both worlds ask the same thing of you: commit to a vision before you can see the finished form, and trust the process enough to keep going when it does not yet make sense. The studio became the place where my analytical mind and my instincts finally stopped competing.

I never went to art school. My training happened in the only hours I had, late evenings, weekends, the kind of time you carve out because something in you insists on it. I started with watercolours, found my way into mixed media, and slowly built a way of working that is entirely my own, layering oil, texture, and collage until the surface carries the kind of depth that cannot be planned in advance. It has to be built.

The work I make now belongs to a universe I call Limitless Women. These are expressive mixed media portraits of women, not of a single identity or a single mood, but of the full complexity of what a woman holds inside her at any given moment. The intellect and the feeling. The discipline and the wildness. The version of herself she shows the world and the one she is still figuring out. I have spent years living that duality, and it is what my paintings keep returning to.

I have also had the great privilege of teaching, with over 35,000 students across the world learning through my online courses. Teaching changed how I paint, because explaining your process honestly forces you to understand it more deeply than you ever would alone. And it gave me something I did not expect, which is the particular joy of watching someone pick up a brush for the first time as an adult and realise that nobody had actually forbidden them from doing this.

I did not arrive at this through the conventional route, and I am glad I did not. The path I took belongs to me completely.

Quote

I paint to honour every part of who we are, the bold and the soft, the wondering and the wild, because I have never believed we were meant to choose just one version of ourselves.

Interests

I am endlessly curious about the relationship between structure and freedom, in art, in life, in the way a human mind works when it is allowed to roam. Outside the studio I find myself drawn to reading about psychology, identity, and the quiet ways people carry their inner worlds through their outer lives. I love the kind of conversations that go somewhere unexpected, the kind that leave you thinking for days afterwards. I am also a devoted observer of light, how it changes a room, how it changes a face, how the same painting can feel entirely different depending on what time of day you stand in front of it. That quality of changeability is something I chase in everything I make.