We recently had the chance to connect with Anu Kumar and have shared our conversation below.
Anu, we’re thrilled to have you with us today. Before we jump into your intro and the heart of the interview, let’s start with a bit of an ice breaker: Are you walking a path—or wandering?
I’d say I’m wandering with intention. For the first time in my life, I’m allowing myself to not know what next week—or even next month—will look like, and instead of being anxious about that, I’m genuinely enjoying it. Wandering doesn’t mean being lost. It means giving myself permission to explore, to be curious, and to let new ideas and opportunities reveal themselves. Each week begins with an intention: sometimes the intention is to work through a challenge that’s been weighing on me, and other times it’s to move forward joyfully toward a clear goal. Both are valid. Both are part of the journey. What I’ve realized is that wandering allows me to stay present. It gives me the space to listen—to myself, to creative impulses, to the needs of the communities I serve.
Can you briefly introduce yourself and share what makes you or your brand unique?
I’m Anu, an artist who loves telling stories—especially stories about the South Asian experience—through water, light, and whatever medium feels right in the moment. Most people know me for my narrative expressive paintings, but my practice is really a mix of things. I get just as much joy from creating commissioned work for homes and businesses as I do from digging into a long-term series that explores identity, memory, or migration.
Lately, I’ve also been creating small 3D sculptural pieces, and those have been such a fun surprise. Retail art shops have really embraced them, which has encouraged me to keep experimenting and playing in that space. I try hard not boxing myself into a single style or direction. I follow what feels authentic—whether that’s a commercial commission that helps shape someone’s space or a narrative project that asks bigger questions. Right now, I’m in a very open, exploratory phase of my career, saying yes to opportunities that stretch me and letting my creative instincts lead the way.
Okay, so here’s a deep one: Who saw you clearly before you could see yourself?
Honestly, it was my daughter. She’s the one person who recognized my creativity long before I allowed myself to claim it. She looks at the world with this openness—she doesn’t understand the idea of “paths not traveled.” To her, everything is possible, so she couldn’t wrap her head around why I wasn’t creating more or exploring my artistic side.
Before I ever picked up a paintbrush, she was my museum buddy. She’d wander through galleries with me, completely absorbed, and I think she always sensed that I belonged in that world too. When I finally started painting, she became my muse—literally and emotionally. She still tells me how proud she is of my curiosity and the way I keep learning and making.
As a mom, you always want to set a good example, but in many ways she has been the one guiding me. Her belief in me has been this constant encouragement, reminding me that it’s never too late to reinvent yourself or to follow the part of you that’s been waiting quietly.
If you could say one kind thing to your younger self, what would it be?
Actually had this moment recently during a breathwork class. The instructor told us that the session could bring up strong emotions, and I went into it as a total skeptic—just hoping to relax and maybe pick up a new meditation technique. But by the end of this “psychedelic breath” session, I saw something so vivid: my younger self running straight into the arms of my older self.
In that vision, I hugged her tight and heard myself say, “You will be okay.” I came out of the class in tears—happy tears—because it felt like something in me finally believed it.
So if I could say one kind thing to that younger version of me, the one who had a tough childhood and carried more weight than she should have, it would be:
“You will not only be okay… you will do great. You will build a life that feels like yours.”
That moment felt like such a powerful release and a reminder that healing can show up in the most unexpected ways.
I think our readers would appreciate hearing more about your values and what you think matters in life and career, etc. So our next question is along those lines. Whom do you admire for their character, not their power?
I admire so many people in the art communities I’m part of, but there’s one woman who always stands out to me. She’s in her eighties—though you would never know it by the way she fills her life. She plays musical instruments, does improv, paints in every medium you can imagine, and she is always the first one to sign up for any class that teaches a new technique.
She swims every single day, even when her body protests, and she still shows up to every art exhibition with a smile and a sense of humor that’s infectious. What I admire is her insatiable need to stay engaged—to keep learning, creating, laughing, and participating fully in life.
It’s not about power or titles; it’s about spirit. Her curiosity and willingness to keep showing up is the kind of character I hope to carry with me as I grow older.
Before we go, we’d love to hear your thoughts on some longer-run, legacy type questions. If you knew you had 10 years left, what would you stop doing immediately?
That’s such an interesting question, because I spend a lot of time thinking about how I want to shape my later years—so imagining that timeline being shorter really shifts things.
The first thing I would stop doing is depriving myself of fried and sweet that I know are no good for me long term. If there is no long term I’m going all in.
But seriously I’d also stop investing time in anything—or anyone—that doesn’t bring joy or allow me to show up as my best self. Life is too precious to spend it in spaces where you feel small or drained. And with the time I would have, I’d focus even more intently on creating the kind of work that outlives me. I want to leave a legacy—art and stories that people continue to connect with long after I’m gone. Ten years or fifty, that part stays the same: I want my work to matter.
Contact Info:
- Website: https://art.anu-kumar.com/
- Instagram: palletcreator
- Linkedin: https://www.linkedin.com/in/anu-kumar-12874a/
