The Language of Stillness: Niyamat Mehta on Art, Identity, and the Power of Atman

Atman emerges as a contemplative body of work that reflects Niyamat Mehta’s exploration of inner consciousness, identity, and quiet self-awareness. Rooted in a strong foundation of classical training and shaped by diverse cultural influences, his sculptural practice balances discipline with instinct, form with emotion. Through recurring motifs and a refined use of bronze, Mehta’s work captures a sense of stillness and presence, inviting viewers to engage with deeper philosophical ideas while experiencing a visual language that feels both personal and universal.

1.Atman is deeply rooted in the idea of inner consciousness and self-awareness. What personal experiences or reflections led you to explore this theme in your work?

Atman, for me, comes from a personal place, it’s really about those quiet moments of self-awareness, where you’re just with yourself, without any noise. I’ve always loved horses, and I ride a little here and there. There’s something about them, they’re powerful, yet incredibly human friendly, with this effortless sense of style and elegance that I’m constantly drawn to. It’s something I naturally try to capture while sculpting. So, the horse felt like the most instinctive way to express Atman, it holds strength, sensitivity, and a kind of presence, without ever trying too hard.

2.Having trained in Florence and been exposed to European art history, how have these influences shaped your sculptural language while still allowing your Indian sensibilities to come through?

Training at the Florence Academy of Art gave me a very strong technical and academic foundation, the kind rooted in the discipline of the Old Masters, like Michelangelo, Caravaggio, and Leonardo da Vinci. Being in Florence itself, which feels more like a living museum than a city, I naturally absorbed that language of form, proportion, and restraint. At the same time, my Indian sensibility has always remained close to me. I’ve never felt the need to separate the two in fact, I think my work sits somewhere in between. There’s the academic rigour I’ve been trained in, but also a certain rawness and individuality that comes from wanting the work to feel personal and original. For me, it’s important that when someone sees a sculpture from a distance, it carries a distinct identity, something that feels entirely my own. I’m very connected to my roots, and I don’t think you can or should ever brush that aside as an artist. It inevitably finds its way into the work, in a way that feels honest rather than forced. Bronze plays a central role in Atman.

3.Bronze plays a central role in Atman. What drew you to this medium, and how does it enhance the emotional and philosophical depth of the piece?

Bronze, for me feels deeply tied to my own journey as a sculptor. Having spent my formative years in Florence, especially at The Florence Academy of Art, I was immersed in the discipline of the Old Masters and trained in traditional bronze casting, it really shaped the way I think about making sculptures. Living in a city that feels like a museum, I was constantly surrounded by works from Michelangelo, Antonio Canova, and Giambologna. Seeing those sculptures in person, again and again, made me understand the kind of presence bronze can hold within a space. It wasn’t just visual it was almost atmospheric. What stayed with me most was the process itself. The fact that bronze is this enduring, almost unforgiving material, yet it goes through so many stages before it becomes whole. I found that incredibly fascinating early on, and I still do. I’m drawn to it because it allows me to balance sharp definition with softness in transition, which is essential when I’m trying to capture presence rather than just form. The patina, too, becomes part of my language, it brings in depth, a mood. It gives Atman a certain stillness and gravity that feels very aligned with its core grounded and thought process.

4.Your work is often described as a balance between classical structure and contemporary expression. How do you consciously navigate and merge these two worlds in your creative process?

It’s quite instinctive for me, I don’t consciously try to separate the classical from the contemporary. It’s more a reflection of where I’ve been and how I’ve lived. Italy gave me the foundation. My training at the Florence Academy of Art was deeply rooted in classical discipline, understanding form, proportion, and the academic language of sculpture. That structure naturally sits at the core of my work. I’ve also spent a fair amount of time in London, and continue to move in and out of it. That exposure has had a quiet but significant impact on how I position my work within a more contemporary context. And then there are my Indian roots, which remain constant. They ground everything, I don’t think I could ever separate myself from that. It comes through instinctively, in ways that feel honest rather than constructed. For me, it’s important that the work feels organic and original, with a real sense of authenticity, rather than something overly “constructed” or overthought. I genuinely believe an artwork flourishes when you let go a little and allow yourself to simply be. That balance, between discipline and instinct is where the work feels most like me.

5.With Atman entering the secondary market through a prestigious platform like Bonhams, how do you see this moment impacting your journey as an artist and the way your work is perceived globally?

With Atman entering the secondary market, it genuinely feels like a bit of a dream come true and a real pinch me moment. Being associated with Bonhams, a historic London based auction house, means a great deal to me, especially being one of the youngest artists on their roster. It’s not just about visibility or validation, but about being placed within a context that carries legacy and credibility. At the same time, I see it less as a turning point and more as a continuation of my journey. I have two more auctions lined up with Bonhams this year, one in London in June, and another in December, which will mark my U.S. debut in New York. That sense of momentum feels both exciting and grounding. In terms of how the work is perceived globally, it really varies from collector to collector. Some are drawn to it for its aesthetic and how it sits within a space, while others approach it from an investment perspective. Both feel equally meaningful to me and reassuring in a way, to see the work resonate on different levels. Overall, I’m just incredibly grateful. It’s a fantastic platform to be on and having that kind of institutional support at this stage feels both affirming and encouraging.

6.Horses appear as a subtle yet recurring influence in your work. What draws you to this form, and how does it connect to your exploration of strength, instinct, and introspection?

Horses have become a recurring influence in my work, and I think I’m drawn to them for quite a few reasons. I ride on and off myself, so there’s already a personal connection there. Beyond that, they have this very natural elegance and beauty they’re a symbol of strength, but also sensitivity, which I find deeply compelling. It’s that balance that keeps bringing me back to the form. For me, the horse isn’t just a subject, it carries a kind of presence that translates beautifully into bronze. There’s something about that combination that elevates it beyond just being visually appealing. In a way, it allows me to express myself more intuitively through sculpture, without over explaining anything, but still saying exactly what I want to.

7.As your work reaches increasingly global audiences, how do you hope viewers from different cultural contexts interpret and connect with Atman?

It’s quite grounding for me. I feel very grateful for the journey so far, and especially for the way Atman is beginning to reach different audiences. At the end of the day, it’s a portrait of a horse, something that’s very close to me but I don’t believe in

imposing a fixed interpretation onto it. Every collector, every viewer, brings their own perspective, and I think that’s what makes the experience of the work more meaningful. Someone might feel a sense of

stillness, someone else might see strength or movement, it’s entirely personal. I’m very open to all of it. As much as it’s my sculpture, once it’s out in the world, it really belongs to the viewer’s experience as well.

When you’re entering a global space, I think it’s important to stay open-minded to welcome all kinds of responses, whether they’re positive, neutral, or simply different. That openness, for me, is part of the process.