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Something happened last week I am still turning over in my mind. A gentleman from Patna, well off, wanted a Kohbar for his drawing room. Size was fine, budget was fine, he was ready to pay more than my usual. Then he said, the colours are very bright ji, and the fish and all, can you make it a little less traditional? More matching with the sofa. I said I will think and let him know. My son says take the order, money is money, do a small change, no harm. Maybe he is right. But I have been sitting with this for some days now. Because what is left if I remove the fish? In our Kohbar the fish is not decoration. It is fertility, it is the whole point of why the bride's family asks for this painting. I cannot make it "less traditional." I can make it smaller. I can make it on better paper. I can explain to him for one hour what he is buying. That much I can do. I did not send that order away yet. He is waiting. My wife says I am stubborn like my mother, which I take as a compliment, though I am not sure she means it so. For those of you selling traditional work, I want to ask honestly. When the buyer wants it diluted, what do you do? Do you hold the line, or you adjust and stay alive? I am not asking to be praised for refusing. I genuinely do not know which is the wiser thing.

One of my students, fourteen years old, was painting the fish motif from our Mithila tradition. She does very fine work for her age. Then she stopped and put down the brush and asked me, very politely, "Guru ji, why must the fish always look like fish? Why not make it my own way?" I did not have a quick answer for her. That itself troubled me. I have been doing this since I was a small child sitting beside my mother. Nobody ever asked me that. The fish is the fish because it always has been. It carries meaning. It is auspicious. But she is not wrong to ask. When I was learning, we drew from the memory of our mothers and grandmothers, not from any book. Every hand was a little different. My mother's fish were rounder than my grandmother's. So where does the tradition end and her own hand begin? I told her to finish one fish the traditional way first. Then she may make another one her own way, and we will look at both together and see what remains that is still Mithila. I do not know yet what I will tell her if the second fish is unrecognisable. Some of the old ones would say the tradition is lost then. I myself am not so sure. She is the one who will carry it after I am gone.

Namaste to all ji. I want to ask one thing from those who have approached galleries. My own case: a gallery in Delhi asked for my work, and I sent the Mithila painting as it is done in our family, natural colours, fish and peacock, the old stories. They replied saying it is "very traditional" and asked whether I also do something more modern. I did not change. I said this is the work, this is what my mother and grandmother did. Nothing came of it. But I am still thinking. Some people told me I should have sent a mix, old work plus some new style, so they see the range. Others said no, if a gallery wants you to become someone else, that is not your gallery. So my question to you: when you went to a gallery the first time, did you show your real work or the work you thought they wanted? And how did it go for you. Tell me honestly, I will not feel bad. 🙏

This happened two weeks ago. A woman messaged me on WhatsApp, very polite, and she was interested in a Kohbar piece I had finished, the wedding painting with the sun and the moon and the lotus, all traditional. She asked the size, the price, all fine. Then she said, "Can you tell me what colours exactly are in it? I need to see if it will match my apartment's vibe." My son was standing there, I showed him the message. He laughed. I sat for a minute. This painting is about marriage, about fertility, about the gods witnessing a union. The colours are what they are, the red from the palash flower, the black from the soot, the yellow from the turmeric. They come from the earth, they are not chosen for a vibe. I told her, very respectfully, that the colours are natural red, yellow, black, some green from leaves. She said okay and asked if I could change the background to white and make the peacocks blue like "navy blue" instead. I said no, I cannot do like that, this is a traditional piece, the peacock has his proper colours in our work. She didn't buy it. Of course. I am still thinking about this. Not angrily. I understand she is from a different world. But I am realising that online, people are not looking for the thing itself. They are looking for something that fits into their already-made life. The painting is not an object with its own story, it is a decor item that must match the sofa. My question is not to complain. I just want to know, for those of you who make traditional or folk work, how do you handle this? When the buyer wants the art but does not want what the art actually is. Do you adjust and survive, or do you hold the line and lose the sale? I am torn.

Myself Ramesh. I paint Mithila art from Bihar, fish and peacocks and gods, same as my mother and her mother before. This is our tradition, many centuries old. Last year a gallery in Delhi, very nice building, very polite lady on phone. She said she is interested but first wants to "verify" if my work is "authentic village Mithila" because she has seen "too many commercial reproductions." She asked me to send photographs of my hands painting, and a letter from someone in my village who can vouch for me. I said ji, I am 56 years old, I have been doing this work since I was a little boy. My mother learned from her mother. You can see the natural pigment, the line work. But she insisted. So I sent. Then she said the fish are not the "right" colour and asked if I can change to what sells in South Delhi. I said no, this is Mithila fish, this is how we do. She stopped replying. Any of you had a gallery ask you to prove your own tradition? Or tell you your own art is not "authentic" enough? What do you even do with that.

She came to my home, sat on the mat, looked at my mother's old painting of Laxmi on the wall and said, "Ramesh ji, can you make her face a little more... you know, like contemporary? Like Deepika or someone." I said, Mata Laxmi? Like Deepika Padukone? She said yes, why not, we have to keep up with the times. I told her I have been painting Laxmi since I was a boy. In Mithila, the goddess has a certain face. The lotus, the elephants, the gold coins falling from her hand, the proportions of these also are fixed by tradition. You cannot just give her a film star nose and call it Madhubani. She said okay but can you at least make the eyes bigger and more modern. I took the order anyway because my daughter's school fees were due. I painted it the way it should be. She came to collect it and said it looks very traditional only. Took it but I could see she was not happy. My wife said, next time, make her wear sunglasses also.

Namaste to all ji. My first time showing outside Bihar, a gallery in the city took three of my paintings for an exhibition of "folk art." Good, I thought. Then I saw the card. It said "Madhubani artist, Bihar." No name. When I asked, they said the name is not so important for traditional work, the tradition is the thing. I said nothing that day. Since then I always ask beforehand, how will my name be written. So I am asking you all. Not about rejection, rejection is one thing. Have you been treated as a nameless craftsman, a representative of your community or region and not a person with a name? Where did it happen, and did you say something or stay quiet like me? Tell me, so next time we know how to handle.

Today one gentleman came to our cooperative stall. He liked one painting, the one with the fish and the lotus, took maybe twenty minutes to decide. Then he said, "This is too much. For folk art? You people enjoy making it. Reduce by half." I reduced by ten percent only, because the colours I used, the handmade paper, the many hours. He was not satisfied but he paid. Then he asked, will I teach his daughter also. I said yes, I teach girls in my village, it is my work and my joy. He said, "Good. Then teach her also, no charge, since you enjoy it so much." As if my enjoyment is the payment. As if the art feeds us on appreciation alone. I said kindly, ji, the enjoyment I have is true, but the rice also must come from somewhere. He looked at me like I had said something rude. I am fifty-six years old and still explaining that my hands are labour and my traditions are worth something. Some days I am tired of teaching this lesson to grown men.

Namaste to all. Myself Ramesh, Mithila painting from Madhubani, and I am fairly new to this online talking. My question is this. In my work there is the traditional thing. Fish, peacock, the wedding of Shiva and Parvati, kohbar for the marriage chamber. This is what my mother taught me and her mother before. Then there is the simpler work. Small fish, plain border, bright, easy to carry home, and this sells faster. So the galleries and the middlemen, they say to me, make more of the simple one, this is what the customer will buy. I have done it sometimes. Money is money and the house is running. But each time I feel some heaviness inside. So I want to ask the artists here, not the gallery people. Have you ever told a gallery no when they asked you to change your work for the market? What did you say, and did they drop you or not? And if you did change, was it worth it or you regret. One more small thing. I told one gallery in Delhi I will not remove the kohbar line from the border because that line is not decoration, it is for the marriage blessing. He laughed. I still did not remove it. That is my answer, kindly give yours.

Namaste to all ji. I want to ask one thing which I keep thinking about. Myself Ramesh, Mithila painting from Madhubani, Bihar. My son made this account for me. Always I have sold through the cooperative here, and through people who come to our village for the work. Gallery matter is new for me. Some months back I carried three paintings rolled in cloth, took the bus to Patna, and simply walked into a gallery there and asked to show. The man was polite, he looked at everything, and then said email is better, send photos. Only. So I came home with the same three paintings in the same cloth. Now I am confused which way is correct. To walk in and let them see the actual work with their own eyes, or to send photo by email first like a formality. In our tradition the painting is to be seen with hands and eyes, not in a small phone picture. But maybe that thinking is old. So tell me honestly, how do you all do it. Email first, or just go and stand there. And which one has actually worked for you. Tell me I am wrong if walking in is a foolish thing now.

The woman was very polite on the phone. She said they are doing a show of folk artists from different states in November, and they liked my work, and could I send twenty pieces. I said I will send six. She was quiet for a moment. Then she said twenty is better for the wall, the space is big. So I told her the truth. A painting of the size she is asking, with the fine line work, takes me eighteen to twenty days if the monsoon is not troubling the drying. Twenty pieces means five or six other hands. And whose hands will those be? My neighbours' daughters, who I teach. Fine. They are good. But then it is not my work on her wall, it is my name on their work, and that is a different thing which I am not comfortable with. She said other artists manage it. Yes, I said. That is true. They also manage a signature. Now I am wondering if I have done a foolish thing. November is a good month for selling. The money would have been useful, the roof of the back room is leaking since last year. But I have seen what happens when one name becomes a small factory. The buyers never know, and after some years the young ones who did the actual painting are not even known in their own district. Six pieces I can do with my own hand. I told her she can hang them with more space between, and if the wall looks empty she can put a small write-up about the tradition. She is thinking.

I'll go first, because I still wince at mine. Years ago I brought a set of watercolour studies to a small gallery. The director looked at them for a while and asked, quite reasonably, what the work was. Instead of saying plainly that they were botanical studies in the natural-history tradition, I launched into a lecture about the species, the collection locality, the paper. I watched his eyes glaze over. He was asking a simple question and I answered the wrong one. What I should have said was three sentences. What it is, why it matters, and who it's for. So I'm curious. When a gallerist or director asks you to describe your work out loud, what actually comes out of your mouth? Do you have something prepared, or do you improvise and regret it afterward? And has anyone here worked out a version of that sentence that genuinely opens doors rather than closing them? I'd especially like to hear from people whose work is quiet or technical and hard to make sound exciting in a single breath.

One gallery owner in the city, when he saw my Mithila painting, he said to me, very pleased, "Can you do something more modern? Like a nude?" I was too shocked to speak for a moment. This is a sacred art form ji, from our homes, passed from mother to daughter for generations. The fish, the peacocks, the gods, they all have meaning. He was seeing decoration, not tradition. Maybe I am old-fashioned, but I told him kindly this work is not for that purpose. He did not understand, and we parted. But it made me think. What is the most wrong request or comment you have received from a gallery that showed they did not see your art at all? How did you answer them? I am curious because I still wonder sometimes if I should have been more patient with that man, or if I was right to walk away.

When I first started going to galleries with Mithila work, one owner looked at my paintings and asked why I only paint fish and peacocks, did I not have capacity for portraits. I was so taken aback I said nothing. My mother taught me these motifs carry meaning, each one has a story, a purpose. That man saw decoration only. Later I realised this is part of the work now, explaining what our art is. But it is tiring, always. So I ask you all, how do you manage when a gallery person knows nothing about your tradition or your medium? Do you educate them, or do you walk away? And has any gallery person surprised you by learning, truly learning? Share your experience ji.

Myself Ramesh, Mithila painter from Madhubani. All my life I sold through the cooperative or when someone came to the house. Tourists sometimes, or people from the city who heard about the village where the painting women are. My son, he is in Patna for his job, he took photos of maybe eight of my pieces, a fish with the lotus, a Durga, two peacocks, some others. He put them on WhatsApp status and also in some groups he is in. I did not think much of it. Now in the last month I have sent six paintings by courier. To Delhi. To Bangalore. To one address in Dubai even, a man whose mother is from Darbhanga originally and he wanted something for his wall. These people never touched the paper, never saw the pigment. They saw a phone photo and they trusted it. This is strange to me. In my market, the buyer wants to see the line work up close, wants to know the colour is natural, wants to hold it. But my son says this is how it works now. I am grateful, truly, but also I am thinking, what if the photo does not show the real thing? I use geru and rice paste and lamp black, the photo cannot show that. But the buyers are happy when the parcel arrives. I do not understand this new way but I cannot argue with the orders. Anyone else selling traditional craft online and feeling this same confusion?🙂

Myself Ramesh. I paint Mithila, as my mother and her mother taught me. Natural colours only, turmeric yellow, indigo blue, vermilion, so on. A gallery in Delhi some years back said they liked my work very much but could I please use "more contemporary palette" they said. I was confused ji. These colours are the tradition. They carry meaning. I cannot change simply because somebody wants something else. I said no. And they moved on. Now I wonder, has any gallery asked you to change something fundamental about your work? The colours, the subject, the size, the medium. And did you do it, or did you hold your ground? I am curious to know. 🙏

My granddaughter sent me a link this morning to a little design blog that ran a picture of my Red Hollow quilt. Now I don't mind a picture being taken, that's fine, but whoever wrote it said the color arrangement was "unexpected and deliberately off-balance, a bold subversion of traditional form." Honey. I was working around a hole. That's the whole story. The blue corduroy came out of my uncle's work shirt and there wasn't enough of it, so the strip runs wide on one end and narrow on the other. Nothing bold about it. I needed to cover a gap and I did. Spent about an hour this morning wanting to be mad, then went out back and looked at the quilt through the window where it's hanging on the line, and I couldn't even stay mad, because it does look good. It always did. Just not for the reason they said. I do wonder how many of the old quilts in those books got wrote up by somebody who never once sat at a frame with a woman who was just trying to make her cloth stretch.

My son has put my work on a website and one order came from a lady in Delhi, so I rolled the paper in a tube and sent it by courier. She sent a photograph back. The crack is running straight through the tail of the fish. Now, in our work the fish is not decoration. Fish means fertility, means plenty, it comes in the wedding paintings with the lotus and the bamboo. To send a fish with a broken tail, what will she think of us. I know it is only the paper which is cracked, not the painting itself, but still it sat badly with me whole night. I offered to make it again, same motifs, same colours from the soot and the flowers. She is saying no, she wants it as it is, she is saying the crack is also part of the story now. I am not understanding this thinking. In our tradition we do not show the work half finished or damaged, we keep it clean for the person who is keeping it in the house. But she is a good lady and she has paid already, so I am not arguing. Maybe she is right that the paper has its own life. The old women here would not agree with her, that much I can tell you. Has anyone else sent work far by post and it came with some injury? What did you do, made it fresh or let it go as it is?

Yesterday I sat down to paint, all my colours were ready, the paper was stretched, and then I could not find my neem twig anywhere. For those who do not know, in our tradition we do not use a brush for the fine line work. It is a twig, chewed at one end until the fibres soften. My grandmother painted the whole of her life with such twigs. My mother too. So this small stick is not any small thing. I searched the whole house like a madman. My daughter was laughing, saying, "Baba, you are looking at the same spot three times." And it was true. Because it was in my own hand the whole time, I had picked it up without noticing and was holding it while I searched for it. I told this to my wife and she said, "Ramesh, this is the sign that you are getting old." I said, "No, this is the sign that I am thinking about the fish panel too much." The fish motif in our painting is not decoration, it is about auspiciousness, about the beginning of things. So it was a good thing to be thinking about. In the end the fish got painted and it came out well. But I am thinking, when the twig is gone one day, what will the young ones use? My students all use fine brushes from the shop. Maybe that is fine. The hand matters more than the tool. But I will keep my twigs a little longer. Some things are not for replacing so quickly.

One gallery in Delhi, they told me, "Can you make the colours less bright? The international buyers like it more muted." I said ji, these colours are our tradition, the red and yellow are for the goddess, I cannot dim them. They did not take my work. I was not sorry. Has any gallery asked you to change something that felt wrong to change? Not just a small thing, something that changes the work itself. Did you say no? Do you ever regret it?