Long time creator, first time(ish) seller

The first time I sold a piece of creative design was at my end of year Graduation exhibition. Back in 2015, I designed, printed and packed up some typographic prints, handed them over to a tutor and then collected a surprising couple of notes a few days later. I thought no one would buy my prints! That was the first time I’d sold any prints.

Personally, I’ve always had an element of “fear” when it comes to my painting and graphic design explorations. Fearing if other people will like it, fear that it’s somehow not good enough against other industry work. A lot of that goes back to my fourteen-year-old self overrhearing conversations right behind me in Art Class by classmates lamenting, “Radhika’s not even really that good, I don’t understand why the teachers love her”. I now look back and realise they were just jealous twits because I was a straight A* student in Art throughout high school, but those kind of comments, they stick. I used to just get my head down and pour my heart into my art – because I loved it. So that’s where I’m heading back to. 

Being creative is all I’ve ever known. My mama loves to tell the story of when I was a young kid, the first thing I’d do when I woke up was crawl to the end of the bed, where I’d leave books and crayons, to do morning colouring and drawing. I can’t even express how much being creative is in my bones, but anyone who knows me well knows that I just live and breathe creativity and art. It’s where I’m at home. 

So you see there’s never really ever been another career route for me, it’s always been the notion that I must do something creative. However, that’s where it gets tricky. Once you get older and you’re no longer creating for pleasure but for money and bills, that’s when you actually become less creative in some ways. I’ve been working in the industry for five years now and one way or another I’ve fallen into jobs that either restrict my creativity or don’t make full use of what I can or want to do. And I’m learning that, that’s okay. I’ve never been one to chase after the glossy, award-winning trendy work. I’m in it for the long haul, the designs that last more than a season, the designs that come from ideas and meanings. My realistic outlook on my day job versus my passion is where Radmakes was born. It’s my creative outlet, a way to fully explore anything creative I desire to! A chance to get back to making, purely for the love of it. 

Coming from a Fine Art background I’ve always been oddly wary of selling my work. To me they were precious paintings and works of art I’d poured hours and hours over, lost sleep over sometimes. I didn’t want to exchange them for money because I felt giving them away was in a way giving away a part of my talent and hard work. But now I’m much older and wiser I understand that me selling a painting or a print doesn’t mean I loose my skills. I’m merely parting with the final output, but I the creator retain my creative mind and ability to create more. Besides what good is creating a load of art and crafty things and just keeping them to stare at all day myself? Art should be shared with the masses.

I came across this quote earlier in the year and it really struck a chord with where I feel I am right now. I’d been holding off pushing Radmakes, mostly again, down to fear. But there has to be something said for the feeling of fear – it propels you to do something.    


 “If you feel safe in the area you’re working in, you’re not working in the right area. Always go a little further into the water than you feel you’re capable of being in. Go a little bit out of your depth. And when you don’t feel that your feet are quite touching the bottom, you’re just about in the right place to do something exciting.” – David Bowie. 


Last December, I sold my first commissioned painting. That was a huge step for me. Up until then I’d only ever given one other painting away and that was a gift for my sister’s wedding anniversary a few years back. Despite being a long time creator I’m evidently new to the whole world of selling. It’s fair to say I’m not a natural at it, it’s been a lot of hard work, trial and error. Getting a lot wrong! But that’s the way you learn. My knowledge of graphic design and the commercial side of the industry has played a huge part of feeding into my outlook on art and crucially how to set up my first ever shop. I’ve got so many things planned! It’s a little bit scary at times but one thing is for sure I no longer need to be the fourteen-year-old clutching onto my sketchbook worried what everyone else thinks. 

Quite aptly that first print I ever sold had words I’d written, typeset in a beautiful serif font and printed onto gorgeously textural Somerset stock. The heading words were: “The future scares the hell out of me”. It’s funny how things come back around, how the element of fear seems to surround my work a lot more than I realised before I sat down to write this piece! But I like to be honest, I think that’s where we connect as humans and honesty is an element I always try to instil into the way I work. As I’ve been setting up my first online shop these words come back to me a lot, the future does scare the hell out of me, but this time around, that’s okay.

Words & Photography: Radhika Mary

So, where are you really from?

A big thank you to Pennycress for including me in their wonderful, first zine. It’s a great compilation and celebration of creatives of colour up North. The first issue focuses on the theme “So, where are you really from?” Thanks so much for commissioning my first pieces of writing but most importantly championing something so important and needed in the industry right now.

My seven-year-old niece totally thinks I’m famous now that my picture has been printed.

Check out Pennycress’ website for info on how you can secure a limited copy, get supporting creatives of colour.

Instagram: @pennycress.zine

pennycress zinepennycress zine feature

A note to the girl who almost gave up on love

Five months ago I would have told myself: don’t. Don’t give up on love. Don’t think yourself so unworthy. Young girl don’t ever blame yourself for the actions of others.

You will be loved and boy is it going to be incredible. Remember your old pal Fitzgerald once said: “There are all kinds of love in this world but never the same love twice”. That blows the notion of a soulmate. For I believe there are many soulmates in our lives. They can be a family member or a friend – it’s not always romantic.

Love is going to find you again. As cliché as it is, it will find you when you’ve learnt (far too late) to love yourself in that brown skin you were born into and haven’t always been so kind to. The world already has so much pain the least you can do in this life is be kind to yourself.

Love is going to come back with green eyes, firmer hands, a steadier head and a kinder heart. A genuine one. It’s going to be the easiest thing you have done, so open, so comfortable you won’t even realise you’ve fallen. You’re going to want to run at first – because it’s crazy scary, you’re out of practice, you haven’t even processed your thoughts. But he’s a solid presence, he stays and waits regardless of your reserved contemplation.

In a weird way you’re going to be grateful for the heartache of months prior. It taught you to be cautious, showed you what you needed and most of all allowed you to get all the screw ups and naivety out the way. It led you to where you were supposed to be. You’ll almost laugh and sit in wonder at why you tried so damn hard before. If it’s real it just works – from both sides. But remember the failures of your past allow you to appreciate when it does work out.

You’re going to find the love you deserve. The love everyone told you was out there but you had bought the lie that there was something broken in you. It’s going to be a love that has no fear. A love where you trust completely – a love where words are followed by direct action. It’s a mature love peppered with daft humour and swoon-y moments.

So don’t give up. Resist the urge to punch all the people who tell you there’s more fish in the sea. Because they are right. You won’t want to hear it because your delicate heart can’t comprehend ever not feeling so lost. But you will find love again – it’s going to excite you, calm the storms in your mind, he’ll open his life completely to you and he won’t bat an eyelid when you think running is not far off the cards. He’s going to show you that not everyone is a d***. That you deserve to be met with an equal love not by halves.

This may be the greatest love yet. Somehow you know it’s different – the future is uncertain but you are certain about the two of you. He’s mad keen remember. You’ve been weathered and put back together, humbled and realistic. It’s the kind of love where you meet in the middle, between both your entangled pain and pasts – both starting anew – one last time. And it works.

Words & Photography: Radhika Mary

I want to write

“You must stay drunk on writing so reality cannot destroy you”, (Bradbury, R. Zen in the art of Writing) perhaps this is an accurate understanding of why I am often compelled back to writing. Ever since a young age I have itched to pick up a pen. From my early disastrous attempts at poetry, song lyrics and diary entries of an eight-year-old. However, I tired easily of keeping journals. They felt too laborious, too mundane – perhaps that is more a commentary on my own life. Let’s not dig too deep just yet. I even tired of my Jane-A-Day book that seemed to be more a result of my growing disconnect from the often patriarchal, sexist quotes from the era.

It was however, my third year university self-initiated project on writing which kickstarted my love for language and writing again. Writing one Honest line for thirty days. What started out as a thirty day challenge has waned a considerable amount due to the pressures of everyday life. But one thing is for sure I still have this niggling feeling to write. Perhaps even more so, that project was the first real time I had shared my writing with people. Shared my work and received a great response.

I want to write.

I want to write about the things that matter, ideas, concepts, theories, current events, honesty and life. This is why ‘diaries’ never worked for me, they trailed off onto more far reaching topics than what teenage disaster happened that particular day. Nonetheless, those early writing attempts are what keep me interested, it was just a case of in my adolescence I lacked the substance and confidence perhaps to tackle the bigger topics.

I want to write about things other people can connect with.

Isn’t that why we read? Why we watch films, listen to music – so that we can connect as humans. That for those few moments we revel in the knowledge that we are not alone. That you are understood. The older I get the more I realise a lot of adulthood is figuring out what the heck we’re doing but also reaching out. Whether that be reaching out for family, love, charity, approval, self affirmation or just another slice of pizza. Everybody extends their hand at some point.

I want to reach out to my younger self.

I want to reach out to the girl I was in high school. Just maybe, through addressing some of my past experiences I can connect to the adolescents struggling out there right now. I can say, “hey – you are not alone”. Even if that fails, at the very least I feel this writing project will be somewhat cathartic, something I need. Anaïs Nin said, “We write to taste life twice, in the moment and in retrospect”. For me, it is less about nostalgia, the events I have to share are less than desirable, but lately they surface and only with age and retrospect have I realised that some of those things really were not cool.

I want to put my grievances to bed.

Maybe it is a sense of justice I want, or maybe it is to raise awareness. I honestly cannot pin point the exact why, it is more a combination of self reflection and the current state of the world that makes me want to be heard. I feel I have stayed quiet for too long. It has taken me a considerable number of years to realise it is okay to not be okay. Life certainly is not a bed of roses – or maybe it is – it is just that you do not have to hide the thorns.

I want to be heard.

Words & Photography: Radhika Mary