Interviewer: Your Refugee Week project involved workshops for young people. How important is collaboration and community in your artwork?
Murugiah: Wow. It’s so important. For Refugee Week 2023, I was asked to design a campaign, and we began with workshops with young refugees to understand what compassion meant to them.
The conversations I had there gave me insights and stories I never could’ve invented myself. To do the work respectfully and honestly, collaboration was essential. I still translated everything into my style, but it was all rooted in real experiences. So yes—very important. (laughs)
Interviewer: Your art often balances joy with themes of reflection and vulnerability. How do you navigate that duality?
Murugiah: Oh, that’s a tough one. (laughs) I try to make work that’s honest to my experience—being someone of two worlds, born and raised in the UK with Sri Lankan heritage. That can come with isolation, concern, and depression. But aesthetically, my work is joyful and colourful. So there’s a juxtaposition between what the piece is saying and what it looks like. For example, this piece here is about starting a band at 14, and the joy of it. These characters parade through on bunny rabbits with instruments. But I never started a band. I was jealous and intimidated by those who did. So I’m this guy, hiding. (laughs) I don’t think about the duality too much. I just try to make the work authentic. The bright colour palette helps create that contrast.
Interviewer: You’ve described yourself as English-born, Welsh, Sri Lankan. What was it like balancing so many cultures growing up?
Murugiah: Yeah… what was it like? Complicated. (laughs)
I grew up in South Wales—I played rugby at school, assimilated into Welsh culture, sang the Welsh national anthem every morning. But I was born near Birmingham, and we moved to Wales when I was very young.
At home, meanwhile, my parents often hosted Sri Lankan friends, parties, and cultural events. So I experienced Sri Lankan culture at home, but as a child I almost wanted to reject it to fit in.
That duality is in my work now—Sri Lankan references like masks and motifs, but Western clothing or environments. I’m a product of those mixed experiences. Now I’m leaning more into my Sri Lankan side, learning more, exploring more. But it’s also going to be complex, especially looking at British history and its impact on Sri Lanka. That’ll make for interesting work. (laughs)
Interviewer: Is there a part of Sri Lankan culture that influences you the most?
Murugiah: At the moment, I’m responding to it the way a westerner would. Looking, learning, seeing what resonates. The raksha mask, a ceremonial dance mask, is a big influence. I’ve redesigned it for a contemporary vibe, bright colours, poppy eyes. Because of incorporating the mask, many of my characters wear masks or lack traditional facial features. Their heads are replaced with something else. And I realised I’ve been creating a metaphor for my own masked identity, unsure of where I fit. So the raksha mask has taken up a lot of space in my work.
Interviewer: You’ve talked about films being big influences. Which films are the deepest wells?
Murugiah: Oh wow. (laughs) David Lynch for sure, the dream logic, the surrealism, the personal mixed with the strange. Eraserhead especially. I love auteur-driven films. Stories that are “about something else” but rooted in the filmmaker’s life. Paul Thomas Anderson does that. Miyazaki does that, Spirited Away, The Boy and the Heron, all deeply personal. The Matrix too, drawing from sci-fi and comics but telling something new. And recently, I’m drawn to films about parent-child relationships. I watched Better Man, the Robbie Williams biopic, on a plane and found a scene near the end absolutely devastating, because of the father-son dynamic.
Interviewer: How long did it take you to find your voice as an artist?
Murugiah: A very long time. Probably longer than most. Because I didn’t study illustration. I studied architecture. I transitioned out of that around 2012 or 2013, and I spent years figuring things out. It was really only during COVID that I found something I could call my style. So about ten years. Ten years of trying different styles, figuring out what I liked, discovering I could tell personal stories through my own cultural background. It takes time to build the confidence to tell your own story.
Interviewer: You’ve spoken about being an “unapologetic artist.” What does that mean to you now?
Artist: It means telling your own story with no concern for how it’s received. Talking about intimidated 14-year-old me, or difficult friendships or family relationships, but expressing them through influences I love, comics, movies, Kawaii, animation. It doesn’t sound commercially viable. (laughs) But I need to get it out. When you authentically tell your story, others connect with it. Being unapologetic means being authentic.
Interviewer: Do you have any advice for young people who want to make a living from their art?
Murugiah: I’ve covered a lot of it already. Be authentic. Find who you are, what you like, what you want to say. Merge those things. Draw every day. If you have a job that pays the bills, do the art on evenings and weekends until your hobby becomes your job. Make work, and be authentic about it. (laughs)