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My art practice reflects a deep concern for the rapid changes shaping our world—culturally, environmentally, and spiritually. I grew up in the Hunza Valley of Gilgit-Baltistan, where life moved in harmony with nature. As a child, I made my own toys from wood and stone, helped irrigate fields, harvest crops, and build with earth. These everyday acts were more than survival—they were lessons in creativity, balance, and belonging.

In the past, change came slowly. It gave people time to adjust and carry forward what was meaningful. But when industrial goods, outside lifestyles, and synthetic materials entered our valley almost overnight, much of our organic way of life was swept away. With no time to reflect or prepare, people became disconnected from their roots—and from each other.

This experience is part of a larger global pattern. Everywhere, we see nature being reduced to product, and connection replaced by consumption. But we are not separate from nature—we are part of it. Yes, humans are gifted with awareness and imagination, but we are still one thread in a larger web of life. If even one part of this web breaks, the whole ecosystem begins to fall apart. The balance of nature is delicate, and our well-being depends on the health of every element—air, water, soil, animals, plants.

Through my work, I try to speak to this shared responsibility. I want to remind us of what we are losing, and what we still have time to protect. Art, for me, becomes a way to reconnect—with memory, with nature, and with the deeper rhythms of life. I believe we must think and act not as isolated individuals, but as part of a whole—caring for the world as we would care for ourselves.