• Ponnaiyah Peter’s ‘Mayfly’ a visual capture of memory, war, and impermanence

There is a curious, understated dynamism to Ponnaiyah Peter’s work that draws you in before you fully understand what you are looking at. 

At a distance, the surfaces appear controlled, almost delicate, built from fine dots and lines that move across the page with quiet precision. But stay with them a little longer, and the weight begins to settle. What first reads as restraint slowly reveals something far more loaded, shaped by memory, loss, and a lived experience of war that continues to echo through the work.

Peter’s first solo exhibition, ‘ஈசல் Mayfly,’ opens this month, bringing together a body of work that reflects on impermanence, displacement, and the fragile continuity of life. It is, in many ways, an extension of his own history. Aged 27, born in Mullaitivu and based in Kilinochchi, he grew up during the final years of the war, a period marked by constant movement and uncertainty.

That sense of not knowing, of existing within a suspended state, sits at the centre of the exhibition. It is not expressed through overt narrative, but through a set of recurring visual elements that carry the weight of those experiences in quieter ways.

“During the war, that’s how my and my family’s lives were,” he said. “We knew we could die at any point, but didn’t know when or how or where.”

A language shaped by memory

Peter’s journey into art began early, though not in any formal sense. At school, he chose art as part of his aesthetic studies, drawn to it instinctively. 

“I used to draw nicely,” he said, recalling how teachers and family members encouraged him. “They would say I would become a great artist.”

At the time, that idea felt distant. “For me, to be an artist was something like magic,” he explained. “I didn’t know how.”

It was only later, at the Eastern University, that the possibility began to take shape. Enrolled in the Visual and Technological Arts programme, he was exposed to a wider range of practices, from digital work to craft-based approaches, alongside a growing awareness of contemporary art. 

“When I was in university, I learnt a lot and received a lot of exposure to things,” he said. “Then I realised, I could also become an artist.”

Those years were formative in other ways too. Field visits to Colombo introduced him to spaces and institutions he had not encountered before. “We came to Barefoot, the Saskia Fernando Gallery, the JDA Perera Gallery, and Anjalendran’s house,” he said. “That exposure was important.”

His influences evolved alongside this exposure. Early familiarity with figures such as Frida Kahlo and Pablo Picasso gradually expanded to include contemporary artists like Ali Kazim, whose work he encountered later, and also frequently features clouds as a visual element. The connection, he noted, was not immediate or intentional. 

“When I first used clouds in my art, I didn’t know about Ali Kazim,” he said. “A friend told me my work looked similar. Then I started to research more and became really connected with their art.”

The resemblance lies less in direct reference and more in shared sensibilities, particularly in the treatment of atmosphere and form. Peter’s own approach, however, has settled into a distinct visual language built on repetition and control.

This method extends across his materials as well. Working with acrylic, charcoal, ink, and textured surfaces such as graph paper and kraft paper, he builds his compositions through layering rather than gesture. Acrylic is applied directly onto the surface, while charcoal dust is blended in to create a softened, almost suspended effect. The result is work that feels both constructed and fleeting at the same time.

Symbols of uncertainty and survival

At the centre of ‘Mayfly’ is a set of symbols that recur across the works, each carrying a specific meaning drawn from Peter’s experiences.

The most prominent of these is the cloud. “Clouds don’t have a fixed shape and they don’t stay in one place,” he said of the significance of clouds in his artworks. “They keep moving.”

For Peter, this movement mirrors the instability of life during the war, when displacement was constant and the idea of home became uncertain. “Our lifestyle was like clouds,” he explained. “We were displaced from time to time, and our lives would also change.”

Alongside the clouds are the mayflies that give the exhibition its title. Emerging briefly, drawn towards light, and living for only a short time, they become a direct metaphor for the fragility of human existence in a conflict zone.

“The mayfly lives only for 24 hours,” Peter explained. “They don’t know their life is going to end. There is an air of uncertainty.”

This uncertainty, he noted, was not abstract. It was lived. The sense that life could end without warning shaped not only how people moved through the world, but how they understood it.

The works also incorporate a system of dots and lines, which operate both visually and conceptually. “Sometimes the war was scattered, there were so many different fights going on,” he shared. “But the lines depict people’s lives alongside these different fights. They don’t stop living because of the war. They live through it.”

There is a tension here between disruption and continuity, between fragmentation and persistence. Even in the midst of conflict, life continues, not unchanged, but not entirely halted either.

Other elements draw on more specific forms of resilience. The Mimosa pudica, or touch-me-not plant, appears as another recurring reference point. “When you touch it, the leaves shrink, and then they reopen,” Peter said. “Our lives were similar. No matter how much we struggle, at some point our lives have to bloom again.”

The use of colour also carries meaning. In several works, orange tones appear as subtle accents within otherwise muted compositions. These refer to the remnants of war that remain embedded in the landscape. Even years after the end of active conflict, these traces persist, shaping both the physical environment and the psychological space in which people live.

Moments that remain

While much of the work operates through symbolism, it is rooted in specific memories that continue to surface in different forms. One of the most striking of these relates to a moment from the final phase of the war, when access to food had become severely limited.

“At that time, people had no dry rations,” Peter recalled. “There were camps where food was stored (these were the LTTE’s own camps for its soldiers), and at the end stages when they knew they wouldn’t need these rations, they opened them to the public. People ran and looked for rations they could take. I went with my father and brother.”

In the midst of this chaos, he found a small object that would later take on a different significance. “I found a digital watch. I put it around my neck, and some coins I put into a handkerchief.”

That moment, simple and specific, has become one of the anchors of his practice. It appears as an emotional reference point, a way of grounding the broader themes of the work in lived experience.

Finding a place and looking ahead

For Peter, this first solo exhibition also marks a shift in his own trajectory. Although he has previously participated in group exhibitions, this is his first solo presentation, a moment that carries both personal and professional weight.

Seeing his work occupy a space in its entirety has been both affirming and motivating.  “This is my third exhibition, but first solo,” he said. “I’ve been to these galleries as an undergraduate, but didn’t think I’d be showing my work. To see the whole gallery dedicated to my work gives encouragement to learn more, explore more, and produce more.” 

That sense of growth is tied less to commercial success and more to connection. “It’s not about my art being sold per se,” he noted. “It’s about getting to know more people and having people get to know me.”

His entry into the exhibition circuit itself came through a competition, one he discovered through his mentor, Pushpakanthan. Submitting his portfolio marked his first experience of showing work in a gallery context.

“That was the first time I came to a gallery and displayed my work,” he said. “I was very happy because my friends came and viewed it.”

Winning that competition helped build confidence, opening the door to further opportunities and reinforcing his commitment to the practice.

Looking ahead, Peter’s focus remains on continuing to develop his work. While there are no immediate exhibition plans, he is clear about the direction he wants to move in.

“I want to continue working on my art,” he said. “I have a dream to finish my Master’s abroad, to learn more about art and explore more.”

That emphasis on learning extends to how he sees the role of younger artists, particularly those working in areas with limited exposure to contemporary art.

“For students who wish to follow art, there is not a lot of exposure,” he said. “We look at something and try to draw, but we don’t know enough about artists and their work. Read more and explore more. Don’t just stick to the syllabus. Explore on your own. It should come from within you.”

It is a sentiment that reflects his own journey, shaped by instinct, experience, and a gradual widening of perspective. In ‘Mayfly,’ that journey finds a form that is both personal and expansive, grounded in memory yet open enough to resonate beyond it.

Ponnaiyah Peter’s ‘ஈசல் Mayfly’ is open for viewing at the Barefoot Gallery, Colombo until 25 April