- Artist Chandraguptha Thenuwara on why he chose the story of casting the first stone as the theme for his annual July exhibition
One of the most uncompromising voices in art, Chandraguptha Thenuwara, returns each July with a harshly inward look at society. In 2026, he used the biblical story of the prostitute who is to be stoned to death.
Criminalisation based on sexual orientation is a violation of human rights and he reminds Sri Lanka that social stigma creates barriers, discrimination begets violence, and colonial-era laws remain ingrained in a country that calls itself independent.
‘Cast the First Stone’ is a stark reminder that unless we continue to struggle for change, we will all be guilty of being among the crowd chanting, “Cast the first stone!”
Following are excerpts of the interview:
What made you work with the biblical story ‘Cast the First Stone’ this year?
For years, I’ve observed that blaming women, especially sex workers, is a never-ending pattern. They are arrested, labelled, and condemned by society as a whole. Poor girls who come to Colombo to work in spas and similar places are often labelled as sex workers even when they’re not involved in sex work.
This labelling and blaming resembles a form of stoning. That’s why I felt that this was the right story to begin the conversation, since it starts with the adulteress brought before Jesus. I drew my main inspiration from Jesus’s response, which shows us that any unnecessary law can be changed.
Has nothing really changed from biblical times to now?
We have changed physically, electronically, industrially, and in our social lives, our thinking patterns remain the same. Male chauvinism still dominates; patriarchy and male decision-making still prevail.
Occasionally, women gain positions of power, but, even then, they’re often expected to think as men do. This division between ‘male work’ and ‘female work’ and the roles assigned to women and men continues. Some people accept this as part of culture, they use culture to close off the argument.
Why do you feel that women’s bodies and lives have always been central to these historical battlegrounds?
At the start of civilisation, we were hunter-gatherers and had to work together. Once we became an agrarian society, men acquired much greater power, and religious structures developed from that shift. Men became the centre of decision-making, not only over women’s lives, but over labour, over who became enslaved and who became master. All of this stems from the past, and even after so many years, we’re still seeing the same patterns repeat.
You describe society as ambiguous. Why?
Any society should ideally contain diversity and progress. But, in our case, we reach moments of greater democracy and improved life, only for things to suddenly reverse. Efforts to build a better life often collapse into something worse, that’s the source of the ambiguity, particularly the political ambiguity. People have lost hope. They’re afraid to speak against the Government and various institutions, and power structures reinforce that fear, repressing people. This ambiguity persists because people aren’t united, everyone is separated, pursuing their own individual concerns. That suits those in power. It’s the nature of our society: we don’t come together to solve problems.
What compels you every July to produce a thought-provoking collection and exhibition?
It began in 1997, and I’ve consciously commemorated it ever since. People sometimes forget the significance of July 1983, ‘Black July’, someone has to remind them of the date each year.
I open my exhibition on 23 July as a way of marking that historical moment, because the issues that caused ‘Black July’ persist today: land disputes and religious tensions across Mullaitivu, Vavuniya, Jaffna, and beyond.
The Sinhalese majority may not fully grasp this, and while the violent expressions of that rivalry, bomb blasts, killings, suicide bombings, may have ended after 2009, the underlying political crisis hasn’t.
We still see protests by Tamil people who lost land during the war and now find it occupied by the Army. People have returned to their land only to find it occupied, and, in some cases, their cemeteries destroyed, an attempt to erase memory that shouldn’t be allowed to happen.
The commitments made under the Lessons Learnt and Reconciliation Commission remain unfulfilled. Some problems are partially addressed while others are forgotten, and priorities keep shifting, from left to right, North to South without resolution.
Given these ongoing political and social tensions, what does our society need to do to move toward peace-building?
Reconciliation is often understood narrowly, as simply Tamils and Sinhalese speaking well to one another. That isn’t enough, even Sinhalese communities need to reconcile among themselves. All of society must set aside certain differences and accept them. We are different: our cultures and beliefs differ, though we share the same land. Until we accept this, the suspicion of the other will persist, and there’ll always be another rather than an us. We call ourselves Sri Lankans, yet, we haven’t truly built a Sri Lankan Nation that includes everyone.
At times, Sri Lanka is treated as synonymous with the Sinhalese. We are also Tamils, Muslims, Burghers, Veddas, and Malays. We address these identities separately rather than working towards a shared sense of Sri Lankan-ness that incorporates everyone.
Are you saying that we don’t think enough about people as a whole, not just as Sinhalese, Tamil, or Vedda?
Yes, but we need to. Problems arise when politics comes between people. In daily life, people share the same concerns: jobs, education, the future, and building a home. These are common issues. But, when politics enters the picture in pursuit of votes, differences of religion and language are exploited to win support. That’s what we need to stop.
We should not vote for anyone who campaigns on nationalism or religion. We need to unite around what we’ve in common. This matters because we lived through a war, and afterwards, segregation and party politics simply resumed. We need a shared plan spanning 10 to 25 years, set aside from party differences, with everyone working together, that hasn’t happened here. That’s the core problem.
Sri Lankans are often described as resilient. Is that resilience or a coping mechanism that allows us to forget and move on?
It may well be a coping mechanism. People tell themselves, ‘It’s not my problem right now’, and end up operating on a kind of autopilot, simply continuing on despite unresolved issues, addressing them only temporarily, and staying silent.
Even protest has become fraught, since Governments can respond with repressive, authoritative measures, through force and law. That’s precisely why this matters and why people remain afraid: they remember what happened to people’s bodies during past political struggles.
Discrimination based on sexual orientation has existed since colonial times. It’s part of our colonial history, yet, there’s been no real commitment to changing it. What is your view?
Much of this originates in Victorian values. Our thinking has evolved, yet, we remain governed by old colonial laws, the Vagrants Ordinance, No. 4 of 1841 in particular. The British themselves abolished that Law long ago, we retained it. As a result, women are arrested, especially those doing sex work or standing on the street, even though the courts have ruled that sex work itself isn’t an offence, only operating a brothel is. These Laws need revising; this is one of the oldest professions, and we can learn from how the West has approached it. Even within Buddhism, there are stories of sex workers who later became nuns’ people can change.
More fundamentally, a person has the right to make decisions about their own body. In Sri Lanka, there’s a tendency to treat everything, including people’s bodies, as subject to national control. We need to stop making decisions about other people’s bodies, and instead respect their choices and provide the support that they need.
Many young women enter sex work not by choice but because there are no other jobs, and many working in spas who aren’t doing sex work at all are still labelled as prostitutes. This labelling and blaming, dressed up as cultural values, undermines the fabric of society.
Is this cycle of hatred and discrimination a historical burden that we can’t seem to escape?
It shouldn’t exist in Sri Lanka, particularly given that our culture is predominantly Buddhist. What we practice today is no longer truly the Buddhist culture, it has become a culture of blaming and claiming rather than the compassion that Buddhism teaches. The Buddha taught us not to hate anyone; hatred yields nothing. Yet, even after the crisis and the Aragalaya. t didn’t begin yesterday. It traces back to the 1930s, perhaps even the 1920s, to the anti-colonial struggle. After Independence, that struggle transformed into hatred between the haves and the have-nots, which continued through leftist ideology that also generated its own forms of hatred.
One can earn a living and fight for labour rights without hating others, yet, that hatred was later redirected toward capitalists and liberal politicians. Even old age became something to resent. New generations gained power, only to repeat the same patterns.
One of your paintings is titled ‘Livestreaming’, an intriguing portrait. Does public shaming on social media echo the historical persecutions and condemnations of the past?
The smartphone is like a personal news machine, it gives people freedom to say and do as they choose, while also affecting others. I saw this clearly a few years ago, when a Bill to repeal Penal Code Sections 365 and 365A was proposed. The Judiciary confirmed that it was constitutional, yet, it was never passed.
As soon as it was announced, people began attacking others online, even the Prime Minister and several female Parliamentarians were harassed. It’s easy to criticise from the Opposition, but, the same behaviour continues once people hold power.
Society does this too, people attack women especially, sometimes posing as cultural or religious protectors while blaming others. Recently, a woman was shown naked online, with no one questioning the right to expose a private conflict that way. Everyone profits from blaming others. The smartphone has become a new stone to cast, particularly against women and lesbian, gay, bisexual, transgender, queer and questioning plus people.
Have you begun thinking about your next subject now that July has passed?
Not yet. July always stays with me in some sense. For now, I’m in an observation period — watching and waiting to see where the Government, and people generally, make mistakes. That’s where my subject matter will come from.
The writer is the host, director, and co-producer of the weekly digital programme ‘Kaleidoscope with Savithri Rodrigo’ which can be viewed on YouTube, Facebook, Instagram and LinkedIn. She has over three decades of experience in print, electronic, and social media
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The views and opinions expressed in this column are those of the interviewee, and do not necessarily reflect those of this publication