Military-to-Art Transition
I am a retired Armed Forces veteran and a full-time visual artist and content creator, known as Arvind Kumar Singh Chauhan (AKS Chauhan or अक्स चौहान). My practice is a testament to the synergy between structured rigour and boundless imagination. By drawing upon the discipline, precision, and unwavering dedication honed during my military tenure, I approach the canvas with a unique strategic focus.
My portfolio is a diverse exploration of the soul and the soil, ranging from expansive, emotive landscapes to the meticulous complexity of Sacred Geometry—most notably my intricate renderings of the Sri Yantra. My versatility extends into historical and spiritual narratives, as well as tactile explorations in abstract forms, clay, and murals. My journey serves as a powerful reminder that the most profound creative expressions are often fueled by a lifetime of internal order, resulting in art that truly inspires and transcends boundaries.
What & Why I Paint?
I love to draw and paint landscapes, abstracts, sacred geometries, deities, and customized artwork. I work mainly with acrylic, oil, and Water Colour, and sometimes mixed media. These mediums allow me to build layers slowly—the way memory itself builds, quietly accumulating over time. For me, painting is the only time when the noise in my head transforms into something beautiful instead of something heavy. Every canvas feels like a small act of rebellion—against routine, against numbness, against forgetting how to truly see. I paint to remind myself that the ordinary can be sacred if we look at it long enough.
Truthfully, I paint because if I don’t, the colours stay trapped inside me—and eventually they begin to hurt.
I never really “decided” to become an artist the way someone decides to become a doctor or an engineer. It happened quietly and without permission, like falling in love or catching a fever. Somewhere along the way, I discovered that when my hands move across the canvas with brush and colour, I experience the strongest sense of being fully alive—timeless, focused, and free from anxiety.
There isn’t a single reason why I paint. It’s rarely as simple as I saw a beautiful painting once or I want to be famous. Instead, it grows from a slow accumulation of inner necessities, life experiences, and temperament—until one day painting becomes the only tolerable way to exist And somewhere between the 50th and the 500th painting, a quiet realization appears: I’m not doing this. This is doing me.
Some emotions are too complex, too contradictory, too unfinished to translate neatly into words. Painting allows them to remain exactly as they are—messy, layered, unresolved—just like real life. That’s when I stop calling it a hobby and begin calling it my life.
Even if I never sell a single canvas.
Even if my family thinks I’ve gone mad.
Even if the world never notices.
In the end, I am an artist because something inside me refuses to stay silent—and painting is the only language that particular silence will accept.