Features
Making ‘Sinhala Studies’ globally relevant
On 8 January 2026, I delivered a talk at an event at the University of Colombo marking the retirement of my longtime friend and former Professor of Sinhala, Ananda Tissa Kumara and his appointment as Emeritus Professor of Sinhala in that university. What I said has much to do with decolonising social sciences and humanities and the contributions countries like ours can make to the global discourses of knowledge in these broad disciplines. I have previously discussed these issues in this column, including in my essay, ‘Does Sri Lanka Contribute to the Global Intellectual Expansion of Social Sciences and Humanities?’ published on 29 October 2025 and ‘Can Asians Think? Towards Decolonising Social Sciences and Humanities’ published on 31 December 2025.
At the recent talk, I posed a question that relates directly to what I have raised earlier but drew from a specific type of knowledge scholars like Prof Ananda Tissa Kumara have produced over a lifetime about our cultural worlds. I do not refer to their published work on Sinhala, Pali and Sanskrit languages, their histories or grammars; instead, their writing on various aspects of Sinhala culture. Erudite scholars familiar with Tamil sources have written extensively on Tamil culture in this same manner, which I will not refer to here.
To elaborate, let me refer to a several essays written by Professor Tissa Kumara over the years in the Sinhala language: 1) Aspects of Sri Lankan town planning emerging from Sinhala Sandesha poetry; 2) Health practices emerging from inscriptions of the latter part of the Anuradhapura period; 3) Buddhist religious background described in inscriptions of the Kandyan period; 4) Notions of aesthetic appreciation emerging from Sigiri poetry; 5) Rituals related to Sinhala clinical procedures; 6) Customs linked to marriage taboos in Sinhala society; 7) Food habits of ancient and medieval Lankans; and 8) The decline of modern Buddhist education. All these essays by Prof. Tissa Kumara and many others like them written by others remain untranslated into English or any other global language that holds intellectual power. The only exceptions would be the handful of scholars who also wrote in English or some of their works happened to be translated into English, an example of the latter being Prof. M.B. Ariyapala’s classic, Society in Medieval Ceylon.
The question I raised during my lecture was, what does one do with this knowledge and whether it is not possible to use this kind of knowledge profitably for theory building, conceptual and methodological fine-tuning and other such essential work mostly in the domain of abstract thinking that is crucially needed for social sciences and humanities. But this is not an interest these scholars ever entertained. Except for those who wrote fictionalised accounts such as unsubstantiated stories on mythological characters like Rawana, many of these scholars amassed detailed information along with their sources. This focus on sources is evident even in the titles of many of Prof. Tissa Kumara’s work referred to earlier. Rather than focusing on theorising or theory-based interpretations, these scholars’ aim was to collect and present socio-cultural material that is inaccessible to most others in society including people like myself. Either we know very little of such material or are completely unaware of their existence. But they are important sources of our collective history indicating what we are where we have come from and need to be seen as a specific genre of research.
In this sense, people like Prof. Tissa Kumara and his predecessors are human encyclopedias. But the knowledge they produced, when situated in the context of global knowledge production in general, remains mostly as ‘raw’ information albeit crucial. The pertinent question now is what do we do with this information? They can, of course, remain as it is. My argument however is this knowledge can be a serious source for theory-building and constructing philosophy based on a deeper understanding of the histories of our country and of the region and how people in these areas have dealt with the world over time.
Most scholars in our country and elsewhere in the region believe that the theoretical and conceptual apparatuses needed for our thinking – clearly manifest in social sciences and humanities – must necessarily be imported from the ‘west.’ It is this backward assumption, but specifically in reference to Indian experiences on social theory, that Prathama Banerjee and her colleagues observe in the following words: “theory appears as a ready-made body of philosophical thought, produced in the West …” As they further note, in this situation, “the more theory-inclined among us simply pick the latest theory off-the-shelf and ‘apply’ it to our context” disregarding its provincial European or North American origin, because of the false belief “that “‘theory’ is by definition universal.” What this means is that like in India, in countries like ours too, the “relationship to theory is dependent, derivative, and often deeply alienated.”
In a somewhat similar critique in his 2000 book, Provincialising Europe: Postcolonial Thought and Historical Difference Dipesh Chakrabarty points to the limitations of Western social sciences in explaining the historical experiences of political modernity in South Asia. He attempted to renew Western and particularly European thought “from and for the margins,” and bring in diverse histories from regions that were marginalised in global knowledge production into the mainstream discourse of knowledge. In effect, this means making histories of countries like ours relevant in knowledge production.
The erroneous and blind faith in the universality of theory is evident in our country too whether it is the unquestioned embrace of modernist theories and philosophies or their postmodern versions. The heroes in this situation generally remain old white men from Marx to Foucault and many in between. This indicates the kind of unhealthy dependence local discourses of theory owe to the ‘west’ without any attempt towards generating serious thinking on our own.
In his 2002 essay, ‘Dismal State of Social Sciences in Pakistan,’ Akbar Zaidi points out how Pakistani social scientists blindly apply imported “theoretical arguments and constructs to Pakistani conditions without questioning, debating or commenting on the theory itself.” Similarly, as I noted in my 2017 essay, ‘Reclaiming Social Sciences and Humanities: Notes from South Asia,’ Sri Lankan social sciences and humanities have “not seriously engaged in recent times with the dominant theoretical constructs that currently hold sway in the more academically dominant parts of the world.” Our scholars also have not offered any serious alternate constructions of their own to the world without going crudely nativistic or exclusivist.
This situation brings me back to the kind of knowledge that scholars like Prof. Tissa Kumara have produced. Philosophy, theory or concepts generally emerge from specific historical and temporal conditions. Therefore, they are difficult to universalise or generalise without serious consequences. This does not mean that some ideas would not have universal applicability with or without minor fine tuning. In general, however, such bodies of abstract knowledge should ideally be constructed with reference to the histories and contemporary socio-political circumstances
from where they emerge that may have applicability to other places with similar histories. This is what Banerjee and her colleagues proposed in their 2016 essay, ‘The Work of Theory: Thinking Across Traditions’. This is also what decolonial theorists such as Walter Mignolo, Enrique Dussel and Aníbal Quijano have referred to as ‘decolonizing Western epistemology’ and ‘building decolonial epistemologies.’
My sense is, scholars like Prof. Tissa Kumara have amassed at least some part of such knowledge that can be used for theory-building that has so far not been used for this purpose. Let me refer to two specific examples that have local relevance which will place my argument in context. Historian and political scientist Benedict Anderson argued in his influential 1983 book, Imagined Communities: Reflections on the Origin and Spread of Nationalism that notions of nationalism led to the creation of nations or, as he calls them, ‘imagined communities.’ For him, unlike many others, European nation states emerged in response to the rise of ‘nationalism’ in the overseas European settlements, especially in the Western Hemisphere. But it was still a form of thinking that had Europe at its center.
Comparatively, we can consider Stephen Kemper’s 1991 book, The Presence of the Past: Chronicles, Politics, and Culture in Sinhala Life where the American anthropologist explored the ways in which Sinhala ‘national’ identity evolved over time along with a continual historical consciousness because of the existence of texts such as Mahawamsa. In other words, the Sinhala past manifests with social practices that have continued from the ancient past among which are chronicle-keeping, maintaining sacred places, and venerating heroes.
In this context, his argument is that Sinhala nationalism predates the rise of nationalist movements in Europe by over a thousand years, thereby challenging the hegemonic arguments such as those of Anderson, Ernest Gellner, Elie Kedourie and others who link nationalism as a modern phenomenon impacted by Europe in some way or another. Kemper was able to come to his interpretation by closely reading Lankan texts such as Mahawamsa and other Pali chronicles and more critically, theorizing what is in these texts. Such interpretable material is what has been presented by Prof. Tissa Kumara and others, sans the sing.
Similarly, local texts in Sinhala such as kadaim poth’ and vitti poth, which are basically narratives of local boundaries and descriptions of specific events written in the Dambadeniya and Kandyan periods are replete with crucial information. This includes local village and district boundaries, the different ethno-cultural groups that lived in and came to settle in specific places in these kingdoms, migratory events, wars and so on. These texts as well as European diplomatic dispatches and political reports from these times, particularly during the Kandyan period, refer to the cosmopolitanism in the Kandyan kingdom particularly its court, the military, town planning and more importantly the religious tolerance which even surprised the European observers and latter-day colonial rulers. Again, much of this comes from local sources or much less focused upon European dispatches of the time.
Scholars like Prof. Tissa Kumara have collected this kind of information as well as material from much older times and sources. What would the conceptual categories, such as ethnicity, nationalism, cosmopolitanism be like if they are reinterpreted or cast anew through these histories, rather than merely following their European and North American intellectual and historical slants which is the case at present? Among the questions we can ask are, whether these local idiosyncrasies resulted from Buddhism or local cultural practices we may not know much about at present but may exist in inscriptions, in ola leaf manuscripts or in other materials collected and presented by scholars such as Prof. Tissa Kumara.
For me, familiarizing ourselves with this under- and unused archive and employing them for theory-building as well as for fine-tuning what already exists is the main intellectual role we can play in taking our cultural knowledge to the world in a way that might make sense beyond the linguistic and socio-political borders of our country. Whether our universities and scholars are ready to attempt this without falling into the trap of crude nativisms, be satisfied with what has already been collected, but is untheorized or if they would rather lackadaisically remain shackled to ‘western’ epistemologies in the sense articulated by decolonial theorists remains to be seen.
Features
Is power devolution under JVP-NPP a political daydream?
The JVP General Secretary Tilvin Silva’s recent remarks at a news conference in Jaffna where he ruled out the possibility of holding provincial council elections this year has been widely reported and widely criticized. About the same time there was another media event in Jaffna that went largely unnoticed and unreported outside Jaffna. What was said at the second media event may carry far more political implications than Tilvin Silva’s election timing talk. A veteran Tamil political participant made the startling yet not implausible statement that the prospect of having political devolution under the JVP-NPP government is becoming “a daydream”. The statement was made by Dr. K. Vigneswaran, who served as Provincial Secretary to the only North-East Provincial Council Government that was elected under the auspices of the Thirteenth Amendment.
Dr. Vigneswaran is a Professional Civil Engineer who studied at Royal College, graduated with First Class Honours in Engineering in 1964, and went on to complete a pioneering PhD at the university of Waterloo, Canada, applying the finite element method (FEM) in the field of Geotechnical Engineering. His engineering career has always been at the Irrigation Department where he rose to a Deputy Director. That was when the department was in its golden years, and Vigneswaran was known for his technical mentorship, meticulous administrative skills, and for knowing the fine print of everything. While at the Irrigation Department, Vigneswaran married Ramya de Silva, a fellow irrigation Engineer. After 1983, Vigneswaran became a fulltime political activist and a powerful resource in Tamil politics, but with unwavering commitment to nonviolence, democracy and federalism. The family moved first to India and then Canada, and Vigneswaran has been shuttling between Canada and Sri Lanka.
Devolution: Tortuous Trajectory
Since 1987, the Indo-Sri Lanka Agreement, and the 13th Amendment, Vigneswaran has been a permanent fixture in all the politics and institutional dynamic of implementing 13A and establishing provincial councils. He served as Secretary to the only elected Provincial Government for the Northern and Eastern Provinces. After 1994 and the election of Chandrika Kumaratunga as President, Vigneswaran became a key participant in all the civil society efforts and government initiatives to restore the PCs and implement 13A, both during the Kumaratunga presidency and the succeeding administrations of Mahinda Rajapaksa and the Sirisena-Wickremesinghe duo.
Devolution efforts stalled after the election of Gotabaya Rajapaksa, who in so many words declared that he had no time for 13A or PCs in his presidential agenda, whatever it was. Only that his whole agenda turned out to be a wholesale disaster for the country. Already by then, all the nine Provincial Councils had fallen into abeyance with the cancellation of the 1988 PC elections by the Sirisena-Wickremesinghe duo, with the TNA standing by. The abeyance continues under the JVP-NPP government with no apparent end in sight after Tilvin de Silva’s statement in Jaffna.
I say all this to provide the proper context for Vigneswaran’s statement in Jaffna that the prospects for power devolution under the JVP-NPP government are becoming a political daydream. He said something else as well: that of all the government leaders he has encountered over the years, the only leader who has been genuinely sincere about power devolution is former President Chandrika Kumaratunga, and no one else. I am constrained to add that the insincere category would include Ranil Wickremesinghe, who for all his handsome promises, never matched any of them with experiential sincerity. The present JVP-NPP government still has time to show that they are not an insincere lot.
It is not my purpose to agree with or question Dr. Vigneswaran’s assertions, but to use them as cue and context to comment on the widening mismatch between the JVP-NPP government’s promises and its practices on the matter of power devolution and the restoration of the PC system. With a stalling economy, rising prices and external shocks, it is obvious that the government has all the economic matters to worry about, but that does not mean that it can ignore all the other government responsibilities. No government is put in power to solve a single problem or address a single issue. It is in the nature of governments to deal with multiple problems with varying priorities. Otherwise you could have a single cabinet minister to deal with one problem at a time. That is never going to be the case.
The economy is of course the top of mind priority for the government even as it is a top of mind concern for the people. Even on the economic front, the government is holding steady but is showing little progress. And there are other government initiatives where political accountability will call for answers: to wit, the catchall Clean Sri Lanka programme, ambitious educational reforms, contentious energy sector reforms and, yes, power devolution as well as the overpromised constitutional reforms. Not to mention the sprawling unforced errors over substandard coal imports, foreign exchange fraud, and the chronic neglect of developing the renewable energy sector. Correcting these fields of errors may require a separate ministry for each.
Devolution: Daydream or Deliverable
On the PC system and constitutional reform, there has been scant progress in spite of handsome promises. On both, the government is inadvertently deepening the holes that it had dug itself into through indifference, inaction or procrastination, or all of them and more. In the matter of devolution and provincial councils, the government can simply defuse the situation by directing the Election Commission to conduct elections at the earliest opportunity that is logistically possible. Making his statement in Jaffna, Mr. Tilvin Silva alluded to funding shortfall and legal complications as reasons for the necessity to postpone PC elections until next year. Neither reason holds water.
The funding question would seem to have been put to rest by the statement of Health Minister and Cabinet Spokesman Nalinda Jayatissa, presumably reflecting cabinet consensus, that there are no funding issues and if needed additional funds could be arranged through supplementary allocations. It is also disingenuous to cite legal complications as a reason. The so called legal complications arose because of the collective stupidity of the Sirisena-Wickremesinghe parliament that included the then miniscule NPP and the politically-lost TNA. The JVP-NPP has now ballooned from a handful MPs to a two-thirds majority and it can expedite any legislation that it wants to enable the PC elections to be held without delays.
Alternatively, the elections can be held under the old arrangement of proportional representation with assurance by political parties to honour their commitment to fielding more female candidates. Already at a gathering of all political parties, including the NPP (but not the JVP), and civil society groups, convened by People’s Action For Free & Fair Elections (PAFFREL), the political parties jointly committed to a 25% quota for women and youth under the old electoral system. The ongoing parliamentary committee exercise studying the legal matter, headed by the overstretched Foreign Minister Vijitha Herath, is also an unnecessary red herring. The Election Commission is ready to go under whatever law or electoral system that is before it. So, there is no reason to hide behind legal complications to further delay the PC elections.
Somewhat amusingly, Public and Parliamentary Affairs Minister Ananda Wijepala has trotted out the argument that the NPP government has already conducted two nationwide elections during the one and a half years it has been in office, and that unlike the Ranil Wickremesinghe government the JVP-NPP is not in the business “to delay elections for our personal benefit” – whatever that means. Unfortunately, the good minister is missing the point. The question is not how many elections can the JVP-NPP hold in how many years, but how many years do people in the provinces have to wait before they vote in another provincial election? How many more years? That really is the question.
We know the current situation in the provinces. There are provincial governments but no elected provincial councils. The government administration in every province is being run by the President of the Republic through his handpicked governors and unelected government officials. This is a travesty of democracy and the euthanizing of the PC system. Already under 13A, the office of the provincial governors has been constitutionally and legally compared to the office of the Governors of old Ceylon who represented the monarch in what was then a crown colony. The irony is that a JVP-NPP President may have inadvertently positioned himself as the monarch of all he provincially surveys, courtesy of the Thirteenth Amendment!
The JVP was in the forefront of the litigation that caused the demerger of the Northern and Eastern Provinces. If Dr. Vigneswaran’s assertion were to prove correct, a potential dissolution of the provincial system under the JVP-NPP government would be the consummation of the JVP’s original opposition to the introduction of the provincial council system itself. The whole system may not be eradicated, but it could be devoured of its democratic essence while preserving the administrative shell as the medium for the country’s president to overreach into the provinces. That would be worse than a daydream, a real nightmare.
by Rajan Philips ✍️
Features
Rewiring Brain: Meditation to Break the Cycle of Craving
“Craving begets sorrow, craving begets fear. For him who is free from craving there is no sorrow; how can there be fear for him,” Dhammapada verse 216 states. The mental factor craving, Tanha in Pali, is central to Buddhist Teaching, as its ultimate goal is the cessation or extinction of it—tanhakkhaya. Even though Tanha is translated as craving here, it can sometimes mislead modern readers into thinking tanha only refers to extreme or physical addictions. Just as with any Pali term, it has broad meanings. Venerable Walpola Rahula describes it as “thirst” or unceasing wanting, one of the deep-rooted proclivities or latent tendencies (anusaya) of life (Rahula 1959), without which life as we know would not exist.
Even though the Buddha recognized this natural phenomenon two and a half millennia ago, it was only in the late 20th century that science took note of it and gave it a captivating term—the Hedonic Treadmill. The advantage of this empirical investigation to us Buddhists is that it provides a way to gain penetrative, experiential comprehension (anubodha) of this concept using the vernacular of this technology-savvy age—an alternative to struggling with the language of a bygone era.
These investigations have revealed that there are no hard-to-comprehend metaphysical or mysterious elements involved with this phenomenon; it is a biochemical process fundamental to sustaining life. What is more, an effort to grasp this concept would be well within the goals of Vipassana meditation described in the Sutta Pitaka, incorporating the four elements of investigation: body (kayanupassana), sensations (vedananupassana), mind (chittanupassana), and natural laws (dhammanupassana).
Vipassana and modern science
Vipassana meditation is an in-depth exploration of how humans perceive the world, gain knowledge, and interact with themselves and the environment. Knowing this with wisdom allows one to lead a harmonious way of life (samadhi), a condition conducive to curbing the “thirst” and achieving the Buddhist ideal. The goal of modern science is also to investigate life, but humanity has often used that knowledge to increase material wealth and comfort, providing only lip service to spirituality on the fringe.
An attitude that tends to ignore the consequences of wanting more and more – thirst, potentially endangering the planet. However, that does not prevent us from using scientific information as and aid or a tool to grasp Buddhist concepts. The scientific method bears parallels to the Buddhist approach: it is based on causality (paticcasamuppada), empirical verification (ehipassiko), systematic observation (meditation), and rejecting dogma and beliefs. The primary difference is simply the vocabulary used.
The process of perception: five aggregates
Our five external sense organs receive data (vedana) containing information on the environment: Eyes: receive light, Ears: receive sound, Skin: senses physical contact and temperature, Nose & Tongue: sense chemical properties of substances. The data received by the sense organs is transmitted to the brain, where it is registered as neural networks (sanna). Neural networks, which are interconnected groups of nerve cells (neurons) can be viewed as mind-readable QR codes.
The activity of the brain, or mind (mano), processes this data and converts them into actionable information (sankhara). Modern neuroscience and psychology have made great advances in understanding these processes at the molecular level. This process allows the individual to become aware of their environment, build an autobiographical memory or the notion of a self (atta), and take actions to protect and perpetuate life.
The Pali term vinnana refers to the collection of information committed to memory. Translating vinnana as “consciousness” can be confusing, as the latter often refers to all brain activities. All physical phenomena that sense organs encounter and the mental constructs (sankhara) are referred to as Rupa. This activity of mind forms the basis of all knowledge, representing the entire world as perceived by the individual. This process is what the Teaching refers to as the Five Aggregates (pancakkhanda). The critical takeaway is that the world we perceive is merely a mental construct. While an objective world exists, our sense organs have limitations in seeing it—a fact easily realized through the hundreds of illusions used for entertainment.
Evolution and emotion
The evolutionary purpose of this data processing mechanism is to enable living beings to respond to environmental factors for survival. The psychological and physiological state that arises prior to acting is called emotion. Primarily, emotions can be of three kinds: desire (loba) – seeing a new phone causes an urge to buy it, even though the current one works fine; aversion (dosha) – encountering a vicious dog triggers a “fight or flight” response; delusion (moha) or illusion – an unanswered message to a loved one triggers worry or speculation. Thus, tanha or thirst represents how we connect to the world in its entirety; it can be desire, aversion, and delusion, not merely simple greed. Consequently, these are natural phenomena beyond our immediate control, which are intended to sustain life. In other words, emotions are the forerunner to volitions or intentions, which the Teaching defines as kamma.
The biochemistry of craving
Emotions result from the interaction between the nervous system and biochemicals known as neurotransmitters and neuromodulators (e.g., dopamine, serotonin, epinephrine, GABA, glutamate, acetylcholine, and endorphins). Just as the Buddha’s simile of two bundles of bamboo supporting each other describes, these two processes are interdependent and co-arising. Every thought or emotional state corresponds to patterns of neural firing. When neurons fire, they release these chemicals into synapses, influencing how one feels and acts. This release perturbs the body’s normal balance, or homeostasis. Once an action is complete, these chemicals are reabsorbed, and the body returns to its baseline.
Return to baseline is essential for survival. For example, if we stay satisfied with just one meal forever, we could not sustain life. Nature has developed another mechanism to prevent us from being satisfied – we also habituate. In the case of dopamine, the brain adapts by reducing the response to the same stimulus. To get the same level of satisfaction with repeated experiences, the amounts of neurotransmitters needed keeps increasing. This leads to the cycle of craving and dissatisfaction—the Hedonic Treadmill. You “run” toward happiness on the treadmill, but it does not take you anywhere, leaving you in the same emotionally unsatisfactory state, wanting more and more.
Breaking the cycle
This explains why achievements and possessions do not bring permanent happiness, and lead to a cycle of struggle, addiction, crime, and other ills of society. For Buddhists, it also explains why we cling to meaningless rituals. The Dhamma captured this complex phenomenon in the Four Noble Truths: pleasant experiences are impermanent (anicca), leading to grasping (tanha) and unsatisfactoriness (dukkha). The remedy is the Eightfold Path that involves wisdom (panna), conduct (sila), and harmony (samadhi).
Neuroplasticity and the point of liberation
While we cannot stop the sense organs from receiving stimulation (vedana) and sending them to brain, the mind can be developed to prevent vedana from leading to tanha. This is the “point of liberation,” the seventh link in the paticcasamuppada formula. We may not have free will, but we have ‘Free Won’t’ or the ability to say no to the natural tendency to act upon stimuli. We can rewire our neural connections to do so. This ability can be cultivated by practice and repetition, and neuroscience refers to it as neuroplasticity—the brain’s ability to change with experience.
The natural tendency of the brain is to strengthen frequently used neural networks while weakening and eliminating lesser used networks and building new ones as needed. This is known as neural plasticity or rewiring the brain. As described in the Eight-fold Path, the way to weaken and eliminate dopamine-driven neural networks includes three aspects. First, the process leading to thirst must be understood. One must engage in sila – activities and thoughts that cultivate Metta: loving-kindness and goodwill, Karuna: compassion, Mudita: appreciative joy, and Upekkha: equanimity, emotional stability, calmness, and evenness of mind in the face of gain and loss, praise and blame, fame and disrepute, pleasure, and pain. That must be done with wisdom, ritualistic behavior does not strengthen the correct neural networks. These activities promote a “cocktail” of oxytocin, serotonin, and GABA, subduing the role of dopamine and helping us step off the Hedonic Treadmill. This leads to a tranquil state of mind and a harmonious existence – samadhi. Again, it is an interdependent, co-arising process that improves upon repetition. Using mind altering substances hijacks this process, thus the need for adhering to the Fifth Precept.
The goal of Vipassana is to understand this process and train the mind to say “no” to tanha. It is not just about sitting on a mat; it requires developing a lifestyle that maintains homeostasis or harmony, samadhi, at every moment. Pali term bhavana means the development of wisdom and insight. In modern vernacular – rewiring brain. This model must be assessed for its efficacy by the individual and realize the benefits by themselves –ehipassiko; knowledge without practice does not work. According to what the Buddha taught, that is the path to cessation or extinction of craving – tanhakkhaya, the supreme goal.
by Geewananda Gunawardana, Ph.D. ✍️
Features
‘Spectrum’ Art Exhibition Showcases Emerging Talent at Lionel Wendt
A new art exhibition, titled Spectrum ,will be held at the Lionel Wendt Art Centre on the 20th and 21st of June 2026, bringing together a collection of works by ten emerging artists.
Athsara Wijegunawardena
Neha Thirumavalavan
Dillai Joseph
Wasantha Siriwardena
Champika Dias
Nipun Dias
Dr. Prasanna Siriwardena
Kalhari Perera
Siromi Samarasinghe
Chandana Illankone
All ten artists have trained under the guidance of renowned Sri Lankan artist Royden Gibbs, and this exhibition marks an important point in their individual journeys.
Spectrum brings together a mix of styles, subjects and approaches, giving visitors a chance to experience a wide range of work in one place. The exhibition will include pieces in watercolors, soft pastels, oils and charcoal, reflecting both the discipline and personal direction of each artist. The work ranges from scenery and portraits to still life and studies of the human form, offering different ways of seeing and interpreting familiar subjects.
- Nipun Dias
- Wasantha Siriwardena
Although they share the same mentor, each artist presents a distinct point of view. The result is a show that feels varied yet connected, with each piece carrying its own character and intent. It is this balance that gives Spectrum its identity.
The exhibition aims to support and highlight emerging talent within Sri Lanka’s art scene, while also creating a space where artists and audiences can connect. Visitors will find work that shifts between quiet observation and more expressive pieces, making it an engaging experience for both seasoned collectors and those simply interested in art.
Spectrum is expected to draw art lovers, collectors, students and members of the wider creative community. It also offers an opportunity to discover and support new artists at an early stage in their careers.
Open to the public over two days, Spectrum invites visitors to experience a range of work in a venue that has long been part of Colombo’s cultural landscape.
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