A true artist carries within them an inner magician—one who can transform anything, even objects dismissed as “insignificant” or “trash” by untrained eyes. For artist Alka Mathur, tea bags have become that unlikely medium, enabling her to move across both physical and metaphysical spaces. Her work Tea Diaries Vol. 2, currently on display at Unshelving Memories, a contemporary book art exhibition curated by Prof. Shijo Jacob at the College of Fine Arts, Thiruvananthapuram, emerges from a practice she began in 2006.
Ritualistic in form, the work unfolds through the simple act of drinking tea while recording fragments of inner thought and everyday minutiae. Timekeeping, mapping journeys and journaling have gradually become integral to this practice, with life and art carefully collaged together in Mathur’s process. For the artist, the practice is both meditative and therapeutic, allowing her to capture time through tactile compositions. Here is a candid conversation that THE WEEK had with the artist.
Q/ Tell us about this practice of keeping tea journals. How did it begin?
A/ It began almost accidentally. I never really planned it. Initially I started collecting used tea bags simply for their colour. I would jot down small notes—something like, “Today I had a cup of tea, I went here, I went there.”
Slowly it expanded. Over time it became almost an obsession. Now these journals hold everything I want to remember—they have become my soul in a way. They are my daily journals where I record what happens every day.
Q/ What exactly goes into these journals?
A/ Whenever I travel I collect cups, tea bags and small memorabilia connected to that moment or place. Then I write about it—where I drank the tea, what the day was like, who I was with.
For instance, if my mother was having chai in a particular cup, I would note that down. I have this habit of collecting small objects that connect you to a time or a memory.
When I was invited to participate in this exhibition, these works existed as individual pages—one page for each month. So I had to assemble them into book form.
For the past month I have been stitching them together, creating a spine, threading them so that each month becomes a consolidated journal.
Q/ So the tea bags themselves are part of the artwork?
A/ Yes. The tea bag I use that day becomes part of the page. In a way, it is literally measuring time.
Of course, other things enter the journals too—newspaper clippings, cups, little objects I collect. I embellish the pages because otherwise it would just be a diary. The visual element is important; that is what turns it into art.
The writing happens spontaneously. Sometimes I even use the tea leaves we brew at home. My household staff know never to throw them away because I use them in the journals. I write with permanent markers so the writing doesn’t wash away.
Often, I use whatever paper I find—the back of an ordinary sheet, scraps, little notes with scribbles everywhere.
Q/ Do you come from an art background?
A/ Yes, I am primarily a painter.
My interest in tea actually began through my fascination with natural colours. In 2006 I attended an artist residency in Santa Fe, where I began experimenting with colours derived from everyday natural materials.
Then I thought: what colour do we encounter every day in life? Tea. It is natural, it stains beautifully, and it is something we consume daily. So tea gradually became central to my work.
While in Santa Fe I also encountered an artist couple who worked extensively with found materials. Because the weather there is extremely dry, they could preserve objects easily. They had even created an entire wallpaper made of tea bags.
That influenced me deeply. Initially I was only staining handmade paper with tea. Then I started collecting the tea bags themselves. From there the work evolved into many forms.
Q/ How large is this collection now?
A/ There must be around 60 or 70 books by now, and I have not brought even half of them to the exhibition.
Before these journals there was what I call Volume One—a massive scroll, 54 feet long and four feet wide, made entirely of tea bags. I ironed them onto fusion material to create the scroll. It is still rolled up in my studio.
These journals now form Volume Two of the project.
Q/ Would you describe the process as meditative?
A/ Very much so. Many thoughts pass through my mind as I work.
The earlier diaries were quite simple—sometimes only five or ten pages. But as life became more complicated, the journals became denser. When my sister went through cancer, for instance, I felt compelled to document everything.
Being married to a bureaucrat also means constant travel. These journals therefore become travelogues as well. Even in hotel rooms I hide tea bags so that the housekeeping staff doesn’t throw them away.
Q/ Tea seems to connect memory and time in your work.
A/ Exactly. Tea connects the past, present and future.
I mostly drink light black tea, though in winter I sometimes add a little milk. Because I usually drink it without sugar or milk, the tea bags preserve well. Over time even my family began collecting them for me—my parents, siblings, and children.
Interestingly, these journals were never meant to be public. This exhibition is the first time they are being shown. I always told my children: after I die, you can decide what to do with them.
After all, they contain very ordinary things—what I ate, what happened that day, whether the maid came or not. But they also capture the world outside in small ways.
Q/ There are deeply personal memories here too, like your sister’s illness.
A/ Yes. When my sister went through chemotherapy, many of those hospital days entered the journals. We would drink tea there, so I collected those tea bags as well.
Looking back at those diaries now makes me grateful that I recorded those moments. We spent meaningful time together—making art, talking. She herself was a remarkable artist, an architect and a professor at the University of Pennsylvania.
The journals are personal, but they become artworks because I go beyond simply writing. There is collage, assemblage, and visual composition.
Q/ Do you revisit the journals often?
A/ Yes, but interestingly the timelines overlap. I might be assembling a journal from 2017 while living in 2020. In fact, the COVID journals are still lying unassembled in bags.
When I start working on them I relive those experiences again. It is like travelling back and forth in time.
Sometimes making a book takes immense patience—you might finish only five pages in a day. Imagine doing thousands of pages like this.
For nearly five years after COVID, I was doing almost nothing else. My daughter eventually told me to stop and take a break.
Q/ Does rereading them change your perspective on past events?
A/ Absolutely.
For instance, when I reread my 2012 journals, I remember losing a close friend, and the time when my father-in-law was often hospitalised. I couldn’t work in my studio much then, so the tea journals allowed art to travel with me wherever I went—home, hospital, train, or flight. Collecting the tea bags and the stories every day had to become a part of my life wherever I was.
It is in a way embarrassing, too, because I constantly have a big bag where I keep collecting wet tea bags. My husband earlier used to get very embarrassed. But now he also collects [for me], while also sharing about his day.
Q/ What about your painting practice? What kind of imagery interests you?
For the past 25–30 years my work has been primarily abstract. Earlier I painted figurative works influenced by folk traditions, perhaps because I come from Rajasthan.
There was also a shift toward landscape imagery. My sister was a landscape architect, and many members of my family taught geography. That awareness of landscape probably influenced me deeply.
The tea stains themselves often resemble landscapes seen from above—like aerial topographies.
Q/ Tell us about your childhood and artistic influences.
A/ My mother was very artistic and still is—she is now ninety. She was not formally a painter, but she embroidered beautifully and created an aesthetically rich home environment.
We mostly grew up in Delhi because my father had a transferable job, though our roots are in Rajasthan—Jodhpur and Ajmer.
Rajasthan’s heritage and folk traditions definitely shaped my visual language. I use many stamps and patterns that resemble block prints. The lines I draw also echo traditional textile techniques like Kantha stitching.
At the same time, because we lived abroad for some time, there is also a Western sensibility in my work.
