Ramanpreet grew up in Shimla, a mountain town in India, fascinated by mathematics at school. Painting was something she always did quietly, on the side, until her mother encouraged her to take an art course. That course changed everything. She discovered that painting was not only about skill but about a way of seeing, and she eventually left mathematics to pursue a Bachelor of Fine Arts.

There were periods of struggle and much of her early work reflects that darkness. With time she began to find steadiness again. By the time she met her partner and later moved to Melbourne, she was ready to step into a new chapter – one that embraced light, stillness, and the beauty of daily life.

Ramanpreet is an introvert, and in company she is more likely to watch than to speak. She notices small things: the way a chair sits slightly out of place, the warmth of light as it shifts across a wall, or the silence that lingers in a room after someone has left. Painting has become her way of communicating these observations, a language quieter than words yet just as eloquent.

Her work focuses on interiors and ordinary spaces. She paints in oil, using a limited palette, because what matters most to her is light. She rarely includes figures, yet the presence of people can still be felt - in a teacup left behind, or a slipper in a corner. These are the traces of life; stories told through absence.