The retro tools these artists swear by (even in a world full of AI)

There are creative hipsters, and then there are the creative old-school. Distinguishing the grain from the chaff (or the vinyl listeners, used book buyers and typewriter aficionados from the poseurs who do it for the ’gram) can be a task. Unless, of course, their work speaks volumes and leaves no room for debate. For each of the women on this list, there is a simple, creative tool that will never be too old for comfort. With careers spanning across creative fields, they all have that one part of their process that might have ‘aged out’, but makes their work what it is. Despite access to newer, fresher tech and materials, here are the classic tools they still use to shape the way they imagine the world... completely, utterly, and unironically.

Rajakumari | Musician

The tool: iMac

Songwriters can often think lyrics-forward; write down the lyrics of a track and then build a melody around it—or so Rajakumari believes. “A lot of people will write their lyrics first and go from there. I used to do that too—write everything by hand. But I found my brain ran faster than my hands—I was thinking in a way that I couldn’t keep up with, with writing. I then switched to my iPhone and it worked better, because I could type faster than I could write, but it still wasn’t where I needed to be.”

That changed when she got her first iMac. “I could finally record myself, hear it back, and build from there. I don’t think from a lyrics-first POV—I like to freestyle and be inspired in the moment.”

For Rajakumari, melody reigns supreme, especially when working across languages. “It’s what sticks with people.” Tech will often be used in her experimentation, from creating a range of soundscapes to using autotune as a blending tool. “I don’t use it to correct my notes, but more to blend the East and the West you find in my music. It helps me bend my notes in an interesting way, and I use it a lot while I’m writing.”

What’s interesting is that while you might think of her process as the very high-tech equivalent we imagined she’d spurn, she’s quick to remind us of the technology that exists by contrast now. “Now that AI is here, and you can just put in a prompt and it’ll spit out a song, or tell it a little about yourself and it’ll write you a poem—that, to me, is troubling. We’re teaching AI to write like us, and I hope that we don’t become dependent on technology to give us poetry.” She finds herself in the middle— higher-tech than the most old-school, but unwilling to cave to the highest tech available, for ideological reasons. “I might not be hand-writing my music, but I definitely won’t be using AI’s help to write my songs. I hope we stay in charge as the writers of our destiny–and our own art.”

Anushka Menon | Photographer

The tool: A colour shade-card

For Menon, the OG colour shade card will never be obsolete. “It’s an old-school method I still swear by. It lets me set an accurate greyscale before starting a shoot. Digital cameras can sometimes misinterpret colours because of the fluctuation in lighting conditions, sensor inconsistencies, or software rendering biases.”

She finds that relying on the camera’s auto white balance, or in-software corrections, can cause shifts that are hard for her to fix in post. But the colour-shade card ensures her base tones are neutral, true to life. “This not only helps with accurate colour reproduction, but also provides a reliable reference point for consistency across multiple shots. The shade card helps her maintain consistency and accuracy, eliminating guesswork. AI-driven tools like X-Rite ColorChecker exist, but she finds they can overcorrect or require perfect conditions. “This gives me total control. It’s simple, tactile, and keeps my workflow intentional.” Far from being a slowdown, the shade card actually speeds her up. “It saves me time in post. Once
I’ve locked in my baseline, I’m free to focus on the creative stuff.”

Srishti Guptaroy | Illustrator

The tool: The mouse

Guptaroy is almost sheepish in her admittance that she still uses her mouse to draw, but look at her powerful, sharp illustrations, and it’s clear she may be on to something. “It’s very Microsoft Paint circa early 2000s,” she laughs, “but I really do love my sturdy mouse.” In a world rife with the slickest of digital pens that are sensitive enough to account for the gentlest of hand gestures, the mouse is still her most trustworthy companion. “There are very high-tech digital pens and drawing pads available today that detect even the softest of hand pressure, which would then translate into different strokes. But to be honest, the style of vector art I do–that kind of precision can only be achieved with a mouse.” She muses that the tools an artist uses can sometimes be a service to the kind of art they do. Artists that work with different strokes, or specific kinds of shading work, definitely need these digital pens. I am still thriving with my pencil, notepad, mouse and Adobe Illustrator software,” she smiles.

Her relationship with the mouse has stood the test of time, dating back to when illustration was a labour of love, which also paid her bills. “It started off as a process to sneakily draw in the office, pretending to work over a decade ago. Nobody questions an employee looking furiously at the computer screen, moving their mouse,” she chuckles. Over time, necessity began to mother her invention. “Gradually, my art style kind of adapted to that and grew from there. Stylistically, I’ve always gravitated towards a flat, saturated coloured palette with precision lines, so it worked out perfectly.”

All these years later, she can’t separate herself from it and the way it has grown organically into her way of working. “Since I developed my artistic style in this unusual way, I know no other. For my kind of work, it does not slow down the pace. It also helps me create vectorised assets pretty easily, that can be used for multiple projects.”

Gurmehar Kaur | Author

The tool: Pen and paper

Gurmehar Kaur plans everything—from essays to captions—on paper. “I just can’t think on a screen. I need to see my thoughts sprawled out.” While others swear by digital tools like Scrivener or spreadsheets, Kaur reaches for a notepad. “I need to think out loud. A big sheet of paper lets me map my ideas and feelings— visually, physically—before anything goes digital.”

There’s also something about pen and paper that Kaur finds frees her up to make mistakes. “You’re aiming for perfection on a computer. There is a conformity to a structure that’s already put in place for you. The paper, however, allows for a flow, for your thoughts to be uninterrupted.” The pen and paper allow Kaur to connect, creating an almost meditative process. “Writing is painful, and even meditation can be painful and full of blockages. But pen and paper lets me explore those blockages.” She smiles as she wonders if it sounds a bit ‘woo woo’, but she treats writing as a sacred space, one that takes her places. “It’s a relationship I need to honour, and it honours me back.”

Ironically, the computer slows her down. “There’s a lot of backspacing, writer’s block, and staring at a blank page. With paper, scratching back still leaves a memory—there’s an archive, you’ve progressed. Even if you scratch it all out and have a sentence, you have something to show for it. And for me, that’s enough.”

Urvashi Kaur | Fashion Designer

The tool: A sketching pencil

The average designer today would reach for a tablet or stylus to dream up a silhouette in lines and shadows before it reaches the dress form, but Urvashi Kaur has always bucked convention. Whether it’s her textile-forward work that lets the fabric lead the way, or her use of recycled material that predates the sustainability wave, Kaur has always been a bit of a maverick. It comes as no surprise that the designer’s conceptualisation, too, is norm divergent. “I still prefer to sketch my designs by hand, with a pencil; spontaneously, instinctively, and without the mediation of a screen,” Kaur says. The designer finds there to be a deeply tactile and grounding quality about the feeling of carbon against paper, an unreplicable meditation to the grain, texture and pressure that all adds a dimension to her creative process. “It’s not just about the tool—it’s about the flow it enables. Holding something tangible as I draw allows my thoughts to translate more naturally onto paper.”

Kaur concedes that the high-tech alternatives have their benefits, chief among them being making it easier for designers who aren’t trained in illustration, or when you’re working with a team. But what they provide in speed, efficiency, and a cleaner output, she finds they take away in personal touch. “Digital rendering lacks the uniqueness and irregularity that hand illustration brings, in the same way typed text lacks the individuality of handwriting. While I’m not averse to using digital tools when needed—especially to communicate with others in the team—my own ideation process remains grounded in analog methods.”

Funnily, the digital slows her down while the analog sharpens her focus. “I rarely need to make endless iterations—there’s a clarity that comes from visualising mentally and expressing physically, without the distraction of layers and tools. And then, it allows me to do what I do best—listen to the fabric, instead of imposing on it.”

Radhika Khandelwal | Chef

The tool: Sil batta

In a world where any cooking show you flip on will show you how slick and Black Mirror-esque professional kitchens are becoming, Khandelwal swears by the specific quality that only certain old-school tools and techniques will bring to the food she makes. Take one bite of the Butter Garlic Prawns with Beet Rice, or the bacon-rice pancakes and curry-leaf hollandaise of the Bob The Benny eggs benedict at her Delhi restaurant, Fig & Maple, and you’ll check all your questions at the door. Khandelwal has always had a penchant for lost tools and underdog ingredients, but she feels like the sil batta (the traditional mortar pestle) tops her list. “The sil batta is a family heirloom, one of the few things that has followed me through every kitchen I’ve worked in,” Khandelwal says. “It’s deeply personal and incredibly functional, and I use it almost every day.” The mixer-grinder is its slicker, sharper cousin—one that edged out the grinding stone on many a kitchen countertop, but Khandelwal isn’t convinced. “Sure, it’s efficient and fast, but the speed comes at the cost of flavour. The friction and heat it generates can dull delicate herbs and over-process ingredients. You lose texture, subtlety, and aroma—all the little things that matter when you’re building layers of flavour.”

Part of the issue, in her opinion, is the villainy the word ‘slow’ has been given over time. “Slow isn’t always bad; in fact, slow often means more flavour,” she advocates. “The sil atta gives me the control I need to create the exact texture and consistency I want, without compromising on any of the ingredients’ integrity.” For her, that extra time is a great trade-off for the textures and nuance it brings to cooking. Khandelwal’s favourite example of its magic charms is her moringa pesto. “We mix this pesto in-house, with house-made cream cheese to fill dumplings. I also look to it for delicate dressings, like the jamun dressing for my Lutyens salad, as well as to convert my axone into a paste. I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

The appeal of the sil batta goes beyond technique and flavour for Khandelwal; it taps into something meditative
with its quiet, repetitive tedium. “When we dive into really monotonous acts, whether it’s using the sil batta, chopping for mise en place, or gathering herbs, it brings with it a sense of centre and focus. It takes you away from the high-pressure environment of the kitchen, where we often spend 10–12 hours a day. In those moments, you’re not just cooking, you’re reconnecting with why you cook.” Her pace, she finds, stays unaffected. “If anything, it helps ground the pace. We use it selectively and with intention. It’s not about being slow for the sake of it. It’s about creating space to do something well, something that makes a dish sing. And when the results are that much better, the extra time is always worth it.”

This piece originally appeared in the May-June print edition of Cosmopolitan India.

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