By Senina Weerasinghe

What if one magazine article could change the course of a person’s life? For Athula Herath, an article about Madame Tussauds, around the year 2000, did exactly that. What began as a simple realisation—that Sri Lanka had no comparable experience of lifelike wax figures—grew into a journey of more than two decades, shaped by experimentation, scientific research, personal encounters and an unwavering determination to turn an unfamiliar idea into reality.

Today, Herath’s work brings together Sri Lankan and international personalities, while his museum in Kandy gives historical figures and the Kandyan era a physical presence for a new generation. Yet behind every figure lies a story of research, struggle and human connection.

Daily Mirror Life sat down to have a chat with Mr. Herath.

Q You once came across a magazine article about Madame Tussauds, which sparked the idea of creating a wax museum in Sri Lanka. What was it about that moment that made you believe this could actually become a reality?
Around 2000, I came across a magazine article about Madame Tussauds and was struck by an art form that was largely unfamiliar in Sri Lanka. Although the country had a rich tradition of sculpture—from Buddhist statues and depictions of kings to clay and rock sculpture—lifelike wax figures were something different.

I decided to learn the craft myself. Friends helped me source different types of wax, and through repeated experimentation I eventually found the right material and techniques. My scientific background became unexpectedly valuable: I studied human anatomy and physiology and even consulted an eye specialist to understand the structure of the eyes.

My first major figure was Mahendra Perera, which took approximately a year and a half to perfect. I went on to recreate personalities including Ravindra Randeniya, Malini Fonseka, Dr Carlo Fonseka, Master Pandith Amaradewa, Victor Rathnayake and Dr Sunil Edirisinghe.

My 2012 exhibition at Vihara Mahadevi Park brought many of these works before the public.
Artists visited, and the exhibition even attracted a visit from the President at the time. However, the museum I envisioned could not immediately become a reality.

Q Taking that first idea and turning it into reality must have been challenging. What were some of the biggest obstacles you faced when you first began? Was there ever a moment when you felt like giving up?
Creating a convincing human figure meant understanding the human being—not simply copying a face. The eyes were among my greatest challenges. I studied their structure with the help of an eye specialist, while also researching anatomy, wrinkles, physiology and hair implantation.

Even hair involved experimentation; early attempts taught me through mistakes what research later confirmed. But the greatest challenge was perhaps introducing an unfamiliar art form to a society that did not yet understand it.

Despite the difficulties, I never felt like giving up. I continued “little by little,” holding on to my vision of creating something that future generations could experience and that could contribute to Sri Lankan culture.

Q After creating so many personalities, is there one particular figure that holds a special place in your heart? What makes that figure meaningful to you?
Every personality I recreated became meaningful for a different reason.

Victor Rathnayake holds a special place in my journey because of the encouragement and guidance he offered. Dr Carlo Fonseka was important to me because of his immense contribution to Sri Lanka despite not being someone who sought the spotlight. Master Pandith Amaradewa, whom I personally met, represented another giant of Sri Lankan culture.

Then came an encounter that I remember with particular emotion: meeting legendary filmmaker Dr. Lester James Pieris when he was around 97 and not in good health.

I showed him my work. Pieris was impressed and encouraged me, saying that one day I could make my museum “a challenge to Madame Tussauds.”

For an artist who had begun his journey after reading about Madame Tussauds in a magazine, hearing those words from one of Sri Lanka’s greatest filmmakers became a profound moment of validation.

Q You have established wax museums in both Kandy and Colombo, each with its own character and focus. How has your vision evolved from the first museum to what you have created today?
The Colombo museum brought together personalities from Sri Lanka and around the world, but the Kandy project allowed me to approach wax sculpture through history.

The initiative developed after the Diyawadana Nilame of Sri Dalada Maligawa, Pradeep Nilanga Dela Bandara, became aware of my work and invited me to contribute to a museum centred on the Kandyan era.

Q The challenge was immense: how do you recreate someone who lived centuries ago and for whom there may be no photograph?
For figures such as Ehelepola Nilame, I undertook extensive research, studying historical information and speaking with descendants and family members to understand the person behind the historical name.

The historic Ehelepola Walawwa eventually became home to the museum, officially opened in July 2025, with 35 lifelike historical figures.

Thus, while Colombo offers visitors an immersive encounter with contemporary and international personalities, Kandy allows them to encounter history itself.

Q What are the main aims behind creating these museums and statues?
For me, the museums are not simply commercial attractions. They represent a way of giving back to Sri Lanka.

I hope to bring both local and foreign visitors and generate income for the country, while also preserving the memory of people who made significant contributions but are no longer alive.
But one of my strongest motivations is the younger generation. I have seen children point at the figures and say, “I want to be like this one day.” For me, that is a powerful indication that the statues can inspire ambition.

One of the most memorable examples came through Master Pandith Amaradewa.

Visitors from the Maldives encountered his statue at the museum. They initially did not know who he was. After staff explained his contribution and his connection to the Maldivian national anthem, their reaction changed completely. They were amazed to see the man represented in Sri Lanka and wanted others in the Maldives to have the opportunity to see him.

For me, that moment represented something far greater than a successful display. It showed how art can cross national boundaries and carry a country’s cultural achievements beyond its borders.

Q. You spoke to us about how people today are increasingly quick to criticise creative work, particularly through social media. Why do you think we have become quicker to criticise than appreciate?
I believe that people often see the finished creation without seeing the years of learning and struggle behind it. Social media has made it increasingly easy to criticise another person’s work, spread rumours or focus on the smallest perceived mistake. Such comments can have a real psychological impact on someone who is still developing a creative vision.

I do not place the responsibility solely on young people; I believe people of all generations can contribute to this culture. I want people to learn to “see the art in the art”—to understand the effort, creativity and intention behind something before judging it.

My own journey is perhaps the strongest argument for that philosophy. Much of what I create today was once something I myself had to learn from scratch.

Q You don’t want visitors simply to look at a wax figure and recognise the person; you want them to feel as though these personalities are actually present. What experience do you hope visitors take away?
For me, realism is built from hundreds of details. Measurements, anatomy, wrinkles, eyes, hair, clothing and jewellery are all studied carefully. Whenever possible, I obtain actual measurements and even clothing or personal items belonging to the personalities. Where this is impossible, I work from photographs, research and other available information.

But the figure itself is only part of the experience.

Music, lighting, architecture and the surrounding environment help create the feeling that the personality is actually present. My son, Mahima Herath, an architect and CEO of Colombo Wax Museum, played an important role in designing the museum environment and corridors to strengthen this immersive experience.

Mahima grew up watching my artistic journey and later brought his architectural perspective into the museum, helping combine sculpture, architecture, music and visual storytelling.

For me, every element has one purpose: to make visitors feel the person rather than simply see the statue.

Q Your journey began with something as simple as a magazine article and has grown into two museums. What would you say to a young person who has a seemingly impossible dream but is afraid to take that first step?
My message is simple: “Dream big.” But I believe a dream must be followed by learning, experimentation and creation. I began my own journey without knowing how to sculpt wax. Every figure forced me to learn something new—to research, meet people, seek advice, make mistakes and try again. I also want young people to become inventors. An invention does not have to change the world overnight; even a small idea can eventually make a difference.

Above all, I encourage young people not to abandon an idea simply because others call it impossible, laugh at it or say it cannot be done in Sri Lanka.

I continue to learn and create myself. In my eyes, every statue has been an invention of sorts, a process of understanding a personality and transforming that understanding into something tangible.

My journey therefore goes beyond wax sculpture. It is a story about curiosity becoming craft, criticism becoming motivation, history becoming experience, and a dream becoming something future generations can touch and see.

And perhaps my greatest lesson is the simplest one: keep learning, keep creating, and keep believing in the vision even when nobody else can see it yet.

Pix by Kushan Pathiraja