Born in a small, rural district in northern Bangladesh, the Dinar Sultana's childhood was marked by episodes defined by rigorous discipline and control. From an early age, a desire for independence emerged, whether in relation to the reproach of her mother or the expectations imposed by her schooling.

Upon arriving in Santiniketan as a student, Dinar found herself in a picturesque town that both nourished her burgeoning sense of independence and challenged her profoundly when she received news of her mother’s untimely death. In the aftermath of this loss, she perceived nature as a vast sea of emptiness. However, she gradually reconciled her grief by observing how the remnants of nature are not lost but rather reborn. This shift in perspective marked the beginning of her artistic journey—not as a painter, but as a documenter and observer. Her creative process often unfolds beyond her control, resulting in outcomes that are sometimes accidental. She believes that her art reflects a narrative of both control and chance, mirroring the complexities of life itself.

As she commenced her formal training in art, she found solace through her newly developed vocabulary. Engaging with the relentless passage of time, she strives to infuse sensitivity into her work. In transforming everyday materials, as well as those tied to rituals and history, she emphasizes hand-worked processes. Her exploration often involves elements of absurdity; she employs diverse materials, including architectural terracotta molds, cotton pulp, human hair, snake skin, and various discarded ephemera. Dinar also creates her own paper from flower-based pulp and recycled newspaper, extracting colors from natural elements such as flowers, bark, seeds, leaves, and even stones and clay.

The act of creation, for her, is a tumultuous process—one that artists must eventually confront on their journeys. For the artist, this confrontation was catalyzed by personal loss. She articulates that she does not simply paint; she makes. The transient qualities of nature have long captivated her, prompting her to ask how she might translate this materiality onto her work, particularly when nature resists taming or control. To this end, she has adopted an archival, quasi-scientific method of categorizing and documenting various hues, forms, textures, surfaces, and materials such as clay, coal, graphite, and recycled pulp. This approach allows her to dismantle written language in favor of a visual lexicon while simultaneously archiving both the process and the source materials.

Her respect for traditional ways of life is evident in her handmade objects, many of which she regards as akin to fossils. She draws inspiration from historical figures like engineer and architect Buckminster Fuller, whose utopian vision of a self-sustaining, egalitarian society informs her work. Recent projects have explored ideas articulated in Fuller’s book Grunch of Giants, alongside the formal characteristics of cartographer Bernard J. S. Cahill’s Butterfly map and concepts from Yuval Noah Harari’s Sapiens. These influences converge with her unique artistic language and worldview.

Her interest in cosmology and imaginative cartography is intricately linked to contemporary concerns surrounding income and resource inequality. The phrase "A Space Without a Ship" evokes Fuller’s concept of "Spaceship Earth," a term he used to describe the planet as a unified entity. In this context, the title suggests a sense of drift in our trajectory, highlighting humanity's inadequate care for the planet and its inhabitants. Through her work, she advocates for a collective rebalancing and global cooperation in the stewardship of human intelligence and Earth’s resources, aspiring toward an integrated regenerative system.