At the age five, artist Anuradha Bhaumick found herself confined during a bout of chickenpox. It was during this time that her mother, a collector of various fabrics, introduced her to the world of vintage textiles. While sewing emerged as a necessary task, embroidery prospered into a serene and beautiful form of artistic expression, echoing her mother’s passion for the craft. Anuradha’s journey into needlework started early, but her love for the art didn’t stop there. She passionately integrated her work in acrylics, watercolours, and clay with embroidery, making it her favoured mode of self-expression. Anuradha shares, “Embroidery helps me introspect,” revealing the deep, reflective connection she has with her craft.
She has known the art of mixed media embroidery, skillfully blending gouache and acrylics into her pieces. Additionally, her fascination with collage work is fueled by a striking passion for gathering leftover fabrics. She treasures these remnants, stating, “They are my treasure trove,” a practice she inherited from her mother. “When people, who have lost their mothers, give me their fabrics, I transform them into art. It becomes a way to keep their mothers’ memories alive,” Anuradha shares. Embroidery serves as an extension of personal identity, where the artist’s intentions infuse their creations with meaning.
It is a practice steeped in anticipation and a deep yearning for fulfilment. Hyderabad-based artist and art historian , Varunika Saraf reflects on this intimate connection, “In the past, I used fragments of my grandmother’s sari to honour her memory. Inheritance is about the choices we make. I could have learned embroidery from various sources — school, friends, college, or even my father’s side of the family. Yet, for me, choosing embroidery was deliberate and laden with political significance.” She further illustrates the personal nature of her craft by sharing, “One of my male friends taught me how to stitch mirrors onto fabric.” Needless to say, her aesthetic is deeply tied to herself.
It can create beauty from randomness and remind us that all things are connected, begins Mayuri Chari who formerly specialised in portraiture. The encouragement to delve into embroidery came from her family, particularly the women in her Goan household, who cherished the tradition of trousseau-making. However, Mayuri reflects with a note of lamentation that this familial encouragement and involvement in trousseau-making came with a significant personal cost. She reveals, “All of it was because of the compulsion of marrying me and my sisters off to men whom we didn’t choose as partners.”
Mayuri sheds light on the complex interplay between cultural traditions and personal autonomy, highlighting how the practices that fostered her artistic development also entailed sacrifices for her freedom and choice. She puts all of it in her works. Mental health, conditioning, bullying and being comfortable in one’s feminity have become her focus. Her parents have disowned her as she married a Dalit. Each piece she makes serves not only as a reflection of her inner world but also as a statement against the stigmas and stereotypes that she, and many others, battle against. Likewise, embroidery becomes more than an artistic choice; it is a mode of survival, expression, and challenge to the status quo, deeply rooted in the fibres of her personal story.
Anshu Singh from Varanasi and a regular at her mother’s boutique, initially gravitated towards tapestry and weaving, showcasing her inclination towards the time-honoured traditions of textile arts. Faced with a choice between being more resonant with textiles or exploring the realm of pottery, she decisively favoured the former, drawn by the tactile appeal and the vast creative potential textiles offered. Despite her passion, Anshu confronted a significant hurdle: the high cost of materials. The challenge underscored a common struggle she would face, balancing her creative aspirations with the practicalities of material expenses, especially in fields requiring specialised and often costly resources.
The solution? Recycling old fabrics. Repurposing materials that might otherwise be discarded, she not only mitigated the cost barrier but also embraced an environmentally friendly practice. “In Varanasi, women don’t work in handloom as opposed to men who do. So, there’s no equal work,” she tells us. Anshu’s connection to the socio-cultural context of her hometown fuels her creative ethos, making her artwork not just a form of personal expression but also a commentary on the need for change. Her journey is emblematic of a larger narrative of women asserting their space and voice in traditionally male-dominated spheres, using their craft as both a statement and a bridge towards a more inclusive and equitable industry.
The closure of her mother’s boutique in 2009 marked a significant turning point in Anshu’s life and artistic journey. The tragic event, precipitated by her mother’s unfortunate accident resulting in a cracked spine, brought about not only a personal and familial crisis but also a moment of profound transition. “The boutique had been a space of inspiration, learning, and connection to textiles, deeply influencing my path and passion for textile arts,” she tells us. Even if there were periods of adversity, nobody stopped exemplifying their commitment to textiles. Their visionary approach to recycling old fabrics became even more poignant, serving as a testament to the strength and adaptability inherited from her mother. “The experience of overcoming such personal and professional setbacks enriches our work with layers of meaning, blending the loss, resilience, and continuity into the very material of our designs,” signs off Mayuri.
chokita@newindianexpress.com @PaulChokita