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‘Remembering': Spotlighting the healing voice in Arpita Singh's art
The works of Arpita Singh— considered one of the country's leading contemporary artists—draw you in with their multi-layered narratives. Over the years, her paintings have been included in major collections across the world, and also been part of significant group shows. In 2019, the Kiran Nadar Museum of Art, Delhi, celebrated the 87-year-old artist's practice through the retrospective, Six Decades of Painting. And now, an ongoing show, Arpita Singh: Remembering at the Serpentine Gallery— her first solo at a major institution abroad—takes six decades of her work to London. The exhibition features a mix of large-scale oil paintings and small watercolours and ink drawings on paper.
Many long-term friends and collaborators like Nilima Sheikh, Geeta Kapur, Gayatri Sinha and Deepak Ananth have contributed their perspectives on her practice through essays. Art historian and curator Kapur, for instance, in the essay titled Iconoclast, offers two theoretical frameworks for aesthetically examining Singh's works—feminist psychoanalysis and philosophy. 'Much of Arpita's work, world and ideology is history compressed into fables and allegories; what we witness are diverse imaginaries," she writes.
Singh was born in 1937 in Baranagar, Kolkata, just before World War II. The period of her early childhood was marked by famine, riots and the final thrust for independence. The artist believes that our memories transcend our lifetimes, and carry imprints of our ancestors. This retrospective brings alive those traces of memory in repetitive, frenetic bursts of expression, through repetitive motifs and symbols and questions the cycle of exploitation and erasure.
You enter the show with Searching Sita through Torn Papers, Paper Strips and Labels (2015). The large painting encapsulates Singh's focus on the impact of external sociopolitical events on women. The repetitive ticker that runs through the top of the canvas, Sita. You. I. Us is telling, as are the words 'Abducted, Abused, Slandered, Oppressed, Abandoned, Cursed, Lost", which occupy the edge of the painting towards the bottom right. The torn strips of paper, which traverse the painting like futile paths, reveal her anxiety and hopelessness, as she is tormented by her quagmire (of being forsaken).
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Another work, My Lily Pond (2009) is far removed from the idyllic water lily ponds that would have dotted bucolic Bengal during her early childhood. Rather, it alludes to the toxic cesspool of power and geopolitics. Helpless figures in red with their arms raised are confronted by soldiers in army fatigues, and the word 'water" fills up the background like a deluge of helpless emotions. The American naval base Guantanamo Bay on the map of Cuba, painted prominently, points to the source of the oppression. 'Whatever I tell you three times is true" stencilled at the top right of the work speaks to the posttruth propaganda that normally accompanies such action.
Through both visual and written motifs, she speaks to the collective disenchantment. My Lollipop City: Gemini Rising (2005) is a testament to the city of Delhi. She moved there just before independence and has called it home since. At its heart, the painting is about the labyrinthine palimpsest of Delhi which takes a lifetime to navigate, but where millions of refugees and migrants have found a sense of belonging. It is teeming with figures and familiar motifs that pervade her oeuvre— like swarms of airplanes flying above, gerrymandering bureaucrats and politicians, historical monuments, and serpentine roads. At the very bottom of this large painting, she writes 'You are here", perhaps implying the uphill task migrants face when they aspire for a better life in the city.
In the show, the viewer can observe several inflection points in Singh's career. The period between 1974 and 1982 is referred to as the 'black-and-white" one in her practice. Singh, when queried about this phase by art curator and critic Hans Ulrich Obrist in an interview in August 2024, commented, 'At some point, I couldn't move easily across the canvas. I had to pause and think every time: 'What shall I do next? So, I gave up everything and made the basic elements of art—dot and line, dot and line. They became abstract works because nothing is recognisable in them. But it gave me a certain freedom."
It is this freedom of expression that is reflected in the larger oil paintings that she made subsequently— many of these are featured in the exhibition. The other significant shift is observed in works such as My Mother (1993), heavily influenced by communal riots in the aftermath of the Babri Masjid in Ayodhya in 1992. It heralds a sharper focus on the horrors of violence and their impact on society. Against this backdrop stands the solitary figure of her mother dressed in mournful white sari worn by widows. It is revealing of the tragedy and loss that families, and women in particular, are left to cope with in the aftermath of violence triggered by patriarchal, colonial or capitalist overreach.
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Works such as Woman with a Boat (2002) or For Fenugreek (2005), are testament to her sensitive portrayal of the ageing female body—thereby elevating both the fragility and the resilience of a woman, who has survived patriarchy, marriage, childbirth, body shaming, depression, and more.
Ultimately, her paintings are significant because they capture the precarious lived realities of post-independence India profoundly. Her repetitive motifs work despite their overwhelming presence, because they leave room for interpretation. Critically, the intergenerational traumas that women carry both from their collective pasts and uncertain futures, find a healing voice in her paintings—creating room for contemplation, support and empathy.
At Serpentine North Gallery, London until 27 July.
Anindo Sen is an independent art writer.
A spotlight on South-Asian artists
Aarti Lohia first discovered her passion for collecting art while living in Indonesia years ago. Today, she is a trustee of the South London Gallery and the Kochi Biennale Foundation, and serves on multiple councils such as at the Tate Modern. Through the S.P. Lohia Foundation—an international notfor-profit established in the UK in 2016—she backs South Asian artistic voices on the global stage. In 2022, she supported London's National Gallery's modern and contemporary programme, followed by a collaboration with the South London Gallery to bring Nairy Baghramian's Misfits series to London. Most recently, Lohia has supported Arpita Singh's major solo at the Serpentine. In an interview with Lounge, the Londonbased philanthropist reflects on the significance of Singh's practice and the broader role of philanthropy in strengthening South Asia's cultural ecosystem. Edited excerpts:
How significant is Arpita Singh's exhibition at the Serpentine?
Arpita Singh's works trigger emotions in the audience. Her works blend form and style with cartography, imagined and continued characters, and are done with a flourish in colour that is authentically Indian. We consider it a matter of pride to be able to bring Arpita Singh's solo works to one of the most impactful global art galleries. The fact that it is taking place during the London summer makes it a great opportunity to present her work to people from everywhere, and from across age groups and cultures free of cost. It is amazing that it has taken six decades to bring Arpita Singh's works to the world stage in a solo institutional exhibition. This has become a valuable opportunity to open doors for more artists from India and South Asia on globally relevant platforms
What role has philanthropy played in strengthening the art ecosystem in South Asia?
The Global South has emerged as a fluid and evolving concept, especially as colonial histories are being re-examined through contemporary voices. Artists from these regions offer alternative perspectives on recent history, young democracies, and social change. Philanthropy plays a key role in amplifying their work globally—but there's still much ground to cover. Arpita Singh, for instance, offers a deeply personal and powerful view of India's evolving society, especially through the experiences of its women. The S.P. Lohia Foundation is committed to supporting artists from or connected to the Global South, and Singh's work aligns closely with that mission.
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Are there intersections between your collecting and philanthropic journey?
My interest in collecting began in Indonesia, surrounded by its rich traditions of art and craft, and deepened in Singapore, where I engaged more closely with Indian contemporary artists. I noticed a clear philanthropic gap in supporting this space. While my collection is personal, my philanthropic work—through the foundation and engagement with institutions like Tate and the Museum of Modern Art—is focused on amplifying South Asian voices globally. I was among the early supporters of the Kochi-Muziris Biennale and continue to champion it internationally. For me, collecting is a hobby; philanthropy is a passion rooted in creating visibility and impact for Indian artists.
What leads to the decisions to support particular artists/ organisations/ museums?
Art institutions hold lasting value—they preserve cultural memory beyond shifting governments or politics. I'm drawn to organisations that share our foundation's values and aim to broaden representation. Personally, I connect with artists whose work is consistent and meaningful over time. At Serpentine, for instance, I appreciate how Hans Ulrich Obrist highlights underrepresented female voices. Supporting Nairy Baghramian's Jumbled Alphabet aligned with our belief in championing immigrant narratives. We're drawn to institutions that embrace diverse, progressive perspectives beyond the mainstream.
—Avantika Bhuyan
