Whimsical and dreamlike, veteran artist Madhvi Parekh’s paintings carry a childlike wonder—with birds, animals, mythical creatures, Ferris wheels, and mountains with faces and arms—coexisting in harmony with humans figures scattered throughout her canvases. The ongoing exhibition ‘Madhvi Parekh: Remembered Tales’ at DAG showcases over 20 new works created between 2020 and 2025—each one a portal into her playful and reflective world. The show is her way of looking back—revisiting themes and stories shaped by a lifelong habit of sketching, based on the notebooks she kept between 1978 and 2018.
Though she’s lived away from her village for most of her life, Parekh’s work often blends memories of her childhood in Sanjaya, a small village in Gujarat, with folk motifs and fantastical elements—scenes filled with deities, creatures, women, children, and glimpses of rural life. In ‘Bathing in the Pond’ (2020), she paints a village scene centred around a waterbody, with shrines and houses nestled around it. In ‘Flower Vase in My Family’ (2024), she reimagines a family tree as a blooming plant—its vase shaped like an elder, sprouting into younger members as buds and flowers.
One of the largest works in the show, ‘Travelling Circus in My Village’ (2023), reimagines the circus from her childhood, layered with fragments of the cities she later lived in. In it, chalk-faced acrobats spin across a triptych, a moon becomes a face embedded with tiny figures, and a Ferris wheel sprouts human arms and faces instead of seats.
In Parekh’s painted worlds, animals are neither wild nor tamed—they simply exist alongside humans as equals. “They’re my friends,” she said during the walkthrough. Raised among buffaloes, dogs, and cats, she recalls feeding them as a child. “My mother used to feed them. It was our way of showing respect. They were a part of the family,” she says. “Our neighbour did the same thing. She would talk to them, feed the birds, the pigeons…I used to watch her and wonder how are they talking to each other?” That early sense of companionship continues to animate her work—her creatures return again and again, like old friends.
No villains, no rage
Mythology is another recurring theme, though Parekh doesn’t paint gods to glorify them—she filters them through her language of softness and simplicity. Even the tale of Kaliyadaman—where Krishna defeats the venomous serpent Kaliya—is rendered with calm, without rage. Her 2024 version paints the scene with unexpected gentleness. The snakes are rendered with soft, almost expressionless faces. Krishna appears childlike, the entire composition calm, stripped of menace. “I’m a simple person,” she says. “I can accept negativity, but I don’t like the character of the villain. I don’t want to paint them.”
Some of Parekh’s signature styles also return—like the exaggerated, comical noses on her figures and the textured scratches that run across her canvases. When asked about those noses that have become a hallmark of her figures, she laughs: “I didn’t make it a special nose.” she says. “I don’t know where I got it from—it’s just that I don’t know how to make it any other way.”
The scratch technique—a method from her practice in the ’70s and ’80s—resurfaces in many of the new works. “It echoes the art made on mud or limestone village walls—scratched with a brush, a jhaali, or anything with bristles,” says art critic Kishore Singh during the walkthrough. “She’s reclaimed that space once again.”
Timetable for creativity
Born in 1942, Parekh is entirely self-taught. Her journey began with Paul Klee’s Pedagogical Sketchbook, a gift from her husband, artist Manu Parekh. For decades, she has painted not to meet the rigid standards of the art world, but to follow her own instinct—one grounded in daily discipline. Even at 82, she draws every day. “I do one or two drawings every day. If I don’t, I feel like my day is ruined,” she says. “Everyone should have a timetable.”
That work ethic, she says, comes from growing up in a big family. “I was one of four. My mother cooked. I had to wash clothes. My younger sister did the dishes. My elder sister got married and left. I didn’t even have time to comb my hair or sit down to eat. Every minute was filled with something to do.”
While ‘Remembered Tales’ marks a shift in scale for Parekh, it also draws power from her past. “Her world of the last 60 years now appears to intermingle—the compositions are busier than before, but what has remained unchanged is her playfulness and sense of innocence,” says Ashish Anand, CEO and MD of DAG. The works may look different, but they speak the same language—one of wonder, memory, and an artist who still paints with the instinct of her younger self.
On view at DAG, Windsor Palace, Janpath Road, till August 23, from 11am to 7pm