Artist Abhay Sehgal is not interested in clean narratives. At 27, the Delhi-based artist has already staged two solo exhibitions, the latest being Roots & Rebellion at Bikaner House, and yet he treats the milestone less as triumph than as confrontation—with himself, with his inheritance, with the demands of art. “The moment I was told I need to do a solo exhibition, I felt like, man, things are coming too fast and too early,” he says. “So I just wanted to backtrack and create a show about who I am as a person and what made me the person I am today.”
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The result is not a tidy retrospective, but something more searching—a reckoning with inheritance and disobedience. Born into a Delhi business family, Sehgal grew up far from the cloistered circuits of the art world. Boarding school in Mussoorie at four, then Doon, then a boarding school in Delhi-NCR, and then a degree at the School of the Art Institute of Chicago: his route to art was indirect, almost accidental. For years, he imagined safer lives—as a VFX artist at Marvel, as the head of a slick ad agency. But when COVID locked him in Chicago, the safety nets dissolved. “I realized that being an artist is more about putting your voice out than listening to people,” he recalls. “If I worked for a company, I’d be skilled. But not creative. Not me.”
Roots & Rebellion is that voice, pitched somewhere between reverence and resistance. Carpets—those objects meant to be walked over—are pulled from the floor and exalted onto canvas, stitched into intricate, maximalist geometries. Architecture slips into the edges, giving the surfaces a sense of permanence. His favourite work, Parenting Done Right, embodies the contradictions that thread through his practice: the irony of parents steering their children away from mistakes while insisting they succeed on pre-approved terms. “There’s a very tricky space between having the maturity to give space and freaking out about what your kid is going to do,” he says. The piece doesn’t resolve the tension. It lets it hang, uncomfortable, familiar.
What emerges is not just a body of work but a worldview. Sehgal’s art refuses to flatten Indian identity into ornament, or rebellion into posture. Instead, it dwells in the messiness of youth, cultural inheritance, and belonging. He is as rooted as he is restless, and that friction is precisely what gives Roots & Rebellion its charge. “I think I’ve always been more about going against all odds,” he says. “Taking the leap of faith. Doing whatever I have to.” This exhibition is both testament and question: how do you rebel without losing the roots that made you? Sehgal is still working out the answer—and he’s letting us watch.
However, he let me sit with him and pick his brain about all things that surround him. In an exclusive conversation with Esquire India, he opened up about growing up, his creative process, and where he wants to go from here.
Excerpts from the conversation.
Roots & Rebellion was your second solo show. What was the inspiration behind the collection?
I wanted to backtrack and create a show about who I am as a person, and what made me who I am today.
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Two things are really important to me. The style of work I’ve developed over the last three or four years has always been rooted in inheritance and where I come from. That really hit me when I moved back from the USA, and it gave me a track to find my style. The second is being a rebel. I like going against the odds, taking the leap of faith, doing whatever I have to. I’ve done that a lot since childhood. So, Roots in Rebellion came out of those two ideas—short stories of who I am at 27.
What was your favourite piece in the collection?
There was one called ‘Parenting Done Right’. Conceptually and aesthetically, I think it was quite a cool piece. Composition-wise, I was trying something new. I’d been creating carpet-inspired works for the past two years, but I’d never really had the time to level them up. They always felt more two-dimensional.
This time, I blended carpets with architecture, which has always inspired me but I’d never really combined the two. Creating that hybrid was damn interesting and worked out well. That’s why it’s one of my favourites.
And then there’s the theme itself. The title, Parenting Done Right, is ironic. Parents often lead you a certain way because of the mistakes they’ve made. There’s this tricky space between giving your kid maturity and space, and freaking out about what they’re going to do. That tension is what I wanted to capture.
You come from a business family, as do I. For families like ours, it’s often hard to accept the idea of working in the gig economy, like being an artist. How did yours react when you told them you wanted to pursue this seriously?
Honestly, I feel like coming from a business family is an advantage. We’re privileged—it makes you climb one step higher to begin with. That’s a blessing.
But also maybe being an only child helped. My parents were very supportive from the start. I’m sure they didn’t expect I’d actually follow through, but they gave me the bandwidth to try. That support was important. But at the end of the day, it’s not about parents forcing you, stopping you, or even supporting you. It comes down to how obsessed you are in your own head about making things happen.
So when did you first know you wanted to be an artist?
At first, logically, art didn’t make sense. I thought I’d open an animation studio or an ad agency. But then COVID hit. I stayed back in the US and suddenly there was nothing to do except fitness and art.
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I started experimenting, and then I realised being an artist is more about putting your voice out than listening to people. If I worked for a company, I’d be following directions—that makes you skilled, but not creative. I wanted to bet on my creativity, not a salary. I had a one-year work visa and thought, let me give this a shot. In that process, I just fell in love with making things work.
Do you remember the first piece of art you sold?
Yeah. It was a concept I made online. It kind of went viral—not like today’s standards, but enough. That led to a few inquiries and I ended up selling prints.
That’s when I realised social media is powerful. If you blow up there, people will notice your work even in physical spaces. That’s why I started focusing more on social media—it opened doors.
You went to art school. Do you think formal training is necessary for artists today, or can raw instinct be enough?
The basics—education, skill, practice—can come with or without school. But the age when people usually go to college is important. It’s when you build habits. Without that structure, most people don’t have the maturity to show up every day and do the work.
So, college forces consistency. That in itself is an achievement. But after that, going two or three levels beyond is all about mindset and discipline. No one really cares about your degree in the art world. What matters is what you do with it.
Your work blends the romantic and the surreal. How did you develop your style?
Every artist starts by copying. I tried to imitate different artists’ works at first. But through experimenting—hit and try again and again—I found my direction. It felt natural, but I was also very adamant about finding my own style. That’s what made it happen.
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Who were some of your inspirations?
Dali, definitely. Then a living artist, Danny Armstrong. And Raja Ravi Varma. These two or three really inspired me—not just their work, but the way they thought. In their times, they had a third perspective on society. I try to think in that direction too. Style-wise, yes, I’ve drawn from them.
Can you walk me through your process—blank canvas to finished piece?
I’m more of a planner. I conceptualise digitally first—like in architecture or interior design. That way, I know what colours I want, what composition I’m going for.
I’m not the type who comes blank to a canvas and creates magic. I need to be sure about my colours and elements before I begin. Once the digital concept is ready, I start the canvas with image references. Like how kids used to copy from references—that’s still me. It’s about precision.
And how do you know when a piece is done?
Honestly, you never feel it’s done. Deadlines make you stop, otherwise I’ll keep tweaking forever.
Your work also reflects several things – from Bollywood to the streets of Bombay. What inspires you outside of art?
I love observing. Exposure is a gift—we get to travel, see how different cultures function. Every place works the way it’s meant to—that’s culture.
And finally, where do you see your work heading in the next five or ten years?
Honestly, it depends on how hype culture evolves, and how I mature with it. The difference between how I perceive hype in the coming years, and how the world functions, will decide the work I make. I can’t predict it yet.