We were lucky to catch up with Aneri Shah recently and have shared our conversation below.

Hi Aneri, thanks for joining us today. Let’s kick things off with your mission – what is it and what’s the story behind why it’s your mission?

As an Indian woman from Gujarat now based in New York City, my mission emerges from a deeply personal journey of examining the sari—not just as a symbol of my cultural heritage but as an instrument historically used to enforce gender roles. Growing up in a family where women enjoyed equal rights and economic standing, I felt an acute sense of disillusionment as I traveled across India for my professional pursuits and witnessed the stark inequalities faced by women in different regions. These experiences shaped my resolve to use art as a medium to address these inequities.

My work often incorporates textiles, including heirloom brocade saris passed down to me by my grandmothers, aunts, and other women in my life. These garments hold immense value and are imbued with personal and cultural stories. In a world driven by overconsumption, where the value of clothing and the memories associated with it are often overlooked, I strive to remind people of the tactile, sensory, and emotional qualities of textiles. The feel, smell, and touch of cloth evoke nostalgia and serve as a bridge to deeper, more meaningful connections with our heritage and identity.

Through sculptural fiber arts, I engage with enduring dialogues around the male gaze, gender fluidity, and patriarchal control over women’s self-expression. I draw inspiration from Indian mythology—stories ingrained in me since childhood—and explore how they perpetuate or challenge narratives of femininity and power. My research also delves into Bollywood cinema from the 1930s to the 1980s, focusing on how women subverted societal expectations, reshaping perceptions of agency and empowerment.

This mission is meaningful to me because it transcends the personal and cultural to address universal questions about gender, identity, and self-expression. While modernization has expanded the understanding of gender beyond binaries, challenges persist around gender fluidity and self-expression. By reclaiming and repurposing textiles, I aim to challenge societal norms, honor the narratives embedded in garments, and advocate for a more thoughtful, inclusive, and tactile approach to understanding identity and heritage. My work is not just about textiles but about fostering conversations and creating spaces for transformation and empowerment.

Great, appreciate you sharing that with us. Before we ask you to share more of your insights, can you take a moment to introduce yourself and how you got to where you are today to our readers.

I hold a Bachelor’s degree in Fashion Design from the National Institute of Fashion Technology, India, and a Master’s in Textiles from Parsons School of Design, New York. My journey into the world of textiles and fiber art began with a pivotal realization during my early career in India’s fast-paced fashion industry, where I was responsible for producing up to 12 collections a year. Witnessing this relentless cycle of overproduction, I understood that to change the narrative of fashion, I needed to start at its core: the fiber itself.

Moving to New York opened up a world of possibilities for me. I began exploring textiles not just as a medium of expression but as a repository of memory, emotion, and history. My work evolved beyond my personal experiences to channel the stories of the women in my life—my grandmothers, aunts, and countless others I’ve encountered. Coming from a family where women had equal rights, I saw how these rights often intersected with societal expectations around clothing, especially the sari. Whether or not you wore one, your body—your ankles, midriff, or cleavage—would still be subjected to judgment by men, women, and society as a whole. This tension between empowerment and control became a central theme in my work.

In my practice, I reclaim the textiles of my family—heirloom saris and used garments from my grandmothers and aunts—and transform them into art. These materials are more than cloth; they are vessels of memory, heritage, and resilience. By repurposing these garments, I critique the societal norms they represent while celebrating the strength and complexity of the women who wore them.

My practice is deeply interdisciplinary, blending traditional craft techniques such as knitting, crochet, spinning, embroidery, patchwork, and fabric manipulation to create sculptural textile art. Each piece is a tactile exploration of identity, gender, and cultural heritage, often drawing inspiration from Indian mythology, folklore, and cinema. My work invites viewers to reflect on the broader implications of clothing and textile art, from sustainability and overconsumption to the ways garments shape and are shaped by societal constructs.

Alongside my personal projects, I also take on commissioned work, where I collaborate with clients to create custom pieces using my techniques. One thing I’ve realized is that art is deeply personal, but it also needs to be approachable to those who appreciate and connect with it. Everyone has stories they want to share and display, and that’s where I come in. I create art using materials that hold personal significance to my clients—for instance, blending crochet with wood from a family heirloom or sand from the first piece of land they purchased—while infusing these materials with my distinctive techniques and vision.

I’m most proud of being granted the Creative Promise Award by the Surface Design Association, USA, as well as being selected as an artist for the Young Collector’s Programme at the India Art Fair. These milestones represent not just recognition of my work but a validation of the stories I aim to tell and the connections I hope to foster through my practice.

For potential clients, followers, or fans, I want them to see my work as a dialogue—a space where textiles become a medium for connection, empowerment, and change. Whether it’s through my projects or commissioned collaborations, my goal is to create art that resonates, empowers, and celebrates the stories we carry.

What’s a lesson you had to unlearn and what’s the backstory?

The biggest lesson I’ve had to unlearn as a creative is this: just because you observe and feel deeply doesn’t mean you’re always right. As artists, we tend to connect with emotions, societal dynamics, and cultural narratives that feel personal and profound. But that connection doesn’t guarantee universal agreement. There are always people with different perspectives, and I’ve come to value dialectic debates and conversations—spaces where ideas are exchanged, not imposed.

For instance, if I present my work in India, men will often disagree with my perspective, particularly when it challenges traditional societal norms. Interestingly, even women may push back against my work because that’s how the societal narrative has been shaped. I’ve experienced this first-hand, and I’d be lying if I said it didn’t upset me at first. But then my parents offered me some valuable wisdom. They explained that people are ready to embrace certain ideas at different times, and that readiness varies greatly across cultures and individuals. However, they also reminded me that just because someone isn’t ready to understand or agree doesn’t automatically mean I’m right either.

I’ve realized that there is no absolute RIGHT or WRONG. Instead, there’s MY TRUTH, OUR TRUTH, and EVERYONE’S TRUTH. These truths coexist, often in tension with one another, and as an artist, my role is to share my truth while remaining open to others’ perspectives.

Another thing I’ve had to unlearn is the attachment we can develop to our work. Sometimes, being so immersed in a project makes you forget what drove you to create in the first place. Art isn’t just about skill; it’s about opening your mind and senses, “activating your third eye” (or sixth sense), and viewing the world philosophically.

To me, the essence of being an artist is staying open—open to critique, to new ideas, to perspectives that challenge your own. It’s about embracing dialogue without falling into rhetoric. That openness keeps creativity alive and evolving, no matter how diverse or divisive the audience may be.

Is there something you think non-creatives will struggle to understand about your journey as a creative?

Oh, absolutely! The biggest thing non-creatives seem to struggle with is the question: “Why?” Why are you doing this? Why not choose a “stable” career? Coming from a family of doctors, I’ve heard this question a lot. And honestly, it’s hard to explain to someone that I chose passion over convention—and that I’m genuinely happy about it.

Yes, we live in a capitalist society where money matters, but life isn’t solely about practicality. That’s where creatives come in—we bring balance, reminding the world that emotions, beauty, and self-expression are just as important as logic and structure. A happy, fulfilled life requires both. Without creatives, the world would be a much gloomier place. Who else celebrates all the layers of human experience—sadness, joy, loneliness, community? Creatives hold space for it all, and in doing so, we create a community that’s accepting of everyone, even the non-creatives. If people like us didn’t exist, would the world still be as open and empathetic?

My journey hasn’t been without its challenges, even within my family. My extended relatives often questioned my parents: “Why are you letting her do this?” But my parents stood their ground. They never felt the need to justify my choices, and their unwavering support has been a huge part of my success. For them, seeing me happy was enough, and that’s a lesson in itself. Sometimes, the answer to “Why?” is simple: because it brings me joy. And sometimes, that’s all the explanation anyone needs.

Contact Info:

• Website: https://www.aneri-shah.com
• Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/anyax_art/
• Linkedin: https://www.linkedin.com/in/anerishah2612/