Who decides what is “too much”?: Women artists, Indian maximalism, and the gendered politics of taste
In Indian art spaces, excess is not a neutral quantity. When artists Treat yourself to art that is visually dense, colorful and layered with multiple narratives in one image. They are often reduced to decorative, exaggerated and “too much” for the viewer to understand. These qualities are described as indulgence rather than anything intellectual or political.
What if this “too much” wasn’t an artistic compulsion? But a feminist refusal to hold on to the traditional?
Defining Indian Maximalism in the Art Space
Maximalism is a concept that is experiencing a resurgence in the art scene. Characterized by vibrancy, deliberate excess and intentional accumulation, it effectively challenges the existing restrained approach in contemporary artistic practice by focusing on presenting diverse narratives that viewers can engage with in different ways.
Indian maximalism has recently found its voice, which was lost in the trend of minimalist art. Our cultural history is based on the philosophy “more is more”. From Mughal miniature paintings to murals in metropolises like Delhi and Mumbai, from the famously kitschy truck art to Indian folk art, the concept existed long before Western minimalist practices found their way into Indian art and fashion.
Cleveland Museum of Art, CC0, via Wikimedia Commons
Historically, women have been the custodians and practitioners of folk and tribal arts such as Madhubani painting, Warli art and Rangoli/Kolam art, all of which embody the core principles of maximalism. Artists like Arpita Singh, Sita Devi, Mahasundari Devi and Nilima Sheikh have often used it in their works to talk about complex issues and make their voices heard in the male-dominated art world.
Taste and curation are political and gendered
However, Indian galleries continue to emphasize simplicity and understatement in the pieces on display. Muted colors and larger spaces adorn the gallery walls and are considered the epitome of artistic intellectualism. This impacts the curatorial decisions that determine the collective tastes of the viewers visiting the space. Artistic taste, in turn, becomes political and is also extremely gender specific.
Compared to minimalism, maximalism is inherently feminine as it is associated with ornament, emotion and vibrancy, things that have often been devalued in predominantly patriarchal spaces. Therefore, it was often ignored in art spaces for decades, even though it was historically present. When women make this conscious stylistic choice in art, their work is often admired solely for its beauty and its interpretation is reduced to its aesthetic choice rather than for the political and intellectual weight it displays.
Here, curation becomes a feminist issue, deciding not only what is shown but also how it is interpreted.
Visual density as a feminist strategy
The obviously crowded frames are a staple in Arpita Singh’s paintings. The New Delhi-based veteran artist uses diverse motifs and colors to develop layered narratives that combine nostalgia with social commentary. In “My Lollipop City: Gemini Rising” (2005), men are seen in traditional black and white, outnumbering the women in the painting, highlighting the dominance of men in the Indian bureaucracy that promotes patriarchal structures. The screen is filled to the point of visual claustrophobia.
Her groundbreaking work Devi Pistol Wali (1990) depicts a woman (or in this case Devi) dressed in a widow’s white saree and without makeup. Two hands are holding mangoes, one is holding flowers and the other is holding her own pallu. In stark contrast, one holds a pistol and points it at a man dressed in black and white. The figures are so closely intertwined that the viewer is forced to derive meaning from the overlap and analyze it. Devi Pistol Wali, for example, depicts the looming threats faced by an Indian woman through the scattered motifs around the frame.
Arpita Singh, Devi Pistol Wali, 1990, acrylic and oil on canvas, 48 1⁄4 × 30 1⁄8″.
Her experience with Kantha, a famous embroidery technique from West Bengal, is evident in the repeated use of motifs and their layering and assembly. The screen becomes a place where memory, political fears and imagination are held together like pieces of fabric sewn together. You can reduce it to chaos and noise, but it is more than just compositional excess. It gives greater visibility to Kantha’s feminist roots as a practice historically passed down from mother to daughter in a family.
Miniature traditions and complex memory
Miniature painting is popularly viewed as a tribute to Indian history. With its complex narrative across different frames on a canvas, it is often reduced to aesthetics and heritage.
Nilima Sheikh uses the same techniques but focuses on the dirty reality of Indian women and minorities. “When Champa Grew Up” is one such example. The series of 12 paintings tells the tragic story of Champa, a young girl known to the Sheikh who was forced into an arranged marriage. She became a victim of dowry after her husband and in-laws harassed her. Each frame features repeating motifs with natural pigments such as gum arabic, patterned borders and sequential images without relying solely on a highlight for definition. She uses wasli paper, handmade paper traditionally used for miniature painting. Ornament here becomes a narrative device and not just a decorative addition. Previously dismissed as nostalgic in women’s work, the miniature techniques are used for scathing feminist criticism.
When Champa grew up (1/12), Nilima Sheikh on Asia Art Archive
In 1997, Sheikh used Rajasthani and Pahari miniature techniques to depict the loss of identity and unrest in the Kashmir Valley in her painting series “Every Night Put Kashmir In Your Dreams”. She uses bright colors, sequential layers and figures to depict historical violence, personal grief, exile and memory. Here the maximalist style is not just a spectacle, but rather it vividly depicts the great political trauma in intimate images and vehemently rejects erasure.
Popular repetition as conceptual rigor
Renowned artist B Prabha worked with oil to focus on the lives of rural and tribal women in India. These paintings depict women carrying water, working in the fields, selling fish and their other daily lives. Each canvas has a dominant color in the background, with figures repeating rhythmically on the surface.
B Prabha
Unlike a minimalist painting, there is no negative space in any of the paintings. Meaning emerges through continuity and patterns that reinforce the need to give more meaning to women’s work than simply leaving it for aesthetic consumption. Sometimes such works are still viewed for decorative reasons rather than for their critical thinking. In paintings, installations, folk art and textiles, the maximalism of women in Indian art is not excessive spectacle, but a way of capturing memory, political complexity and focus on their struggles.
Why “Too Much” is a feminist question
The current socio-political environment in India continues to police women’s bodies, expressions and work. Even taste can no longer be made apolitical. Indian maximalism practiced by women can no longer be categorized as indulgence. It is a direct challenge to decolonize minimalist practices and question the patriarchal roots of the Indian art space.
The question of “too much” becomes a lazy conclusion as the viewer conveniently ignores the complexity of the artwork. Until Indian art institutions are willing to address how gender influences curation, taste and value, maximalism will continue to be misinterpreted, especially when a woman makes this specific stylistic choice.
