Each generation has its own set of heroes and icons. There was a time when sportswriters and radio hosts were as recognizable as the face on our currency. Similarly, there was an era when art directors and commercial illustrators were celebrated figures, their studios and styles instantly recognizable. In post-independence India, artists like Mario Miranda and R.K. Laxman served as crucial links between innovative artistic expression and the mainstream media. They were our cultural impresarios, and revered as such.
Gary Curzai, a Mumbai-based graphic designer, believes in the same transformational power of art. He tells me the story of a peer he met years ago at New Blood Academy, a residency for young creatives. Her family pushed her to be a doctor. She told Gary, “I’ll write on my gravestone, ‘Here lies a proud designer’ because while doctors are important, as a designer, I have the capacity to share information that prevents illness.” Gary tries to view his art through this lens; most of his recent work is for changemakers; created for the purpose of empowerment.
It didn’t come easy though. “I always felt odd because I’m creative, and a bit feminine. In an all boys school, that was very frowned upon. The education system doesn’t help any sort of creativity at all. I was a failure in school. I grew up not knowing what I wanted to do,” he laughs. He accidentally stumbled upon his passion when his then-girlfriend suggested he intern at her mother’s design agency. “That’s where I discovered graphic design, and learned that I could make money making art. My mind was blown.”
From that moment on, the pieces fell into place. He headed to Middlesex University London. “Even when I went to university, even though I started doing design there, I still had that mentality inside me that I’m no good. In my third year, things started to click. That’s when I started to understand my purpose. Since I was shuttling between England and India, I saw a lot of connection between modern Western design and traditional Indian art. I would come back to India, and notice most brands imitating Western capitalistic designs, cultures and styles.”
Gary’s distinct style is influenced largely by his identity. He merges Indian art with modern sensibilities. “I’ve had discourse within myself about my identity. To put it simply, half my family colonized my other half. My father is a Koli, and my mother is English. I’m a colonizer and a colonizee. What role do you play? That made me question my place in the world, I’ve always felt different. That difference was my creative spark which I embraced. Merging my Western and Indian identity is at my core.” As he reconciles these two halves of himself, it spills over into his art in the most honest way. By first identifying who he is as a person, he’s been able to find what he’s trying to represent. It’s a symbiotic relationship: his connection with himself fuels his art, and his art, in return, creates a sense of belonging.
At this point, he gets distracted by the Pickle Rick sticker on my laptop. It’s adorable, we both agree, but Gary would never hop on that wagon: “I’m a minimalist,” he explains. I’m immediately caught off guard.
One scroll through his portfolio, and ‘minimalism’ is the last word that springs to mind. “My branding is minimalist, but my illustration, not at all,” he elaborates. “It’s difficult to contain so much culture and history neatly. There are certain colours, aesthetics, and elements used in Indian design which are very intricate, but don’t fit within this modern framework of minimalism. India, in terms of an art-producing culture, is one of the oldest in the world. It holds so much meaning and so much power, and you try to harness that.”
Motivated by a desire to preserve and modernise this craft, Gary worked on a project to create “functional typography”. The project involved adding layers of meaning to the designs and transforming fonts into visual representations of everyday objects.
A conversation with his then-partner led to a moment of reckoning. “She told me, ‘Gary, even though you’re doing this for a right reason, you’re still appropriating their art in some way.’ Hearing that shook me, it made me question everything. I’m not a custodian of that art form, I’m just someone from the outside looking in.” From here, Gary pivoted directions, approaching his work with a renewed awareness of the cultural sensitivities involved and acknowledges that he had to go through this to better understand his place in the creative process.
Gary has, over the years, donned many hats. After a stint at Social, he chased a higher sense of purpose that led him to working with NGOs. He smiles as he tells me, “Being able to have your work influence policy and being able to share information with people who wouldn’t have access to it otherwise is incredibly gratifying.”
The pivot from a corporate job to advocacy led him back to his artistic roots. “If you want to connect with people, you have to connect with things that they can relate to. Usually, people who come from indigenous backgrounds or low-access spaces, all they have is their art and culture. If you can connect the information to their culture, it’s more easily digested.”
Flash forward to the present: I’m sitting in Gary’s office — a bright and airy room littered with plants. He tells me we’re in Indo Anglo Studio, a community space for culture that he’s starting with his brother, Liam. “We’re Anglo-Indians, but we’re also East Indians. We wanted to change it up and not put Anglo first,” he says.
The aim is to tell storie through art, motion, and design while highlighting the intersection of Westernisation, colonialism, and development on indigenous communities. Before I can ask my next question, Gary quips, “You know, I was born on the exact day in the exact same city where Freddie Mercury died.” Make of that what you will.
Gary draws inspiration from random people he meets. That’s where change comes from for him. Learning to trust his gut has been both the toughest and most rewarding skill to hone. “Sometimes you share an artwork, and it’s such a big part of yourself. If it doesn’t get external recognition, and if you’re not secure with yourself, it’s heartbreaking. My life is reflected in my work.” He says that Indo Anglo Studio is the most authentic representation of himself.
Inevitably, I ask his thoughts on AI’s impact on the industry. His view is more optimistic than most: “Of course, there’s job insecurity, but at the core of it, any tool that’s created for humans to be more expressive is a good thing. It just means that designers have to either level up or change themselves.” He draws a parallel to how when cameras first came out, it forced painters to adapt their style, leading to the birth of new movements such as expressionism and minimalism.
Gary’s fascination with himself and his identity is feeds into his work. “I’ve gone through a very big, long, seven-year-long relationship. I’ve been on this journey of understanding myself. Being in the present is most important right now. I’m feeling these feelings about generational trauma that I need to express. That’s really influencing my work,” he says. He’s pouring himself into Indo Anglo as he creates a space where people can come, explore ideas, and form a community.
“Community is so important, especially as our cities become increasingly isolated. Just connecting with people is what I would like to have come out of this,” he says as he signs off.
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