This article talks about Indian illustrator Muhammed Sajid and his new art series that captures the dignity of working class workers we so often take for granted.
Artist Muhammed Sajid’s new series turns the spotlight onto the people who keep our world running but rarely get noticed. Watchmen, postmen, tailors, garbage pickers, and fish sellers — the people who make up the background of our cities — are placed at the centre of his work. These are faces we pass by every day without paying attention. Through bold colour, detail, and imagination, Sajid gives them visibility, dignity, and the space to be seen as individuals, not just as their jobs.
Sajid’s portraits blend realism with imagination, showing ordinary workers not as symbols of pity or struggle, but as skilled professionals whose labour holds society together. By drawing them in the same rich, layered style often used to depict heroes, celebrities, or mythological figures, his work questions who we choose to celebrate and why.
There’s a political act at the core of this series. In a country where class and labour often decide visibility, Sajid’s choice to frame working-class people with the same care and visual attention given to those in power feels deliberate. His art challenges how we value people — not by income or status, but by contribution and presence. Each artwork reclaims dignity for those who are usually invisible in our cities and in our imagination.
We spoke to Sajid about his journey as an artist, his approach to colour and storytelling, and how this project grew from a simple observation of everyday life into something larger.
When and how did you get into visual art? What drew you to it?
I'm originally from Kozhikode, Kerala, now based in Bangalore. My journey into visual art began pretty early. I was always sketching scenes from daily life and things that caught my eye growing up in Kerala. The colours, people, and stories around me became my first teachers. Over time, what really drew me to art was its ability to transform ordinary moments into something emotional and surreal. I love blending realism with imagination, turning everyday subjects into dreamlike visuals that still feel familiar. That balance between the real and the surreal keeps me exploring new ways to express stories and emotions through my work.
In your latest series, you centre ordinary, often overlooked, professions who form the backbone of our world. What was the intention and vision behind it? What are you trying to say with it?
The idea came from my everyday surroundings, the people we often pass by without really seeing. The tea maker, the flower seller, the tailor, the security guard, they’re such an integral part of our lives and community, yet they rarely find space in visual storytelling. With this series, I wanted to shift the focus toward them, to give dignity, beauty, and a touch of dreamlike narrative to lives that are usually portrayed only through realism or documentary. I imagine their worlds with the same care and imagination that we usually reserve for heroes or mythological figures. My vision was to show that there’s quiet poetry in ordinary work, that these people are the unseen backbone of how our world moves. Through colour, surrealism, and emotion, I wanted each artwork to feel like a small tribute to them.
Your artistic style is maximalist and full of colour. How do layers of your identity find their way into what you create?
Colour and detail come very naturally to me. I think it’s a reflection of where I come from. Growing up in Kerala, you’re surrounded by layers of life everywhere: the lush green landscapes; the noise and rhythm of daily life; the mix of tradition and modernity. That sense of richness and contrast naturally flows into my work. The maximalism in my art isn’t just about filling space; it’s about storytelling. Every layer, every small object or pattern carries a part of memory, culture, or feeling. It’s how I connect my present with my past; the rural with the urban; the real with the imagined. So, in a way, each artwork becomes a self-portrait, even if no face looks like mine in it. It’s built from the fragments of everything that’s shaped me, people, places, sounds, and emotions that keep resurfacing in colour and form.
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