Jenjum Gadi turns memories of his Arunachal village into brass art

“Be it fashion or art, I always go back to my village for inspiration. I am what I am today because of my village,” says fashion and menswear designer Jenjum Gadi.

At Gadi’s latest exhibition at Gallery Vayu, ‘Ngok Dolu’, memories of growing up in Tirbin, Arunachal Pradesh, take shape in brass. The title means “my village” in Gadi’s mother tongue, Galo. The exhibition features more than 30 new artworks, including wall hangings, installations, pichwai-inspired beaten-brass panels and brass sculptures, through which the designer-artist revisits the culture and landscape of his childhood. ‘Ngok Dolu’ marks Gadi’s second body of brass works, following his debut collection, ‘Apaase’, in 2024 which featured three-dimensional brass-casted sculptures based largely on fruits and vegetables from his mother’s garden.

Gadi grew up in Tirbin in the 1980s, at a time pre-internet. “In the daytime, when all the adults would go to the field, they'd leave the children behind. So, all of us would huddle up in somebody's backyard gardens, just spend all day playing,” he recalls.

There were also trips to the river to catch fish and moments spent chasing birds. These memories now return as polished lustrous golden sculptures of brinjal and ladies’ finger plants, tiny birds perched on their branches, and landscapes of paddy and corn fields, the sun and clouds beaten into brass panels.

One of the notable works in the exhibition is the triptych ‘Amo Tami’, comprising three set of brass panels depicting paddy fields, corn and finger millet from Tirbin. It recalls a village that, in Gadi’s memory, was largely self-sufficient, with food coming from the fields and forests rather than the market. “When I think of my village, I cannot think about it without rice,” he says. “We eat rice from morning to night — breakfast, lunch, dinner. We can eat rice at any time.”

A brass sculpture, ‘Maaktum Bayom’ features a brinjal plant growing from what resembles a tree trunk, with brass brinjals hanging from its branches. In ‘Benju’, a ladies’ finger plant grows out of tree bark, its upright stem surrounded by leaves and flowers. The work carries a personal anecdote: Gadi remembers his grandmother particularly liked it but could never quite pronounce “bhindi”, calling it “Benju” instead.

Gadi, known for his contemporary, minimalist menswear, has spent more than two decades working in fashion. He began exploring brass and sculpture around 2020, discovering in art a more personal form of expression.

“With fashion, it's hanging on the hanger in the showroom. When clients come and start looking at it, it is not your piece anymore,” he says. “But in art, once you make it, it remains as it is. People don't really ask you to change anything and they take it as they like it — with my memories as it is.”

Gadi has worked with a young artisan he met in Rupa, Arunachal Pradesh, across both ‘Apaase’ and ‘Ngok Dolu’. The collaboration, he says, led to a process of mutual learning. While Gadi brought ideas and an openness to experimentation, the artisan taught him about the limitations and techniques of working with metal.

After several years of working with brass, Gadi has become more comfortable with the medium, but says it remains “unforgiving and tricky”. Its unpredictability, however, is also part of the appeal. “I always try to keep pushing myself, to make something new…. I'm now much better than when I started.”

For all the joy contained in Gadi’s memories of childhood, ‘Ngok Dolu’ also carries a sense of loss. The village he remembers no longer feels entirely familiar when he returns. "The topography is the same, the mountain is the same, but something feels different,” he says.

Art thus becomes a way for Gadi to hold on to memories he knows cannot be physically relived. “I want to feel that aura of how the village used to feel when I was growing up. That's why I choose this — to tell my story, to make art out of it,” he says. The process of making the works, he says, also offers a way to return to those memories and cherish them.

But ‘Ngok Dolu’ is not only about looking backwards. The village itself has changed — its roads, farming practices, water sources and ways of life. “With the change, a lot of imbalance happens — in the field, in the way of life,” he says.

Gadi hopes the works can start a conversation about these changes while holding on to what remains. “I know that development is needed, but I think we need to find a balance somewhere.” Perhaps that is what ‘Ngok Dolu’ ultimately means: a way of returning to a place he can no longer completely return to, and giving its disappearing memories another form to live in.

On view at Gallery Vayu, 14, Main Market, Block 8, Lodi Colony, till September 30