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“The last thing we wanted was to become professional artists,” say The Singh Twins as we chat in the verdant surrounds of London’s Royal Botanic Gardens, Kew. It’s the eve of the world premiere of their exhibition The Singh Twins: Botanical Tales and Seeds of Empire at the Shirley Sherwood Gallery of Botanical Art. “Art was just a hobby,” says Amrit. Her identical twin Rabindra nods slowly. “The more our teachers pushed us towards art, the more determined we were that we weren’t going to do it,” she says. The twins had planned to be doctors or academics.
Today they pursue art with the same determination they once applied to eschewing it. But theirs has been a single career: The Singh Twins are a “solo” artist. “So it doesn’t matter if you muddle us up because we always answer as The Singh Twins, not as individuals,” Rabindra says. “Yes, that’s right,” Amrit adds with a smile. Their work is joyously colourful. Their highly decorative, symbolic narrative melds east and west, the modern and traditional, and draws on the once derided but now highly sought Indian miniature painting.
The twins are small, neat and almost identical, with a habit of finishing each other’s sentences. Confusing one for the other is forgivable. They dress the same way, too: today wrapped in pink and grey floral saris, accessorised with gold necklaces and earrings, their dark hair pulled back into buns.
Rabindra is the older twin (by 10 minutes) but neither sibling dominates their dynamic. Born in Surrey, they moved to the Wirral in Merseyside with their parents when they were four. Growing up in a Sikh family in a predominantly white area, they experienced some racism. This, together with their Indian ancestry and upbringing in a place that played its own part in the historic slave trade, has shaped their output. They still live in the Liverpool area, in a house shared with relatives. That neither is married is down to fate rather than choice. “You don’t always find the right people in life and you end up either married or not married and that’s been our situation,” Amrit says.
Their home life suits them. “There’s nothing stopping me from buying a house down the road but we’re very happy with the situation that we have,” Amrit continues, noting that it’s customary in Asian culture to live with one’s extended family. They get on well, with the occasional blip. “I don’t think we’d be human if we didn’t have the odd tiff,” Amrit adds. It is the details that cause disagreements when they occur: what colour to use in a painting and, to Rabindra’s horror, Amrit’s preference for khaki-green saris.
Syncing their sartorial style began as an act of teenage rebellion. “Up to then we weren’t bothered one way or the other. We’d dress the same sometimes, at other times we didn’t, it wasn’t a big issue,” says Amrit. She recalls a time at university when, on a combined studies degree course, they turned up in identical outfits as a riposte to art tutors who had criticised them for thinking alike. They had taken art as a module because it was the only option on the timetable that fitted around their chosen subjects of ecclesiastical history and comparative religion. Their relationship with tutors deteriorated further when they began researching Indian miniaturists for the course. “We were told it was backward and outdated and didn’t have any place within contemporary art,” she says.
“They said it was cloned thinking,” Rabindra interjects, remembering how they stood on the principle that Indian artistry, as with many other cultures, had long been a source of inspiration for western contemporary art. “We were criticised for not being individual enough when our peers were all churning out clones of Matisse, Gauguin and Picasso. We were doing something different but that wasn’t recognised.”
They began to realise that “art could be a powerful tool” – particularly, they say, in challenging old prejudices. The twins are now recognised for a “past modern” style that reworks historical material into a critique of contemporary issues. The “Seeds of Empire” section of their exhibition references Kew Gardens’ unique cache of never-seen-before botanical works, and explores how the British empire grew through the pursuit of economic botany. The “Botanical Tales” element of the show focuses on plant mythology, celebrating the cultural value and significance of plants across different global traditions.
Over time, their output has evolved to incorporate the use of film and lightboxes that create monumental pieces; their work on fabric is produced digitally while incorporating handpainted and historical material, lending luminosity and vibrancy. “We are,” says Rabindra, “twindividuals.” As artists, they research and create independently and collaboratively, with the final outcome always being presented jointly as the work of The Singh Twins. But their styles differ: Rabindra is exacting, Amrit more fluid. “Amrit will do a line and she’s happy with it. I do it again until I’ve got it absolutely straight,” says Rabindra, who says her twin has a tendency to “gild the lily”.
Together they have proved a powerful force, having been exhibited at the National Portrait Gallery, Liverpool’s Walker Art Gallery, The King’s Gallery at Buckingham Palace, and the National Gallery of Modern Art in Delhi. They talk of their delight at being made honorary citizens of Liverpool in 2009, a city they love for its artistic vibe, friendliness and strong sense of community. Another career high was being awarded an MBE in 2011 for their services to Indian miniature painting within contemporary art.
Any regrets? “None,” says Rabindra. “We love what we do – it’s introduced us to so many different people and places, best friends we’ve met through projects.” Amrit finishes her sentence: “What can we say? We’ve been very lucky.”
The Singh Twins: Botanical Tales and Seeds of Empire, until 12 April 2026, Royal Botanic Gardens, Kew, kew.org. Special thanks to Kew Gardens
