Abhishek Tuiwala (b. 1994, Gujarat, India) is a New Jersey-based sculptor whose multidisciplinary practice encompasses metalworking, woodwork, installation, and graphite drawings. His work dissects and reassembles familiar objects to form satirical narratives that challenge social constructs and examine themes of identity, cultural translation, and migration. By juxtaposing figuration and abstraction, Tuiwala bridges the gap between the everyday and the profound, urging viewers to question ingrained assumptions. Deeply influenced by his immigrant experience, Tuiwala’s practice fosters empathy and insight into the socio-economic dimensions of migration and the complexities of cultural identity. His art creates spaces for dialogue, encouraging a deeper understanding of the shared human experiences that bind us all.

Tuiwala holds a B.F.A. in Sculpture from V.N.S.G. University in Surat, India, and an M.F.A. in Sculpture from Pratt Institute in New York. His work has been exhibited internationally at venues including Gallery LVS (Seoul), the Raza Foundation (New Delhi), L’Space Gallery (New York), Aicon Gallery (New York), Swivel Gallery (New York), Dinner Gallery (New York), Mana Contemporary (New Jersey), the International Sculpture Center (New Jersey), and the India Art Fair (New Delhi).

He is the recipient of the Rema Hort Mann Artist Community Engagement Grant, the Stutzman Foundation Award for Sculpture, and awards from the Bombay Art Society (Mumbai) and the Hyderabad Art Society (Hyderabad).

Can you tell us about your background and how you started your artistic journey?

I was born and raised in Surat, Gujarat, India, where my family runs a small elastic manufacturing business. I come from a community where art was not seen as a viable profession but where observation, improvisation, and labor were deeply embedded in daily life. Though I wasn’t exposed to contemporary art growing up, I was always drawn to making things. I began as a portrait painter not out of strategic ambition, but instinct. At the time, I had no concept of galleries, museums, or a career in fine arts. I was simply following a creative impulse.

Eventually, I realized I needed a deeper understanding of visual language its history, its context, and its possibilities. That led me to pursue a Bachelor of Fine Arts. I became the first person in my family to receive formal education in the arts, earning my BFA in Sculpture from V.N.S.G. University. It was during my foundation year that I was introduced to sculpture and that moment changed everything.

Working in three dimensions felt like a natural extension of how I think and feel: more tactile, more layered, more open-ended in the best possible way. I was immediately drawn to tools, textures, and physical processes. My early focus was on learning technique and developing a deep connection to material through physical labor and repetition.

It wasn’t until my MFA at Pratt Institute in New York that my work began to explore more conceptual territory. There, I started investigating themes of identity, cultural translation, and the invisible weight of migration. The transition from a modest bedroom studio in Gujarat to the critical, competitive landscape of New York’s art world transformed not only my practice but also the questions that drive it. I began thinking more critically about material, power, and the social structures we quietly carry with us.

Since then, my journey has continued to evolve from mastering process to using form as a language for complex ideas. I never use readymades; every piece I create is built from scratch, slowly and deliberately. My practice lives in the space between form and metaphor, memory and critique. Sculpture gave me more than a medium, it gave me a space to ask larger questions about belonging, memory, identity, and perception. It remains at the heart of how I build meaning today.

How do you stay inspired and motivated to create new work?

For me, inspiration often comes from tension between cultures, between materials, between what’s visible and what’s quietly carried. I stay motivated by observing how everyday objects, gestures, or memories can contain complex social histories. The world doesn’t stop offering meaning; you just have to keep learning how to see it differently.

I read, walk, collect fragments of language, form, and personal memory and slowly let them find structure through sculpture or drawing. Because my work is research-based and hand-built, the process itself is grounding. Even when I’m uncertain about the concept, the act of working with materials like cutting wood, heating metal, drawing lines always leads me somewhere. I trust the rhythm of making.

I’m also deeply motivated by the gaps I see in how migrant narratives, cultural translation, and identity are discussed in art spaces. That absence keeps me accountable. It reminds me that making work isn’t just personal. But, it’s a contribution to a wider conversation. And that conversation keeps me going.

What materials or techniques do you most enjoy working with, and why?

I’m most drawn to materials that carry both physical weight and conceptual resonance like steel, bronze, marble, plywood, and graphite. Each of these has its own history, labor implications, and cultural associations, which I intentionally lean into. I enjoy working with materials that resist quick conclusions ones that require time, force, precision, and care.

For example, carving wood allows me to treat the surface almost like skin or language like layered, scarred, deliberate. With steel and bronze, I embrace processes like welding and casting not just for their form-making potential, but for their connection to craft, permanence, and industrial labor. I don’t use readymades; I build everything from scratch, because the slowness of making is part of the meaning. It allows me to embed narratives of migration, translation, identity into the process itself.

Ultimately, the materials I choose aren’t just formal choices they’re conceptual collaborators. I enjoy when the object starts to reflect back not only the idea, but the tension, effort, and contradictions it took to bring it into being.

Which piece or project holds the most significance for you, and why?

There are lot of projects like that. But I would like to mention one of latest and the most significant piece for me is The Platform. It’s a large-scale sculpture that uses a wood and black marble match head in place of a microphone, set atop a stage-like form made from, sand, glass powder- met , and brass – stand. Conceptually, it speaks to the volatility of public voice, especially in the context of cancel culture and the immigrant experience. It reflects how the same platform that offers visibility can also be a site of danger, misunderstanding, or erasure.

This piece resonates deeply because it was born from both personal frustration and broader cultural observation. As someone navigating multiple identities in a highly reactive society, I often feel the tension between speaking up and staying silent. The Platform became a space to hold that contradiction to honor the fragility and fire of using your voice in public.

It also pushed me materially. Working with marble on that scale, shaping a form that held both visual stillness and conceptual combustion, felt like a turning point. It solidified my belief that materials could embody both metaphor and critique, quietly but unmistakably.

What challenges have you faced as an artist, and how have you overcome them?

One of the biggest challenges I’ve faced is navigating between two worlds, coming from Gujarat, India, where contemporary art had little visibility, to working in New York’s highly competitive, hyper-critical art landscape. That cultural and contextual shift was disorienting at first. I had to unlearn the idea that art was only skill-based, and relearn how to articulate my voice through concept, material, and intention.

Another ongoing challenge has been staying true to the slow, labor-intensive nature of my process in a system that often rewards speed, spectacle, and constant output. As I don’t work with readymades and everything I create is built from scratch, and that takes time. There were moments early on when I doubted whether this pace would hold up professionally. But over time, I realized that this slowness was not a limitation. But, it was my language. It allows for precision, depth, and a kind of integrity that I now see as central to my practice.

Financial precocity and lack of immediate access to influential networks were also real hurdles. But I’ve learned to build steadily, through community, consistency, and the quiet strength of the work itself. Every barrier has become part of the story, and every step forward has made the work more rooted and more honest.

What’s a memorable reaction or conversation someone had about your art in a show?

One of the most memorable conversations I’ve had was during a show where my Contemporary Charmer series was on view, a body of work where necktie is reimagined as cobra, cast in brass and drawn on full sheet of wood. A visitor approached me and said, “This pieces makes me feel both protected and threatened. Like the thing that’s supposed to represent power could bite me at any moment.”

That response captured the exact tension I was trying to explore. Contemporary Charmer is about the duality of symbols, how something like a necktie, which represents professionalism and authority, can also carry undertones of submission, manipulation, or danger, especially in the context of immigration and legal systems. It was inspired by my own experiences navigating bureaucracy, advocacy, and trust in unfamiliar structures.

What struck me most was that the viewer didn’t ask what the sculpture and the drawing meant, he told me what he felt. That moment reminded me that materials can carry emotional truths long before we explain them. The sculpture spoke in its own language, and it was understood. That’s the kind of connection I hope for in every work.

Text & photo courtesy of Abhishek Tuiwala

Website: https://www.abhishektuiwala.com
Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/abhishek.tuiwala/