This artist duo’s home in Jaipur showcases their way of being

Nothing about The Farm announces itself. Home to the husband-wife artist duo Ritu and Surya Singh, who work under the collective name Wolf, it is a place where life and art fold into one another. One moment you're on the outskirts of Jaipur, somewhere off Ajmer Road, and the next, you're in a world that seems to gather inward: 18-acres where a home, a studio, and a way of being converge. It does not begin at a gate or driveway, but somewhere quieter—in the shadow of rusted fan covers transformed into sculpture, in the soft crunch of bougainvillea underfoot, in the flicker of old whiskey bottles strung from a ceiling.

SOMETHING OLD, SOMETHING NEW

Designed from the ground up, The Farm's architecture evolved through use and adaptation. A large circular bar area became the kitchen, guest lounges turned into the family’s living quarters while much of the physical structure grew out of resourcefulness and memory. When Surya's childhood property near Udaipur went under during the Mahi Dam scheme, his father salvaged what he could from the ancestral palace—doors, windows, beams—and stored them away. Decades later, these elements found new life at The Farm. "Some beams are more than 200 years old," he recalls. "We got everything out and started putting it back together—not in the same form, but in a more contemporary way."

This layering of old and somewhat new defines the architecture and ethos of The Farm. Built through reclamation and intuition, it is held together not by symmetry but by story. There’s a tactile, unpolished honesty to the space: rough stone walls, oxidised iron, visible joinery, mismatched furniture. Even its architectural experiments stem from unlikely origins. A tin-roofed pavilion—once a tented space—was created from dismantled factory scrap. "We wanted to try mad things so they cut it up into strips and brought it here," Surya tells us. Inspired by Calatrava's geometry and shaped by resistance from the workmen, the structure emerged as a space with ventilation slats, perfect for Jaipur’s scorching summers. Elsewhere, discarded chairs found new purpose becoming side grills that now edge the space with quiet wit.

If necessity sparked invention, instinct shaped aesthetic. Sculptures of iron trees, sheep, and poppies animate the grounds, while installations lining the driveway morph with time and mood. Other spaces house blooming fans, larger-than-life spiders, and a row of standing guards with purana barthan—each object crafted from joy. “We make with abandon,” Ritu says. There is no pressure for perfection, no expectation that everything must be serious or finished. “It’s a madhouse,” Surya adds with affection, “a playhouse.” At The Farm, scraps are like Lego—gathered, assembled, left behind to become something else. The freedom is the point.