The stories of scrap with Wolf Studio

Around us, work-in-progress pieces lie scattered like thoughts paused mid-sentence. There is a stillness here, but not the inert kind—it’s a stillness that hums with intention. At its heart, the practice rejects disposability, choosing instead to make meaning from memory. They believe in second, third, even fourth chances. Here, poppies bloom in stainless steel. Old lenses see anew. Rusted fans open into garden flora.

“We called ourselves Wolf,” Ritu explains, “because wolves are resourceful. They don’t waste. They don’t perform. They stay wild.” That instinct—to follow the untamed, the unwanted, the overlooked—forms the spine of their practice. “We don’t make perfect things,” Surya says. “We make things that feel.” In a world chasing gloss, their work is full of pauses—deliberate, quiet spaces that ask you to look a little longer.

These stories often begin in the labyrinthine lanes of Jaipur’s old city, where the clatter of metal mixes with the whirr of ceiling fans. Or in storerooms stacked with forgotten things, flea markets where tales are sold by the kilo, and in the quiet conviction that nothing is ever truly waste. Everything is waiting to be something else.

We sit down to trace the contours of a practice built on process, provocation, and poetry.

Beautiful Homes: How would you define the philosophy of Wolf?

Ritu Singh: From the very beginning, the idea of using something that others were throwing away felt very powerful to us. We were growing forests and gardens out of what the world had discarded. That has been our guiding light—something we hold on to and something that continues to inspire us.

Surya Singh: We hope our work gets people thinking a little—makes them more aware, asks a question, opens something up. That’s what I’d like our art to be: an experience that moves you. Something that shifts the way you think, that offers a different perspective. That helps you see what’s right in front of you—but in a way you hadn’t seen before.

BH: Your work consistently uses scrap and found materials. How do these objects/materials find their way into your pieces?

SS: We don’t always know what we’re looking for. The object has to call out to us. Sometimes it’s the texture, sometimes it’s the story, or just the man selling it—something makes us bring it home. Some materials have lived with us for over a decade before finding their moment. And sometimes, it’s as random as a tin box—but that box ends up completing the piece.

BH: What are the themes you explore through your art—the stories you want to tell?

SS: For us, environmental awareness begins with the material. We work with what the world throws away—because we believe there’s no such thing as waste. It just needs to be seen differently. Every object has potential, and when you bring it into a new life, you’re not only reducing discard, you’re extending its story. That’s also where cultural preservation comes in. Many of these pieces—tools, frames, lenses—hold memory. Once they enter the work, they’ll live on for another 50, maybe 100 years. They’ll continue telling stories. That’s what matters.

SS: The rhythm is always the same. It starts with confusion. Then comes commotion. Then confidence. And finally—clarity. And sometimes, even the superhero cape gets stuck in trees and wires. Especially on flea market days.