Description
Sarah-Jane Szikora (English, 1971 -)
With Vindaloopy, Sarah-Jane Szikora once again proves that no setting is too mundane—or too absurd—for her sharp eye and playful wit. Set in the unlikely but instantly recognizable environment of a busy Indian takeaway, the painting captures a group of plump, flushed figures crammed into a waiting room, eagerly nibbling on naan bread while awaiting their orders. It’s a scene many of us have lived—only here, it’s turned delightfully on its head.
The charm of Vindaloopy lies in its exaggerated familiarity. Szikora doesn’t romanticize the scene; she leans into the mess of it—the impatience, the temptation of warm carbs, the mild chaos of plastic chairs and bright menus. Her characters are round-bellied and red-cheeked, part cartoon, part caricature, each one a study in joyful indulgence. Their expressions range from blissful to borderline crazed, caught somewhere between hunger and anticipation. The name Vindaloopy itself is a perfect encapsulation—part pun, part mood. We’ve all been there: slightly delirious, waiting too long for something spicy and satisfying.
The setting is packed with subtle details—steamed-up windows, cluttered counters, plastic bags half-filled with foil containers—all rendered in Szikora’s warm, pastel palette. There’s a kind of affection in the way she paints these ordinary moments. The takeaway isn’t exoticized; it’s celebrated. It’s not just a restaurant—it’s a shared cultural experience, a weekly ritual, a guilty pleasure made sacred.
But as with much of Szikora’s work, humor sits atop something more poignant. The exaggerated bodies, the desperate naan-munching, the mild mania in the eyes of her characters—it’s funny, yes, but it also taps into our deeper relationship with food, comfort, and desire. The takeaway becomes a stage where cravings—physical, emotional, cultural—play out in full view.
Vindaloopy is Szikora at her finest: whimsical, strange, and sneakily insightful. She elevates the everyday into the surreal, inviting us to laugh at ourselves without ever being cruel. In this painting, gluttony isn’t a sin—it’s a shared joke. And naan bread? It’s practically divine.
Whether you leave the painting hungry or just a little more self-aware, one thing’s for sure: you’ll never look at a takeaway waiting room the same way again.
