When I was a little girl, my father—an architect with a penchant for the pen—used to amuse me and my friends by writing our names in unusual fonts. One required us to lay the page flat and read it from the edge. I didn’t know it then, but I was experiencing a precursor to anamorphic art—an image that reveals itself only from a certain perspective.

Decades later, I found myself at the Miller Museum of Anamorphic Art, opening this September in Bangalore. The museum, located on Carleston Road in Cooke Town [see: http://bit.ly/4lUO3bY], looks swish and international from the outside—white walls, muted signage—but inside, it tells the story of Shereen Miller, a Bangalorean who revived a centuries-old art form.

A Bangalore Story

Shereen Miller was born in Benson Town in 1941 and attended Clarence High School. From a young age, she wanted to be an artist. Her parents encouraged a more conventional path, suggesting that she become an art teacher instead. But Shereen wanted more from life. She applied for a teaching position in Kuwait, becoming the first in her family to leave India—indeed, the first to board a plane.

In Kuwait, she met Paul Miller, an American, in a state-mandated Arabic language class. They fell in love and, after the expected parental objections, got married in Bangalore.

Their life together involved lots of travel. On one trip, a mechanical issue grounded their plane in Amsterdam and they were made to spend time in the city. Looking for something to do, they visited the Rijksmuseum. There, Shereen saw anamorphic art for the first time. She became obsessed.

Now, I am going to stay true-to-story and plunge in with a description of the museum and Shereen Miller’s art but I cannot resist telling you the back story associated with Shereen Miller. You’ll find it towards the bottom of the piece.

The Art of Perspective

Anamorphic art dates back to the Renaissance. Artists like Leonardo da Vinci experimented with images that appeared correct only from certain angles, while Hans Holbein’s The Ambassadors famously hides a skull, visible only from the side.

What is compelling is that the art form combines illusion, mathematics, and perspective, often hiding symbolic or secret meanings.

By the 20th century, anamorphic art had nearly vanished, probably because there was no longer any need for veiled imagery or just because it became popularised in photography and other modern entertainment—until Shereen Miller became the first woman to dabble in it. In 1976, she began experimenting with catoptric anamorphosis, using cylinders and mirrors to reveal distorted images. She became one of the first modern women known to explore the style, and over time, she introduced several innovations—creating pairs of identical paintings that revealed themselves as mirror images when viewed in a cylinder, developing the earliest abstract anamorphic works, and even experimenting with illusions that made images appear to move.

A walk around the museum is a wonderful artistic workout. Your mind, of course, is expanded. But to truly experience each piece, one needs to walk around each exhibit to witness all the hidden details that start to appear. Pop a squat, do a lunge, see what else the painting reveals. During a private launch for Cooke Town residents, lots of people were seen craning their necks… to see if they could see something more than they could see—a good time as any to bust out the phrase, “They do it with mirrors”.

Miller didn’t stop at traditional methods. As technology evolved, she experimented with digital anamorphic art on her Mac, pushing the boundaries of the form.

The Museum

In 2021, Shereen returned to her childhood home, Bangalore, with a vision: to transform it into a museum celebrating her life’s work. She and her daughter, Cheryl Anita Miller, spent hours planning the 4,000-square-foot space. Tragically, Shereen passed away just a month before the museum was completed.

Cheryl describes the project as a “labour of love.” Walking through the museum, she points out how her mother’s work reflects curiosity, precision, and innovation. “She never took no for an answer,” Cheryl said, “she had a unique way of tweaking my thoughts and teaching me to stay curious.”

The museum features hundreds of works — from early experiments to abstract compositions—all showcasing Shereen’s mastery of perspective. Visitors can experience the surprising and playful nature of anamorphic art, discovering hidden images as they move around each piece.

Legacy

The Miller Museum of Anamorphic Art opens on 28 September 2025. Beyond a gallery, it’s a tribute to a Bangalorean artist who bridged Renaissance and modern traditions, and revived a forgotten art form.

When I started this piece, I talked about a Bangalore story. And this fascinating and heartwarming story explains a lot of Shereen’s defiant spirit.

This is the story of her grandmother (or was it great-grandmother). It was sometime in the 1800s. A bullock cart made its bumpy way from somewhere in Benson Town towards the house of a soon-to-be groom in Malavalli. In the cart were Shereen’s great-grandparents and a girl who had not even come of age. They were headed to get her married. The girl—Cheryl Miller’s great-great-grandmother Badra Kali—saw a different fate ahead of her. She escaped. She jumped out of the cart and took refuge in a convent. 

Badra Kali saw an out of getting married to the boy who had been chosen for her. And the only place she thought would give her refuge was the convent. She went from Badra Kali to Hannah. 

Shereen’s ancestors were prominent residents of Benson Town. Her grandfather was a well-known doctor, and her father went the entrepreneurial route and did well for himself. 

Later, when Shereen was an established artist, she bought a beautiful bungalow for her parents in Cooke Town. That is how Benson Towners became Cookies. 

And all that heritage is resident in this beautiful building in Cooke Town.

What a tale.

On asking Cheryl what her mother’s inspiration was, she fought back tears, “you don’t even think to ask these things until they’re gone,” she said.

I gave Cheryl a big hug and left. 

For me, stepping out of the museum was a reminder of my father’s playful fonts—and of Shereen Miller’s life, spent showing that some images only reveal themselves when you tweak your perspective.

Miller Museum of Anamorphic Art
Carleston Road, Cooke Town, Bangalore
http://bit.ly/4lUO3bY