Model, Artist & Activist Amé Amrit On the art of bridging the gap

Amrit is a woman shaped by the land where she was raised. Without the comforts most of us in urban society take for granted – house numbers, street names, Google Maps, or sneakers – Amrit carved her own path in a culture where life is often dictated by others, especially for women. Inspired by her grandmother, a bold woman who rode horses and wore tattoos with pride, Amrit was encouraged to be unconventional and true to herself. “If you start from a fragile foundation,” she said in an interview with Models.com, “it’s never going to become any stronger; it reflects in your future. A lot of people will compromise themselves to get a job, but modelling comes with a timeline, and you can’t rediscover yourself if you don’t give yourself the opportunity to discover your talents.” At 24, Amrit continues to do just that, known across the fashion industry as one of the most exciting and dynamic talents, most recently showcased as the face of Chloé’s fragrance. Beyond modelling, she is known for her passion for painting, sculpting, and writing. She founded the Dharath Foundation, which advocates for environmental protection and children’s welfare worldwide, and has begun studying acting. Amrit is always looking to change, expand her understanding, and embrace new challenges. Born in India and raised in Paris, a child of nature’s simplest beauty yet shaped by the luxuries of fashion, Amrit symbolises the expansiveness of art, giving voice to expressions yet to be discovered.

James Wright: Though we live in a globalised world, your upbringing in Punjab was very rural: a small, remote village with only family as neighbours. Given that we’re speaking just as you’ve arrived back in India, can we start by talking a little about the environment and setting you grew up in?

Amé Amrit : It’s very different here. My neighbours are my uncles–I can walk into their homes, eat something, and go back to mine. It’s a beautiful community, surrounded by family, nature, and animals. My family home is a farmhouse, with cows, buffaloes, goats, chickens, and larva wood all around us. I often felt like this was where I would live and die – this was my whole world. Yes, we had access to TV (American TV) and the internet and I was curious about the world beyond the four walls of my home. I dreamed of one day exploring and discovering what was out there. I spent a lot of time by myself, cultivating my love for art. But there were no museums or art supply stores, not even within 200 kilometres, so I made my own supplies with charcoal and guava wood.

The life I have now in the West, the things I’ve done through fashion and art, were and are beyond my wildest dreams. It feels like that destination was always waiting for me – as if it was just a matter of geography, and one day I had to make the move, cross the bridge, and discover a whole new world. My curiosity led me to art and studying fine art brought me to Paris. Fashion only accidentally followed. 

JW: You’ve spoken about noticing the “subconscious limitations” women still feel in certain spaces in Indian life; how the map of your life is still defined by a key set of expectations. Growing up, what did you feel those were?

AA: There is a conventional path everyone is expected to follow: you grow up in your parents’ home, finish college, get married, have kids, and so on. So, at fourteen or fifteen, dreaming of becoming an artist, no one understands you. There was a longstanding ignorance – artists didn’t exist in my society, especially not in my village. Art is not seen as something of value. Everything is dictated by what society considers the proper path. You’re not supposed to say, “I want to do something else.” 

These were some of my challenges, alongside growing up with sisters in a society that values sons. My father was often looked down on and pitied for having daughters. But kudos to my parents – they raised us above these challenges. Even as kids, no matter where my curiosity led, if I asked my mum for art supplies, she would go into the city to get them for me. 

In this way, even if unconsciously, my parents played a huge role in supporting my passion, trusting me in ways they didn’t fully understand. I feel lucky to have had their support in this realm of the world. They were like winds or a source of energy that kept me from giving up, allowing me to explore my interests deeply. In school, I formally studied mechanical engineering, but it wasn’t the path I wanted to take. I trust the creative side of my brain more than the logical side. Art held more meaning to me – it carried a sensibility and a message. It spans generations, crossing one century to the next. I made it very clear to my parents: “Call me crazy, but this is what I want to do.” 

JW: Despite there not being obvious examples locally of women who had succeeded in the arts, you knew intuitively it was something you wanted to work towards?

AA: I was always fascinated by words and writing; I even wrote my first book at eight. I didn’t know it would be called a poetry book – I was simply writing about things: flowers and my observations of the world around me. There was no such thing as art. I didn’t see it as something people invested their lives in. Then came the internet. My sister and I shared a phone and we discovered YouTube. I loved watching National Geographic and documentaries. I learned about Picasso and Hokusai. Even now, Hokusai’s ‘Fuji Mountain’ is a big symbolic part of my life. I saw it in real life a month ago – something my fourteen-year-old self would never have believed was real. 

Then I watched a documentary on Frida Kahlo and realised women do this too. That’s when I started locking myself in my room after school to create. I learned everything from YouTube – understood colours, the complexities of materials, and different textures – and began to see what it all meant to me.

JW: I would argue that it hasn't actually taken you long to realise what you want to do. For all the internet's ills, its early promise of democratising information was a key factor in why it could be a force for good – these resources have been foundational to your development.

AA: I used to think the ‘Great Wave’ and ‘Mount Fuji’ were just creations of Hokusai’s imagination. I had no idea they were real. I was shocked when I realised they were, that I could actually go see the mountain featured in all his paintings. In a way, they became reminders to me that I can rise and reach my dreams. All my goals and aspirations—it's like climbing that mountain.

JW: You’ve said you were shy and quizzical as a child – the trees were your best friend, but the internet played a huge role in expanding your understanding of the history of art and the practice of it. You applied to art school in Paris after seeing it via an Instagram hashtag – there was one week until the application deadlines closed. You were accepted.

AA: Art was always in the back of my mind, but I had a physical obstacle that sometimes left me feeling hopeless. I was shy and not very talkative. I didn’t know what to do with myself. I see myself here, in this place, as the roots of a large tree. To branch out and reach different dimensions of myself as an artist and as a human being, it took time to convince myself — and those around me — that this was what I wanted to do. I continued to invest a lot of energy into writing, drawing, learning, and practising as much as I could. After a few years, the dots began to connect, and I became convinced this was my path. But now I had an even bigger mountain to climb: convincing everyone else. It took a year or more. I came across a hashtag for an art school in Paris, and the application deadline was just a week away. After buying everything I needed from the closest city to us in India, I locked myself in my room, treating it like my retreat, and created my portfolio in six, maybe seven days. I got an interview, and then I got in.

That moment remains very precious to me. It was when I realised you could do things differently from the people around you. While everyone was worried, questioning what I was doing in my room, wondering if I was insane, I was out here, literally building a mountain. That’s how I got to Paris.

JW: What was it like being in Paris for the first time after spending your whole life in Punjab? Can you recall the sensations and the overwhelming experience of a vast, metropolitan European city?

AA: I used to write letters to Paris and the Eiffel Tower, romanticising the idea that this would be my life. Because for me, Paris was more than a place; it was a person, somewhat like a lover. When I finally made my pilgrimage and moved to Paris, my first thought was, “Why are the clouds so low?” The physical landscapes and everything around me were fascinating, even as I was experiencing a number of challenges. But I stood by my choice. 

I have a home in India, but I also consider Paris a home. I always say, “Paris to Punjab, Punjab to Paris, Paris to Punjab” – a magnetic field of my life. Two different poles that stir two different energies: one place keeps me grounded, and the other keeps me driven. It’s a balance I only discovered by going there.

JW: Your very first shoot was with Vogue Paris (not normal…) Though, I’m more interested to hear about another Vogue cover story that was actually shot in your village in India. How do you think it made your family feel, seeing you at work having your picture taken after all that time away from home?

AA: The shoot was originally supposed to take place in Paris, but at the time, I was living in LA. They were open to shooting in either city, as they wanted to capture me at home. But I thought, home is somewhere else. If we really wanted to tell a story about the symbolic meaning of home, then we needed to shoot at my childhood home. When the team was trying to arrive, the problem was that there were no house numbers – our location is not on Google Maps. We used landmarks – like a tree, a pink house or this door or that, which was challenging but they found us. We shot for two days, in the fields or next to an embroidery my mother made. It was surreal to be shooting for one of the biggest fashion magazines at my home.

We speak about separation and the moments that bridge my life together; this was one of them. The Vogue story was about the past, present and future, aligning this place in this space that I created, crafting a beautiful story that represents  who I am as a person. People have an idea. They see me as an artist, as a model, as an activist – or whatever terminology that they use – but I feel like it’s important to be seen as a human being. I wanted to be fully involved in the process so that it would genuinely reflect the lifestyle, landscapes, beauty, and simplicity of the environment I come from. It felt like an homage – a moment of giving back. Bringing Vogue to my home, shooting over those two days with my uncles and the villagers witnessing it, was my way of saying, “You’re part of this world. I see you, you see me, and you’re part of this story.”

It also felt like a significant step against the stigma people have had towards models. Fashion seems so far removed; it has often been seen as just selling your body or posting pictures on social media. But through that shoot, people began to understand more about what I do, what fashion and modelling really are, and started to see it more positively.

JW: In industries so rooted in immediacy, I find more and more that home and a sense of place is one of the only things that grounds us spiritually and gives us a sense of self. Looking at your work – whether it's modelling, art, or poetry – there's a sense of bridging, of connecting tradition with innovation, respecting heritage while embracing difference. Would you agree?

AA: I think about this a lot – these are my roots. Even as I grow and evolve, branching out and discovering different sides of myself, staying grounded is very important to me. While I think deeply and trust my instincts, much of what I've learned comes from navigating different sides of the coin, so it's nice to come back to India and unravel new ideas. The more I see the world here, the more I see the world as a whole. I never compare these two worlds or realms; instead, I reflect and ask myself, "What am I saying?" and then act.

Many of my opportunities have come from philosophically challenging myself with questions and narratives about being a woman, an artist, and all the different hats I wear. It’s a big gift from the East to look at the bigger picture spiritually. This society is meditative – even in simple things like making tea or cooking, people take their time.

When I'm in India, I spend two or three hours cooking, prepping, slowing down into stillness. The other side of the world, however, is driven by finances and anxiety – it's a race. Of course, it offers access to opportunities and the freedom to create. But I also deeply believe in the roots of Punjabi culture, which remind me to stay grounded and have faith in life, which in turn allows me to have faith in myself. That’s something I’ve come to appreciate more from living in the West.

I carry this with me everywhere I go. Everything I need is within; it's about understanding which moment, which part of my geographical home, holds the message that is needed. For me, the idea of home is about sustaining a feeling. It’s not just about comfort, but about comforting yourself in a way that is truthful.

JW: You’ve just left London to fly to Delhi. When did you decide to open another un-explored creative door to study at RADA? Did cinema and Bollywood play a big part in your childhood?

AA: This is a new branch. I dreaded watching films growing up. I liked documentaries: the Discovery Channel, National Geographic, as I was curious about the world. But now, I have a drive to get involved in cinema that I just have to follow, similar to how I ended up in fashion. I had my inner obstacles and challenges (in fashion) from the beginning—I was shy, I didn’t perceive myself as physically beautiful, and I didn't have a ton of self esteem...but it was never an idea - it was like a force.

I have never paid any mind to internal problems because I am more consumed by my own curiosity. I stay on my  own track, and when things come forward, I take what I can, and what I can’t, I’m grateful for too. So, I’ve stumbled into film – from watching Kurosawa and Tarkovsky. In Bollywood, we have musicals that follow a pattern: there is a romance, there’s action, but in a Kurosawa or Tarkovsky film you see cinematic poetry. That’s when the light bulb went off. 

As an artist, we have our embedded stories and seek appropriate mediums in which to bring those stories to life, because there is something I wish to express that I can translate on paper, or sculpt. But certain messages, certain narratives and stories, can only be experienced through cinema. So, I started taking acting classes and I fell in love with the process. 

JW: Growing-up with a rooted sense of charity, as well as first-hand exposure to agricultural farming practices, you founded Dharath with a view to address more sustainable farming practices, reforesting and support for rural communities. Why did you feel compelled to start the charity?

 AA: My parents are farmers, as are my uncles, and I grew up helping them on the farms. I developed a close relationship with the soil, the plants, and the way everything evolves. When I was fourteen, we had a programme in school called Science Congress, which aimed to visit different villages and ask farmers about their practices—whether they used pesticides or compost, how they worked their farms. Somehow, I was appointed the leader of the group. We spent weeks visiting homes, facing obstacles as people were unsure why these young kids were asking them all these questions. We collected data, took soil samples, and performed pH tests. After a month, we returned with tailored solutions for each farmer. That was the first time I became socially involved in this cause.

I grew up in a very sustainable environment, always mindful of protecting the environment. Coming back, I kept asking myself, What can I do for my community? What can I create? After COVID, I witnessed rapid changes – the landscape had completely altered. With new financial access, I decided to act. I spoke with my father, who remains deeply involved, and we decided to build a foundation to help sustain the world I grew up in. Many of the solutions we promote are specific to the location. Problems differ across the world; here, deforestation is a significant issue, but it impacts every part of life. We're educating many traditional village farmers about sustainable techniques, convincing them that these new methods are better not just for their soil, but for their overall farming practice.

I grew up in a very sustainable environment, always mindful of protecting the environment. Coming back, I kept asking myself, What can I do for my community? What can I create? After COVID, I witnessed rapid changes – the landscape had completely altered. With new financial access, I decided to act. I spoke with my father, who remains deeply involved, and we decided to build a foundation to help sustain the world I grew up in. Many of the solutions we promote are specific to the location. Problems differ across the world; here, deforestation is a significant issue, but it impacts every part of life. We're educating many traditional village farmers about sustainable techniques, convincing them that these new methods are better not just for their soil, but for their overall farming practice.

Additionally, in these countries with large farming communities, we’re seeing a disproportionate increase in suicides,  as a result of working beyond their means, an inability to yield a big enough harvest and they end up in debt. And so, it’s a threat to society, not only environmentally, but socially. So a lot of the foundation is about driving awareness and convincing people to change their ways. 

JW: How would you like to see the Foundation expand over the next ten years? Are the key milestones you hope it will achieve?

AA: We’re still in the early stages, but we’re building a sister charity base in Tokyo, Japan. Through tackling these kinds of issues, I've met many like-minded individuals. However, when it comes to addressing tangible issues specific to a place and community, you have to be open to learning about what you don’t yet know and willing to share what might be applicable. I feel like I am finding these minds and seeing opportunities for further expansion. One way we work is through partnerships with local charities. It’s about becoming an umbrella – connecting with charities, brands, local ethical suppliers, and activists. This also helps reduce my carbon footprint.

I've also started to involve fashion, given its significant role in sustainability and its potential to contribute positively. We all have to take responsibility and take action. Recently, I've worked with the United Nations in India, because I believe expansion is never about one person; it’s about community-based collective work. It's about discussing the reports, focusing on the issues, calling out what’s actually happening around us, and aligning ourselves to uncover solutions.

One key principle in this kind of work is giving people grace, even for their ignorance. I don’t believe in extremism or in the idea that there’s only one way to do things. You have to offer understanding for the way people do things, even if it’s harmful to the planet. Often, this comes from conditioning, a lack of education, and not having access to information about future problems. This is the only way to do this work and to get more people involved.

We have to see this as our responsibility and duty, recognising where everyone is starting and giving them the grace to grow. You can’t put a roadblock in front of people just because you believe you're right. There’s no such thing. Everything is flexible; everything is changing.

Follow Amrit @ameamrit