The Indian art market is reported to be booming. More art is being sold today in the country than ever before, and for higher prices – a sea-change in the market evidenced by the repeated shattering of auction records: last September, a single sale at the New Delhi auction house Saffronart made USD 40.2 million, while, in March, a 1954 painting by the Modernist master Maqbool Fida Husain sold for USD 13.8 million at Christie’s in New York. With the Indian economy experiencing strong growth (the IMF recently upgraded India’s 2025–26 GDP growth from 6.6% to 7.3%), there is every chance the current upswing in the market will be sustainable, but buyers’ tastes remain cautious, focused on bankable names and conventional genres.

And, of course, we have seen the Indian art market boom before, around 20 years ago. So, what makes today so different?

Gallerists agree that the Indian art market has been defined by three distinct phases. The 1950s saw an unprecedented spurt of creativity, when artists and thought leaders of the newly independent nation sought to engage with their roots and with the world, while innovating a unique artistic idiom of their own. But, in the absence of a developed market, artists such as Syed Haider Raza and Francis Newton Souza moved abroad, while others, such as M. F. Hussain, took large-scale commissions from industrialists or the state. In 2025, those three artists’ combined sales at auction made more than USD 40 million, but in the late 20th century, they could not support a local gallery scene. ‘We were pretty hand-to-mouth,’ says the gallerist Shireen Gandhy, whose parents founded Chemould Prescott Road in 1963. ‘The artists generally got by because of a few select, ardent collectors like Homi Bhabha or Jehangir Nicholson.

That changed in 1987, when Christie’s held a charity auction at the glamorous Taj Mahal Hotel in Bombay, as it was then known. ‘Prices jumped up by a factor of 10,’ Gandhy says. However, it was still centered around a few big names, according to Amrita Jhaveri, the founder of Jhaveri Contemporary, who was then just beginning her career. In the early 2000s, the market for Indian art entered a second boom phase, both at home and abroad. Around this time, Indian galleries and auction houses started to assert themselves on the international scene, with Saffronart (founded in 2000) selling in New York City and London. Prices rose almost exponentially: ‘Up until 2003, we were trying to break a ceiling of USD 100,000,’ says Minal Vazirani, one of Saffronart’s cofounders. ‘By 2005, the ceiling was USD 1,000,000, and in December 2005, a Hussain sold for USD 1.5 million.’ Back then, she adds, ‘60–70% of our buyers were outside India,’ signaling that Indian art had arrived as a global asset class.

That boom, however, was followed by a bust, with the global financial crash in 2008. ‘That cycle was full of things like art funds, which took a purely financial and speculative approach,’ Jhaveri says. Buyers prioritized quantity over quality. ‘People would come with lists of artists they wanted to tick off buying – whatever scrap they could get,’ Gandhy recalls. ‘There was a headiness without any sense of education or knowledge.’

Today’s boom, according to Indian art professionals, feels different. Gallerists report that the overwhelming majority of buyers are now Indian or based in India and 60–80% are new to the market. Likewise, the growth of art fairs reflects an increase in the number of collectors: the Delhi-based India Art Fair has more exhibitors than ever before, and inspired the launch of Art Mumbai in 2023. ‘Twenty years ago, Indians wouldn’t have had the money to support these fairs,’ says Conor Macklin, a cofounder of the London-based Grosvenor Gallery, which deals in South Asian Modern art. ‘But now you’re seeing foreign galleries coming to India to sell, and foreign museums coming to find donors.’

Not all of this growth is necessarily driven by a love of art: ‘Real estate in India has gone crazy,’ Gandhy says. ‘So, people have huge amounts of walls to fill up.’ Nevertheless, there are indications of a new engagement with art among younger Indians, who ‘now have the means to collect the art of their own generation,’ Jhaveri says. Joshua Nassiri of Experimenter reports that his younger clients tend to ‘acquire works early and follow the artist’s career more closely,’ while amplifying artists in their collection through social media. Gandhy’s daughter, Atyaan Jungalwala, runs a separate space, Chemould CoLab, dedicated to bringing in new buyers and younger artists, at a slightly lower price point. She sells works to new buyers for anywhere between a few hundred and a few thousand dollars, while Chemould Prescott Road typically sells works for around USD 80,000.

Another major break from the past is the pitch of academic and museum interest; events such as the Kochi-Muziris Biennale are an important factor in nurturing institutional interest in contemporary art. This year, India’s first pavilion at the Venice Biennale for seven years will help to ‘put the building blocks in place so it’s not just going to blow away at the first wind,’ Jhaveri says.

Foreign institutions have also done valuable work to highlight the alternative kinds of art that the Indian market largely eschews: ‘[International] museums interested in India are very turned on by political work,’ says Sumesh Sharma of Strangers House, a Mumbai-based gallery specializing in artists from non-traditional backgrounds.

‘People were not addressing social and cultural issues 10 years ago,’ says the artist and curator Prabhakar Kamble, who comes from the Dalit community, a group historically marginalized because of the Indian caste system. ‘But now, after 10 years of raising awareness through our art, every Indian art gallery is looking for at least one Dalit artist in their roster.’ Sharma calls this a ‘trickle-down effect’ resulting from international interest.

The Indian art market also has to contend with the specter of politics in a country which has been run by a muscular Hindu-nationalist government since 2014. Criticism of the government or its ideology may prove unpopular with cautious Indian buyers, while art schools ‘actively discourage students from doing any political kind of art,’ Sharma notes, adding that government funding gets funneled towards those who ‘adhere to a particular political ideology.’ It is still possible to show politically challenging work, according to Gandhy, as long as it is subtle and nuanced enough to not provoke outrage. And, as for Pakistani art, ‘forget about it,’ Jhaveri says. Not only has there been ‘pushback from buyers,’ Jhaveri says, but there is also ‘a 200% import duty on any Pakistani art.’

Outside the state, private institutional patronage is still narrow, centered largely around one woman, Kiran Nadar, the Delhi-based billionaire collector whose private museum, founded in 2010, will be South Asia’s largest cultural center by the time its new dedicated space opens in 2027. ‘There’s only one museum we are selling to, really,’ Gandhy says, while Sharma estimates there are only ‘15 mature, serious buyers in the country.’

Vazirani says the Indian auction market had its best year ever in 2025, but record prices are still clustered around a few established names. Others caution that the primary market is not quite so healthy and, as the share of the Indian economy dedicated to art increases, emerging artists risk becoming ‘commercialized too early, because the commercial aspect is dominant in India,’ Jhaveri suggests.

Will that change? Greater capital will surely help to create an ecosystem that nurtures artists through non-commercial exhibitions, residencies, and commissions. But it will depend how that capital is used. For now, as Gandhy puts it, ‘everyone is extremely cautious.’