BY JANE HARVEY
An Interview with Cheryl Anita Miller at Bengaluru’s Most Unusual Museum
A Place That Refuses to Sit Still
BANGALURU —
There are museums one walks through politely, hands clasped behind the back, pausing briefly before each work.
And then there are places like the Miller Museum of Anamorphic Art, where standing still is quite useless.
Tucked away on Carlston Road in Cooke Town, the museum feels less like a gallery and more like an elegant puzzle, one that quietly insists you participate. The air carries the gentle fragrance of jasmine and sandalwood, soft music drifts through the space, and the artworks themselves appear… unresolved.
At first glance, nothing quite makes sense. Lines stretch unnaturally. Faces dissolve into abstraction. Forms appear fractured, almost chaotic. Until you move.
A step to the side. A slight crouch. Or, most intriguingly, a glance into a polished mirrored cylinder placed before the work.
And then, with almost theatrical precision, the image resolves.
A face appears where none existed. A composition finds its balance. What seemed incomprehensible becomes suddenly, undeniably clear. It is both disorienting and rather marvelous.
The origins of this peculiar art form stretch back to the Renaissance, explored by figures such as Leonardo da Vinci, who delighted in the interplay between perception and reality. Yet by the 18th century, anamorphic art had largely slipped into obscurity its technical demands perhaps too exacting for modern practice.
That is, until Shereen Miller (pictured below).
Leaving One Life to Begin Another
It is here that the story turns to her daughter, Cheryl Anita Miller (below), who now serves as founder and director of the museum.
When I meet her, she carries herself with composure, though there is a discernible weight behind it grief, certainly, but also something steadier. Resolve, perhaps.
“I had to trust my inner voice,” she tells me, with a quiet certainty.
For twenty-five years, she had built a successful career in aviation in the United States, holding senior roles across major cities. It was a life of structure, achievement, and predictability.
And then, in 2021, she left it.
Her mother, then in her eighties, had expressed a final wish: to return home and create a museum dedicated entirely to anamorphic art.
Construction began in 2022. The challenges were considerable, logistical, emotional, and, at times, deeply personal.
And then, just one month before the museum construction was completed, Shereen Miller passed away.
A Museum Built on Devotion
What stands today is more than a museum. It is, quite simply, a continuation.
Every detail within the space reflects a sensibility that feels both personal and intentional—the interplay of light, the presence of nature, the gentle orchestration of sound and scent.
It is, as Cheryl describes it, “a love letter” to the city her mother never stopped calling home.
Visitors are not merely observers here. They are participants in an unfolding experience, one that requires patience, curiosity, and a willingness to see differently.
And perhaps that is the quiet lesson at the heart of it all.
That what appears distorted may, with the right perspective, reveal itself as something rather beautiful.
The Legacy Continues
Today, the legacy of Shereen Miller rests in the hands of her daughter.
What began as a mother’s vision has become a lasting cultural landmark, one that returns not only an art form to relevance, but a story to its place of origin.
In an age of instant images and fleeting attention, the Miller Museum offers something altogether rarer:
An invitation to slow down. To look again. And to discover that perception, much like life itself, is rarely fixed – but always waiting to be understood from another angle.
