Zamminlun Singson was just an infant when conflict first touched his life. His village, Sumtukphai, in Manipur’s Churachandpur district, was caught in the ripple effects of violence when a neighboring village was attacked. Fearing for their safety, his family—along with many others—fled to nearby Ngurte, another village. That unrest in 1997 was the result of intense clashes between two communities, who fought bitterly before eventually finding a path to reconciliation in the years that followed.
Carried on his mother’s back, he fled with his family, leaving behind their home, belongings, and everything they had ever known. Too young to remember the fear, but old enough now to carry its weight, Zamminlun’s life has been shaped by the echoes of violence and the quiet resilience of survival. His family resettled in Ngurte village, where his younger siblings were born and where a new chapter began — not untouched by loss, but grounded in grace.

In 2016, when a second wave of conflict erupted, he was 19 — no longer shielded by innocence, but wide-eyed to the realities of human suffering. These experiences did not harden him. Instead, they sowed the seeds of a lifelong pursuit: peace.

Today, Zamminlun Singson stands as a confident and self-aware artist — a self-taught hyperrealist, teacher, and peace advocate who has come a long way from the boy once carried on his mother’s back through conflict. Grounded in discipline and driven by purpose, he spends his days immersed in artmaking and mentoring over 400 students across his studios in Imphal and Churachandpur. His drawings — intricate, emotional, and profoundly human — serve as vessels for memory and meaning, shaped by his father’s final wish for peace and the turbulence of a world gripped by war, climate crisis, and displacement.

With every piece, Zamminlun channels not only his past but his growing perspective on the global stage. On the same day Russia invaded Ukraine, he launched The Root of Peace, a project born of urgency and conviction, addressing global crises through artistic storytelling — from the Israel-Palestine conflict to earthquakes in Myanmar and Taiwan, and the deeply personal trauma of the Kuki-Zo and Meitei clashes in his native Manipur.

Now more connected than ever, he moves confidently through the international art scene, meeting curators, collectors, and collaborators who recognize the power of his vision. His recent trip to Dubai marks a new chapter — one of creative partnership and possibility, as he explores global collaborations to expand the reach of his message.

Through exhibitions across India and abroad — from Mumbai to Taipei to Grand Rapids, Michigan — Zamminlun’s work has become both a mirror of pain and a window into peace. For him, art is more than expression; it is heritage, healing, and a quiet but powerful form of resistance.

To understand the essence of his work, The Northeast Stories ask Zamminlun about his materials and artistic journey and beyond.

Your father’s last wish was for peace, and now you carry that forward through your projects like The Root of Peace and Save Wildlife. How do these initiatives reflect your artistic and personal mission?

My father was a simple man, a farmer, but his love for nature and humanity was profound. When he passed away in 2017, his final wish was for peace — not just for our family, but for the world. That became my guiding light. The Root of Peace is my response to the suffering I see around the globe — wars, disasters, divisions. I want to use art as a mirror and a bridge: to reflect our reality, but also to connect us through empathy. With Save Wildlife, I’m extending that message to the natural world, because peace must include all living beings. I believe that when we respect nature, we also learn how to live peacefully with each other.

Your art is shaped by your personal experience growing up in a conflict-ridden region. How has that background—and the ongoing crisis in Manipur—influenced your journey as a peacemaker and artist?

rowing up in Sumtukphai, a small village just 6 to 7 kilometers from Lamka in Manipur’s Churachandpur district, I experienced conflict at a very young age when my family had to flee our home. The village, made up of just 14 to 15 houses, had no schools, no shops, and no basic infrastructure — only close-knit families and quiet resilience. For school, I had to travel nearly 8 to 9 kilometers by foot or cycle to reach CTS (Children Training Higher Secondary School) on S.A. Road. Even though I was too young to understand the reasons behind our displacement, that early rupture left a deep mark on me. I began to see how violence doesn’t just destroy physical spaces — it fragments communities, erases identities, and rewrites futures. That understanding laid the foundation for my journey as an artist. Through my drawings, I don’t just express grief or memory; I try to imagine and offer a vision of healing, dignity, and reconciliation.

The ongoing violence in Manipur, especially the clashes between the Kuki-Zo people and Meitei communities, has only made this mission more urgent. What we are seeing now is not just physical destruction, but deep psychological wounds. Entire communities have been paralysed — neighbours turned strangers, places of worship and memory reduced to ash. As someone who believes deeply in the power of art to build bridges, I feel an even greater responsibility to create work that speaks to this moment — to remind people of our shared humanity, and to ask the difficult question: what does peace look like, and what will it take to get there? Through my art, I try to offer at least part of an answer.

What do the materials you use in your art represent to you, especially given that you often use unconventional tools?

The materials I use are symbolic. Growing up in a place where resources were scarce, I learned to find value in what others might discard. Old pencils, broken brushes, even used toothbrushes—these were tools that I transformed into instruments of creativity. For me, these materials represent resilience. They are like the people of my homeland who have endured so much yet continue to find strength. Art is not about perfection or expensive materials; it's about the message you convey. These unconventional tools are a reminder that beauty can emerge from even the most unlikely places.

Your art is incredibly detailed. How does this hyperrealist style reflect your personal philosophy or experiences?

Hyperrealism allows me to communicate the complexity of life—the struggles and the beauty that exist side by side. Growing up in conflict, I learned that life is not just about what we see at the surface but also about what lies beneath. Every wrinkle, every leaf, every shadow in my art is a reflection of that deeper truth. It’s about capturing the emotional essence of a subject, not just its appearance. In a way, my art is like my journey—painstaking, but also deeply rewarding. It forces both me and the viewer to engage with the world in its most honest, raw form.

How has your father’s wish for peace influenced your choice of subjects and materials in your artwork?

My father’s wish for peace is the driving force behind my work. He taught me to love nature, to see the interconnectedness of all life. His passing in 2017 was a turning point for me. It made me question why there is so much suffering in the world. That’s when I started “The Root of Peace” project. In my artwork, I use nature and wildlife as symbols of peace and harmony. The materials I choose, the way I depict the world, all stem from this desire to find common ground. Peace is the foundation of everything—without it, nothing thrives, whether it's a community or the environment. I want to show the world that the path to peace is through understanding and respect for all forms of life.

 You are beginning achieve recognitation internationally with your hyperrealist works, including winning the 2020 International Artist Grand Prize. How did you find the confidence to pursue art professionally, despite not having formal training?

The journey was not easy. I never considered art as a profession until much later in life. My real turning point came in 2019 when I started drawing portraits of my colleagues during my weekend breaks in Delhi. Their encouragement led me to pursue my childhood passion seriously. But even then, I didn’t have the luxury of formal training. I turned to Google and began learning techniques on my own. It wasn’t just about technique; it was about passion, perseverance, and the drive to improve. Winning the International Artist Grand Prize was a shock to me, but it affirmed that perseverance does pay off. I still consider Google my beloved teacher, and I’ll always keep learning.

How do you see the role of your art in addressing the urgent global issues like climate change, wildlife preservation, and social justice?

I have come to understand that art is a universal language. It has the power to bring people together and spark change. Through my work, I am now keen to address issue and create awareness about climate change, wildlife conservation, and the social injustices that plague our world and my world. The natural world has always been a source of inspiration for me. But I’ve seen how fragile it is, how quickly it can be destroyed. By depicting animals and nature in my art, I hope to remind people of their responsibility to protect our environment. Through projects like “Save Wildlife,” I urge viewers to see the beauty in the world and to understand the importance of preserving it for future generations. My art isn’t just about aesthetics; it’s a call to action — a reminder that we all have a part to play in making the world a better place.