It Takes One Single Dream: A Journey from Imphal

Vik Sorensangbam *

Hero Statue :: Pix - vik3d.com

Every journey begins with a single step, but mine started with a single dream.

I grew up in Imphal, a city rich in culture, surrounded by mountains and quiet resilience. It wasn't known for its film studios or tech hubs. But it had something even more powerful: space to dream. And I dreamed big.

Some of my earliest inspiration came from the stories that shaped entire generations. I remember vividly watching Superman: The Movie at a local cinema with my whole family. A moment etched into my memory forever.

That film, alongside The NeverEnding Story, Star Wars, Terminator 2, and the original King Kong, weren't just movies to me. They were gateways into other dimensions. They taught me that emotion, fantasy, and technology could come together to tell stories bigger than life. I didn't just want to watch those worlds, I wanted to craft them.

At the same time, literature offered its own kind of magic. I fell in love with H.G. Wells' The Time Machine and The First Men in the Moon didn't just expand my imagination, they gave it structure. They taught me that wonder could be engineered.

Hans Christian Andersen's The Little Mermaid left a lasting mark on my soul, with its haunting melancholy and deep emotional truth. And Arabian Nights, especially the stories of Sinbad the Sailor, opened the door to adventure, mystery, and the kind of limitless world-building that would later define my creative work.

But not all my heroes lived in books or movies.

One of the most enduring influences came in purple tights, with twin pistols and a ring that left a skull mark—The Phantom, created by Lee Falk. He wasn't a superhero with powers. He was human, a protector whose strength came from legacy, purpose, and belief in justice. That idea of a hero grounded in myth and mystery, passed down across generations, left a lasting impression on how I view characters, and what makes them eternal.

And I didn't miss the others—Superman, with his quiet strength and unwavering hope, and Batman, the rich man who turned trauma into purpose. These DC legends shaped my sense of duality, of what it means to wear a mask—not to hide, but to reveal who you truly are inside. They taught me that characters are not just visuals. They are emotions, choices, and symbols. That realization is what made me a character artist throughout my 3D career.

Then came the monsters and creatures.

For as long as I can remember, I was haunted by them. Strange creatures lurking in dreams, shadows that never quite left. As a child, I didn't always understand them, but I felt them. I drew them, shaped them, and named them. Over time, I realized they weren't there to torment me; on the contrary, they were there to guide me. The monsters became my muses.

And then there was the sky.

I'll never forget the moment I saw Halley's Comet in 1986. A streak of light cutting through the infinite dark, it had felt like the universe was speaking in silence. That single moment stitched together everything I loved: mystery, science, beauty, and timelessness. It made me feel small and limitless at the same time. And that's what art is supposed to do.

Back then, I didn't know what a visual effects artist was. I didn't have access to high-end computers or design software. But I did have sketchpads, broken pencils, and time. I would draw for hours. Characters, landscapes, machines, and moods—building a language of visuals before I even realized I was doing it.

There was no straight path to follow. I had to carve one.

Eventually, that path took me across the world, to Canada. It was a leap not just of distance, but of faith. I arrived with ambition in my suitcase and hunger in my eyes.

Education

I enrolled at Vancouver Film School (VFS), where I completed a diploma in 3D Animation & Visual Effects in 2005. At VFS, I was mentored by professionals who had worked on landmark films like Disney's Tarzan, Jumanji, and other Hollywood milestones. These mentors didn't just teach me technique; they shaped how I approached storytelling as a visual artist.

By the end of my studies, my performance stood out so much that I was invited to work as a modeling teaching assistant. I mentored final-semester students, shared my passion, and supported the next generation of talent—just as I had once been guided.

Background & Identity

Growing up in Manipur, a region rich with cultural storytelling and artisanal heritage, I developed an early interest in the arts and crafts of my homeland. I channeled that inspiration into a digital canvas, merging tradition with technology. My journey from Imphal to the global stage has been driven by perseverance, self-learning, and a deep desire to represent underrepresented voices in global media.

Today, I serve not only as an artist, but as a mentor and role model for aspiring creators—especially those from India and Southeast Asia who may not always see themselves reflected in the industries they dream of joining.

Career Highlights

Over the years, I've worked on numerous high-profile Hollywood productions and award-winning VFX projects. I'm known for delivering photorealistic and emotionally expressive characters and creatures that play key roles in major blockbuster films.

One of my most meaningful contributions was working with director J.J. Abrams on the character C-3PO for Star Wars: The Rise of Skywalker, helping to bring the iconic droid to life with exceptional detail and nuance.

In addition to creature and character modeling, I've also specialized in digital double creation. I played a pivotal role in crafting a realistic digital double of Gal Gadot for the action thriller Heart of Stone, and contributed to the digital likenesses of Dwayne Johnson and the mythical Krampus for the holiday action film Red One.

I stepped into cities where no one knew my name, into industries I had only admired from afar. I faced rejection, confusion, and sometimes even injustice. At one point, I lost the job I had worked years to get—not because I failed, but because sometimes paths are interrupted. But I never stopped walking.

This journey was never about talent alone. It's about perseverance, evolution, the will to keep going. I've never considered myself perfect. What I am is relentless. I keep learning. I adapt. I evolve. I embrace every new tool and every shift in the industry, not out of obligation, but out of love.

Being an artist isn't just about visuals. It's about emotion, story, atmosphere. It's about making people feel something real, even in a world made of pixels or paint. Whether it's joy, fear, wonder, or nostalgia, I live for that connection.

I've had setbacks; sudden endings, quiet heartbreaks. But I never stopped creating, for I didn't choose this path casually. It was always in me. In the films, in the books, in the stars. And yes, even in the monsters and creatures.

So when people ask why I chose to be an artist, I say this:
I didn't just choose it—it chose me. And I've been honoring it ever since.

Because in the end, it's not about being born with a gift.
It's about never giving up on the spark.
About finding meaning in every shadow.
About chasing beauty, even when it hides in the dark.

And it all started in Imphal—with one single dream.