"Making something with my hands is what gives me joy"
What began as a labor of love has evolved into a dynamic creative platform.
What began as creating something for her daughter soon blossomed into a passionate pursuit. Zereh, a miniature artist based in Pune, takes us through her journey, reminding us that creativity knows no age and that it’s never too late to follow your heart.
ZEREH tell us a bit about what you do and what drives you to do it.
I create miniatures, like collectible pieces. I’m especially drawn to making miniatures that feel timeworn, as if they hold a story or a bit of history within them. I enjoy crafting pieces that evoke a sense of heritage or nostalgia—something vintage, even if it's simple, as long as it feels like it has a past.
I come from a corporate background; this happened quite serendipitously. I left my job when my daughter was born, and while I loved spending time with her, I also felt the urge to make something with my hands. So I started creating little things for her toys—sometimes crocheted items or small accessories.
When she was about three or four, she asked me to make a tiny house for her toy hedgehog. That was the beginning. It all started in a very simple, rough way, but over time, the miniatures became more refined and realistic.
There was always a creative side to me...
Although my daughter played a big part, I think I’ve always needed a creative outlet, a way to express myself. I don’t have a formal background in art—I never went to art school—but I’ve always been a very creative person.
As a child, I loved making things—small knick knacks for my room, little handmade objects. I was always inclined toward crafting and creating with my hands. Even in my professional life, my roles often had a creative component. I designed websites and worked on visual layouts for readers. There was always room for imagination and design.
I’ve also always loved making spaces beautiful—whether it’s decorating my home, tending to my garden, or simply curating a warm, welcoming environment. I enjoy things that are well-made and thoughtfully put together. That love for aesthetics and making is a constant in my life, and I think that’s what continues to fuel my work.
How does a commissioned project work?
Lately, I’ve started taking on fewer commissions than I used to. I’m more selective now—I prefer projects that give me creative freedom and that I truly enjoy working on. In the past, I used to do quite a few room replicas. People would find me through Instagram—that's really where I showcase my work and where most of my commissions come from.
Earlier on, I did a mix of things—some commissions where I had complete creative freedom, and others where I was asked to replicate parts of rooms and then build in meaningful elements. These days, while I still take on replicas, I’m a bit more selective. I find myself gravitating toward briefs that give me space to interpret and create something personal.
Instead of replicating an entire room, I now often suggest focusing on a meaningful corner—something intimate and significant to the client. I’ve found those kinds of commissions to be more fulfilling.
One of my favorites was for a couple’s anniversary—they wanted a quiet garden scene with a wine bottle, something that felt like a small celebration. That was the entire brief, and I had complete freedom to bring it to life. It was such a joy to make.
I also worked on a corporate commission that involved showcasing homes from different parts of India. We created four miniature spaces: a hill cottage from the North, a traditional bedroom from Kerala, an old haveli from Ahmedabad, and a home from Calcutta. It was a beautiful way to explore regional architecture and styles. Again, I had creative control and could interpret each space in my own way—which I loved.
Calcutta Home
Hill Top Cottage
Kerala Home
Ahmedabad Haveli
And last year, I took on a really interesting brief that combined three favorite spots from a London neighborhood into a single frame, along with personal elements that tied it all together. That blend of place and memory is something I’d love to explore more.
I’d love to do more projects like that—miniature homes from across India.
Ultimately, I find the most satisfaction in projects where I can bring my own imagination and voice to the piece. That’s when the work really comes alive for me.
I’m a huge hoarder—especially when it comes to scrap materials—because I almost always find a way to use them somewhere down the line. For example, in one of my recent pieces, I made a miniature wardrobe and needed drawer pulls. While you can buy miniature hardware, I didn’t have any on hand, so I ended up using craft googly eyes instead!
Did you ever imagine that it would be the start of something bigger, like a full fledged career?
I wouldn’t really call this a career—it feels much more like a passion. I’m not driven by money, and honestly, I don’t think there’s a lot of money in miniatures, especially in India. It's not yet widely recognized as an art form here, though that’s slowly beginning to change. That said, there have been some significant moments—corporate commissions and exhibitions where my miniatures have been displayed as art, which has been really encouraging. Still, at its core, this is something I do out of love, not for commercial success. I never imagined it would grow into what it has today, and I’m so grateful it did. What I have now feels incredibly fulfilling.
I always tell people: don’t be afraid to start.
How do you process or overcome overwhelming moments?
I don’t think I ever feel overwhelmed by my miniatures—never. In fact, working on them is what grounds me. It’s what I turn to when life feels chaotic. My miniature work is calming and centering; it’s my way of rebalancing. Because the process is so detailed and focused, it requires my full attention—everything else just fades into the background.
What does overwhelm me, though, is time pressure. I find it really hard to work on commissions with tight deadlines. My life is still unpredictable—with kids, a home to manage, school cycles, holidays—there’s always something. Some days I can make it to my studio, some days I just can’t. I haven’t yet reached a point where I can say, “This is my work time, no matter what,” and shut everything else out. That kind of discipline is still a work in progress.
So, when I do feel overwhelmed, it’s usually because I don’t have enough time to sit with the process. I like every piece I make to have something new in it—whether I’m learning a new technique or refining something I’ve done before. Even if I’m making a familiar item, like a piece of furniture, I try to add a fresh twist or improve how I construct it.
When I don’t have the space to explore or experiment, that’s when the stress creeps in. But otherwise, miniature-making is my escape—a way to completely disconnect from the noise of the world.
I love looking at random bits and pieces—things most people might consider junk—and imagining how they can be repurposed. There’s something really satisfying about turning everyday or discarded items into tiny, detailed elements in my miniatures. And I actually do end up using most of it!
What sort of advice would you give to people who would like to pursue the same profession as yours?
A lot of people reach out to me saying they’d love to do a workshop with me—and while I truly appreciate the interest, I always like to clarify what to expect. My own journey with miniatures has been very organic. I never formally studied it; I’ve learned everything over time, through experimentation, trial and error. It’s been an evolving process, and that’s what I try to convey during my workshops.
There are so many fantastic resources online—tutorials, videos, materials guides—so if someone really wants to learn, the information is out there. But what a workshop with me offers is more of an introduction, a starting point. Most people simply don’t know where to begin, and that can feel overwhelming. So my workshop is about demystifying the process—talking about the materials you can use (like sunboard, foam board, or balsa wood), how to make a basic roombox or model, and giving people the confidence to just start.
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It’s not about walking away as an expert in miniatures after one session—because that’s just not realistic.
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Miniature-making is something that takes years to develop. But what a workshop can do is offer that initial push, that spark of inspiration and understanding that helps someone take the first step.
I always tell people: don’t be afraid to start. Don’t worry about perfection or the outcome. My own first miniature was a little cardboard house I made for my daughter’s hedgehog. It was simple, rough around the edges, but I still treasure it. It was the beginning—and that’s what really matters.
People often focus too much on the result rather than the process, and that’s what holds them back. The biggest priority should just be to begin. Pick something you want to make, find a tutorial online—there are so many—and dive in. That’s where the magic starts.
How do you personally define success?
To begin with, I feel lucky to have been able to follow my passion. That said, I’m not dismissing the importance of money—it absolutely matters. But for me, it’s not the ultimate measure of success. You could have all the wealth in the world, but if you’re unhappy or unfulfilled in what you do, can you really call that success?
When I look at my kids now, and as I turn 50, I find myself reflecting on how we’ve been conditioned to define success. For the longest time, success meant money—having a high-paying job, a big house, material things. That’s the narrative we’ve grown up with. I’ve had a corporate career, earned a good salary, and ticked all those so-called "success" boxes. But when I look at what truly brings me joy today, it’s this passion of mine—creating miniatures. It’s not about the money anymore. It’s about waking up excited to do something I love. And I truly believe that if you’ve found something that brings you genuine happiness, something you're deeply passionate about, then you are successful. You may not be wealthy in the traditional sense, but you’ve won in a much deeper, more fulfilling way.
What's unfolding next for you? Any new directions or ideas you're excited to explore?
What I’ve really enjoyed—and what I’d love to explore more deeply—is creating miniature homes inspired by Indian heritage. Not grand palaces or overly ornate architecture, but real, character-rich homes from across the country. We have such a beautiful and diverse architectural language—from an art deco apartment in Bombay to a cozy cottage from the Northeast, maybe even something influenced by Bhutanese or Sikkimese styles. I’d love to capture the essence of those spaces in miniature form—the furniture, the textures, the quiet details that tell a story. This idea of celebrating everyday architecture from different regions really excites me.
Another thing I’m keen to explore is working with hardwood. Right now, I mostly use balsa wood—it’s soft, lightweight, and easy to cut with a craft knife, which makes it convenient and accessible. But I’ve been wanting to level up. I did a workshop last year with two amazing mentors, Poonam and Kapil, where I got a chance to work with harder woods and proper power tools. That experience really stayed with me. I’d love to dive deeper into making more refined, realistic miniature furniture using sturdier materials.
Workshops are something I’d love to do more of as well, but that needs careful planning. For now, my focus is on deepening my craft—making miniatures that feel close to home and pushing myself with new materials and techniques. It’s a journey, and I’m happy to take it one step at a time.