A spotlight on Delhi-based visual artist and creative director Sahil Singh, tracing his path from Shahdara to becoming a visual architect for India’s underground music ecosystem.
Anyone following India’s underground music scene recognises Sahil Singh’s artwork. Operating online as @5aheel, the Delhi-based artist, creative director, and visual designer, stands as a key collaborator for musicians like Chaar Diwaari, Karun, Yashraj, and Arpit Bala. From the bold, comical frames of Chaar Diwaari’s 'Tere Maiyat Ke Gaane' to the painterly 80s feel of Yashraj’s 'MJPN', Sahil translates sound into physical spirit, swearing by manga influences and Capcom video games. Additionally, through his project, Medallion, he builds outside of album artwork, creating physical objects, action figures, custom silhouettes, and original stories.
There’s a point where an artist’s work becomes recognisable enough that people spot it instantly. When you look across your work, what elements form your signature?
"Honestly, other people noticed these consistencies way before I realised I had a signature style," Sahil explains. "For me, it just comes down to intentional space and colour. I absolutely hate cluttered backgrounds unless every single element is actually interacting with the subject, so I always lean towards clean, saturated compositions."
"Then there’s Mars Red, that specific orange-y tone has somehow sneaked into almost everything I touch," he says, pointing to work across Yashraj’s MJPN, Diwaari’s TMKG, and Karun’s Qabool Hai. "Even when I do editorials with a noir treatment, out of habit I end up throwing in a touch of warmth that turns it sepia. Combine that palette with heavy manga and video game inspo, and that’s pretty much the blueprint."
That visual vocabulary grew out of things he loves and collects over time. Influence comes from everywhere: his ex-partner’s sigil art introduced him to neo-tribal shapes, while anime, video games, comics, superheroes, swords, and dragons direct his character design and styling.
When setting up shoots, he aims for a specific gaming reference. "When I tell people I want a shoot to look like a frame straight out of a Capcom game, most people don’t fully get the reference, but I’ve been fortunate to work with photographers and models who trust the vision anyway."
The surface feel matters just as much as the subject matter. "As for texture, I’m obsessed with grain, heavy fabric, and paper feel," he explains. "It gives the image a crunchy quality, where that subtle, rough grit almost triggers a sensation of touch when you look at it. I can't stand it when designers slap on lazy plastic wrap textures or just spam cheap paper overlays, it looks horrid, and I honestly don't get how people like it."
When a musician sends you an unfinished track, how do you translate that audio into a physical image?
"I literally just close my eyes and visualise the track for myself," Sahil says. "I latch onto lyrics or bars that stick with me, translate what they mean, and figure out what colour the song makes me feel.” Some tracks speak in a specific colour, which instantly establishes the palette for the artwork.
He pitches his raw interpretation to the musician first, keeping his perspective undiluted before checking if it matches what they felt while recording. An album cover becomes the permanent face of a track, carrying the emotion and energy of the musician who made it.
Because of that commitment, his style morphs depending on the collaborator. "For Arpit, I lean into editorial-esque photoshoots. For Diwaari, it’s comical, exaggerated, vibrant pieces with over-the-top facial expressions. For Collest, I go neo-tribal or Y2K rave style. And for Yashraj, it’s an '80s painterly art style blending photography and painting."
Working on someone else's identity involves a full-sensory exchange. "Every artist creates using all five senses," Sahil observes. "When a musician makes a track, they’re not just hearing audio; they’re already visualising a world, smelling the room, feeling the memory. It’s the same for me when I design or direct. When I look at a frame, I hear the music, feel the texture, and sense the environment. Posing, expression, and mood become crucial."
He starts by asking collaborators directly what they visualised when making the track. "If I love their vision, I build directly on top of it. If I feel their idea isn't hitting as hard as the music deserves, I take fragments of what they felt and construct my own concept. Either way, my goal is always to outdo their imagination,” When a musician sets aside their own initial idea to execute his concept instead, interpretation turns into true shared authorship. “That’s when I know I’ve done my job.”
With Medallion, you remove client briefs completely. How has building this project changed how you work?
"Originally, Medallion was meant to be political," Sahil reveals. "I sat down and wrote an entire story with detailed world-building, character backstories, and deep philosophies; it honestly felt like I was writing my own manga. But I realised two things: first, I lack the resources right now to give an animation or story of that scale the execution it deserves. Second, boxing myself strictly into one story or political message felt like putting my creativity in a cage, and that's the last thing I want for Medallion."
He adapted by writing a new set of characters tied directly to real-world philosophies and motifs. "Right now, the meaning is decided upfront, even if the world isn't fully exposed yet," he says. "Those character illustrations people are wearing on my clothes right now carry entire backstories and symbolic meanings that I haven't revealed to anyone yet. For now, they just see cool prints, but in time, as the brand expands, I’ll unfold the rest of the lore."
While the brand launched off a single t-shirt that sold out three times, Medallion was never meant to stay a basic clothing brand. "It’s a catalyst for me to physically put out real art pieces, regardless of whether they make commercial sense," Sahil explains. "Because I work across so many different creative fields, my overall output can feel spread out, but under Medallion, every design, product, and artwork is strictly, undiluted Sahil Singh."
The upcoming releases introduce new silhouettes, shirts, jackets, bags, and action figures based on designs stashed away for a long time. "Recently I’ve been learning leather forming, 3D printing, making action figures, and I even designed a custom scented candle," he shares. "It lets me go crazy, link up with other artists, learn from them, and swap work. It honestly feels like kids trading Pokémon cards on the playground."
At its core, Medallion represents a boy’s dream and a declaration to chase it. "Every artist is a kid at heart chasing a very selfish but important want to create," Sahil reflects. "That was always the core intent. It makes me feel like a kid again, making a mess with paint, crayons, or papier-mache on my balcony, or drawing on the walls of my house, except this time nobody is telling me I can’t do it."
Growing up in Shahdara put him around people who could not comprehend breaking into fashion or the art industry. "I come from Shahdara; Google it if you’re not from Delhi," Sahil says. "And people here don’t even dream of breaking into fashion or the art industry. That world is completely alien to them. Growing up, I was surrounded by people who couldn't comprehend what I was trying to do, and I was discouraged at every step. I just kept doing it anyway, and Medallion is the next step for me to get closer to where I want to be and what I truly want to do."
Looking back at the road from East Delhi to the centre of India’s alternative visual culture, Sahil’s trajectory proves what happens when an artist refuses to compromise on their vision. By turning local street roots, video game memories, and raw audio tracks into tangible worlds, he has given a distinct face to an entire movement of independent musicians. Medallion marks the beginning of a broader canvas — one where action figures, physical objects, and hidden stories replace client briefs entirely. As those unreleased designs and new mediums finally take physical form, Sahil continues building his universe exactly the way he wants, reminding everyone that a boy from Shahdara can set his own rules for what modern Indian design looks like.
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