There is a silence in Mirror that speaks before the first line is drawn. A drop of ink, suspended above the paper, holds its breath. It does not fall casually, it falls as a prayer. In that moment, between intention and surrender, the image begins. As in ebru and calligraphy, the form flows from the free will of the hand. What flowed, flowed as an answer, as a guide.
This creation is a counterpart to my earlier work Repentance (Turning Inward), where the movement was directed inward. Here, however, the gesture opens outward with greater force, something unfolds that was once hidden.
That the work is mirrored is not an aesthetic play, but a fundamental reflection on duality. What does it mean to stand opposite yourself? The mirror does not only reveal sameness, but also difference: between heaven and earth, between light and shadow, between purity and disorder, between beginning and end. The mirror is not a flat surface but a threshold between worlds, a temple where meanings shift. What appears at first glance to be identical is, on closer view, a distortion, a displacement. Only those who dare to dwell in reflection will see that it is not a copy, but a challenge to insight.
For the viewer, it may remain an abstract image, a composition of lines, fluid, balance. But for me, this work is a spiritual act, an act of remembrance, a return to the One who shaped me before I existed. In the fall of the drop, I recognize the mystery of creation itself: how something emerges from nothing, how the unseen becomes visible. It is not an illustration of faith, but its manifestation. Each trace of ink is a trace of surrender, and in every line flows a prayer without words.
