The Rhythm of Repetition — where devotion becomes form
There’s joy in repetition. In my inked lotus works, each mark becomes a form of meditation — rhythm and stillness intertwined.
It’s the repetition of trees planted in rows, the repetition of boxes of food lined neatly on a shelf, the repetition of patterned wallpaper. All of these ordered forms inspire me.
Before I became a painter, I was a weaver — counting threads, guiding the shuttle’s rhythm across the loom. That instinct remains with me today as I paint. When I would weave a braid, it was the repetition that created its beauty.
The main difference between weaving a braid and creating my lotus artworks is freedom. The braid demands strict consistency — a repeated movement every few seconds or minutes. In my painting, I have the freedom of repetition. A free-hand consistency I could never achieve while weaving. Every impression, every counted gesture, is both structured and free. It is through this repetition that existence takes form.
Each lotus impression I stamp is a thread in a quiet tapestry of time, culture, and devotion. I title each work by the exact number of impressions it holds. Like a woven braid with thousands of threads, my artworks may have 10,000, 15,000, sometimes more — the count recorded in my signature like an intricate brocade.
What begins simply as black inked marks on paper becomes intricate through repartition of freedom and intention. My artworks are, in essence, my latest form of weaving — woven acts of patience.
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