Our senses have a limitation. There are colours we can’t see; there are sounds we can’t hear; there are smells we can’t smell; there are tastes we are unable to taste; and of course there are things we can’t touch—and yet we are rooted in this universe.

This bond is the basis of our being. Our mind works only within its limitations and creates our reality for us.

The essence of integrity lies in recognizing a humbling effect that arises from understanding a deeper, broader, and higher connection beyond our thinking mind.

It can happen only in the now, and the other name for it is Presence.

The masking tape marks imply the mind’s layered nature and the option to remove specific layers.

We live our lives on two layers. We have the thinking layer, which we are mostly identified with. We rarely analyse thinking as a layer, but if we zoom out and look from an observer’s point of view, we can see that thinking is happening to us, rather than being generated by us.

It operates like breathing: we can control it to some extent, but mostly it just happens. When a “bad” thought arises, we often feel we are a “bad” person because we assign ownership to it. But we did not choose the thought; it simply appeared.

Thinking is an evolutionary development. It is our advantage, and our mind is our most prized asset. Yet, it can also move us to our downfall. Obsessive thinking overwhelms us. We seek happiness, and we seek a way out.

Often, the most available option to reduce the thinking is the use of substances to “numb ourselves,” or to focus on pleasure chasing. But there is a layer beyond the thinking: the being layer.

The root that is our life force, our ground—this is the being layer. On this level, conceptual thinking is useless. The time is now, and the space is here.

The painting depicts a half-male, half-female portrait, representing the human being as a whole. According to Jung, we all carry both masculine and feminine aspects within our psyche—it is the Yin and Yang with faces.

This duality is defined by a vertical conflict. The centipede at the bottom symbolises the downward pull: the misery, the suffering, the constant reaction, the loss in the visceral mess, the rolling in the dirt. It is the weight of the unconscious mind.

In contrast, the butterfly represents the upward movement of transformation. It carries our third eye—the observing, witnessing eye—the symbol of the being layer.

When we find our way to this layer, we rise above the noise of the centipede. We step out of the downward spiral. This is awareness, and this is a choice we can make.

I borrowed the evocative title for this painting from Giacometti, the renowned painter and sculptor. Each word in the title holds significance within my artwork.

In my earlier years, I went to great lengths to evade the sensation of emptiness. I busied myself to fill that void. Today, I embrace it, recognizing that it no longer carries a negative connotation.

Our minds crave constant engagement, entertainment, and stimulation. They are ceaselessly bombarded with decisions and information, rarely finding respite except during sleep or when sedated by substances.

The feeling of emptiness should not be confused with boredom, which entails a desire to do something without knowing what. Emptiness or void, in contrast, represents the stillness of the mind while awake, where the inner awareness halts the incessant chatter of thoughts. Its significance only becomes apparent on the spiritual journey.

This feeling of emptiness is not synonymous with loneliness; rather, it embodies the sense of space that all life, objects, and every atom share.

Reflection is how we see the world. The phenomenon of the mirror has stimulated artists for centuries and is central to the Buddhist tradition.

To bring this closer: imagine you are in a forest on a rainy day. You look down at a puddle and notice your reflection. But the reflection is not just you; it includes the sky, the trees, the clouds—the entire world around you.

Why is it that when we look at this image, we point to the tiny shape of a head and body and say, “That is me”?

The complete image is in your mind. Your consciousness holds the entire scene. In that moment, the “outside” world (the trees, the sky) appears inside your perception. You are never separated from it. As the old Zen saying goes: “The whole universe is one bright pearl.”

It is impossible to exclude the external universe. You cannot detach from it. As awareness, you are it.

The ancient question this painting prompts is: Who am I?

If thoughts and images come and go like reflections in a puddle, then they are not you. In the Buddhist tradition, anything that arises and passes is not the True Self. The invitation here is to stop thinking and start feeling with pure sense perception. To experience awareness without the concept of “Me.”

This is the approach to self-enquiry—the portal to the No-Self.

Note on the composition: The fossilised trilobites suggest the timeless quality of this portal, while the timeline at the bottom marks the fleeting present moment. The masking tape marks represent the mind’s layered conditioning and the possibility of peeling it away.

Two people stand in front of the painting: a Viewer and the Painter.

Viewer: I see the Monk (Reverend Willard), but why is he surrounded by a tree and a mirror?

Painter: They refer to the famous contest to become the Sixth Patriarch of Zen. The head monk, Shenxiu, wrote a verse to demonstrate his understanding of the mind:

The body is the Bodhi tree, The mind is like a clear mirror stand. At all times we must strive to polish it, And must not let the dust collect.

Viewer: That makes sense. The mind works like a mirror. The eyes receive light, and the brain creates a reflection of the world “in here.”

Painter: Yes, but follow the logic. If your experience is just a reflection, that means you only ever possess superficial information of reality. You see the surface of the apple, but never the apple itself.

Viewer: So, I am interacting with an image in my head, not the world itself?

Painter: Exactly. And the consequence is that your entire inner working—your identity, your ego—is based on that illusion.

Viewer: This is confusing. My logic says the reflection is fake, but my body says my feelings and thoughts are very real. How do I resolve this paradox?

Painter: I cannot resolve it for you. Concepts cannot solve a problem created by concepts. But the Sixth Patriarch, Huineng, offered a different perspective:

Bodhi originally has no tree, The mirror also has no stand. Fundamentally there is not a single thing, Where could dust arise?

Viewer: That sounds profound, but it feels harsh. “Not a single thing”? Am I not real?

Painter: This is the discovery you must make. There are three ways to look at this conflict.

1. You can accept Huineng’s verse: There is nothingness. The “Self” is a complete illusion, so there is no one to suffer.

2. You can see it as Pure Observation. The “Observer” (You) and the “Observed” (The Reflection) merge into one. There is no separation, only seeing.

3. Or, you can recognise that words fail here. The friction between “illusion” and “reality” is the point. You stop trying to solve it with your mind and just be with the paradox.

Viewer: Which one is the truth?

Painter: Which one opens the door for you?

Viewer: (Turns to you, the reader) This conversation took place in my head, and now in yours. The question is… how will you resolve it?

The portrait of Ramakrishna requires little explanation. He was a spiritual leader who passed away in his fifties, leaving a lasting legacy of inspiration. Ramakrishna’s unique journey involved initiation into Hinduism, Christianity, and Islam, allowing all these religions to coexist harmoniously within him.

Each of these religions originates from a profound spiritual truth aimed at providing purpose, meaning, alleviating suffering, and fostering compassion in life.

Rejecting all religions entirely is akin to discarding both the valuable and the less valuable aspects. A wiser approach involves studying and uncovering the fundamental truths shared by all religions.

It falls to each new generation to unearth, cleanse, share, revitalize, and renew these deeply rooted, time-honored truths. Ramakrishna serves as a shining example of this mission.

The painted faces surrounding him symbolize those who have been profoundly touched and inspired by his wisdom.

When Moses encountered God, he received instructions to lead his people to a new land. Upon questioning the identity of the speaker, God responded with the profound statement, “I am that I am.”

The significance of this simple sentence is incredibly potent. Initially, one might wonder why Moses didn’t seek further clarification or evidence. The term “I am” denotes one’s state of being alive and present.

So the first part of the sentence points to the second part which is: “I am” again. It is almost like a circle. Upon closer examination, we can discern: “I am that existence, aliveness, being, life.”

For added clarity: “I am that which unites every living creature, the totality of Existence, the Vigour of the Heart, the Pulse of Nature, the ever present all-encompassing Space in every cell and every atom, the crystal clear Consciousness of the mind, the purest Awareness of all Senses, the Presence within Being.”

The speaker’s “identity” becomes unmistakable. However, the concise version holds even greater significance, as it also implies that God resides within you.

The spark for this painting came from Max Tegmark’s book, Our Mathematical Universe. Near the end, he suggests a profound idea: we often fail to recognize Earth for what it truly is—a spaceship hurtling through the cosmos.

The central figure was inspired by a baby preserved in a bottle at the Hunterian Museum in London. This tiny being had perhaps never drawn a breath. Yet, beyond the sadness of the jar, I saw an all-accepting expression radiating a serene stillness—a tranquil beauty.

In this artwork, the glass walls dissolve. The child transforms into a multicoloured, genderless representation of humanity, surrounded by embryonic bubbles. It captures the precise moment of arrival: a new being boarding the Starship Earth.

For most of us, nothing is more precious than our immediate families—our children, our parents, our partners. They are our world. But beyond these deep bonds, we are all bound to a much older, cosmic parentage: Mother Earth and the radiant Father Sun. Our existence is intricately woven with theirs, a connection shared by all life—humans, animals, and plants.

Whether we realise it or not, we are all crew on the same vessel. We often forget to see the cosmic child that lives within us all—fragile, valuable, and new.

This painting is a visual reminder of our interconnectedness, our shared vulnerability, and the awe-inspiring miracle of life enduring within the vast expanse of the cosmos.