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By Mehreen Murtaza
The impulse to draw was irrepressible. As I picked up a pastel and placed my hand on the paper, I felt posessed! It was a moment of true surrender where my rational mind had no control over what was to come and a primordial force had taken over. I was guided to mark the empty sheet with different motions in varying rhythms. I observed as the hand directed what was being drawn and shown to me. Every stroke arrived with certainty. With each passing mark, a new meaning unravelled. And as each mark mapped its terrain across the large expanse, a story upon a story upon a story revealed itself until the image was complete. The profundity of this moment felt like a cornucopia opus had arrived; a tapestry of colors and form transcending space-time, carrying the seed of the Orphic Egg.
From there on, every drawing was a descent into the unknown and each image held stories of archaic knowledge that defied the historical genealogy of time itself. There were times where it felt like the drawings were possessing me: urging, pushing, prodding to be birthed and make themselves known. I couldn’t stop and it felt like there was no end to this world.
We have heard of the mad artists who have been struck by states of inspiration, whirled into states of ecstasy, altered realities. I had always wondered what they were experiencing.
It had been an ebb and flow of such states, some that came with such tremendous urgency and others were passages of endless time where one is asked to wait patiently as the work is done to you, within you for it to be ultimately birthed.
And there have been dry periods of intensive reflection and research, interspersed with impatience and anxiety yet most importantly, a diligent and persistent practice to tame this unbridled force. It is a practice to sharpen the mind, strengthen the body and maintain an undulating rhythm so as not to miss the subtle moments of a comprehension that dawns after the completion of every cycle of release. As one continues, the mind and body expands its threshold as a container of the knowledge pouring in. Each drawing is a meditation where repetition evolves into an act of remembrance: what is apprehended in a moment can just as easily be swept back into the recesses. It is in search of this delectable moment of intimate knowing that I begin this journey every night, starting exactly where I first began. The first point is marked as the zero-sum, a forgetting of all that was before. The silent sound of graphite echoes across the paper; an invitation to meet myself mid-point, crossing an imaginary threshold until my synaesthetic synapses slip into the center of the universal grid of potentialities. From there on, every mark made feels like a gradual submerging into depths unknown.
I often find myself navigating these waters with a recollection of previously memorized mappings, laced on top of the other, enmeshed as light lattices - merging and emerging as beacons pointing to both old and new pathways. Sometimes they urge to re-visit the same path but with a new sense of adventure. After all, the search is for placid waters. Each wave, a reminder to stay present. Every echo, a sonar search for murmuring secrets. Each time, pockets of experiences ebb and flow, teaching me how to swim with the current, learn to submerge despite the recoil to a fear of the unknown. This back and forth trying to hold myself steady. Until a point of poise emerges, and the felt sensation of a flow-state is guided by the waters, true surrender to the spirit of aqua vitae.
Change is constant and constant is change, says the wisdom of the waters.
Every drawing is the same dive within, yet no drawing is exactly the same.
Every echo in its consonant resonance is a sonorant.
Every calling is a call to the center.
Every calling is a call to the heart.
Every calling is a call to the center of the heart.
Every calling is a call to the center of the Sender.
Every calling is a call to The Truth.
The impulse to draw was irrepressible. As I picked up a pastel and placed my hand on the paper, I felt posessed! It was a moment of true surrender where my rational mind had no control over what was to come and a primordial force had taken over. I was guided to mark the empty sheet with different motions in varying rhythms. I observed as the hand directed what was being drawn and shown to me. Every stroke arrived with certainty. With each passing mark, a new meaning unravelled. And as each mark mapped its terrain across the large expanse, a story upon a story upon a story revealed itself until the image was complete. The profundity of this moment felt like a cornucopia opus had arrived; a tapestry of colors and form transcending space-time, carrying the seed of the Orphic Egg.
From there on, every drawing was a descent into the unknown and each image held stories of archaic knowledge that defied the historical genealogy of time itself. There were times where it felt like the drawings were possessing me: urging, pushing, prodding to be birthed and make themselves known. I couldn’t stop and it felt like there was no end to this world.
We have heard of the mad artists who have been struck by states of inspiration, whirled into states of ecstasy, altered realities. I had always wondered what they were experiencing.
It had been an ebb and flow of such states, some that came with such tremendous urgency and others were passages of endless time where one is asked to wait patiently as the work is done to you, within you for it to be ultimately birthed.
And there have been dry periods of intensive reflection and research, interspersed with impatience and anxiety yet most importantly, a diligent and persistent practice to tame this unbridled force. It is a practice to sharpen the mind, strengthen the body and maintain an undulating rhythm so as not to miss the subtle moments of a comprehension that dawns after the completion of every cycle of release. As one continues, the mind and body expands its threshold as a container of the knowledge pouring in. Each drawing is a meditation where repetition evolves into an act of remembrance: what is apprehended in a moment can just as easily be swept back into the recesses. It is in search of this delectable moment of intimate knowing that I begin this journey every night, starting exactly where I first began. The first point is marked as the zero-sum, a forgetting of all that was before. The silent sound of graphite echoes across the paper; an invitation to meet myself mid-point, crossing an imaginary threshold until my synaesthetic synapses slip into the center of the universal grid of potentialities. From there on, every mark made feels like a gradual submerging into depths unknown.
I often find myself navigating these waters with a recollection of previously memorized mappings, laced on top of the other, enmeshed as light lattices - merging and emerging as beacons pointing to both old and new pathways. Sometimes they urge to re-visit the same path but with a new sense of adventure. After all, the search is for placid waters. Each wave, a reminder to stay present. Every echo, a sonar search for murmuring secrets. Each time, pockets of experiences ebb and flow, teaching me how to swim with the current, learn to submerge despite the recoil to a fear of the unknown. This back and forth trying to hold myself steady. Until a point of poise emerges, and the felt sensation of a flow-state is guided by the waters, true surrender to the spirit of aqua vitae.
Change is constant and constant is change, says the wisdom of the waters.
Every drawing is the same dive within, yet no drawing is exactly the same.
Every echo in its consonant resonance is a sonorant.
Every calling is a call to the center.
Every calling is a call to the heart.
Every calling is a call to the center of the heart.
Every calling is a call to the center of the Sender.
Every calling is a call to The Truth.
Mehreen Murtaza is an inner-disciplinary artist whose work explores the realm of the imagination. Her practice involves developing an artistic language to bridge a connection between the sensible and intelligible worlds, inspired by Muslim philosophers and mystics such as Sheikh Ibn al-‘Arabi (1165–1240) and Sheikh Shihabbudin Yayha Suhrawardi’s (1154–1191) Ishrāqi Philosophy or Philosophy of Illumination. She has also co-founded an alternative creative space and publishing house, Mantiq of the Mantis in Lahore since 2016. MotM’s research focuses on the revelatory nature of knowledge, and the potential and action of the creative soul to create impressions of images it receives from the archetypal realm.
By Mehreen Murtaza
The impulse to draw was irrepressible. As I picked up a pastel and placed my hand on the paper, I felt posessed! It was a moment of true surrender where my rational mind had no control over what was to come and a primordial force had taken over. I was guided to mark the empty sheet with different motions in varying rhythms. I observed as the hand directed what was being drawn and shown to me. Every stroke arrived with certainty. With each passing mark, a new meaning unravelled. And as each mark mapped its terrain across the large expanse, a story upon a story upon a story revealed itself until the image was complete. The profundity of this moment felt like a cornucopia opus had arrived; a tapestry of colors and form transcending space-time, carrying the seed of the Orphic Egg.
From there on, every drawing was a descent into the unknown and each image held stories of archaic knowledge that defied the historical genealogy of time itself. There were times where it felt like the drawings were possessing me: urging, pushing, prodding to be birthed and make themselves known. I couldn’t stop and it felt like there was no end to this world.
We have heard of the mad artists who have been struck by states of inspiration, whirled into states of ecstasy, altered realities. I had always wondered what they were experiencing.
It had been an ebb and flow of such states, some that came with such tremendous urgency and others were passages of endless time where one is asked to wait patiently as the work is done to you, within you for it to be ultimately birthed.
And there have been dry periods of intensive reflection and research, interspersed with impatience and anxiety yet most importantly, a diligent and persistent practice to tame this unbridled force. It is a practice to sharpen the mind, strengthen the body and maintain an undulating rhythm so as not to miss the subtle moments of a comprehension that dawns after the completion of every cycle of release. As one continues, the mind and body expands its threshold as a container of the knowledge pouring in. Each drawing is a meditation where repetition evolves into an act of remembrance: what is apprehended in a moment can just as easily be swept back into the recesses. It is in search of this delectable moment of intimate knowing that I begin this journey every night, starting exactly where I first began. The first point is marked as the zero-sum, a forgetting of all that was before. The silent sound of graphite echoes across the paper; an invitation to meet myself mid-point, crossing an imaginary threshold until my synaesthetic synapses slip into the center of the universal grid of potentialities. From there on, every mark made feels like a gradual submerging into depths unknown.
I often find myself navigating these waters with a recollection of previously memorized mappings, laced on top of the other, enmeshed as light lattices - merging and emerging as beacons pointing to both old and new pathways. Sometimes they urge to re-visit the same path but with a new sense of adventure. After all, the search is for placid waters. Each wave, a reminder to stay present. Every echo, a sonar search for murmuring secrets. Each time, pockets of experiences ebb and flow, teaching me how to swim with the current, learn to submerge despite the recoil to a fear of the unknown. This back and forth trying to hold myself steady. Until a point of poise emerges, and the felt sensation of a flow-state is guided by the waters, true surrender to the spirit of aqua vitae.
Change is constant and constant is change, says the wisdom of the waters.
Every drawing is the same dive within, yet no drawing is exactly the same.
Every echo in its consonant resonance is a sonorant.
Every calling is a call to the center.
Every calling is a call to the heart.
Every calling is a call to the center of the heart.
Every calling is a call to the center of the Sender.
Every calling is a call to The Truth.
The impulse to draw was irrepressible. As I picked up a pastel and placed my hand on the paper, I felt posessed! It was a moment of true surrender where my rational mind had no control over what was to come and a primordial force had taken over. I was guided to mark the empty sheet with different motions in varying rhythms. I observed as the hand directed what was being drawn and shown to me. Every stroke arrived with certainty. With each passing mark, a new meaning unravelled. And as each mark mapped its terrain across the large expanse, a story upon a story upon a story revealed itself until the image was complete. The profundity of this moment felt like a cornucopia opus had arrived; a tapestry of colors and form transcending space-time, carrying the seed of the Orphic Egg.
From there on, every drawing was a descent into the unknown and each image held stories of archaic knowledge that defied the historical genealogy of time itself. There were times where it felt like the drawings were possessing me: urging, pushing, prodding to be birthed and make themselves known. I couldn’t stop and it felt like there was no end to this world.
We have heard of the mad artists who have been struck by states of inspiration, whirled into states of ecstasy, altered realities. I had always wondered what they were experiencing.
It had been an ebb and flow of such states, some that came with such tremendous urgency and others were passages of endless time where one is asked to wait patiently as the work is done to you, within you for it to be ultimately birthed.
And there have been dry periods of intensive reflection and research, interspersed with impatience and anxiety yet most importantly, a diligent and persistent practice to tame this unbridled force. It is a practice to sharpen the mind, strengthen the body and maintain an undulating rhythm so as not to miss the subtle moments of a comprehension that dawns after the completion of every cycle of release. As one continues, the mind and body expands its threshold as a container of the knowledge pouring in. Each drawing is a meditation where repetition evolves into an act of remembrance: what is apprehended in a moment can just as easily be swept back into the recesses. It is in search of this delectable moment of intimate knowing that I begin this journey every night, starting exactly where I first began. The first point is marked as the zero-sum, a forgetting of all that was before. The silent sound of graphite echoes across the paper; an invitation to meet myself mid-point, crossing an imaginary threshold until my synaesthetic synapses slip into the center of the universal grid of potentialities. From there on, every mark made feels like a gradual submerging into depths unknown.
I often find myself navigating these waters with a recollection of previously memorized mappings, laced on top of the other, enmeshed as light lattices - merging and emerging as beacons pointing to both old and new pathways. Sometimes they urge to re-visit the same path but with a new sense of adventure. After all, the search is for placid waters. Each wave, a reminder to stay present. Every echo, a sonar search for murmuring secrets. Each time, pockets of experiences ebb and flow, teaching me how to swim with the current, learn to submerge despite the recoil to a fear of the unknown. This back and forth trying to hold myself steady. Until a point of poise emerges, and the felt sensation of a flow-state is guided by the waters, true surrender to the spirit of aqua vitae.
Change is constant and constant is change, says the wisdom of the waters.
Every drawing is the same dive within, yet no drawing is exactly the same.
Every echo in its consonant resonance is a sonorant.
Every calling is a call to the center.
Every calling is a call to the heart.
Every calling is a call to the center of the heart.
Every calling is a call to the center of the Sender.
Every calling is a call to The Truth.
Mehreen Murtaza is an inner-disciplinary artist whose work explores the realm of the imagination. Her practice involves developing an artistic language to bridge a connection between the sensible and intelligible worlds, inspired by Muslim philosophers and mystics such as Sheikh Ibn al-‘Arabi (1165–1240) and Sheikh Shihabbudin Yayha Suhrawardi’s (1154–1191) Ishrāqi Philosophy or Philosophy of Illumination. She has also co-founded an alternative creative space and publishing house, Mantiq of the Mantis in Lahore since 2016. MotM’s research focuses on the revelatory nature of knowledge, and the potential and action of the creative soul to create impressions of images it receives from the archetypal realm.
By Mehreen Murtaza
The impulse to draw was irrepressible. As I picked up a pastel and placed my hand on the paper, I felt posessed! It was a moment of true surrender where my rational mind had no control over what was to come and a primordial force had taken over. I was guided to mark the empty sheet with different motions in varying rhythms. I observed as the hand directed what was being drawn and shown to me. Every stroke arrived with certainty. With each passing mark, a new meaning unravelled. And as each mark mapped its terrain across the large expanse, a story upon a story upon a story revealed itself until the image was complete. The profundity of this moment felt like a cornucopia opus had arrived; a tapestry of colors and form transcending space-time, carrying the seed of the Orphic Egg.
From there on, every drawing was a descent into the unknown and each image held stories of archaic knowledge that defied the historical genealogy of time itself. There were times where it felt like the drawings were possessing me: urging, pushing, prodding to be birthed and make themselves known. I couldn’t stop and it felt like there was no end to this world.
We have heard of the mad artists who have been struck by states of inspiration, whirled into states of ecstasy, altered realities. I had always wondered what they were experiencing.
It had been an ebb and flow of such states, some that came with such tremendous urgency and others were passages of endless time where one is asked to wait patiently as the work is done to you, within you for it to be ultimately birthed.
And there have been dry periods of intensive reflection and research, interspersed with impatience and anxiety yet most importantly, a diligent and persistent practice to tame this unbridled force. It is a practice to sharpen the mind, strengthen the body and maintain an undulating rhythm so as not to miss the subtle moments of a comprehension that dawns after the completion of every cycle of release. As one continues, the mind and body expands its threshold as a container of the knowledge pouring in. Each drawing is a meditation where repetition evolves into an act of remembrance: what is apprehended in a moment can just as easily be swept back into the recesses. It is in search of this delectable moment of intimate knowing that I begin this journey every night, starting exactly where I first began. The first point is marked as the zero-sum, a forgetting of all that was before. The silent sound of graphite echoes across the paper; an invitation to meet myself mid-point, crossing an imaginary threshold until my synaesthetic synapses slip into the center of the universal grid of potentialities. From there on, every mark made feels like a gradual submerging into depths unknown.
I often find myself navigating these waters with a recollection of previously memorized mappings, laced on top of the other, enmeshed as light lattices - merging and emerging as beacons pointing to both old and new pathways. Sometimes they urge to re-visit the same path but with a new sense of adventure. After all, the search is for placid waters. Each wave, a reminder to stay present. Every echo, a sonar search for murmuring secrets. Each time, pockets of experiences ebb and flow, teaching me how to swim with the current, learn to submerge despite the recoil to a fear of the unknown. This back and forth trying to hold myself steady. Until a point of poise emerges, and the felt sensation of a flow-state is guided by the waters, true surrender to the spirit of aqua vitae.
Change is constant and constant is change, says the wisdom of the waters.
Every drawing is the same dive within, yet no drawing is exactly the same.
Every echo in its consonant resonance is a sonorant.
Every calling is a call to the center.
Every calling is a call to the heart.
Every calling is a call to the center of the heart.
Every calling is a call to the center of the Sender.
Every calling is a call to The Truth.
The impulse to draw was irrepressible. As I picked up a pastel and placed my hand on the paper, I felt posessed! It was a moment of true surrender where my rational mind had no control over what was to come and a primordial force had taken over. I was guided to mark the empty sheet with different motions in varying rhythms. I observed as the hand directed what was being drawn and shown to me. Every stroke arrived with certainty. With each passing mark, a new meaning unravelled. And as each mark mapped its terrain across the large expanse, a story upon a story upon a story revealed itself until the image was complete. The profundity of this moment felt like a cornucopia opus had arrived; a tapestry of colors and form transcending space-time, carrying the seed of the Orphic Egg.
From there on, every drawing was a descent into the unknown and each image held stories of archaic knowledge that defied the historical genealogy of time itself. There were times where it felt like the drawings were possessing me: urging, pushing, prodding to be birthed and make themselves known. I couldn’t stop and it felt like there was no end to this world.
We have heard of the mad artists who have been struck by states of inspiration, whirled into states of ecstasy, altered realities. I had always wondered what they were experiencing.
It had been an ebb and flow of such states, some that came with such tremendous urgency and others were passages of endless time where one is asked to wait patiently as the work is done to you, within you for it to be ultimately birthed.
And there have been dry periods of intensive reflection and research, interspersed with impatience and anxiety yet most importantly, a diligent and persistent practice to tame this unbridled force. It is a practice to sharpen the mind, strengthen the body and maintain an undulating rhythm so as not to miss the subtle moments of a comprehension that dawns after the completion of every cycle of release. As one continues, the mind and body expands its threshold as a container of the knowledge pouring in. Each drawing is a meditation where repetition evolves into an act of remembrance: what is apprehended in a moment can just as easily be swept back into the recesses. It is in search of this delectable moment of intimate knowing that I begin this journey every night, starting exactly where I first began. The first point is marked as the zero-sum, a forgetting of all that was before. The silent sound of graphite echoes across the paper; an invitation to meet myself mid-point, crossing an imaginary threshold until my synaesthetic synapses slip into the center of the universal grid of potentialities. From there on, every mark made feels like a gradual submerging into depths unknown.
I often find myself navigating these waters with a recollection of previously memorized mappings, laced on top of the other, enmeshed as light lattices - merging and emerging as beacons pointing to both old and new pathways. Sometimes they urge to re-visit the same path but with a new sense of adventure. After all, the search is for placid waters. Each wave, a reminder to stay present. Every echo, a sonar search for murmuring secrets. Each time, pockets of experiences ebb and flow, teaching me how to swim with the current, learn to submerge despite the recoil to a fear of the unknown. This back and forth trying to hold myself steady. Until a point of poise emerges, and the felt sensation of a flow-state is guided by the waters, true surrender to the spirit of aqua vitae.
Change is constant and constant is change, says the wisdom of the waters.
Every drawing is the same dive within, yet no drawing is exactly the same.
Every echo in its consonant resonance is a sonorant.
Every calling is a call to the center.
Every calling is a call to the heart.
Every calling is a call to the center of the heart.
Every calling is a call to the center of the Sender.
Every calling is a call to The Truth.
Mehreen Murtaza is an inner-disciplinary artist whose work explores the realm of the imagination. Her practice involves developing an artistic language to bridge a connection between the sensible and intelligible worlds, inspired by Muslim philosophers and mystics such as Sheikh Ibn al-‘Arabi (1165–1240) and Sheikh Shihabbudin Yayha Suhrawardi’s (1154–1191) Ishrāqi Philosophy or Philosophy of Illumination. She has also co-founded an alternative creative space and publishing house, Mantiq of the Mantis in Lahore since 2016. MotM’s research focuses on the revelatory nature of knowledge, and the potential and action of the creative soul to create impressions of images it receives from the archetypal realm.
By Mehreen Murtaza
The impulse to draw was irrepressible. As I picked up a pastel and placed my hand on the paper, I felt posessed! It was a moment of true surrender where my rational mind had no control over what was to come and a primordial force had taken over. I was guided to mark the empty sheet with different motions in varying rhythms. I observed as the hand directed what was being drawn and shown to me. Every stroke arrived with certainty. With each passing mark, a new meaning unravelled. And as each mark mapped its terrain across the large expanse, a story upon a story upon a story revealed itself until the image was complete. The profundity of this moment felt like a cornucopia opus had arrived; a tapestry of colors and form transcending space-time, carrying the seed of the Orphic Egg.
From there on, every drawing was a descent into the unknown and each image held stories of archaic knowledge that defied the historical genealogy of time itself. There were times where it felt like the drawings were possessing me: urging, pushing, prodding to be birthed and make themselves known. I couldn’t stop and it felt like there was no end to this world.
We have heard of the mad artists who have been struck by states of inspiration, whirled into states of ecstasy, altered realities. I had always wondered what they were experiencing.
It had been an ebb and flow of such states, some that came with such tremendous urgency and others were passages of endless time where one is asked to wait patiently as the work is done to you, within you for it to be ultimately birthed.
And there have been dry periods of intensive reflection and research, interspersed with impatience and anxiety yet most importantly, a diligent and persistent practice to tame this unbridled force. It is a practice to sharpen the mind, strengthen the body and maintain an undulating rhythm so as not to miss the subtle moments of a comprehension that dawns after the completion of every cycle of release. As one continues, the mind and body expands its threshold as a container of the knowledge pouring in. Each drawing is a meditation where repetition evolves into an act of remembrance: what is apprehended in a moment can just as easily be swept back into the recesses. It is in search of this delectable moment of intimate knowing that I begin this journey every night, starting exactly where I first began. The first point is marked as the zero-sum, a forgetting of all that was before. The silent sound of graphite echoes across the paper; an invitation to meet myself mid-point, crossing an imaginary threshold until my synaesthetic synapses slip into the center of the universal grid of potentialities. From there on, every mark made feels like a gradual submerging into depths unknown.
I often find myself navigating these waters with a recollection of previously memorized mappings, laced on top of the other, enmeshed as light lattices - merging and emerging as beacons pointing to both old and new pathways. Sometimes they urge to re-visit the same path but with a new sense of adventure. After all, the search is for placid waters. Each wave, a reminder to stay present. Every echo, a sonar search for murmuring secrets. Each time, pockets of experiences ebb and flow, teaching me how to swim with the current, learn to submerge despite the recoil to a fear of the unknown. This back and forth trying to hold myself steady. Until a point of poise emerges, and the felt sensation of a flow-state is guided by the waters, true surrender to the spirit of aqua vitae.
Change is constant and constant is change, says the wisdom of the waters.
Every drawing is the same dive within, yet no drawing is exactly the same.
Every echo in its consonant resonance is a sonorant.
Every calling is a call to the center.
Every calling is a call to the heart.
Every calling is a call to the center of the heart.
Every calling is a call to the center of the Sender.
Every calling is a call to The Truth.
The impulse to draw was irrepressible. As I picked up a pastel and placed my hand on the paper, I felt posessed! It was a moment of true surrender where my rational mind had no control over what was to come and a primordial force had taken over. I was guided to mark the empty sheet with different motions in varying rhythms. I observed as the hand directed what was being drawn and shown to me. Every stroke arrived with certainty. With each passing mark, a new meaning unravelled. And as each mark mapped its terrain across the large expanse, a story upon a story upon a story revealed itself until the image was complete. The profundity of this moment felt like a cornucopia opus had arrived; a tapestry of colors and form transcending space-time, carrying the seed of the Orphic Egg.
From there on, every drawing was a descent into the unknown and each image held stories of archaic knowledge that defied the historical genealogy of time itself. There were times where it felt like the drawings were possessing me: urging, pushing, prodding to be birthed and make themselves known. I couldn’t stop and it felt like there was no end to this world.
We have heard of the mad artists who have been struck by states of inspiration, whirled into states of ecstasy, altered realities. I had always wondered what they were experiencing.
It had been an ebb and flow of such states, some that came with such tremendous urgency and others were passages of endless time where one is asked to wait patiently as the work is done to you, within you for it to be ultimately birthed.
And there have been dry periods of intensive reflection and research, interspersed with impatience and anxiety yet most importantly, a diligent and persistent practice to tame this unbridled force. It is a practice to sharpen the mind, strengthen the body and maintain an undulating rhythm so as not to miss the subtle moments of a comprehension that dawns after the completion of every cycle of release. As one continues, the mind and body expands its threshold as a container of the knowledge pouring in. Each drawing is a meditation where repetition evolves into an act of remembrance: what is apprehended in a moment can just as easily be swept back into the recesses. It is in search of this delectable moment of intimate knowing that I begin this journey every night, starting exactly where I first began. The first point is marked as the zero-sum, a forgetting of all that was before. The silent sound of graphite echoes across the paper; an invitation to meet myself mid-point, crossing an imaginary threshold until my synaesthetic synapses slip into the center of the universal grid of potentialities. From there on, every mark made feels like a gradual submerging into depths unknown.
I often find myself navigating these waters with a recollection of previously memorized mappings, laced on top of the other, enmeshed as light lattices - merging and emerging as beacons pointing to both old and new pathways. Sometimes they urge to re-visit the same path but with a new sense of adventure. After all, the search is for placid waters. Each wave, a reminder to stay present. Every echo, a sonar search for murmuring secrets. Each time, pockets of experiences ebb and flow, teaching me how to swim with the current, learn to submerge despite the recoil to a fear of the unknown. This back and forth trying to hold myself steady. Until a point of poise emerges, and the felt sensation of a flow-state is guided by the waters, true surrender to the spirit of aqua vitae.
Change is constant and constant is change, says the wisdom of the waters.
Every drawing is the same dive within, yet no drawing is exactly the same.
Every echo in its consonant resonance is a sonorant.
Every calling is a call to the center.
Every calling is a call to the heart.
Every calling is a call to the center of the heart.
Every calling is a call to the center of the Sender.
Every calling is a call to The Truth.
Mehreen Murtaza is an inner-disciplinary artist whose work explores the realm of the imagination. Her practice involves developing an artistic language to bridge a connection between the sensible and intelligible worlds, inspired by Muslim philosophers and mystics such as Sheikh Ibn al-‘Arabi (1165–1240) and Sheikh Shihabbudin Yayha Suhrawardi’s (1154–1191) Ishrāqi Philosophy or Philosophy of Illumination. She has also co-founded an alternative creative space and publishing house, Mantiq of the Mantis in Lahore since 2016. MotM’s research focuses on the revelatory nature of knowledge, and the potential and action of the creative soul to create impressions of images it receives from the archetypal realm.