On calligraphy, colour, devotion, and the practice of making sacred art in the modern world.
Arabic calligraphy is often described as visual music. But perhaps it is closer to architecture — a system of proportional relationships so precise it can only be built on spiritual discipline.
When Siddiqui reaches for crimson, it is not an aesthetic choice. It is a spiritual one. Colour, in Islamic calligraphy, has always carried meaning beyond the visual.
Mastery is not the absence of doubt. It is the refusal to let doubt stop the hand. Reflections on three decades of devotion to Islamic calligraphy.
There are ninety-nine names in the Islamic tradition. Each one a window into a different facet of the divine. Painting each one is an act of pilgrimage without leaving the studio.
The portrait demands a different kind of attention. Where calligraphy asks the artist to dissolve into the script, portraiture demands presence. Both, in their own way, are forms of witness.
Gold leaf in Islamic art is not decoration. It is theology. A reflection of divine light, of that which does not diminish. Understanding this changes everything about how you approach the brush.