99 was born out of a moment of rupture — a painful experience of friendship that led me to question the way I connect with others. To sort through the noise in my head, I asked myself: If I were to meet God, how would I want to be welcomed? What kind of landscape would help me feel safe enough to speak?
For some, God doesn’t exist. But for me, He lives within.
I was raised in a Muslim family, where I often heard that God has 99 names. Not knowing which one to use, I simply called this painting “99.”
In this piece, nothing is really in its "right" place — and that’s exactly how I wanted it.
I love water, I love trees. And unlike “Gemini”, here the trees have blossomed, just like my perception of spirituality. This isn’t a painting rooted in dogma or the dichotomy of heaven and hell.
It’s a space of peace, a personal vision of what it would be like to meet the Being at the center of humanity’s oldest questions — to share my doubts, my existential thoughts, and the relief of finally coming out of the tunnel.
The painting is full of colors — maybe that’s my way of forcing myself to see things differently. To shift the perspective. To choose softness over fear.
