The discipline of slowness: where process becomes prayer

Drawing as a means of self-expression has been part of my life for as long as I can remember, though it has taken many outward forms over the years. For over a decade and a half, I worked in clothing and printed textile design, creating for commercial retail and my own personal brand. While this period was formative, the demands of producing collections for constant consumption at times began to curb my creativity. Eventually, there was a pause, a period in which I stepped away from designing and creating altogether.

Lino printing began as a small experiment, driven by curiosity, as it was a medium I had never worked with before. What started tentatively soon became something I deeply fell in love with. The practice has given me so much space, clarity, and meaning, and it is these reasons that I will go on to explain.

Creating art, I feel, has become a necessary way for me to step away from the outside world and return inward, a practice I now recognise as essential to my wellbeing. Once I find a rhythm, I enter deep states of flow, and it is this immersion that makes the process of creating so fulfilling. Through my practice, sometimes, I am able to channel pain and give form to emotions and experiences that cannot be expressed verbally.

There is also a deeply spiritual dimension to this work, one that has evolved alongside my own spiritual journey and through these pieces, I feel a closer connection to God and a sense of inner peace.

The slow, deliberate act of cutting a lino block is both cathartic and meditative, demanding care, patience, and presence. Embedded within this process is an act of surrender: once the block is inked and printed, the outcome can no longer be controlled. As someone who is drawn to order and precision, this medium requires me to let go of perfectionist tendencies and embrace uncertainty.

Even the choice of material, handmade, recycled cotton rag paper with its uneven, textured surface and raw edges, contributes to this sense of surrender and to the hand-finished aesthetic of the work. The knowledge that someone else’s hands shaped the paper before my own touched it feels deeply meaningful to me.

The tactility of working with my hands is a conscious choice. The process is slow and labour-intensive, even though it could be made easier through automation or mass production. Yet it is precisely this slowness and effort that I seek, and that I wish to offer the recipient.

All of these elements come together to define my work, and it is this layered experience of intention, vulnerability, and faith that the recipient ultimately receives. I would like to take you through each work and share what it means, and what I hope it may offer you.

Alif (Oneness) or Al Wahid (The One)

This artwork represents both Alif, the first letter of the Arabic alphabet and a symbol of oneness, and Al-Wahid, which in the Islamic tradition refers to The One, one of the Ninety-Nine Beautiful Names of God and an emblem of divine unity itself. The simplicity of the single vertical stroke evokes both the beginning of language and the infinite essence of the Divine.

Al Nur (The Light)

Al-Nur translates to 'The Light' one of the names of God from the prayer Asma al-Husna prayer, the Ninety-Nine Beautiful Names of God. This piece has been created using four layers of ink and finished with delicate gold leaf, giving it a luminous depth and texture.

Shukran (Thank you)

Shukran, the Arabic word for 'thank you,' carries a profound sense of gratitude, one that may be offered both to those we love and to the Divine. The deep aubergine tone of this print was inspired by the calligraphy found in a bifolium from the Pink Qur’an (Spain, 13th century), now housed in the Metropolitan Museum of Art. I have also created a gold colourway, as well as a smaller red piece, the latter a nod to the iconic arches of the Great Mosque of Cordoba.

Al Hub (Love)

Al Hub is the Arabic word for love. Love holds a central place in Arabic culture, with the language offering at least eleven distinct words to express its many forms. The wave-like motifs along the border draw inspiration from Persian paintings, evoking movement and emotion.

Ya Rab (Oh lord)

Ya Rab is an invocation that translates as ‘Oh Lord.’ It resonates across South Asian spiritual traditions and the wider Islamic world, spoken both in moments of hardship and in times of joy. An expression of surrender and recognition of a power greater than ourselves.

Thank you for taking the time to view these pieces. If you feel a resonance with any of the work, I warmly invite you to browse my online shop.

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