Mudra unfolds as a triptych of moral transmission—gesture, abstraction, and command. On the left, a painted Buddha offers a gesture of reassurance or teaching. The hand position, or mudra, is declarative: in Buddhist iconography, mudras transmit meaning without words—protection, clarity, compassion. The figure is serene, centered, and symbolically fluent.
The central panel fractures that calm with Islamic non-figurative decoration: jagged black lines on a blue field, echoing sacred abstraction. In Islamic art, such patterns reflect divine unity and infinite order, avoiding figural representation to preserve the transcendence of God. The maze-like geometry becomes a spiritual system—complex, infinite, and non-narrative. It’s not chaos—it’s coded reverence.
On the right, bold text reads:
HIDE YOUR BELONGINGS
TAKE YOUR KEYS
LOCK YOUR CAR
These signs, common in parking lots, carry more than practical advice—they carry ritual weight. The instructions are clipped, repetitive, and behavioral. They imply a vague, unseen threat: theft, harm, violation. The danger is never named, but always present. The signage becomes a secular liturgy—protection through repetition, safety through ritualized action. It mirrors religious instruction, but without theology—just the choreography of fear.
Mounted on denim, the work resists sanctity. The frayed edges and hanging threads suggest wear, labor, and cultural residue. Denim becomes a secular canvas for sacred tension.
Mudra becomes a study in how morality is communicated—through gesture, abstraction, and command. It asks: when does reassurance become instruction? When does sacred geometry become behavioral code? When does signage become scripture?
Mudra juxtaposes these modes. A triptych of moral language, where belief is enacted through the hand, the pattern, and the municipal voice.
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