sooraj subramaniam

The term maṇḍala comes from the Sanskrit word for “circle.” In Eastern traditions, maṇḍalas are used as spiritual tools for ritual and meditation—intricate geometric patterns, complex and beautiful in their own right, held within the seemingly simple structure of a circle.

In Tibetan Buddhism, monks create maṇḍalas using coloured sand. This meticulous and time-consuming practice embodies the acceptance of impermanence: once complete, the maṇḍala is wiped away and the process begins again. The act teaches mindful action without attachment to outcome, positioning the maṇḍala as a metaphor for both the minutiae and the wholeness of human experience—ephemeral and inevitable.

Composer Kumar Raghunathan creates a sonic landscape where Carnatic violin meets the susurration of sand and breath, enveloping the space in a sphere that is both weighted and weightless.

In near darkness, a single body moves gently and deliberately, casting intricate patterns within a circle. Distilled movements petal across space, building toward an illusion of perfection, only to dissolve and begin again. These meditative configurations foreground harmony as a prevailing aesthetic, yet remain untethered to its flourishing. As forms ebb and flow, the work invites contemplation of suspended time, impermanence, and the purity of action in and of itself.