Raisins, Almonds, and a Quiet Offering

I did not set out to make religious art. I set out to make something out of what was left in my pantry.

One afternoon, I found myself looking at a handful of raw almonds, a few cashews, and a small pile of black raisins. Without a plan, I began to move them around on the table. Almost instinctively, the curve of a cashew became the tusk of Lord Ganesha. The smooth bend of an almond became an ear. The dark raisin became the eye.

It was a playful moment, but it felt profound. In Hindu tradition, these exact ingredients—nuts and dried fruit are often offered as prasad, blessed food given to devotees. By arranging them into the likeness of the deity who removes obstacles, the boundary between the spiritual and the domestic disappeared. The kitchen counter became an altar.

This series, "Alimentary Iconography: The Domestic Sacred," is an ongoing meditation on that moment. It asks us to consider where the divine actually lives. Is it only in temples and rituals, or can it be found in the quiet, mindful arrangement of the food we eat every day?

Working with raw, unprocessed ingredients forces a kind of restraint. There is no paint, no clay, and no expensive materials only texture, color, and geometry. It is a reminder that creativity does not require abundance; it only requires attention.

Each piece in this series is built on the same simple premise: that the ordinary is already extraordinary, if we take the time to arrange it with reverence.