In this collection, the cross is no longer a place of redemption — but of inverted reflection.
The starting point is the crucifixion, but every element has been reversed. Bodies are hung upside down. Hands are nailed where feet should be, and feet where hands once were. A silent rotation that questions the grammar of martyrdom itself.
Where the traditional inscription INRI once stood, now appear new words, modern tags, symbols of the present. The cross becomes a screen, a billboard, a surface where meaning is written — and rewritten.
But it is the chromatic reversal between positive and negative that makes the process visible. Every image has its opposite: light turns to shadow, shadow lights up. Color is not decoration, but narrative tension. The cross becomes an optical field, where every shift reveals a different truth.
Crux Mea Lux is not a religious collection. It is a sacred one.
A visual meditation on the body, on power, on language.
An inversion that doesn’t ask for faith — only for attention.
