The Invisible Laws of Art: Rhythm, Polarity, and Correspondence in Practice.

Every artist, sooner or later, must answer a fundamental question: Why am I doing art?

That answer becomes the axis around which their creative universe rotates. It defines not only their visual language, but also the depth of their vision and the clarity of their proposal.

For me, making art has always been a search for meaning—not just aesthetic meaning, but existential balance.

Through personal rupture and transition, I turned to art as a way to restore harmony—a harmony I couldn’t find elsewhere. It wasn’t just a creative act. It was a survival instinct.

Art-making is a continuous process. And at some point, that process led me to immerse myself in the study of universal principles, philosophy, and purpose. Then came the internal turning point: under tremendous pressure, you either break—or open. That pressure became a portal. What emerged was resilience, a new vision, and a different way of being.

I was reborn not just as an artist, but as a human being. In my case, this unfolding took place over seven years.

To truly understand what I was making, I had to understand what moves the world beyond matter.

Art is not separate from nature’s order.

It is a reflection of it.

Let me show you how I bring this into practice.

Certain patterns—those found in sacred geometry—describe the way nature creates harmony. These are echoed in timeless principles: rhythm, polarity, correspondence, cause and effect, gender, vibration, and mentalism. By understanding them, we gain the ability to reshape not only what we create, but how we live.

Much like Hilma af Klint and Kandinsky turned to spiritual systems to inform abstraction, I draw on Hermetic principles to shape material resonance.

In my kinetic art practice, I focus on three foundational principles:

• Rhythm sets the tempo.

• Polarity invites reflection.

• Correspondence builds connection.

But how does this look in practice?

From the first sketches, we consider golden ratio proportions and their vibrational effects on the observer. We then translate these ideas into digital form—iterating, adjusting relationships between elements, exploring scale. Dimensions define the occurrences of events: the size of each part, the width of a line, the space between movements—all shaping rhythm, polarity, and correspondence.

What’s most fascinating is that when a piece is finished, it often reveals a sense of balance, harmony, and beauty—a quiet echo of what we long for in life itself.

We don’t just create objects that move — we create objects that resonate.

Kinetic art, when deeply rooted in these principles, becomes more than motion. It becomes meditation in material form.