My goal here is to start with a single image, multiply it by 4 and transform it into something that can stand on its own as one image (not be duplicate images even though they are copies). It is a different way to see the world and because I have a new paradigm of the world, it has to be re-photographed. Since 2009, I have done exactly that. Instead of using a large format camera as was customary for me, I now use a digital single lens reflex (DSLR) camera. I first shot everything in my house and yard, then the wife and kids. Now I take that camera almost everywhere I go. My shooting style has changed from the deliberate large format camera with carefully planned excursions, to almost Street Photography. If I see a possible image while driving, I circle around and stop the car.

Some property owners ask me what I’m doing. People see me and call the police to alert them to strangers in their neighborhood. I have even been told that I cannot take pictures on or of a property. The camera commands our emotions even before it creates an image.

The concept for my mandalas has its roots in a darkroom technique called "Flopping." This method involves exposing half of a photographic paper with a negative, then flipping the negative to expose the other half. I first encountered a digital adaptation of this technique in 2007 through John Paul Caponigro's work. Initially dismissing it as gimmicky, I found myself captivated two years later.

Photography has long embraced experimentation—whether through manipulations inside the camera, chemical processes, or digital tools. Gimmicks, as they are sometimes called, can ignite visual and mental stimulation, and photographers are drawn to these innovations in pursuit of the next creative breakthrough. For me, mandalas became an obsession, akin to an addictive rush.

The reason lies in the brain's affinity for patterns, symmetry, and visual rhythm. When I create and view these images, I experience a meditative euphoria, as if my brain releases pleasure chemicals in response to finding order and beauty within chaos.

Art, for me, is deeply emotional. A great painting or photograph evokes something profound, an almost physical response. With my mandalas, I have found a way to amplify that feeling. The symmetry and patterns within these works engage the visual sympathetic nervous system, stimulating a biochemical pleasure response.

This meditative quality aligns with the traditions of Islamic art, where geometry and patterns create a visual transcendence, freeing the mind from figurative interpretation. This allows viewers to enter a meditative state akin to a mantra or chant. My work strives to achieve a similar effect—offering a visual space for reflection and connection.

Creating mandalas has also transformed how I compose photographs. The traditional focus on the "center" of the frame has shifted to emphasize the "edges and corners". In the final composite, these peripheral elements become the "center" of the image, redefining its balance and harmony.