𐤆 | pierrot et la pārallaxę

Collections:
The Gęn'āxsis Collection (Physical + Oridinals)
the HEāRT TRUST / BTT TRUST 

Gate 𐤆 of the Gęn’āxis, Pierrot et la Pārallaxę marks the artist’s first canvas and the birth of his symbolic theatre. Created in 2019 honoring the death of his father at ge 12, it weaves painting, sculpture, and performance into one reliquary of emotion. The clown face — both smiling and bleeding — reflects the duality of the human condition: laughter as armor, tears as revelation. Framed like a small stage, the work includes angels, torn newspapers, a chrome doll trapped behind bars, and a red button that pulses like a heart. Every object becomes a relic of transformation, every tear a mirror of perception. It is grief rendered visible, the eye learning to see itself.

I was not trying to make art that day — I was trying to breathe. The studio was quiet, my mentor’s words still echoing: “You will know what to do.” When I picked up the brush, grief was the only pigment I had. The canvas was thin — framed, but not like I work today. I envisioned my own face, intending to use only whites… Then, from nowhere, blues and reds followed — a Pierrot born from sorrow. Around me I painted angels. I saw them clearly — witnesses made of air and paper. The next morning, I could not bear to see it hung so raw, so I built a wooden frame, a small theatre to contain the ache. I filled it with fragments of my world: a fence from childhood, fake grass from a forgotten model, a chrome doll made from torn newspapers, its heart wired to itself and popped outward, hands clutching steel bars as if longing to escape the place that trapped it. And in front of it, on the ground — a red button. What does the red button do? When pressed, the doll seems to plead, its hand trembling against the rods that cage it — yet it smiles. That is the paradox of healing: laughter and pain sharing one body. Everything inside this shrine was once alive — pieces of memory, sound, even scent. The blue balloon held the sky I never said goodbye to. The horse shoe — luck turned upside down. The angel wings were not symbols; they were apologies. I understood then that art was not decoration, but resurrection. Each object had died once in the real world and was reborn here as meaning. The stage became a gate — a parallax of emotion and perception — where grief, humor, and faith converge. Today, when I stand before Pierrot et la Pārallaxę, I still see that first self looking back: a man learning to see through tears, realizing that the only way to understand light is to cry it.

ząh-āyin (𐤆) - derives from the ancient Ayin (ע), meaning eye, fountain, or source. In its Paleo-Hebrew form, it was drawn as an open oval — the shape of an eye or a spring. The root ʕ-y-n in Semitic languages still holds this double meaning: to see and to flow. Pronunciation: /zaʕ/ or ząh-āyin — a voiced fricative that begins in breath and ends in vision, like the hiss before revelation. Literal Meaning: Eye, well, watcher, perception itself. Esoteric Meaning: The eye of 𐤆 does not merely observe — it creates the seen. It reminds that perception is participatory: what you gaze upon, you alter. In the Kā-Bā-Lā tree it resonates with Hod, the sphere of mirrored intelligence, where language and light become self-aware. Symbolism: 𐤆 (ząh-āyin) is the cosmic lens — the mirror of consciousness looking at itself. It teaches that every act of seeing is also an act of becoming. The spring and the pupil are the same portal: one pours water, the other pours awareness. Glyphic Geometry: The curved line within the circle symbolizes the horizon of knowing — the threshold between inner and outer worlds. When the circle breaks, illusion collapses and true sight begins. Numerical Field: 7 — the sacred oscillation of reflection, the sevenfold eye of creation. Color Field: Cobalt / Mirror-Silver — the hue of deep water reflecting the sky. Energetic Pulse: 77.7 Hz — the hum of awareness passing through matter. Phrase of Power:“I see, therefore I reveal — and what I reveal, sees me.” Pierrot — from French Pierrot, diminutive of Pierre (“Peter”) via diminutive suffix. Pronunciation: /pɪəˈɹəʊ/, /pjɛˈɹəʊ/ A character from French pantomime — a tender buffoon in a loose white outfit, a tragic clown of innocence and melancholy, a popular masquerade archetype. Parallax — /ˈperəˌlaks/ (noun) 1. The effect whereby the position or direction of an object appears to differ when viewed from different positions (e.g., through a camera lens and its viewfinder). → What we see depends on where we stand. 2. (Astronomy) The angular amount of parallax in a particular case, especially that of a star viewed from different points in Earth’s orbit. → A reminder that perspective itself is cosmic.

Cosmic Essence (Kā-Bā-Lā) — Kabbalistic Meaning
Sefirah: Hod — the sphere of reflection, speech, and self-awareness. Meaning: Eye and mirror; the seeing that becomes self-seeing.
Element: Air + Water — breath meeting reflection.
Color (Tarot): Deep Blue / Silver Tear.
Lesson: Perception is a mask that hides the true witness behind it.

Gate 𐤆 — the mirror-gate of the Gęn’āxis — the point where sight becomes awareness and awareness becomes creation. It teaches that perception is never neutral: what we gaze upon, we change. In the continuum of the Gęn’āxis spiral, this gate marks the moment of awakening self-observation — when the artist first turns inward and sees the unseen within his own grief. It is the gate of mirrors, masks, and multiplicity — where laughter and sorrow coexist, and where the seer and the seen exchange places. Within the greater architecture of the Collection, 𐤆 stands as the pivot of dual vision: the point where illusion reveals its divine purpose — not to deceive, but to teach empathy. Pierrot becomes the cosmic jester, weeping and smiling through the same wound, reminding us that every

Creation Story pierrot et la pārallaxę: In 2019, during sessions with my mentor Orlit in Israel, our talks drifted from the personal into the cosmic. When I finally said, “Let’s speak about the elephant in the room,” it meant my father’s death — a silence I had carried for many years. She answered softly: “You’re talented. You will know what to do.” That night, I did. I went home, stretched a cheap, thin canvas — and painted myself surrounded by angels. The next day, embarrassed by its fragility, I built a wooden frame, creating a small stage for the piece: a theater of my emotion. On the left, I planted a miniature garden for an angel; on the right, another angel burst out of the frame. Then I turned a nameless doll and wear it with torn newspapers, painted it in chrome, and trapped it behind bars of metal rods. Its chest, ripped open, held a bleeding heart and a red button on the ground in front of it — when pressed, his hand could almost reach freedom, but never fully. This was one of my first true catharsis in form: pain translated into performance. Every object — grass, glitter balloon, blue foam, fake fence — became a residue of emotion. I threw my grief into it until silence turned to theatre. Thus was born Pierrot et la Pārallaxę, the stage of mirrors between who I was and who I was becoming.