A memory from Japan, where I lived briefly in the 1980s. This piece recalls earthy colors, organic shapes, and fragments of that time. A circle emerges from a flowing field of triangles—like ripples of moonlight dancing on the sea near Kamakura.
Immersing yourself in my op art is an invitation into a world where opposing forces meet, attract, and interlock, creating a balance both precise and hypnotic. It is a silent yet unending dialogue between art, form, line, color, mathematical concepts, the science of perception, and, above all, symbols. The symbolic depth of my work reaches beyond surface appearance, engaging with archetypes and forgotten rites that still pulse within the collective unconscious.
I’ve been toying with the idea of revisiting an old, low-key material for my art: Flutex.
If you haven’t heard of it, Flutex is a patterned industrial glass from the 1930s and ’40s, mostly used to give a bit of privacy in bathrooms and office partitions.
In the ’70s, Op artist Sydney Cash started playing with this glass and found that its ribbed surface works like a lenticular screen—showing different images depending on how you look at it. The effect? Hypnotic, shifting artworks that change as you move around them.
It’s just simple glass, but it tricks perception in a really cool way.
I’m seriously considering giving it a try myself—there’s something about that mix of humble material and complex visual play that feels worth exploring again.
Science — like art — doesn’t really speak in the indicative. It doesn’t say this is, it asks what if? It begins in the conditional, in the open-ended curiosity of what could be, and unfolds in the imperative, the bold call to look, try, observe.
Discovery doesn’t start with answers — it starts with a question. And when it arrives, it rarely comes wrapped in neat descriptions. It comes as a gesture, a provocation, a set of instructions that invite us to experience something for ourselves.
Think about it: no one learns to cook from a description of flavor. They follow a recipe — a list of directives. A musician doesn’t explain the music in his head; he writes a score. And when we follow it, sound becomes experience. The composer’s vision is reborn in the hands of another.
In my own work, I do much the same — though my instrument is perception, and my notes are lines, colors, forms. Each visual illusion, each image, is a kind of instructional code. Not a description of what’s there, but an opening. If you engage with it, something clicks — not because I told you what to see, but because the form guided your eyes to see it for yourself.
G. Spencer Brown wrote that the act of drawing a distinction is the first creative move — a way of bringing something into being. In that spirit, I don’t aim to define the world. I aim to make space for new ways of seeing it.
So perhaps the real language of both science and art isn’t declarative at all.
It’s performative. It doesn’t tell you what reality is — it dares you to experience it. And in that challenge, something unexpected happens: You discover not just what the world could be — but what you might be within it.
“Follow the Light” – A visual imperative that pulls the eye into the unknown. This piece doesn’t describe — it directs. It doesn’t tell you what to see — it invites you to find out.Available as a fine art print.
Although I’ve been working in the field of Op Art since the mid-1980s, it’s important to recognize that the movement itself has a deeper history. It began to take shape in the 1960s, led by pioneering figures such as Victor Vasarely and Bridget Riley.
However, the artists who truly captivate me—the ones who expanded the language of perception—are often the outsiders. One such figure is Julio Le Parc (b. September 23, 1928), an Argentine-born artist whose practice bridges Op Art and kinetic art. Le Parc studied at the School of Fine Arts in Argentina and went on to co-found the Groupe de Recherche d’Art Visuel (GRAV). His work, honored with numerous awards, holds a prominent place in Latin American modernism.
Le Parc’s recurring themes—color, light, and movement—have always resonated with me. During the ’60s and ’70s, he explored light not just as a visual element but as a living, dynamic material. Yet by the late ’70s, his presence in the art world had faded; his output became sporadic, and for decades his work slipped quietly out of the international spotlight.
Fortunately, recent years have witnessed a renewed appreciation of his explorations in light and movement, bringing his contributions once again to the attention of a wider public.
Take a moment to focus on the circular pattern. How many spirals do you see? The surprising answer is none. There are no spirals here—just alternating black and yellow discs, slightly off-center and layered to create a striking illusion of swirling depth and motion.
I began crafting pieces like this in the early ’90s, drawing inspiration from Duchamp’s Rotoreliefs. I was captivated by how simple rotation could deceive the eye, inviting the viewer into a world of optical illusions. It’s a unique experience—seeing motion and depth in something entirely flat, both puzzling and mesmerizing.
This op art pattern comes to life across various mediums and transforms into artistic expressions on different objects. In my online gallery, you’ll find art prints and everyday items featuring this work, all available for purchase.
At first glance, they seem to be the same, but take a closer look… Can you spot what’s wrong?
I’ve always been fascinated by impossible figures, which psychologists call “undecidable figures”, meaning visual representations that challenge our perception and understanding of reality. Since the late 1980s, I’ve continued to explore this field and create new illusions, producing a series of drawings that play with the third dimension, manipulating perspectives and proportions to create original visual effects.
My work draws inspiration from two masters of optical art and impossible objects: Josef Albers and Oscar Reutersvärd. Their innovations and creations have always inspired and motivated me to continue my research in this field.
Explore a fascinating figure/ground effect in this op art piece, where 4 black illusive bangles appear to overlap with 4 white ones. The rotating patterns create a calming and hypnotic visual experience.
This design is now available as t-shirts and posters in my online gallery.
If you’re interested in creating your own op art, I also have a tutorial available on Behance.
I hope you enjoy this design, and I’d love to hear your thoughts on it!
Introducing my latest creation, Triangles of Beauty—a minimalist mosaic that blends geometric precision with visual intrigue. This op art piece showcases a striking arrangement of triangular shapes in sepia tones, merging rich shades of brown and beige. The triangle, a timeless symbol, embodies the balance of masculine and feminine energies, forming a harmonious third element that transcends duality. It represents strength, unity, and the divine—a visual echo of the trinity, where individual components unite into something greater.
Step back and let the patterns unfold to reveal the depth within this thought-provoking piece.
This thought-provoking op art piece is available in my online galleries:
Embarking on a journey in a Klein bottle? Absolutely. A Klein bottle is a mind-bending non-orientable surface, defying the usual inside-outside norms. Technically, the ship’s navigating the interior…
