Equinox Revelations & New Allignments

The Sacred Series: Disruption for Balance, War for Peace.

By Or Lee Faya

For a long time, my message spoke of our human connection to mama earth. It was catchy, and it was true, but I always sensed it wasn’t the full picture. I painted hundreds of people into the world and drank my fair share of ayahuasca .. wanting to finally get to the bottom of my own darkness.

What I found was not an endpoint but a bottomless flow — the toroidal current of being human. Reflective, deceptive, impossible to pin down. And dangerously uncertain once we think we’ve “worked it out.” Words can point at truth, but they can never contain it. Every thought we have is born inside constructs — of language, culture, psychology, belief, fear, the craving for certainty. Constructs that force us to place ourselves at the centre, disconnected from the multidimensional decentralised web of existence, trapped in systems of authority that claim to serve but really control.

This perversity runs through our humanity. We are undermined by our own minds. Plagued by disbelief that shouts down logic. Moulded like putty by algorithms and media that conduct us like violent maestros. Up becomes down. Down becomes up. Like an inhale that has to exhale, the whole thing flips on itself. We’ve forgotten how to read between the lines.

Somewhere in the mountains of Peru I asked myself: how could I represent this “other part” — this hidden piece? The cosmos? The feminine?

As a woman, I know what it feels like to be hidden. To feel invisible. To feel the distortion of feminine power into something demonised. It’s personal. It’s visceral. And then the vision hit me like lightning: paint women into religious architecture. The forbidden, sacred spaces. The places where our bodies have been erased. I loved it immediately.

I knew the risks, but I had to see it. Living an hour away from Jerusalem made it possible. So I photographed the holy sites, printed them large, and invited fifteen women to join me. We merged their bodies with the walls, the windows, the tiles of ancient Jerusalem. Together, we stepped into the unthinkable. Paint and courage turned absence into presence. Each woman a vessel. Each body a statement. Together we posed the question that has haunted me for years: what is truly sacred? Stone and dogma, or the living flesh and spirit of women?

The project took longer than I ever imagined. By 2023 it was finished. I even took it to the States, chasing connections. But life had other turns — after ten years solo, I fell in love. For a while, the series slipped to the back seat as I tried to build something that ultimately wasn’t right for me.

And then came 7/10 — the day the world changed. It became unmistakably clear: this man was not for me.

And then - horror. terror. and a knowing.... that the series had to go live - one day - soon

For more than 700 days, I’d been carrying an ache in my chest. Restless. Inconsolable. The kind that wakes you at night and won’t let you go. Fifteen days before September 21st, as rage and grief pulsed through me for a million reasons, I realised: if not now, when? “Never” was the worst possible outcome.

So here we are.

Revealing what I’ve carried for a decade. This first edition of The Sacred Series, rooted in Jerusalem — the birthplace of monotheism, and the epicentre of how the sacred feminine was driven underground, cast into shadow and labelled unholy. The story spread from there across cultures and continents. This project is my mirror to that history.

This series is about WOMAN. LIFE. FREEDOM. SAFETY. Not as slogans. As survival. As the root fracture beneath the chaos we’re living through. Wars, ecological collapse, political breakdown — none of it can be understood without acknowledging the oldest, most invisible war: the war against women. The social, political, cultural violence buried under history. (Herstory — not even a word, let alone a thing.)

Launching on September 21st is deliberate. For years I was obsessed with the “International Day of Peace.” Naively, I clung to the idea that right action on the right day could change the world. Eventually the hypocrisy was impossible to ignore. Peace Day is a sweet gesture, but at its core it’s like a Hallmark card — a western construct designed to soothe guilt while avoiding the root causes of war.

Do I believe in peace? In some ways. Do I believe in the power of the individual? Absolutely - I live as if that’s true. But Peace Day itself is theatre. A well-made documentary. A glossy performance to distract us from the raw truth: the wars that matter most — especially the war on women — are ongoing, unseen, and perpetual.

What still draws me to September 21st is not the UN declaration but the equinox. That breath of time when day and night balance equally before tipping back into motion. Balance not as stasis, but as tension, friction, contradiction. That’s what this series embodies: The Sacred Balance we’ve forgotten (and my first book - coming soon).

The Sacred Series is not polite art. It is bold, provocative, and dangerous. But silence is more dangerous. Silence calcifies dogma into violence. Silence makes erasure permanent.

This work is my refusal to be silent. It is testimony. It is me, standing beside fifteen women who risked being seen — even if anonymously — and saying: we are here. We have always been here. And our safety is not negotiable. You can try to kill it, but consciousness cannot die. We will speak. We will rise. We will fight — with beauty, with art, with everything we have.

I don’t know what will happen now that it’s out in the world. Maybe nothing. Maybe everything. But I know this: there is nothing left to lose, and everything to gain.

On Peace Day, as speeches echo and hashtags circulate, I’ll be here. Offering this series as a scar, a mirror, a rally cry. A disruption.

Because:

WOMAN. LIFE. FREEDOM. SAFETY.

It’s everything, or nothing.

WE ARE LIVE - www.thesacredseries.art 

First limited edition (/29) piece for sale is "The Weeping Wall"

Get it up on your wall and let the magic begin.