In Sanskrit, LILA means play—the “divine play” of the universe, the unfolding of creation itself. It also carries the resonance of night (laila in Hebrew and Arabic) and lilac, a flower of peace and sensitivity.

It’s so precious as a maker to maintain the world of LILA as delicate and intuitive —as the process was— encouraging to allow the pure experience of it. The main themes that move the work are vulnerability and openness to the unknown, a willingness to stay with not-knowing, which becomes fertile, inclusive, and transformative. As the Italian poet Chandra Livia Candiani writes in “Questo immenso non sapere (‘This Immense Not-Knowing’)”:

“A good practice before any other is the practice of wonder. Practice not-knowing and marveling. […] Animals and trees teach us not to know, to inhabit the world without the obsession to understand. Their lack of control doesn’t make their world smaller, but vast, mysterious. They know how to surrender, and they teach us a primal and radical trust.”

LILA is not a path to answers, but a surrender to the immensity of not-knowing, where vulnerability becomes strength and encounter becomes creation. In this space, the self dissolves into something larger. Transformation arises naturally, playful yet profound, a gesture of peace in fractured times.

— Sofia Nappi