Nuqta: The Dot Every Letter Begins From

Nuqta, a 24 by 24 inch textured abstract painting in plaster and acrylic, a raised peach circle on a soft peach and blue ground

Nuqta is the painting I hold closest to my heart. It reflects where I was when I made it, and the intention behind having a fine art business at all. It was the start for me. A big start, and a beautiful one.

What the nuqta means

In Arabic, the nuqta is the dot. Some letters share the same shape, and the dot is what tells them apart. In calligraphy, it's also the unit every letter is measured against. Writing begins with it.

For me, the meaning goes deeper. A few years ago, I was reading about the significance of the Arabic letters in a metaphysical sense. There's a saying in the mystical tradition, often attributed to Imam Ali (peace be upon him): everything in the Quran is in the Fatiha, everything in the Fatiha is in the Bismillah, everything in the Bismillah is in the letter ba, and he is the dot beneath the ba.

That was my first encounter with the idea. Everything held within a single dot. The dot as the place where everything begins.

Starting the series

When I set out to paint Nuqta, I wanted to create a cohesive body of work that was mine. I'd been experimenting with textured medium for months, learning how to use it, building my ability with it, and finding its limits.

Textured art was everywhere on Instagram then. I was trying to start my fine art business, and I'd sold a few pieces, but I felt like I was following a trend. I wanted to break out of it. So I started a series built on the Arabic letters, the Abjad collection.

Nuqta was the first piece. It felt like the right place to start because of what it means.

How the painting came together

I built the plaster foundation first, working on instinct. I kept thinking about how a starting point is a dot, and how so many paths, journeys, and shapes take form from it. That's why you see so many ridges and textures across the surface.

Somewhere in that process, I knew I needed to put myself in it. There's a scar on my eyebrow, and it became a scar in the painting. To me, it's the most beautiful detail in the piece. It stands out against everything else.

Close-up of the scar in Nuqta, a smooth white mark set into the ridged plaster surface

The color came from two places. I was dropping my daughter off at preschool every morning, and the peach tones in the early sky kept pulling at me. They fit the idea of a new start. I was also looking at tile work from Western Asia, with its blues and turquoises and small spots of peachy pink. Those became the palette.

A life of beginnings

When I think about everything starting from a dot, I think about how many times my life has started over.

When I was a kid, twenty to thirty relatives came to us from Lebanon. I went from having my own room to sharing it with four people. Then my family gave them our house and rented a place, so they had somewhere to stay until they found their footing. I left private school for public school and changed schools three times in fifth grade. I started wearing the hijab at eleven. I lost my brother when I was sixteen, my first real experience with death, and I found my way through it in my faith.

Then came adult life. Studying graphic design, working in packaging design, becoming a certified project manager on large engineering projects, getting married, becoming a mom. Then leaving work to focus on my kids, and finally going after the dream my fifteen-year-old self had: my own art business.

Some of those changes challenged me. All of them taught me to adapt.

Why Nuqta became my first print

After I released the Abjad collection in 2023, a lot of life happened. I had a hard pregnancy with my second son, and then came the genocide in Palestine, and the war that reached Lebanon, my family's home. I couldn't justify making pretty things while the world felt like it was on fire, so I paused.

In 2026, I finished a commission I'd been sitting on, and it woke something up in me. The feeling I had while painting it reminded me that this is the work I'm meant to do. I believe it's a calling from God.

I wanted more people to be able to live with this work, so I set up a limited edition of prints. I asked my audience on Instagram which paintings to print, and they chose Nuqta and Noon.

My first print was chosen by the people who follow my work. Nuqta started the series, and it started this chapter too.

Maya Fakhrriddine holding the framed Nuqta limited-edition print in front of the original painting

Living with Nuqta

I picture Nuqta with someone looking for a reminder of possibility and hope, maybe someone forging their own path. It could hang in an office, where they do their most important work. Or on a small wall near the dining room, where they can look up and remember that everything starts with family.

For me, that's the point.

Nuqta is a 24 x 24 original in plaster and acrylic on canvas. It's also available as a signed limited-edition print, in an edition of 25.


ABOUT ME

I'm a Lebanese-American abstract artist based in Southern California. I work in plaster, acrylic, oil, and pigment, building each piece in layers so the surface carries real texture and invites a closer look. The work keeps returning to the same questions, identity, memory, and the meaning we hold in the things around us.

I make work meant to slow you down, a moment of pause and a quiet kind of attention that most days don't leave room for. My pieces are in the homes of collectors across the country, each one bringing a little calm to the space it lives in.