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Hayāt al-Hayāt

Hayāt al-Hayāt is a series of twenty khayamiya textile artworks, each paired with a poem, by Esmeralda Kosmatopoulos, following a serpent-woman who refuses motherhood and discovers other forms of fertility — in language, creation and desire.

MEDIUM

Textile

MATERIALS

Egyptian cotton, hand-cut and appliquéd fabric (khayamiya)

YEAR

2025 – 2026

About

Hayāt al-Hayāt belongs to Serpents, Genies, Chimeras and Other Wonders. Where The Jinn from the West fictionalises the role of wife, this series turns to the role of mother — and to what happens when a woman's body refuses the future assigned to it. Rooted in Kosmatopoulos's own choice not to have children, the work moves beyond direct autobiography by giving that refusal the form of a contemporary serpent myth.

The series begins from a persistent cultural injunction: that motherhood is the horizon against which feminine identity is measured, and that a woman without children remains somehow incomplete, as though an empty womb were a space still waiting to be corrected. Hayāt al-Hayāt asks what becomes possible once that injunction is refused outright.

Across twenty panels, a serpent-woman moves through a world drawn from Islamic miniatures and Sufi imagery — sensual, multiple and ambiguous. She is not a simple figure of liberation. She passes through exile, rejection and anger; she escapes the charmer who tries to contain her, slips beyond the frame that would fix her into a single meaning, and refuses to give birth. Her pierced belly does not signify absence awaiting fulfilment. It is an opening through which another language can emerge.

Rejected by the world around her, she withdraws into the abyss and receives fire. The fire carries rage, but also the possibility of metamorphosis: it burns the narrative imposed on her body and allows another world to be built from what remains — one in which the female body exists as living, desiring, self-determined matter rather than a reproductive function.

Each textile is paired with a poem, image and text advancing together rather than one illustrating the other. The twenty works unfold as stages within the serpent-woman's passage, while the khayamiya panels bring writing and image into the same narrative field. Together, they produce a mythology of alternative fertility: the fertility of language, pleasure, silence, abandonment, imagination, breath, creation and desire. The serpent-woman does not reject life. She redirects its cycles, moving fertility away from biological continuity and towards the capacity to shape, transform and bring other forms into being.

The title rests on the proximity of two Arabic words: hay?t, life, and hayyah, serpent — separated by a single letter, opening onto entangled worlds. Hayāt al-Hayāt may mean the life of serpents, or life itself.

Rooted in Sufi traditions where absence may already contain presence, the project moves between emptiness and fullness, flesh and light, silence and cry. It does not oppose motherhood or diminish its meaning. It questions the way motherhood is imposed as the inevitable completion of female existence, often at the expense of other possible lives.

At its most intimate, the series is also a letter addressed to the pregnancy the artist never desired — an explanation of why it never came, belonging neither to failure nor to regret.

What has not been transmitted through flesh is carried elsewhere — in fabric, language, image and creation.

The Story

Hayat al-Hayat, textile 1 of 20: The Reed’s Sigh
01 / 20

The Reed’s Sigh

The reed sighs the call from the Source.
Ancient spells, before the moons.
Each note embraces,
bodies tremble.
The world, gently, closes.

Hayat al-Hayat, textile 2 of 20: The Captured Gaze
02 / 20

The Captured Gaze

The eye brushes the eye.
In the pupil,
the vertigo of an ancient decree.
A breath, a shiver.
The moment freezes.
She sees him. He holds her.

Hayat al-Hayat, textile 3 of 20: The Moon at the Sun
03 / 20

The Moon at the Sun

In the embrace of the walls,
hands weave a nest.
The fertile body watches,
moon suspended before dusk.
The beginning trembles.
Time holds its breath.

Hayat al-Hayat, textile 4 of 20: The Crowning of the Egg
04 / 20

The Crowning of the Egg

Sacred statue, at the height of her glory,
Celestial crown
upon her emptied womb.
Below, gazes bow before the beginning.
Beneath the moon’s dust,
the void watches.

Hayat al-Hayat, textile 5 of 20: The Forgotten One’s Ball
05 / 20

The Forgotten One’s Ball

At the windows, the feast spins,
Breath suspended
beyond the world, beyond time.
Life dances without her.
An endless circle around the beginning.

Hayat al-Hayat, textile 6 of 20: The Night’s Forgetting
06 / 20

The Night’s Forgetting

What gives nothing cannot be kept.
Hands, closed doors,
shut to pierced souls.
A star falls,
Into the moonless night.
A breath, then nothing.

Hayat al-Hayat, textile 7 of 20: The Simurgh’s Embrace
07 / 20

The Simurgh’s Embrace

Beneath the Simurgh’s endless wing,
the womb opens to breath,
Echo of a thousand winds.
She dissolves into the feather,
With only the sea as witness.
Nameless, she is reborn.
A new moon calls her.

Hayat al-Hayat, textile 8 of 20: The Flame that Forges
08 / 20

The Flame that Forges

The sea closes.
The stone opens.
In the hollow, a flame dances,
soft, fierce.
The fire cannot be seized.
It enters, it consumes.

Hayat al-Hayat, textile 9 of 20: A New World With no End
09 / 20

A New World With no End

The hooves of Buraq
split a moonless sky.
They cross the void,
Without beginning, without end,
Without form, without name.
A light bursts forth,
brighter than nothingness.

Hayat al-Hayat, textile 10 of 20: What Still Burns
10 / 20

What Still Burns

The sea remembers
the passing souls.
Full of emptiness, it overflows.
The fire draws its border.
A thousand flames against forgetting.
Illuminate.

Hayat al-Hayat, textile 11 of 20: Wound in the Wind
11 / 20

Wound in the Wind

The sand bleeds.
The hooves strike.
The wind exhumes the cries.
The bite splits the skin.
The muscle remembers.
Flesh against light.
Shadow against nerve.
The truth breaks open.

Hayat al-Hayat, textile 12 of 20: The Throat of the Void
12 / 20

The Throat of the Void

The man becomes silence.
The tree does not tremble.
In the shadow, they rise —
echoes of an open womb,
ancient choirs,
endless birth.
She is no longer alone.

Hayat al-Hayat, textile 13 of 20: Birth of the Thousand Heads
13 / 20

Birth of the Thousand Heads

Empty wombs, open doors.
From each, an army is born.
Full of nothing, strong with all.
A thousand breaths — one voice.
The earth shudders,
then bows.

Hayat al-Hayat, textile 14 of 20: Rage and Sand, Ash and Wind
14 / 20

Rage and Sand, Ash and Wind

In the dust, rage erupts.
One body, a thousand heads,
a gaping hollow.
The wind dances.
The earth trembles.
The camp fades.

Hayat al-Hayat, textile 15 of 20: Unifying the Void
15 / 20

Unifying the Void

One body, two breaths.
One rends, the other embraces.
Teeth locked, iris brushed.
Beneath the shadow, a fragile peace.
Silence wounds no more.
The world breathes.

Hayat al-Hayat, textile 16 of 20: The Radiance of Return
16 / 20

The Radiance of Return

What fled regains its forgotten form.
Absent among the living,
the moon erases the wounds.
Arms open.
The void fills.
The eyes search no more.

Hayat al-Hayat, textile 17 of 20: Come, I’ll Take You
17 / 20

Come, I’ll Take You

Alone with the void,
another voice rises.
The black moon joins the full.
The shadow touches the light.
The void opens —
it becomes a path.
All is reborn.

Hayat al-Hayat, textile 18 of 20: The Man of Pleasure
18 / 20

The Man of Pleasure

When the body expects nothing,
it receives it all.
The flesh trembles,
the skin stretches.
The moment passes through.
Nothing to carry, nothing to hold.
Only surrender.

Hayat al-Hayat, textile 19 of 20: The Fertile of the Void
19 / 20

The Fertile of the Void

Nothing has been sown.
Nothing is meant to bloom.
Wombs open to the wind.
Without seeds, without fruit,
They move the moon.
The sky falls silent.
The world listens.

Hayat al-Hayat, textile 20 of 20: Fertile Abyss
20 / 20

Fertile Abyss

Nothing grows — everything throbs.
Full of emptiness, empty of fear,
she becomes world.
Without egg and without waiting.
The invisible moves.
Create.

Studio Notes