Almost Kirlian Photography and Live Painting at a Sikh Wedding

A Totally New Experience 

I grew up as an Orthodox Jew in Los Angeles and never knew much about Sikh culture except that Sikh men have very long hair. But here I was, six a.m. at a Sikh temple in Riverside, California. I walked up to the priest-like man at the front of the room and said, "I'm here for the Anand Karaj" (proud of myself for using a term from the wedding invitation that meant "ceremony"). He was so kind and welcoming, and brought me a cup of the best tea I ever had, along with a slice of golden sugary cake. I was nervous for the day, so I couldn't eat. I still held my 4 a.m. Starbucks latte for assurance that I'd be okay in this new environment. I began to set up my paints and easel, and started to paint the temple structure (called the Palki Sahib in Sikh tradition) that stood at the front of the room. The floor was carpeted and covered with huge soft white sheets. My bare feet felt so free and happy. It was so quiet in the room, and I felt grateful to start off the artwork in such a peaceful vibe.

The Culture, the Colors, and the Energy

A woman who clearly spends all her free time in the temple came over and spoke to me, sharing more about Sikh culture. She explained how the Guru Granth Sahib sits at the center of the temple, holding all the wisdom within it. She spoke about the Sikh belief that all humans are one under God, and the importance of expressing love to others and giving hugs. She also mentioned that the wood used in the temple’s structure was a really special type and was donated by her family in honor of her son's passing. 

I painted peacefully and alone for two hours before the wedding guests arrived, and then the procession started. Colorfully robed women with bright lips, bejeweled hands, and intricate henna tattoos filed into the room, walked up to the temple structure, placed money in a box, and bowed. Bearded men, their turbans in bright blues and pinks, slowly walked in and did the same. I appreciated the colorfulness of their culture.

My life obsession is colors, and it was so beautiful to watch the palette of existence actually being used and worn. In Orthodox Jewish culture, there’s a whole lot of black and white. A rabbi I knew once said that the kids wear uniforms of blue, black, and white so that their unique personalities and spirits can shine and be individuated, and so that they could avoid being defined by their external clothing.That’s kind of a positive way to look at the black and white thing—but come on, why can’t it just be both? Clothing is an external expression of the internal. And when we surround ourselves with color, we feel brighter inside too.

The Light in the Painting

As I continued paint, I had to decide where to paint the light coming from. I always include a light source in my paintings. Usually it’s in the center, representing a cosmic, divine force. When I paint people, I place it at the third eye or the heart. For this painting, I made the light radiate from the center of the Palki Sahib—where their holy book, the Guru Granth Sahib lay. Later, I also planned to add aura-like energy around the bride and groom. 

I painted what I felt.

Then I Found Something Crazy

After the wedding, I took the painting home to refine the details, as I always do. A live painting is about 80% complete at the event, but I spend another 20–30 hours adding layers, textures, and final touches. I went through my reference photos—the ones I had taken, along with the professional photographer’s shots. And then I saw something that made me stop. In the photos I took at the wedding, there were actual rays of white light coming from the exact spot I had painted them—the center of the temple, where the Guru Granth Sahib lay. “OMG, it’s the aura thing!” I thought. “What’s it called again? Something with a K… oh yeah! Kirlian photography.” I had read about Kirlian photography a few years ago and had also seen strange things like this before—photos where energy or light appeared in ways we couldn’t explain. A friend once took a photo of her dog the night before she passed away, and the dog looked see-through in the image. Another time, a friend’s photo showed an intense light in his eyes, and we joked that it was because he was going through a spiritual awakening at the time. But now, here it was, in my own photos. I had felt something special in that room, in the Sikh culture, in that moment of painting. And now there was proof of the light.

…Or So I Thought

As I wrote this blog post, I took a closer look at the photos. And then I realized: It wasn’t light rays at all. It was a man sitting in the center of the temple, waving a feather-like ceremonial object. I won’t lie—I was disappointed. I thought I had to rewrite this entire blog post because my “discovery” wasn’t as mystical as I first thought.

Moral of the Story? I Paint Energy.

Even though the “light rays” turned out to be something else, it doesn’t change what I felt while painting. The energy at that Sikh wedding was calm, loving, and deeply spiritual. I wasn’t trying to invent something mystical—I was just painting what felt real to me in that moment. Maybe that’s what painting does. It doesn’t just capture what’s physically there—it translates the feeling of a place, the energy of a moment, the presence of something beyond what we can see. So—was I painting light, or was I painting a feeling? I don’t know. But either way, it was real to me. And that’s enough.