The letter X has always marked a mystery — the crossing where opposites meet, the place of transformation. In the genetic code, the X-chromosome carries the original matrix of life; in geometry, X is the point of intersection, not direction — a meeting rather than a vector.

When I conceived Intuition X in 2017, the name arose as a symbol of that crossing — where intuition meets intelligence, inner voice meets outer creation. At the time, its echo of SpaceX felt natural: one explored outer space, the other explored inner space. Since then, the letter X has been conscripted into a different mythology — one of empire, ego, and control. Intuition X reclaims it for what it truly signifies: the quiet unknown, the field of connection through which consciousness listens to itself.

This understanding resonates with the alchemical Braunkreuz of Joseph Beuys — the earthy brown cross he used as a living symbol of transmutation, where matter and spirit, idea and action, converge. It is no coincidence that one of my most meaningful exhibitions, Rodin, Rilke, Beuys, explored precisely such a meeting point: between two towering sculptors of modern consciousness, Auguste Rodin and Joseph Beuys, with Rainer Maria Rilke as the trait d’union. There, as in Intuition X, form and thought intersect — not in spectacle or control, but in listening, becoming, and transformation.

The name also mirrors my inquiry into authorship in the age of AI. Meaning is not imposed by the creator but co-created by the reader, the listener, the witness. Intuition X names that crossing — between human and machine, intuition and reason, self and world — where understanding is born.

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