From ancient paintings, we can learn something about amulets. Many of these objects have survived to the present day, particularly those that belonged to children of the aristocracy, thanks to the quality of the materials used and the care with which they were preserved. These children, due to their social status and wealth, were often the target of envy and were constantly under the scrutiny of others. In this context, amulets served a protective function, seeking to ward off the evil eye and other influences considered harmful.

The image of an amulet depicting an open hand is commonly known as the Khamsa, Hamsá, or Hand of Baraka. Different names for the same ancient symbol. Found across diverse cultures and religions, the open hand has endured through the centuries as a symbol of protection, blessing and spiritual transmission. The origin of the name ‘Baraka’ dates to Arabic, where ‘barakah’ means ‘blessing’ or ‘prosperity’. This concept is highly valued in the cultures of the Middle East and North Africa, where the notion of blessing transcends the material aspect and is linked to gratitude, divine protection, and happiness.

If we look back in time, images of open hands can be traced back to Paleolithic art. They are found in Spain, for example, in the caves of Castillo and Altamira. As a symbol, it predates the Abrahamic religions and was associated with the goddess Tanit by the Phoenicians. This symbol is adopted by Islam under the name ‘Hand of Fatima’, after Muhammad’s youngest daughter; by Judaism under the name ‘Hand of Miriam’, in honour of Moses’ sister; and by Christianity as the ‘Hand of God’.

Today, the Khamsa is everywhere. From the domestic and private sphere to a symbol of resistance; from an amulet to a decorative element. In the Islamic baths of Loulé, it appeared before me as a small, almost invisible trace of Al-Andalus, and ultimately revealed an unexpected geography to me. In the palm of a hand, a shared cartography, a revelation that gave impetus to this project, later expanded by ‘encounters’ with authors such as Adalberto Alves, Adonis, Eva-Maria von Kemnitz and Ibn Al-Arabi.

I also found the Khamsa, as a symbol of the flow of divine grace, depicted on a ceramic fragment from an ablution basin dating from the Almohad period, at the Convento da Nossa Senhora da Graça in Tavira.

In the Sufi tradition, a mystical and contemplative branch of Islam, the Hand of Fatima offers protection against evil. For Sufis, circles and spirals associated with the solar symbol hold special significance due to their symmetry and structure. It is the most perfect geometric shape and is reflected in some of their practices: in the wheel or rotation, or in prayer performed in a circle. It is the symbol of existence. Al-Buni, a Sufi and mathematician, describes combinations of letters, divine names, numbers, and magic squares that should be written according to specific rules, at certain astrological moments, with specific intentions.

For the poet Adonis, when contrasting the Sufi religious movement with the aesthetic movement of Surrealism, reason and logic may prove insufficient, since they fixate on the partiality of things whilst seeking universal answers. The answer constitutes the foundation of reason, which views existence as a problem to be solved. Sufism and Surrealism, by contrast, understand existence as a mystery; rather than explaining it, they seek to establish a union with it.

At a time when reason seeks answers to everything, André Breton reminded us, 100 years ago, of the importance of recognising the esoteric sciences and of preserving the realm of mystery. Legends, amulets, cosmologies, alchemy and spiritual practices do not appear here as relics of the past, but as ways of imagining different relationships with the world. This is the role of the Hand of Baraka: a symbol that transcends cultures, religions and eras, and which brings peoples together. It also reminds us that not everything that guides human life can be reduced to logic or rationalisation.

Susana Rodrigues June 2026