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Crucifixion (Corpus Hypercubus)

Artist: Salvador Dalí

Year: 1954

Medium: Oil on canvas

Location: Metropolitan Museum of Art (the Met), New York

Dimensions: 194.3 cm × 123.8 cm

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5 / 5
Outstanding
Bizarrometer Slider
3.5 / 5
Very Weird

Good Points ✔

  • Masterful classical technique with extraordinary precision
  • Striking fusion of religion and higher-dimensional science
  • Serene reinterpretation of a traditionally violent subject
  • Brilliant visualisation of the unfolded tesseract
  • Strong sense of depth, texture, and spatial realism

Bad Points ❌

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By26th February, 2026
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Table of Contents

Table of Contents

This will likely be the hardest post I will have written so far (or perhaps on par with Hegel’s Holiday :p).

That is because, if there is one limitation I have, it is my inability to understand a phenomenon without being able to visualise it.

I’m a highly visual learner and, as such, I often find myself trying to imagine abstract ideas visually in order to understand them.

Alas, reading about the fourth dimension made me realise the limits of this learning method.

You see, there is no training you can do, no degrees you can earn, and no drugs you can take that will allow you to truly “see” what a four-dimensional object even looks like. It’s impossible! (OK, maybe I won’t put my hands on fire when it comes to drugs).

Of course, there are tricks that can give you some intuition as to what a four-dimensional cube might look like (I will show you a few of those in a separate post), but they never produce the kind of immediate, complete mental image we can instantly form of a familiar three-dimensional object.

With Cruxifixion (Corpus Hypercubus), Dalí managed to touch on a very real limitation of human perception: the inability to visualise beyond three-dimensional space.

Review

At its heart, Crucifixion (Corpus Hypercubus) presents a surrealist version of the biblical event of the crucifixion of Jesus Christ. A golden polyhedron of a four-dimensional cube (aka tesseract) hovers, unfolded, over a checkered floor. A figure, whom we can reasonably assume to be Jesus Christ, appears to float unconscious, with his back to the polyhedron and without actually touching it, while four additional three-dimensional cubes float in front of him.

Standing on a platform, we see a woman in antique attire holding a golden robe and looking up at Jesus. Experts generally agree this woman represents Dalí’s wife, Gala Éluard Dalí, whom Dalí often portrayed in his works. The background is dark and apocalyptic, and we glimpse mountains in a deserted landscape.

What can I say? Another Dalí, another masterpiece.

Truly, sometimes a picture is worth a thousand words. Just look at Crucifixion (Corpus Hypercubus); it has all the elements that, to me, elevate a surrealistic painting stand head and shoulders above the rest. Dalí’s masterful brushwork in a distinctly classical style, is not only appropriate given the painting’s religious subject matter, but also incredibly precise and beautiful. The sense of depth in jaw-dropping; the texture of the fabrics, the folds and creases of the robes, and the meticulous and clean lines delineating the edges of the cubes are rendered with astonishing realism. The careful employment of light and shadows ties everything connected. All of these elements combine into a work of art that feels not only beautiful, but complete and fully realised.

But, Dalí being Dalí, aesthetics weren’t his only concern. Crucifixion (Corpus Hypercubus) belongs to his works so-called atomic period, during which Dalí sought to blend science with mysticism. And it works beautifully!

The central motif is, of course, Jesus Christ on the cross. Unlike the biblical account, there is no overt indication of suffering: Jesus’ face is turned away from us, and, there are no visible lashes, cuts, or wounds on his body. At the bottom right of the composition, standing on a raised platform, a woman (perhaps Mary) holds a mantel and looks up at Jesus with a calm, almost emotionless expression. Thus, while the viewer inevitably associates the scene with a narrative of pain, fear, and suffering, the painting itself remains serene and contemplative.

And did you notice what kind of cross Jesus Christ is being crucified on? A tesseract. A tesseract! Let me tell you, I’ve been working my arse off day and night for the last few months trying to get to grips with the damn thing, using every convenient tool at my disposal, and I’ve still only managed to acquire a very superficial understanding of it. OK, I may not be the cleverest among us, but I’m no idiot either. Out of all possible concepts, Dalí chose one of the hardest to translate into images, and, somehow, he succeeded, despite having no formal training in mathematics.

I sometimes daydream that Dalí somehow sat down in a haven of the leading physicists of his time (and there were many: Albert Einstein, Niels Bohr, Werner Heisenberg, Erwin Schrödinger, Max Planck) discussing the possibilities of a fourth-dimensional space. There is, of course, no historical evidence that Dalí ever met any of them, but what can I say?, I like to daydream.

Dalí’s fascination with ideas far outside his own field, combined with his ability to grasp the core concept of higher dimensionality and depicting it so convincingly, just shows how multifaceted an artist he truly was. Humans, after all, cannot directly conceive of a tesseract; our brains simply aren’t equipped to think in more than three spatial dimensions. So, mathematicians rely on various conceptual tools to build some intuition for the fourth dimension. The unfolded tesseract, which Dali brilliantly and accurately renders in the form of a cross, is one of such tools.

And I guess that is why I love Dalí’s art so much. It is not only that it looks amazing, or that it captures drama so effectively. It is the story, the literal narrative that his paintings convey.

With Crucifixion (Corpus Hypercubus), that story is immediately apparent. Drawing on the biblical account of Christ’s crucifixion – a pivotal moment in Christian faith, where Christ sacrificed himself to bear humanity’s sins and offer a path to salvation, as well as from the abstract concept of four-dimensional space, Dalí bound two of the most distinct realms: religion and science. Dalí was openly anti-religious in his youth, but his views on religion changed as a consequence of witnessing the horrors of WWII. Thus, it is unclear if Dalí was simply amused, or if this particular biblical event somehow resonated strongly with him.

Perhaps the answer is a little bit of both.

Star rating

It’s perhaps not surprising that I am reviewing, yet again, a Dalí painting. If you have been a recurrent visitor to Mindlybiz, you should by now have realized that I consider Dalí the greatest of surrealist artists. Crucifixion (Corpus Hypercubus) is yet another fine example of why I feel so attached to Dalí’s art.

In a single composition, Dalí managed to bring together two of the most divergent fields in the history of humanity, religion and science. By accurately depicting the unfolded fourth-dimensional cube, Dalí shows his acumen for delving into deep philosophical and mathematical concepts, at a time, mind you, when there was not nearly the amount of learning materials it exists today.

There is really no other rating the Crucifixion (Corpus Hypercubus) should get than full 5 stars.

Bizarrometer

The Crucifixion of Christ and the Tesseract, what do you expect? It is weird alright. Dalí’s paintings during the Atomic Period, which combined science with religion, are among some of the most enigmatic of Dalí’s painting. The general theme of the painting, however, isn’t as obscure as perhaps some of his other works.

Prior to Dalí’s Crucifixion, several artists and writers had already depicted the divine via recourse to higher dimensions. Of course, Dalí adds extra elements, such as the connection between higher dimensionality and divine transcendence, that make this work of art uniquely bizarre.

Crucifixion (Corpus Hypercubus) gets a bizarrometer score of 3.5.

Crucifixion (Corpus Hypercubus) Explained!

 

Christ as the mediator between the three-dimensional world and the four-dimensional realm
Christ stands on a bridge between Earth (representing our three-dimensional universe) and Heaven (the fourth dimension). The arrows connect Earth to the 3D cubes and Heaven to the unfolded tesseract in the painting, illustrating Christ as the mediator between physical and higher-dimensional reality.

Christ: the bridge between realms

Dalí wrote that “the body of Christ becomes metaphysically the ninth cube”. Well, let’s dissect this important clue.

In the painting, Christ is floating between an unfolded hypercube (the eight cubes that form the cross) and four smaller three-dimensional cubes.

The 3D cubes are ordinary and familiar, so they may represent reality as we know it – our universe. In contrast, because human beings are forever constrained to think in three-dimensions, visualising a 4D hypercube (aka tesseract) is something we will never be able to do, as it cannot be represented in our 3D world in its pure, unaltered and undistorted form. Yet conceptual tools to do so exist, and Dalí masterfully shows that art can be used as one of those tools. If one unfolds the tesseract, one has a cross made up of eight cubes, just as Dalí depicted in this painting.

Notice Christ’s privileged position between the 3D cubes and the unfolded tesseract. That cannot be a coincidence. Dalí seems to be elevating the figure of Christ beyond spatial dimensions, and it is in this way that I interpret Christ as the ninth cube – an extension of the tesseract, beyond any laws of physics.

Thus, the unfolded tesseract becomes a symbol of passage from our three-dimensional world (the four 3D cubes) to the four-dimensional Heaven (the tesseract), with Christ acting as the bridge that connects both realms.

Christ on the cross
In Christian theology, the cross symbolises salvation, redemption and divine love.

It is also interesting how Dalí chose the unfolded tesseract as a depiction of the cross. First, Dalí makes a direct connection to the symbolism of the cross in the Christian faith. After Jesus’ death, the cross became associated with salvation, redemption and the demonstration of God’s love. As Apostle Paul put it, the message of the cross “is the power of God” (1 Corinthians 1:18). Second, it also allowed him to play with the mathematical concept of higher dimensions, forever mysterious and inaccessible to mere humans, and a place solely reserved for higher beings.

In one stroke, he binds science with religion. Brilliant. Simply brilliant.

God and the fourth dimension
God enthroned within a projected tesseract above the clouds, symbolising the fourth dimension. While humans go about their lives in ordinary three-dimensional space, the fourth dimension realm remains inaccessible to them, aligning with certain XIX century views that Heaven exists beyond spatial perception.

O God, Where Art Thou?

In the late nineteenth century, spiritualists, some of them with degrees in physics, began to argue that ghosts were material beings that could not be seen in our three-dimensional world because they inhabited the fourth dimension, occasionally visiting our own. That solved many of the spiritualists’ problems, such as the fact ghosts could pass through walls and were not visible, because they could do so via the fourth dimension (if a fourth-dimensional being did exist it could indeed cross walls by accessing the fourth spatial dimension).

More relevant to Dalí’s Crucifixion however, was the circulating idea that perhaps God could reside in the fourth dimension. Specifically, philosopher and mathematician William Granville believed that Heaven, rather than being “above” the Earth, existed in the fourth dimension, which is why the Bible describes Heaven as invisible yet ever-present. It also explained why Christ appeared to have performed miracles that seemed to violate the laws of physics. Those “miracles”, Granville argued, were simple movements into and out of the fourth dimension, to which Christ would have access.

Likewise, Dalí’s Christ, like God, inhabits that other world. As I mentioned above, it is impossible for humans to conceive of a fourth dimension, just as it would be impossible for Pac-Man to know where “up” and “down” mean. If you don’t believe me, let’s do a little experiment.

Think of how you would fold an unfolded box with six faces (see video above):

1) There are six squares in an unfolded cube (also called a cube net): one central square (blue), four squares attached to its sides (gray, green, yellow and red), and one additional square (orange) attached to one of those four.

2) Rotate the four squares attached to the central square upward along the third dimension.

3) As the four squares rotate upward, the vertical edges of adjacent squares meet and align with one another, without distorting any square.

4) The remaining square (organge) folds over to form the “lid”, and its four edges meet the upper edges of the four vertical faces (i.e., the ones that rotated upward).

5) The top square (orange) does not share an edge with the central square (blue); they are parallel faces separated in the third dimension.

Left: Unfolded tesseract (hypercube net) composed of eight coloured cubes. Right: The folded tesseract, formed by rotating the six cubes of the unfolded tesseract (brown, yellow, green, blue, pink and purple) surrounding the central cube (cyan) along the fourth spatial dimension (w-direction), so that their faces align without distortion (note that the folded tesseract appears distorted because it is a 3D projection of a 4D object, represented on a 2D surface).

Now, let’s apply the same logic to the tesseract (see figure above):

1) There are eight cubes in an unfolded hypercube (also called tesseract net): one central cube (cyan), six cubes attached to its six faces (brown, yellow, green, blue, pink and purple), and one additional cube (red) attached to one of those six (green).

2) Rotate the six cubes attached to the central cube in the w-direction, along the fourth spatial dimension.

3) As the six cubes rotate in the w-direction, the corresponding three-dimensional faces of adjacent cubes meet and align with one another, without distorting any cube.

4) The remaining cube (red) folds over in the fourth dimension to form the outer cube, and its six cubic faces meet the outer faces of the six cubes (i.e., the ones that rotated in the w-direction).

5) The outer cube (red) does not share a face with the central cube (cyan); they are parallel cubes separated along the fourth dimension.

Is your brain hurting now?

The point is that the cubes must rotate in a direction orthogonal to the three dimensions we already know (the fourth dimension, w). If you could somehow access that dimension, you would see how the faces of the cubes perfectly align with those of their neighbours, without any of the cubes becoming distorted.

Alas, it is impossible for humans to visualise the fourth dimension in all its glory, so when we project the 4D cube into three-dimensional space, and then onto a 2D surface (i.e., our screens), some of the cubes appear distorted (like the green cube in the left figure above), much like the red and blue faces of the cube in the right figure above appear distorted when we project a 3D cube into 2D. If, however, the hypercube is unfolded into its three-dimensional net, as shown in Dalí’s cross, the perfect cubes are fully visible and undistorted.

The point Dalí is making, then, is that the fourth dimension is inaccessible to mere humans. It is a realm inhabited by God, and His perfection cannot be experienced directly, but only through its projection into our three-dimensional world.

The Madonna of Port Lligat by Salvador Dalí
The Madonna of Port Lligat by Salvador Dalí

Gala as Mary, mother of Jesus/Mary Magdalene?

Given the theme of the painting, the first time I saw the woman on the painting, I immediately associated her with either Mary, the mother of Jesus, or Mary Magdalene, Jesus’ disciple. As described above, both Mary, the mother of Jesus, and Mary Magdalene were near the cross during Jesus’ crucifixion. Dalí revered his wife Gala, who often posed for him. In some works, he even portrayed her in religious or divine roles, such as in The Madonna of Port Lligat (see image above), where she is depicted as the Virgin Mary, the mother of Jesus.

Thus, it is not a stretch to think that Dalí was, once again, transforming his wife into a biblical character. Dalí wished to represent a divine woman in the painting, and Gala held that divine status for him.

Detail of Gala in Crucifixion (Corpus Hypercubus) and Raphael’s Mond Crucifixion
Left: Detail of Gala in Crucifixion (Corpus Hypercubus). Right: Mond Crucifixion by Raphael. Note how in both works, the female figures remain calm and composed rather than showing exaggerated displays of grief, suggesting a clear acceptance of Jesus' fate.

Curiously, the role of Mary in the crucifixion of Jesus is secondary and largely unremarkable. She is present during the crucifixion but doesn’t speak, cry or protest; she stands there quietly, neither comforting Jesus nor attempting to intervene. She is essentially a silent spectator at the end of Jesus’ life.

In a striking parallel, Gala appears to be a passive witness to Dalí’s vision of the crucifixion. She stands near the cross, not weeping or wailing in desperation; there is no dramatisation. Her facial expression is composed, neutral and unemotional, as if she expected this to happen.

The Entombment of Christ by Caravaggio
The Entombment of Christ by Caravaggio

She is holding a golden linen cloth, which may again have symbolic meaning (see below). After the crucifixion, the body of Jesus is taken down from the cross, wrapped in linen by Joseph of Arimathea and Nicodemus, and sealed in a tomb.

Neither Mary, the mother or Jesus, nor Mary Magdalene participated in the wrapping ritual, though Mary Magdalene was present at the burial (some paintings did, however, place both Marys at the event, see figure above).

Gold as sacred symbolism
Examples of gold in Christian sacred art and architecture. Top: interior of the Church and Convent of San Ignacio de Loyola de la Compañía de Jesús de Quito (Ecuador). Bottom left: replica of the Ark of the Covenant in the Royal Arch Room of the George Washington Masonic National Memorial (USA). Bottom right: mosaic of Christ from Hagia Sophia (Turkey). In each case, gold signifies divine light, purity and eternity.

So, why did Dalí choose golden linen? Well, the linen shares the same golden hue as the hypercube, and gold in Christian art traditionally symbolises eternity and divine light.  In fact, the Bible contains many references to gold: the Ark of the Covenant, the Tabernacle, and later the Temple were all ornamented with gold; the New Jerusalem in Revelation is also described as built of pure gold; and one of the gifts brought to Jesus by the Magi was gold. In addition, gold has decorated the interiors of numerous churches around the world and has been used extensively in sacred art and on priestly garments. In all these cases, gold is linked with purity, the divine, and the glory of Christ’s kingdom. 

By having Gala/Mary holding the golden cloth, Dalí elevates Gala toward divinity, as he often did in other paintings of his. Gala and Jesus (who one might even wonder is not intended to resemble a younger Dalí himself) appear ready for transcendence into a higher plane of existence.

Christ in Salvador Dalí's Crucifixion (Corpus Hypercubus) and in Albrecht Altdorfer’s Crucifixion
Left: Detail of Christ in Salvador Dalí's Crucifixion (Corpus Hypercubus). Right: Detail of Christ in Albrecht Altdorfer’s Crucifixion. Whereas Altdorfer depicts Christ physically suffering and with visible wounds, Dalí shows Christ's body intact and unmarked, emphasising the crucifixion as an act of transcendence rather than physical suffering.

The crucifixion of Christ

One intriguing aspect of the painting is the fact that Christ does not appear to bear any of the marks associated with his crucifixion. Remember Religion and Moral Education classes? Jesus was flogged, prodded with sticks, struck on the head, spat upon, and crowned with thorns. He was then crucified through his wrists and ankles, and his death was confirmed by a soldier who pierced him his side with a spear.

But take a close look at the close-up of Dalí’s Jesus in left image above. His body does not appear to show any signs of beating, flogging, or piercing. It is, in fact, quite intact and clean, almost pristine. What is Dalí trying to convey here, given that he is clearly depicting a crucifixion?

Again, we cannot take the title of the painting too literally. As I argued above, Christ’s crucifixion, according to Dalí, is a matter of transcendence, not of suffering or violence. In fact, contrary to what many people may believe, the crucifixion episode in the Bible doesn’t depict Jesus merely as a victim, nor does it present the crucifixion as an unfortunate event.

Humanity's sins
The biblical episodes of Eve accepting the forbidden fruit and sharing it with Adam (The Fall of Man by Titian), Cain murdering Abel (Cain and Abel by Titian), and Jesus cleansing the temple (Expulsion of the Merchants from the Temple by Cecco del Caravaggio) depict some of humanity’s sins, which, according to Christian belief, are atoned for through Christ's sacrifice.

The cruxcifixion is a central event in the Gospels because it defines a new relationship between humanity with God. According to the Bible, ever since Adam and Eve disobeyed God by eating the forbidden fruit, humanity has been marked by sin – stealing, lying, killing, you name it. That accumulated sin became too much for God to tolerate. Humans simply continued to sin, moving ever closer to self-destruction. God did not wish that fate for His creation. He was willing to forgive humanity, but there would be a debt to be repaid. Sadly, imperfect and mortal human beings could never hope to repay such a debt – after all, they would simply continue to sin. Thus, Christ came down to Earth to take humanity’s sin onto himself, so that people might be freed from the burden that would ultimately lead to their destruction.

So, Christ’s ultimate sacrifice was an act of transcendence: it opened the possibility for humanity to move forward by inspiring humans to act ethically and compassionately, and, thus, be reconciled with God. It marked the beginning of a new chapter for humankind.

I believe Dalí is making a similar point here. Playful as he was, Dalí wasn’t so much concerned with the literal biblical episode of the crucifixion, but rather with its immense symbolic significance. To him, the “crucifixion” he depicts is less about atonement for humanity’s sins and more about human transcendence. In the later stages of his career, Dalí believed in that the union of science and religion represented the ultimate act of transcendence. And what better way to depict that than by using a pivotal biblical event alongside one of the most striking scientific concepts: higher dimensions.

Landscape and darkened sky during Christ's crucifixion
The landscape and darkened sky in Dalí’s painting (left) evoke the Gospel account of the midday darkness at Golgotha, a motif also depicted in works such as Murillo’s Christ on the Cross (right).

Landscape

Jesus was crucified on a hill called Golgotha, just outside Jerusalem. I cannot help but think that the hills in the background might represent Golgotha (see figure above).

According to the Gospels, at midday on the day Jesus was crucified, the sky turned dark as the sun disappeared momentarily. The darkness lasted three full hours (i.e., from 12 p.m. till 3 p.m., corresponding to the ninth hour of the Jewish day).

With that in mind, take a close look at the sky in Cruxifixtion. Surely, it can’t be a coincidence. Dalí, by this point deeply religious (though not necessarily aligned with orthodox Christian belief), must have been aware of this biblical detail. And the contrast is powerful, and it works. By placing a golden cross against a dark background, the prominence of the cross truly stands out. It appears almost divine.

Masonic mosaic pavement
Examples of the Masonic “mosaic pavement”: Galleria of the Palazzo Roffia, Florence (left), and the Masonic Temple, Livorno (right), both in Italy

Chequered floor

The chequered floor was the hardest element to interpret. There is nothing in the four Gospels (the books that narrate Jesus’ life, death and resurrection), or in the Bible more broadly, that mentions anything related to chequered patterns.

But I refuse to believe that Dalí chose a chequered pattern simply because it looked “nice”. To me, everything Dalí places on a canvas carries symbolic meaning, and the chequered pattern is surely no exception.

Now, this may feel completely bonkers to you, but while researching checkerboard patterns, I came across information that the floors of Masonic lodges are often black-and-white chequered designs (the so-called “mosaic pavement”; see figure above). They symbolise dualism, specifically the coexistence of good and evil in human life.

There is no historical record to date indicating that Dalí was a Freemason. Nevertheless, I imagine the brotherhood’s ideas and teachings would have appealed to him. After all, Freemasonry is deeply rooted in symbolism drawn from art, architecture and geometry, something that would certainly have resonated with Dalí. While Freemasons believed in a Supreme Being, they did not define what that being should be, leaving members the freedom to choose their own beliefs, just as Dalí constructed his own image of God.

Print of Schott's model of the Temple of Solomon
Print of Gerhard Schott's model of the Temple of Solomon, with a close-up of the Council of Sanhedrin, depicting a chequered mosaic floor.

Moreover, some Masonic traditions claim that the Temple of Solomon – which later became Herod’s Temple, where some of the most important events in the life of Jesus took place – featured chequered patterns (see figure above). I should point out though, that it is extremely unlikely that chequered floors actually existed in either Solomon’s temple or Herod’s temple. There is no biblical, archaeological or historical evidence for this, meaning it was probably a later invention within Masonic circles.

Nevertheless, while chequered floors were most likely non-existent in Jesus’ era, they became extremely popular in medieval architecture and Renaissance art.

Shadow of the tesseract on chequered floor
The shadow of the tesseract is highlighted in red in the right image. Note how it precisely falls across five tiles of the chequered floor (a symbol of duality), thus emphasising the connection between the physical world and the divine realm.

In the context of the crucifixion, I believe Dalí wanted to represent this duality in the painting: good and evil, light and darkness, everything and nothing, etc. Notice that only Jesus and the cross float above the chequered floor, whereas Gala stands on a platform. Moreover, pay close attention to the precise shadow cast by the cross onto four of the tiles on the ground (it falls exactly across four squares; see figure above).

Perhaps this brings the narrative of the painting to its conclusion. The cosmos is composed of dualities; the tesseract becomes a manifestation of the entire cosmos; and Christ, the ninth cube, serves as the bridge through which humans can connect to God and transcend.

Conclusion

Once again, Dalí surpassed himself. Cruxifixion (Hypercubus) is a marvellous work to behold. Technically, it rivals paintings of the great Renaissance masters, while conceptually it is simply brilliant!

Dalí possessed the intellectual acumen to understand complex scientific phenomenon and was able to integrate them within religious and philosophical themes in his art. Taking a biblical episode of the magnitude of Christ’s crucifixion and linking it to the mysterious fourth spatial dimension was a stroke of genius.

Despite lacking a formal mathematical education, Dalí demonstrates how intellectually versatile he truly was. To conceive of a 4D hypercube, understand its implications, and render a coherent three-dimensional representation of it shows that he was no slouch. He accurately depicted an unfolded tesseract in the shape of a cross, which appropriately fits what Dalí intended to show symbolically. The fourth dimension may be forever inaccessible to humans, but not to higher beings. Christ becomes the bridge between our physical world (represented by the three-dimensional cubes) and the metaphysical realm of the divine (represented by the tesseract). This is Dalí’s vision of transcendence: science and religion unified.

I know I cannot evaluate a Dalí painting without complete impartiality, given how I deeply admire his work. But I challenge you to find another painter capable of blending such seemingly disparate concepts so effortlessly.

Final Note

Assuming that higher beings inhabit a fourth dimension may seem convenient since we will never be able to perceive it. In fact, nineteenth-century philosophers had already raised an important question: why would a supreme being choose the fourth dimension in particular to inhabit? Why not the fifth, sixth, tenth, hundredth, or millionth dimension? Indeed, if one wishes to conceive of a perfect, omnipresent, and omnipotent God, should one not instead consider the possibility that God occupies space with an infinite number of dimensions?

Of course, visualising the fourth dimension is challenging enough, and that was certainly sufficient for Dalí to make his point. Still, I encourage you to look up higher-dimensional art – it is truly beautiful stuff!

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