Rona Shahar: Art and the Girl: Dances with Cranes

"Work in Progress"
oil on canvas, about 72x133 cm

Summertime, and the living is unbearable. Thinking about the guys out there on the scaffolding, building homes for the more fortunate, helmets covering heads sweating away melting under the naked sun.
I have been a member of various groups monitoring safety at construction sites, and as much as the fight is taken seriously, nothing yet has changed in the statistics. People die building homes for us. People die unnecessarily, out of negligence, carelessness or sheer cold decisions to cut expenses right there.
For my part, I hate building taking place nearby; the pleasure of the outside is gone; it's dirty, hard to breathe, noisy all day and when the work is done (Twenty-two floors on top of three commercial ones), will probably block my winter light in the morning-noon, which is all the light I have in winter.
But hey, progress, cities, urban renewal and the like. I'm not against all that.
I found out the building site was actually a treasure den for interesting subjects to paint. The colors, blue-turquosie sky and yellow-orange cranes, bright red railings and yellow vests, sometimes a green arm of yet another crane, blue vertical lines of ladders. Celebration. And the human element - people doing physical work, they seem so elegant, young and full of energy, united in their coordinated movement to create a rich, complex modern dance.
Then, I read a book that had a description of cranes in it. Not this kind of cranes, the real thing. And guess what, cranes are noisy, and they dance as well. And after their job is done they all migrate - a huge group of them, darkening the skies, hundreds of thousands of free birds keep going and going until they find a place to settle, winter or summer, same routine for thousands of years. Are we lucky to be people? Why do we threaten nature so much? How come the summers now are so much hotter than in my childhood?
Cranes do not need to be saved, but most of nature does. And people.