The Best of Times

One day I just went inside and never got out till now.
At least that was the plan, and I was eager to try, following the model of the Chinese city of Wuhan where people were forced to stay indoors for over two months. I am used to stay in - some days I need to kick myself in the *** to go out for some exercise, see the sun, meet people.
On the last meeting at Hapina Cafe, knowing that the virus was raging, a group of friends discussed the possibility of self-quarantine and we all agreed that as artists, we'd have no problem to stay home for two weeks.
So in I went and then began producing, one by one, all that was on my to-do list. But occasionally I did go out, not only because it was allowed but, because I prefer buying fresh, because I thought it's not necessary to act just out of fear.
At intervals I was making small works from my balcony and window.

Then I got busy with an old theme. This imaginary statue I placed  in Khayat Orchard, promising that it would guard and save us from disease and other misfortune.

Now after a second lockdown, life returns gradually, not too soon I hope. Life cannot be stopped: I have been creating grim images of looming disaster (that's one way to look at it) but also cheerful colorful scenes of the life I left behind hoping to return to it one day, or not.

New York is calling twice a week; my friend in Yonkers, who kept telling me that I should come visit, realizes now that it will be a while before such a possibility presents itself. But if that's really the case, if the old ways are gone not to come back, ever, I think we'll all adapt, and see what IS there, because a new world emerges from the ruins of the old one. We're still here, and living in interesting times.

Broken Visions

Two of the last images I made in France before I left there in September:

Yes I know, it's been a few months, summer turned to autumn turned to winter and broken glass does not leave my mind, even here and now in Haifa.
I still work from the old sketches and images of Bourbonne but I also started to integrate BG into the local scene. It just pops up here so very often inviting me to take a look, take a picture and see the world differently.
Haifa is beautiful sometimes with its unintentional coloring against clear blue skies, such as here:

But I do prefer it in the darker corners, like the market place that still needs a lot of cleaning and seems to me always in total chaos, set aside its liveliness and raw beauty in places; or a half abandoned office building where people still come for their shopping,  bored doorman at the entrance, a surprising slow elevator to nowhere,  and a church for the caregivers who come to work here all the way from the Philippines or elsewhere.
This is the square just before that building, drawn with glass markers on - well - glass.

I did this scene a few times, this one is pencil

But it is still new, the idea of Haifa broken glass, and I am studying it and contemplating it and making space for new ideas.
Another take - on plexiglass - of the scene in France, by now I may have painted it 100 times or more from various angles.

The above work is oil paint and scratch/sgraffito, again that place in France as well as all of these recent watercolors.

Still and Troubled Waters

Artist residencies may be required for most artists' CV but are hard to come by. In my somewhat short career I haven't been accepted to many. Still I get the chance, every few years, to stay and work in a place that has a studio, and at least enjoy my vacation, or even discover new ways to enhance my art making (like that summer in Trelex, Switzerland, I told about it here and here).
This year it's France, assisted by the honorable Daniela Belinga Agossa, artist and - since last year -also owner of Espace d'Art Contemporain Les Thermes, in the distant town of Bourbonne-les-Bains.
I spent a magical two months working mainly on one project.

Daniela's crazy colors
watercolor

The general theme was abandoned houses, of which there are many in the neigborhood as well as adjacent villages and towns. France seems to be in the whirlwind of abandonment while everyone is fleeing unemployment and boredom and recalculating destination Paris.
So there I was. Apart from admiring the natural beauty and serenity, I didn't have a clue. It started with some difficulties; I felt I did not get the spirit of the place; was walking every day for hours looking for ideas and wondering if I will forever make cute sketches of green pastures.

Park near the studio

Staircase, residency/house entrance hall

And then - I saw it.
It was a shattered glass in a bus stop, that remained intact and was not replaced; through it I could look at the residency itself, as well as - just opposite - a beautiful old abandoned hotel owned by the city.
I sat there to sketch, then took some photos and got back to it every other day, inspired more and more to understand this breakage as a focal point and a key to the life in this small town.
The following weeks I did a lot of drawings and watercolors of the scene with and without broken glass.
The glass already was present in my life and it continues to fascinate me, and now comes the time to make friends even further.

pastel



charcoal

Eventually I made a small wood panel too:

color pencil

On the longest day, June 21, I went out and saw a vision - beautiful setting sun rays hitting the glass with blinding splendor.

pencil

The last drawing below, as well as the first one, I made on glass. It happened that I miraculously found two glass shelves in the trash somewhere, took them to the studio and made two drawings with glass pens I brought with me. They are about 20x44 cm. 

Daniela is planning an exhibition to mark the first summer of residencies (four artists, all women), on August 24 and I will be there.
There's a lot more happening and I will keep you posted, the journey is not over yet and Haifa too is starring in this extraordinary year.

Some Light on the Matter

Oil on canvas,  55x70 cm, 2017

A few weeks ago I changed all the lights in my (rented) apartment. It used to be an office (lawyers), and then I moved in and the office moved out, but not entirely: there was an office ceiling with neon lights and not-so-pretty panels. On top of it, those neon lights strated to flicker and I had to remove most of them. There was simply not enough light.
Until recently, that is.
This is then and now:

As you can see, this is enough to work with. Enough of waking up in the morning and finding out that I did something terrible with the colors last night. ---

Crane, oil and scratching on panel, 38 cm, 2018

The light playing its special effects in the world around me usually stops me in my tracks. A dark corridor permeated by soft afternoon light can bring me to tears, as was the case with the abandoned villa in Italy in the image on top of the post. I found out that the way I treat light in my painting is typical,  full of feeling and awe.

In the work right above, I used the effect of light of the full moon with cloudy skies to enhance a dramatic feeling.

Forest, oil on canvas,  81x170 cm, 2013

Nature creates a rich light performance with foliage. Below some other examples.

Khayat Orchard, oil on canvas, 25x25 cm, 2016

Yard in Pennsylvania, markers on paper, 17x25 cm, 2017

Here, I used negative forms and turned the darkness into light by painfully scratching away paint.

Horsemen of the Apocalypse, oil and scratching on plywood, 53x73 cm, 2018

Khayat Orchard and Cat of the Imagination, oil and scratching on panel, 37 cm, 2018

Artificial light makes weird colors at night.

The Gate, oil on canvas, 50x70 cm, 2017

Interiors have a softened quality, indirect light usually coming from the side. It's very sunny outside.

Eyal, watercolor, 28x20 cm,  2018

I started painting this crane in bright daylight and somehow these negative forms emerged. 

Crane, watercolor, 27x16 cm, 2018

Drenched in blinding mediterranean summer sun:

On the Balcony, markers on paper, 28x22 cm, 2018