The 3rd painting from “The Black Series”.
Catching a fleeting memory or thought is almost like catching butterflies with a net. Often, they manage to escape through the holes. During lockdown I discovered the quiet. It was so quiet that all (!) background noises were silenced. I was finally able to hear the soft voiced muses residing deep in my soul. Those voices enabled memories, thoughts and fantasies to surface long enough to be caught and drawn in in enough time to be set free for free association and improvisation.
“Me and the Admor’s Son” - Acrylic on Canvas 80x100 cm, 2020
“Me and the Admor’s Son” is an example of this process. An Admor is an influential, leading rabbi of his community. My father was “The Pharmacist” of our community. We are not a religious family but my father and the Admor got along quite well as they came from the same area, were more or less the same age and had children more or less the same age. There was a lot more tolerance and liberalism in those days. I was a beach loving youngster. As a teenager, I spent more time at the beach than in school. The Admor had a son my age. A handsome fellow. He also loved the beach. He too, apparently cut class to go to the beach. I don’t think that we ever exchanged more than 10 words with each other as he was very pious. The memory that suddenly surfaced was triggered by an obituary that the Admor passed away due to catching the corona virus. It wasn’t the Admor that my father was friendly with. He passed many years ago. It was his son, that handsome teen ager that I met many years ago. The fragment of the memory was of a Saturday afternoon, I was on the way to visit friends and in crossing the park I saw the Admor’s son and 3 of his younger sisters crossing too. The boy walked up ahead quickly to avoid being associated with us. Us girls chatted away quite lively till each of us parted ways for our destinations. The middle bottom part we can see the sea. The top left side is the park and a studded trail which is of the five of us walking. The contrast between the pink bottom and the dark background with the white spider like lines that bridge between the parts symbolizes something that seems to be eluding society as of late. Perhaps a longing for a more naïve time, when things were simpler.
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