Lift Up Your Heads, O Gates

by Susan Weinberg

At our recent Artists' Lab gathering we continued our exploration of door images. All brought a thoughtful approach, considering the significance both visually and symbolically.  After sharing an image  from Santa Fe which was thoroughly covered with artwork surrounding the door, Toni cautioned that we need to consider what surrounds us before being enticed by what lies behind the door. 

For Sylvia, the door to a tango club in Argentina had significance as the place where she met her husband. Tango represented not only her relationship, but the ability to be in the moment.

A strong design sense was central to Jon's door which he altered by adding door nails from Lisbon and changing the shape of the portals to better integrate inside and outside. An important part of his door was the view within.

Several viewed a door as the entry to the next chapter in their life, a new beginning as they embarked on their life with a partner or a change in which they took control of their life in response to the limitations of aging. 

A mezuzah gracing a San Miguel door felt welcoming to Sandra while Judy was drawn to contradictions between formal signage and graffiti. She was especially captivated by a sign that said “stop behind the white line” while the graffiti reports “crossing the threshold.”

David offered a rather unorthodox door, a ladder. It took on special significance when surgery affected his balance. He took the picture of the ladder the day he recovered sufficient balance to climb it.

Aaron reminded us of the whimsy of the Wild Rumpus bookstore which has a child door within the full-sized door, a special invitation to children.  In addition to his door which was set into a wall in Morocco, Noam introduced us to the writings of Marie Howe in her poem My Dead Friends. Marie consults her dead friends for advice which is always "yes." She pays close heed as they have already gone through "the frightening door." 

Of David, a psalm

Our exploration of doors continued with Rabbi Davis taking us into Psalm 24 with its "everlasting doors" and the concept of parallelism (see handout- Standing at the Gates). Parallelism involves two passages in which the second part is parallel, but not exactly. A new concept is introduced that amplifies or alters what was laid out in the initial passage. The technique allows an artist to realize new possibilities within a formal structure.  The rabbi posited that Psalm 24 may actually be a combination of two separate psalms. Our tip off is the use of selah in the middle of the passage as well as the end. Selah has no translation so is used as is and is often found at the end of a verse.

The earth is the Lord and the fullness there of

So what is the significance of Psalm 24?  The psalm is
associated with the high holidays and the concept of blessings is derived from this passage for "the earth is the Lord's." It is a psalm for Sunday, the first day of the week, the first day of creation.  The psalm begins with a procession of pilgrims ascending the steps of the temple. It notes that anyone can come into the temple, but blessings are only received by those with "clean hands and a pure heart."  There is a dialogue between the rather anthropomorphic gates that lift up their heads and Solomon who is only allowed entrance after calling out three times, ultimately humbling himself, reminding them of his father David, their servant.  

Clean hands, pure heart

Also introduced was the concept of etnachta which is a symmetrical Hebrew comma that separates two parts of a verse that make it parallel. This rounded form of the notation resembles the arch of a doorway with a protrusion atop and appears in work by David Moss in his artistic creation of Psalm 24.  His work is laid out in parallel form with the gutter separating the two parallel sections that address each line of the psalm. We studied each side examining the differences between the two. The slight variations focused our attention on the meaning of those changes.  This richly colored and patterned creation raised many questions within our group as we sought to relate it back to the original passage.

And then it was time for an artist-led session led by me. Originally I intended just to speak of my newly released book,  We Spoke Jewish: A Legacy in Stories, a book that combines oral history and artwork on the three groups of Jewish immigrants of the 20th century.  While immigration is a clear example of threshold crossing, I realized there was yet another threshold crossing to address, my own. I deconstructed the steps that led to the book, finding that there were many thresholds to cross long before the creation of the book.  Becoming a public person through exhibiting artwork, writing publicly and speaking publicly about my work was a necessary step in this progression.  This is a challenge that faces every artist and many find it far more challenging than creating artwork. For me  the process of threshold crossing began with an assessment of my talents and my passions as I left my career to pursue the arts. I started by  stating an intention and then finding a like-minded community through volunteering or taking classes.  The lab has also offered that like-minded community. Then came the hard part, at least for me, setting the table for beshert.  Beshert, fate, happens when we least expect it, but we can set the table and invite it in.  That entails embracing the unknown, saying yes and then figuring out how to do what we've agreed to, starting where we are and abandoning perfectionism. Then we act and interact, moving forward to new thresholds. For me, beshert was more challenging because it called on me to let go of the skills that aided me in my career and let things unfold in their own time and place. It also was quite magical. When we bring our energies to what we are passionate about and open ourselves to the unknown, surprising things can happen. More information on the book and how it came about can be found at wespokejewish.com.

With New Eyes

March 23, 2016 by Lynn Lederman, photos by Toni Dachis

The sky was hazy as our bus left the Mediterranean and we began to climb. To many of us who had been here before, the road to Jerusalem had changed. Bedroom communities and construction cranes have replaced open green spaces.




Our group gathered in a sunny Jerusalem park overlooking the Old City to process what has already been a jam packed and thought provoking two days. Meryll shared a teaching from the Bava Mitziya about finding a blessing in that which had been hidden from our eyes.

We arrived at Kfuzot Hayer, a lane devoted to the arts, and split into two groups. Our group went with Rabbi Matt Berkowitz, (a former class mate of Rabbi Davis'). We learned about the amazing work he and David Moss are doing with Kol Haot.

Matt shared his seven year journey designing a very unique and visually pleasing three part Haggadah. The larger section contained beautifully designed prints, some with intricate paper cuts. Vibrant colors and 24 karat gold leaf adorned these stunning prints. The end papers were specially made with Israeli parsley and parsley fibers were in the paper.

The anthology also included 27 essays decorated with many Biblical motifs. This was made as a limited edition of 250 sets, of which 170 have already been sold. There is also a trade edition.

Matt led us in a discussion of the Binding of Isaac and then shared David Moss' scroll which was made into a Houston day school mural depicting the dramatic story.

Next, we studied a portion of the Purim Megillah and divided into small groups. Using David's techniques, each group designed a mural and we all enjoyed the creative process. 

The two large groups exchanged places and we entered David Moss' studio. David shared his personal journey, describing how he became a Jewish "folk artist". After meeting with a scribe for ten minutes, David knew that he wanted to breathe new life into the ancient art of making ketubot. He was like dry kindling waiting for the spark.

David would meet individually with couples and developed a process whereby he would personalize each ketuba. Often using intricate designs and exacting micrography, David's ketubot are stunning works of art. He showed us many of them, as well as the letters to the couples. Many of these have been published as magnificent books. 

David also was commissioned to create a unique Megillah and this process took three years. He was able to gain permission to use that work in order to publish a limited edition and subsequently a trade edition.

Being with David was an awe inspiring and uplifting experience.



Lunch in Machne Yehuda market was an experience. Each of us was given a "bite card" with six stalls and a map. We hunted for tastes and all left feeling well fed. Purim preparations were evident all around us. Not only aromatic hamentaschen (savory and sweet), but our ears were treated to a familiar Purim melody sung by a young man hawking "the best" strawberries.

Our last visit was the Artist's House. We had a private tour of their collection and exhibits, as well as the history of the Bezalel School from which Anat graduated.

After a much needed rest, we enjoyed a short walk to Darna, a Moroccan restaurant. This was both a culinary and visual delight! Some of us opted for a graffiti tour of Machane Yehuda. Another full and "eye opening" day!

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Magic Unfolds

March 28, 2016 text by Fran Rosenstein, photos by Martin Arend

Today we said good-by to Jerusalem, making our way north to the Kinneret (the Sea of Galilee).  On the way one could see transitions on many levels, the modernization of transportation modes, the decline of farming as urbanization takes place even in smaller villages and the reminders of shifting political borders.  It is daunting to realize that so much history is just beneath every surface here. Road signs along the way repeating the names of cities makes one realize how small and vulnerable this country really is. 

Our first stop of the day was at the Arab Museum of Contemporary Art and Heritage (AMOCA) in
Sakhnin.  As we entered the area we were greeted by the  sounds of egrets in a tree rookery outside the museum, another visual delight that resembled a bloom of large white flowers.

by Mehdi-Georges Lahlou

We were then welcomed by Belu-Simion Fainaru and Avital Bar-Shay, co-directors of this museum designed by Egyptian architect Abed Yasseen that opened in 2009.  The museum provides an opportunity for artists to show their work; however, its primary mission is to make art accessible to people, provide a place of diversity 

where ideas about cultures can be shared as well as a place to dialogue and resolve conflicts.  Belu talked about working together with the Arabic mayor of town to promote this institution, educating each other as the project has evolved, even starting with the simplest task of naming streets so people can find the museum.  A variety of artworks were displayed including paintings, photographs, inlaid wood, videography and clothing.  What was impressive was the explanation of how culture and religious restrictions impacted artists and their work.  Of particular interest were works that dealt with current controversial issues making creative use of humor to provoke thought.  Sadly, political animosities and allegiances have often challenged relationships and art exchanges in the functioning of the museum.

We stopped for falafel sandwiches in a café sponsored by the museum, observing Arabs, mostly men, who were also frequenting this restaurant.  We next wended our way to Tz’fat, hearing about the burial sites of the Tanayim (fourth century interpreters of Midrash).  There we climbed many many steps to the home of Rabbi Noah Greenberg. 

Rabbi Greenberg proceeded to take us on a magical journey, introducing us to the shtender.  The shtender is a lectern type stand used by Jewish men in prayer and study. Together David Moss and Noah Greenberg developed the concept of integrating the many elements in Jewish practice into what appears to be a simple piece of furniture.  We soon realized simple was not the operative word. 

Rabbi Greenberg described how the shtender was divided into three sections holding religious objects for daily, weekly and yearly practice.  Then he began one by one to unveil the elements neatly hidden within.  In doing so he described how these different objects employed the seven species indigenous to Israel as design elements.  These included wheat, barley, grapes, dates, figs, pomegranates, and olives.  These three dimensional motifs were beautifully carved from one solid piece of wood.  The daily section housed tefillin, a tzdekka box and a siddur. The weekly section housed a seven branch Shabbat candle holder, a Kiddish set, a challah cutting board and knife and ritual objects for Havdalah.  It was amazing how much attention was paid to detail and how cleverly the two artists constructed each piece into an amazing whole.  The last section included objects related to holiday celebrations throughout the year.  Some of our favorites were a box for the shofar where the ram’s horn emerged from a thicket of carved ebony wood.   For Sukkhot there were containers for the etrog and a lulav, even included an extender in case the lulav was extra long, sparking jests about the shtender extender.  With Pesach fast approaching, we eagerly waited to see what would be revealed next.  We were not disappointed as Rabbi Greenberg carefully unfolded the most intricate pieces starting with a matzo container which became the base that held a seder plate.  Hanukkah held a menorah and Purim had the piece de la resistance,  a wooden tube for the megillah.  Carved on the outside was a hangman's noose for the evil Haman.  Inside the bottom half of the shtender the megillah case fastened by a magnet so Haman literally hung.  Moss and Greenberg used reverence in creating these sacred objects, but their sly sense of humor was demonstrated throughout.

Rabbi Greenberg then took us to the central part of the old city to the Caro synagogue and described its history.  We then had some free time to wander around the many shops of Tz'fat.  We finished the day having dinner in Rosh Pina and headed to Ein Gev for the evening.

A Bird's Eye View

Text and photos by Susan Weinberg

I love travel, that opportunity to see the world through fresh eyes. I savor the sheer pleasure of resting weary feet at the end of a day of exploration, a day of trudging through museums and city streets. Ahh, but home, an equally satisfying journey. We sit aboard our plane taxiing on the runway back to the comforting routines of our life. There is comfort in the ordinary, in expanding beyond packed bags to the untidy clutter of everyday living. 

We have been traveling the past several weeks in Israel. Our travels to Israel with the Jewish Artists' Lab afforded us the opportunity to meet a number of Israeli artists and to travel with fellow artists and arts aficionados. I am normally a bit leery of traveling in packs. I like to be in control of my time so usually shoulder the planning and lugging of bags in exchange for that control. This time I let go of control, trusting that the Israel portion of the trip would offer experiences beyond my capabilities to create. I was not disappointed. It had the added benefit of an extremely compatible group of fellow travelers, really good companions. Our travels were booked before the spate of terrorist attacks in Paris and Israel and we noticed tight security along the way, soldiers with guns, screening equipment at every museum. Still everyone continues with their life. It is hard to be too much on guard and live normally.

Now at home I sift through our experiences putting them in some sort of order. I had let them wash over me so am left with fleeting images and impressions. When we concluded our trip in Israel we were asked about our experience. Then it was too soon for my response to take shape. I need to let things simmer, then go to my mental mountain top and get a bird's eye view, finding the common themes that echo and weave throughout.

Some impressions...Israel was filled with Purim revelers. For the week before Purim we passed groups of young people, faces painted, cat whiskers and superheroes, a young man with angel wings and a halo in the market. We went to a service on Purim. The rabbi stood at the pulpit with a large sombrero on his head as a family of ladybugs sat nearby. We too came in costume. My husband improvised with mask and shower cap creating a superhero vibe while I went feathered mask and jewelry bedecked.

And cats everywhere, real cats, not revelers in dress. Tel Aviv once had a rat infestation so in the 1930s the Brits brought in cats. Cats soon proliferated. Residents put cat food on the streets and clusters of cats dumpster dive. We look for ones like our ginger cat who craves attention as much as food, not the temperament for a wild cat. He would certainly never survive to his 20s on the street.

Tel Aviv is also known for its over 4000 buildings built in the Bauhaus style or the International style. We explored a segment of these buildings on a walking tour of Tel Aviv. Ironically this defining architecture migrated to Israel along with the Jewish architects fleeing the Nazis, the spread of ideas on the wings of persecution.

We felt as if there were many Tel Avivs as we experienced three different areas of the city. Our favorite was by the port the night before we departed. We strolled Dizengoff Street where store windows could easily pass as galleries, filled with sculpture and sculptural clothing. A charming restaurant at which we ate could easily have been found in Paris.

Another stay in Rehovet, just outside Tel Aviv, allowed us an opportunity to visit the Weizmann Institute of Science, an unexpected treasure. With clever use of interactive technology they allowed the non-scientist to appreciate often unexpected interconnections. I thought about our Artists' Lab theme of wisdom and the way in which one discipline often informs another, how wisdom of necessity must embrace interconnectedness. I was also struck with the familiarity of video statements from scientists about what drew them to their profession, how it satisfied their appetite for discovery. It was so similar to what an artist might say, a curiosity and exploratory nature is common to both.

We had many artist visits, Lisa Gross' whimsical work created out of found objects, Sabena Saad, who integrates the papers in which oranges are wrapped into her artwork. For both everything was grist for the mill, a repurposing from one source to another. A theme begins to emerge not too unlike what we observed at the Weitzmann. We are surrounded by creative sparks if we learn to view them as such. It is in how we view our surroundings, how we see the world around us. Those found objects are all around us waiting to be discovered and connected in different ways.

We had an opportunity to discover some found objects of our own as we participated in the Temple Mount sifting project, a project that allows visitors to sift through dirt removed from the Temple Mount. Pottery shards and even an ancient coin were among our discoveries. We were even allowed to take some of the rejected discoveries which were to reappear later in our trip.

In the course of our visit we went to Zippori, a Jewish city that did not revolt against the Romans, but rather incorporated elements of its art and culture into their own. There we observed mosaic floors that incorporated mythic elements. Even the synagogue floor included birds, animals, people and the zodiac.   Jewish culture has often incorporated elements of other cultures. Even Yiddish borrows from many languages. Similarly the art.

When we visited the extensive Judaica collection of Bill and Lisa Gross, Bill had pointed out the Hanukkah lamp from Vienna in the shape of a Biedermeier sofa. A Dutch lamp echoed the Dutch buildings. Another lamp was made from a Hessian Grenadiers hat, a found object repurposed.

At the studio of David Moss and Matt Berkowitz we learned to create a symbolic language to tell a story, borrowing Moss' approach to his retelling the Binding of Isaac.

And so we borrow, incorporate ideas from others and integrate disparate concepts finding the synergies and the points of connection.  We find objects and ideas wherever we go and draw on them for inspiration, repurposing them to find new meaning.  And we carry ideas into new realms like those Bauhaus architects.

At the conclusion of our trip we had the opportunity to create mosaics, often from the very found objects we had gathered along the way. Pottery shards from the Temple Mount were integrated into our mosaic of our experience in Israel, a fitting metaphor for our travels into a world of interconnection, exploration and discovery.