Showing posts with label Lisa Gross. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Lisa Gross. Show all posts

Friday, April 1, 2016

Honoring the Objects:Finding the Story

March 22, 2016 Visions of Israel Blog-The Minneapolis Jewish Artists' Lab Israel Trip
During the Artists' Lab trip to Israel we are inviting our participants to write a blog entry. We hope to capture the trip through many eyes.


Blog by Lucy Rose Fischer
March 22 2016
We spent this morning with a remarkable couple. Lisa Gross is an artist who creates whimsical creatures using found objects. Her husband Bill Gross has an amazing collection of Judaica.
We visited Lisa’s studio early in the morning. It is located on a dusty street in Holon, a suburb of Tel Aviv. Not long ago, this city was just a few houses; now it is a major urban area—known especially as a city for children, with a children’s museum and many other activities designed for children. We first entered an outer room of her studio—it is filled with figures of all sorts and sizes—sheep, a cow, quasi-humans—all quite friendly and composed of various found materials.
Some of our group had seen Lisa’s work when she had an exhibit at the Sabes JCC in 2007. For others it was all new. For all of us, seeing the collections in her large studio was an amazing experience. She had pieces on the walls and on tables and suspended from the ceiling. She told us how she finds objects and they inspire her. She tends to walk with her head looking down, so she can spot interesting objects. Sometimes she uses natural objects as models, such as palm fronds, and creates molds. Her work is imaginative and delightful. For Lisa, “garbage” is an opportunity to create art.
Our next stop was their home, in a very beautiful neighborhood in Ramat Aviv, another Tel Aviv suburb. It’s hard to convey the scope of the Judaica collection that Bill Gross has collected. Three large glass cases encircle their large living room and other spaces are also filled with his collection. But what is really impressive is his knowledge about Judaica and the context of his collection. He has arranged his objects into 10 groups, corresponding to different cultural areas where Jews lived. He said that there is a myth that objects such as Hanukah menorahs were found in most private homes. But in fact most Jews were very poor. The silver items that we were viewing were used in synagogues and in the homes of the very, very wealthy. The Jews were even poorer than the non Jews where they lived because Jews were not allowed to own land or engage in most professions. They were limited to a very few occupations and therefore there was huge competition and most could barely scratch out a living. So, Jews in the Ukraine, for example, if they wanted to like Hanukah candles, would take a potato and make holes…
Bill also told us how the Judaica reflected the places and cultures where Jews lived. For example, an 1840 Hanukah menorah from Vienna is in the shape of a sofa, like the furniture that would have been in wealthy homes at that time. He showed us a menorah from Algeria from the early 20th century that had a star and crescent.
After lunch at the Tel Aviv port, we began a tour of Bauhaus architecture in Tel Aviv. We began at Shalom Tour, viewing beautiful glass mosaics about the founding of Tel Aviv. The first Jewish neighborhood was Neve Tzedek where the architecture was more European, Mediterranean, with red tile roofs. The Bauhaus architecture was brought by German architects, who designed functional buildings that fit with the environment.
We saw the building where Ben Gurion declared the Independence of the state of Israel in 1948.
Editor's note -Susan Weinberg
Lucy was unable to join us for our evening activities and lest they go uncaptured I wanted to add a few remarks on them. Back when our theme in the Lab was Light, one of our lab members described a restaurant in Tel Aviv where the waiters were blind and customers ate in a totally dark environment. We were captivated by this idea and remembered it when we created our itinerary.

Have you ever imagined what it would be like to live without sight? How about without sight and hearing? One of the most unusual experiences that we have had in our visit to Israel was at the Nalaga'at Center. Nalaga'at means "Please Touch", a request that makes perfect sense when you learn about its history. The center was started by people with an unusual disease, Usher Syndrome. People with this disease are born deaf, but in their first decade typically lose their sight as well. When young they learn sign language and by touching the communicator as they sign they learn to read it even without the visual cues.

Today the center offers plays, education and a restaurant in which we are blinded by darkness. The waiters and actors are either deaf or visually impaired or some combination. We began our visit with a workshop led by two deaf people who taught us how to sign basic words, lip read and pantomime specific words. We ascribed names through gestures which expanded on some descriptor, either physical or perhaps based on personal likes. We learned that sign language reflects the culture out of which it comes. For example the sign for "food" in the United States is holding a hamburger, in Chinese sign language it is manipulating chopsticks.

Following our workshop we moved to the dinner portion of our evening. We selected our dinner before entering the dining room. I was careful not to select the fettuccine as I end up wearing it even with advantage of sight. We were also asked to put cellphones and other belongings in a locker prior to entering, lest we or the waiters trip over them. We entered the dining room in train fashion, our hands resting on the shoulders of one of our table mates. As we entered we joined a world of darkness that our waiters were far more adept at navigating. This was not a blackness to which one's eyes adjust, it was a velvety darkness that allowed no light to gain a foothold. I felt my stomach lurch as we entered and thought of those yoga balance poses that become infinitely more difficult if one closes one's eyes. I felt off balance.

We were guided to our table by our waiter. He then taught us how to pour water into our glass with our finger in the glass so we didn't overflow. I missed the glass anyway dampening the table, but I discovered an advantage in this world of darkness, no one could see it. We heard the jingle of bells approaching, signaling our waiter Mohammed nearby with our meals. There was no waiting until everyone was served as there was no way to determine that. My husband and I reached across the table identifying each other's location. That coveted taste of my husband's meal was going to be difficult. I'd be lucky if I found my own plate. The inability of others to see quickly eliminated any table manners. After a few empty forkfuls, I quickly developed a stabbing strategy with the objective of navigating food to mouth. It wasn't pretty, but then no one saw me. The food was actually quite flavorful, perhaps enhanced by a focusing of our senses. My special treat at the end was when my husband had the waiter bring some of my husband's leftover meal to me to taste. We left in train style, grateful for the anchor of the person in front, blinking as we moved back into light as we adjusted to the world of the sighted.

Monday, March 21, 2016

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.