Hello to the Book of Samuel

 It's been a strange few weeks. War ranging, inside and out.  A sense of dissolution as dark and grotesque as the final chapters of Judges. And then, I was suddenly struck with Bell's Palsey, one side of my face freezing in place. A literal embodiment of a world out of wack.

Within a day it was clear that this was unpleasant rather than dangerous, but scary it is. I found myself in and out of doctors' offices. Luckily, there is an office supply store right below the specialist clinic,with notebooks on special sale. On my way to the neurologist, I found a small square one, which became my Omer project, a small shred of sanity. And on my way to the eye doctor, I found a ractangualar one, which will become the next chapter of Bibliodraw. Drawing by drawing, day by day, we keep going. 

 As  i came to the closing of Judges, I was struck by the intese intertextual dialogue with the Book of Numbers: from the configuartion of the tribes, to the laws of vows and inheritence, and the relationship of fathers to daughters, Judges is in some ways a translation of Numbers and its in the desert (the literal meaning of the Hebrew Bamidbar) encampment to the new in the land context.

In moving from Joshua to Judges, I focused on the continuity between Judges and Joshia by using a shared medium of markers. For this new book, I will rather emphasize the link to Numbers by returning to the use of ink, and the 2-page structure. Yet to emphasize the change, and create a continuity between Judges and Samuel, I will replace the monochrome with the Judges pallet of brown-red and blue.

Here's to new beginings.

    

Judges: Chapter 1

 

Start the after

we go up, we go down

jostled together.

Give me your blessing!

All we don't have

pressing against us 

unwanted intimacy

lodged in our throat

as we spin, again and again.

[For full chapter, click here
The chapter begins "after the death of Joshua."It is both a continuation and a reprise, revisiting events that took place in the era of Joshua to create a bridge into this new reality. It is indeed a new reality of leadership, and the transformation is made apparent almost immediately. "Who shall go up for us initially, to fight the Cannanites?" (Judges 1: 1) the nation asks, searching for a new leader. ""Judah shall go up" (1:2) God answers, shifting the focus from individual to tribe. Relationships have now become fraternal rather than hierarchal ("Judah said to his brother"), as leadership disseminates within the tribal structure. Key events of the story of Joshua are retold within this new framework: the story of the conquest of Hebron the story of the conquest of Hebron is retold, yet this time with the focus on Judah, rather than the heroic Caleb. Here, it is the tribe that grants Caleb his inheritance, rather than the man who leads the tribe. as the leader is subsumed within his tribe. Only one individual still is given a central place: Otniel ben Knaz, conquerer of Debir, who fairytale-like, is granted Ahsa as his wife, in a passage is lifted almost verbatim from the account in Joshua. As in Joshua, Ahsa demands a "blessing" of her father, in the only piece of individual dialogue, and is granted the "upper and lower waters". 
The reprise of the list of conquered and unconquered areas builds a precarious bridge to a new, dangerous era. The list of conquests is matched by a negative list of "not conquest", as the Canaanites "are resolved to dwell in that land" (1: 27). Even when the sons of Joseph manage to conquer Luz, they are haunted by a negative shadow of Luz, created by the Cannanites that left: "and the man named the city Luz, which is its name to this very day" (1:26).  Rather than a triumphant settlement of the "land resting from war" that is the refrain of Joshua, we are presented with a tension-filled subjugation and uneasy coexistence.  At the closing of the chapter, the negative refrain of "did not inherit" (lo horish) turns into active dispossession, as the tribe of Dan is driven off its land and into the mountains. Is this what will happen to all?

Hello to Judges

 Me, years later, far less sure of myself, and the continuation of this project. But here is to trying a new book. 

For Judges, I chose to use a limited palette of acrylic markers (reds, blues, white). Using markers continues the visual language of Joshua, just as the opening of Judges overlaps and continues the Book of Joshua. 

The introduction of more colors indicates the more variegated leadership and social structure, as the strong central leadership of Moses and Joshua break down to the local tribal leadership of the judges.

The brown paper of the notebook echoes the paper I used for the book of Exodus, which is appropriate for this book of nation formation, which represents a kind of closure to the process begun in Egypt.

Here's to new beginnings!

New Year, New Section of Bibliodraw. Hello to the Prophets / Neviim

As many of you know, I had a bit of a crises when I finished Deuteronomy--and with it the first section of Bibliodraw. The Pentatuch, hamisha humshei Torah, are a unit in and of themselves, with unifying patterns, cross reference, and a continuing narrative.
After completing Deuteronomy, I tried to continue immediately with the Book of Joshua. I couldn't. The move from the stunning poetry  and complex narratology of Deuteronomy to the simple, bloody story of  Joshua was jarring.

I could barely get myself to pick up a pen. My mind and heart were still caught up in the first section of Bibliodraw: the links between the books, the development of the narrative, the development of the imagery.
I decided to take a break, and focus on integrating what I had so far.
In the meantime, Bibliodraw was featured in two important exhibitions--one in the Senate Gallery in Ben Gurion University, the other currently up in the Mishkan Museum of Art in Ein Harod. This gave some closure. Add to that a baby, a move, and a new job, and I feel it is time to move on.
With much exhortations from my brother Oriel, I have finally decided to pick up the gauntlet.
For this book, I have decided to use black marker. The monochromatic palette will create a  visual link to Deuteronomy, emphasizing that the Book of Joshua picks up exactly where it ends off. This is the sequel.
the simplicity of the marker does not allow too much fine detail, which i think is appropriate for the simple language and narrative of this book
Bibliodraw Part II, here we come.
Oriel, this one is for you!

Hello to Deuteronomy

It’s been weeks since my last post. Scary how quickly the time flies, and how easy it is to slide softly, unnoticeably, from a commitment.

But the preparations for Deuteronomy have been an important lesson too—it getting fixated, and letting go.

On the day I finished with Numbers, I walked out to ceremoniously buy myself a new sketchbook for Deuteronomy. Nothing appealed. (Yes, I have a fetish about my sketchbooks. They have to be the right size, the right texture, the right weight in my hands. Bibliophilia run wild). I leave disappointed, to try the second art supply shop, when lo! There on the bench, right outside the Artist House, is a pile of old books.

One is a crumbling copy of an old German translation of the psalms. It’s love at first sight. Old, yellowish paper. Cloth cover with gold. A perfect size.  The irregular shape of the text running down the middle of the page.

That’s it! I think. Deuteronomy—the “second telling”, or in Hebrew, Mishne Torah: the review of the Torah. This is the book of retelling, when Moses gives his own version of the books gone by. What better medium than a requisitioned book? Do an actual second telling, with palimpsests coming through beneath. Obviously, it was meant to be! Here it was, waiting for me just as I searched (amazing how God always falls in with our plans, isn't it?)

Problem solved, I waltzed back to the studio, feeling destiny was on my side. The plan was to begin Deuteronomy that very day, after I typed up my “Goodbye to Numbers”. A little gesso over the text to blur it, and the drawing above. Alas, the problems began right away. The paper was fragile and crumbling. A bit of gesso, and it began to tear. The ancient ink spread, staining the gesso a dirty grey. But by now I was committed. Obviously it  was meant to be. The answer was to stick pages together for durability, and put on another, heavier layer of gesso. Then I had to wait for it to dry, so obviously I couldn’t begin that day. It’s all right, I though. I’ll wait. Preparation is part of the process. The next day, I realized I would need to prepare several pages in advance, or the drawings would get ruined as I glued papers together. Wait again.

Meanwhile, my trip to Limmud was fast approaching, and I had not yet begun Deuteronomy.

I prepared more pages. Some warped, some tore. I left for Limmud, and convinced myself that it was for the best, that there is only so much you can juggle; convinced I would still get it to work.

Now I’m back, post London excitement, and I've fallen behind, thanks to my grand visions of needing to use this book. Time and distance do much. I got back to the studio, and realized that the book was not the magical bit of perfection I thought it, and that maybe this wasn’t actually meant to be. As I removed the cup I had put to separate the pages as the gesso dried, another page tore.

It was a moment of letting go.

I do love the texture of the gesso and the book, and even of the tears and repairs. But if I keep trying to prepare it, Deuteronomy will move further and further away.

At the end of the day, I think continuity is more important than perfection. So I’ll leave my requisitioned book for another day, and use a plain sketch book I picked up in London, that might not be perfection, but is hard cover, and thick enough to survive ware and tare an ink.

I still want to keep the idea of review and retelling. It is,  I believe, the link between Numbers and Deuteronomy.  Numbers revisited the pivotal stories of Exodus,  retelling them from the broader national perspective of the Encampment. Deuteronomy returns yet again, this time from a personal viewpoint: the words of the man who was “not a man of words”—Moses.

Rather than retelling on a requisitioned book, I will revisit all the media that I’ve used so far: the graphite of Genesis; Conte crayon of Exodus; White charcoal of Leviticus, and the ink if Numbers. My second telling will be a mixed media, bringing together the pictorial voices of the first four books. 

Onwards! (finally!) 

Hello Numbers

Here we go. The heart-palpitating crunch of starting a new book--and a new sketchbook.

For Numbers, I decided to keep up with the monocromatic look I have been sustaining since Genesis. This is, after all, a continuing story. But there has also been a change. From a world in formation, and  and a nameless mass of slaves, we have established a nation, with a center and leadership. Though an encampment, Israel has solidified.
In response, I've decided to move from easily erased materials (graphite, conte crayon) to the more permanent material of ink. The image now makes an unchangeable mark.
This is also a technical challenge  I am setting for myself : I feel I've had become too addicted to moving and changing the image as I go, erasing and redrawing multiple times. The move to ink is a way to force myself to make a decision and stick with it.

Along with the challenge, comes the anxiety, and the perfection-delay game: I need the exact right sketchbook, the perfect pen. That's the key! Obviously!
That has not happened. My lovely pen is, as yet, missing. Teh store was out of the sketchbook I had in mind.
So I decided to go with my ancient pen and nib, and use the sketchbook I had in my bag. It's smaller than the books I have used until now, but I want to take the plunge, and get started. After all, we are no longer in the world of the Dwelling, but out in the wilderness. It's a time to make do!

Wish me luck!

Hello Leviticus

I think a part of me didn't believe I would finish Exodus. This was the first time I didn't have a notebook waiting in the margins...
I completed Exodus, and headed to the art supply store with a vision of the perfect Leviticus notebook in my head: A small square black notebook  had once found in Paris. My drawing tool would be the white conte pencil I had left over, along with a wax white watercolor pencil I had picked up in Paris at the same time as the mythic notebook

The idea is as follows:
I want to continue with the primal feel of Genesis/Exodus by continuing the monochrome theme
In Exodus, I  had been using black and white conte crayon on brown paper. I found that in the course of the drawings, white had become my symbol for the presence of God--the Pillar of Fire and the Cloud were always the brightest spots in the drawing. So I thought: Leviticus, which deals with the Tabernacle, should be drawn completely in white, using a black paper for the darks. It would also add a drawing challenge of reversing my thinking, to mark the lights instead of the shadows. The square format would offer a compositional challenge.

Alas, it is not a good idea to have too clear an image of what you want. There was no such notebook to be found. After going through four art supply shops--3 in Jerusalem, one in Tel Aviv, I finally compromised. Here is my notebook--nice, thick black paper, as desired, but rectangular rather than square:

I even got a white pen for taking notes...
But by the time I finally got the notebook it was time to pack for my trip to the States. So here I am, days later, uploading my first Leviticus chapter from NYC. It's a good start to my trip.... :)
Thinking in white has been a challenge. Hope I will get more adept as I continue....

On to Exodus...

Basked in the warmth of completing Genesis for a day. Want to do a siyyum summing up my thoughts about the book, but think that--in time honored tradition--I will push that off until a more auspicious day, when I have enough time to breath and articulate it properly.

In the meantime, i don't want to break the momentum, so onward to Exodus it is. The truth is, I can't think of a better way to go in to Pesach, and it is a fitting end to  a day that included matzah baking...

For Exodus, I've chosen a small spiral notebook filled with brown newsprint. something in its simplicity feels right for a book that begins in slavery.

This time, I will be drawing in conte pencils. I liked the sketchy, erasable quality of pencil for Genesis, which is about a world in formation, not quite gelled into itself. For Exodus, I wanted something that continued with that primal feel, but had more permanence and complexity. I like the fact that the conte continues in monochrome, but that the addition of the white adds another level of density.
So onwards we go!

"Our Story Begins"

“Our Story Begins” declares the small notebook I picked up in the 798 art district in Beijing. “The world needs music, also the painting, even more the feeling of beginning” it adds in inimitable Chinese English.

True, I think.

A traffic accident during that same trip to the Far East left me unable to paint for several months. It’s been a protracted, sporadic convalescence, which often leaves me feeling that things are coming to an end, or are in flux, refusing to hold together.

Go back to the basics, my friend Jaqueline Nicholls advised. If you can’t paint, then draw. A drawing a day. Make it regular.

She should know. I have been following her Draw Yomi project for years.. Though I had already completed a Daf Yomi cycle, the drawing made me see things see anew, gave a unique, at times quirky perspective that linked elements of the daily Talmud page in a wholly new way.

I thought--the time has come to apply this mode of learning to my own primary passion: the Tanakh.

I thought it would be simple enough. Study one chapter of Tanakh each day, and bring it together with a drawing. Ahh, the naivety of inexperience.I started the project  in tandem with the new cycle of Torah readings following Simhat Torah. Pretty quickly, my chapter was out of sync. And with no objective deadline to answer to, a perek a day can slip away.

So here I am, several months later. Older, wiser, and less naïve—but also healthier and ready for a “feeling of beginning” which I hope the semi-public forum of a blog will provide.  

What follows are my daily exploration of the Tanakh--a drawing and prose poem a day

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