Tbilisi - Initial sketches in B&W

Tbilisi. First time we came here for my son’s wedding, now,10 months later it is to see our newly born granddaughter. Very little else is of interest for the first week, in the second week, we take a few hours to walk around and experience the city. A city worth exploring, to be continued next time. For now, just a few initial sketches in B&W, leaving the color for later.

Beautiful street art

Small bakery dwarfed by a huge Brutalist style building

Remnants of Soviet regime

Old wooden balconies in hidden backyards, waiting to be restored “restoration happens before elections, come in 2024 …” to quote our guide

“The way it used to be”, a preserved interior in a restored building

The environmental crisis depicted by many of the street artists

When the world composes itself into a perfect frame …life and art, art and life

Sellers, mostly women, a lot of them wearing black. Life is not all cherries and peaches.

God save the king. London, September 2022

Hyde Park, Wednesday September 20, 2020. Just arrived in London and went for a walk through the parks. Reacquainting myself with this city I love and have not seen for 9 years. Almost at the end of the garden, I follow a sign asking to leave the flowers only at the designated place. A few more steps and I am surrounded by what seems like hundreds of bouquets, letters, drawings, tiny, crocheted pieces and small toys. I am neither British, nor monarchist, well aware not everyone grieves the passing of the queen, and frankly, not everybody should. Still, in my opinion, this moment in time deserves to be remembered, and the letters, especially the children's letters, made me stop, read and smile. London as I never saw before.

Waltzing with the butterflies

Afternoon in the meadow in the Apuseni

A lazy afternoon, for me that is, as the farm owners are probably hard at work, making cheese, baking bread, feeding the hens. The cows are still to be fetched from the high pasture but for me, it is time to feel the meadows. what feels miraculous, looks flat through the camera’s lens. and to add insult to injury, my favorite manual lens does not cooperate with the camera anymore and I can’t really focus it. That’s when I just lay in the tall grasses, bees, and sun and all, stop trying to focus, and just hope some of the magic will register. No unicorns or fairies appeared but the two puppies nicknamed Barbar 1 and Barbar2 soon found me and started chewing on my pants. Who needs more?

Barbar1 and the white tips of Barbar2 front feet

When living is your whole life

Two hours on a hiking trail from Boita through the forest and we are almost at the top of the hill. We pass a home distillery, climb some more, take a right through the trees and arrive at our destination. Johanna and Nikolai’s farm. He is 85, she is 72. The friendliest of welcomes. Nikolai shows us the vegetable garden and pulls out a handful of green onions. Meanwhile, Johanna cannot stop saying how happy she is to see me. Talks about how faith sustains her through all the tough periods in life. Why don’t they move to the village? “we always stayed here, this is our place”. They have a few sheep, hens, and a donkey that helps take things to and from the village. Yes, on exactly the same path we came on. After a few minutes, they set a chunk of (handmade) cheese, some bread, and the green onion on the table. “Eat”, they ask us, “is it good?”. Yes, it is. Very. splitting with us the little they have makes the simple meal even tastier. We leave with them some cookies and some fruit ( the donkey already got an apple and the banana peel :). they would like to cook for us some ‘clatite’, but this really is too much. we tell them we have a 2 hours hike back to the village and we part with hugs and hope we’ll be back.

I posted a picture of this amazing couple on Facebook and a friend commented that poverty photographs well everywhere. True, but I would argue this is not about poverty. It is about choosing to live a hard but honest and as strange as it may seem to us pretty fulfilling life.

Johanna and Nikolai in their summer kitchen

“Let me get some cheese for you”, Johanna

Nikolai at 85

Home made cheese

Lighting fire in the oven

In memory of Engineer Grinberg

Almost 50 years after my dad quit his job at the Romanian Rail Road company, and 20 years since he passed away, I stand near the old locomotives in Sibiu thinking of him. Did he ever travel in one of these trains? How I wish he was here, telling stories from his old days traveling throughout Romania, perhaps remembering some funny stories from his days as a young engineer in the C.F.R.

I miss you, dad, I wish you could see me taking pictures of these old but not forgotten beauties. You were always my lighthouse, you still are and will always be.

Paris part 3 - Wrapped

Why? The first question everyone I tell about the wrapped Arc de Triomphe in Paris asks. Why would anyone do it. I confess I asked myself the same question when I heard the ‘unveiling’ or perhaps the veiling of the Parisian landmark will take place 2 days before we return from out trip to Paris.

“Bring joy and beauty to the people” is all Cristo would agree to say in all interviews I could watch on YouTube. “All other meanings are propaganda”. Joy and beauty to the people. OK. I am one of the people, aren’t I? On September 19th, the day no cars allowed in center Paris, I decided to experience the joy and beauty. And?

It was certainly enlightening, surreal and ….funny. The silvery cloth shimmering in the light emphasized the size of the monument, like a huge elephant in the midst of a constant river of people. Beautiful? Not sure about that but definitely impressive. And the people, their reaction to the wrapped monument were between hilarious ( adults looking behind the cloth to see what’s there ?? ) and bizarre ( climbing on the monument, an elderly woman??). More than one person covering itself in cloth, standing there to be photographed. By strangers in the crowd, by people with professional looking cameras.

What do you think of when looking at the photo of the covered person. once we can not see whether it is a man or a woman. Black or white. Once it is just a human shape. What differs looking at this person covered compared to looking at the same person without the cover? Is it the same for the monument? And if it is, and the act of wrapping it makes us stop and look at it with different eyes, make us ask different questions, is this art? Art worth 14M Euro?

Wrapped

Paris part 2 - Les Nounours des Gobelins

The new Parisians

What is more Parisian than having a cup of coffee or a drink watching the passers by? At any other time I came to Paris, cafés were full, barely a spare seat. But this is 2021. The cafes are half empty even on a late Sunday morning, and the customers seem to have changed ….Despite the negative aspects of the situation it is hard not to smile looking at these huge teddy bears, therefore on the last day of the trip, I could not resist a ‘bear hunt’ in the Gobelin area.

Paris of 2021, with its Notre Dame covered by scaffolding, its Arc de Triomphe wrapped ( more about that in the next post) and the huge Teddy Bears is so symbolic of the changes we experience all around us. Makes you wonder if it will ever go back to being the city it used to be a mere 2 years ago.

Crepes et Gaufres

Coffee with my friend

Paris part 1 - Paris nights

Locks near the Seine, Paros 2021

Paris. Paris at night. Still beautiful, yet different. The crane beside the Notre Dame, the masks, bears sitting alongside people at the cafe. Yet the alleys remained the same, the restaurants in the Quartier Latin still have their own charm and serve the fondue that I love. And Saint Chapelle ….renders me speechless every time.

Great fondue and great company :)

Frida, masked

Back to normal life …almost

Notre Dame - backside with crane

Ahhhhhhhh…..

My freedom is your freedom

“Love thy children”

I was never comfortable watching pride parades on TV. They looked a tad too provocative, I did not understand why should sexuality be flaunted this way? Lately, I had a chance to talk to a couple of people about it and realized that what I see on TV does not necessarily represents what actually takes place, rather a filtered version of it. As someone who photographs for a few years now, I should have figured this earlier …anyway, when hearing there is a pride parade in Netanya, my childhood city I realized this is a good opportunity to experience the actual thing, not the TV version. I am glad I went, the event did not feel even a bit like the ones on TV …

To start with , it was small, maybe a couple of hundred people, mostly youth ( school age), a few families as well. Heavily guarded by the police as Netanya is a pretty conservative city, this is only the 2nd time this parade is organized here. Needless to say, no financial support from the city, all done by volunteers. What truly surprised me was the joyful atmosphere, singing and dancing, an optimism and can do attitude that permeated the crowd. Looking at the little girl who watched the dancing on the stage, sitting safely on her father’s (?) shoulders I could not help wishing that when she grows up, she will be free to be her best self, and fall in love without society passing judgments on her choices.

One of the last speakers was a young gay religious man, who told his story, and his parting words are still ringing in my ears. He said “ As long as there are young men desperate enough to contemplate suicide because of their sexual inclination - the Pride Parade should be held”.

After today, I hope to see the day when these parades are not needed anymore, and may this day come sooner rather than later.

“This is my city too!”

Safe & confident, on her father’s shoulders and on the stage

Happy to be ourselves

“My freedom is your freedom”

A good day

Adorned by light

This past Wednesday was a very good day to lose the mind and find if not the soul, at least some peace and quiet. For the last two years the political climate in Israel resembles a bad TV drama, and the last few weeks, everything got louder. The hate, the noise, the missiles, the guesses, some more intelligent than others, and deep inside the tangled mess a tiny glimmer of hope. Not a full blooming confident hope, but whispers of it. Coming and going. On Wednesday night, 35 minutes before the deadline, the light got stronger. Still hesitant, unstable, trying to learn how to breathe without extinguishing itself, but definitely there. Wednesday was definitely a good day.

Once there was and once there was not

Many things changes on my website since I created it in 2014, this quote by Ernst Haas is one of the few things (maybe even the only one) that stood the test of time. As relevant to me today as it was when I first saw it. The difference is now I understand it better. The 80th issue of “The Lens” came out today, and I am honored to have my latest work published alongside outstanding B&W work made by artists from all over the world.

At the end of the world turn left

We just parked our car and there they were. A camel and her young. I get closer to photograph and when I raise my eyes the camel’s nose is centimeters from my head. Apparently, she was interested in me too :)

Less than 90 minutes away from home and worlds away. Guests of a Bedouin family, walking alongside the sheep ( and the camel that followed), enjoying a (few) delicious cups of tea. Eating the Maklube ( rice, eggplants, chicken, carrots) next to the elder brother of Sabah, our host. We use the plastic plates we bought, they eat with their hands from the common platter.

Around, nothing but desert. Sleeping under the starts is not a poetic sentence here. Actually, nothing is poetic rather an eclectic mix of tradition and modernity. Children riding on the donkey, the older ones have cellphones. We are allowed to wander, ask questions and photograph, but are informed in advance that we are not allowed to publish pictures of women. “Can I photograph your hands while preparing the food?”. Yes, this is allowed. So I take a picture of Sabah’s mother washing the chicken quarters with soap (!) before adding them to the pot.

The Bedouin story in the modern Israeli context is far from simple, and lately the news often report on the violence, insane driving, and negative behavior of some of the Bedouin youth. While this behavior should never be condoned, I think we should always remember there are at least two sides to every coin and get to know and respect each other’s worlds.

A cup of delicious Bedouin tea, warmed on the fire in the middle of the room.

Sheep skin drying on the fence, in the background one of the many Bedouin buildings that dot the Negev desert

As spoiled as a dog, this goat loooooves to be petted by Sabah. The hat, is an Israeli army hat.

Sculpted door and beautiful ceramics is the middle of the simplest of houses

The indoor kitchen. Sabah’s mom is preparing lunch outside today as it is a beautiful spring day

The cleanest chicken around after being washed with soap

We are not allowed to publish images of the Bedouin women, but here is a dress drying up in the sun

In the midst of the desert

Following the sheep

Dried cheese, sour and salty but tasty!

90 minutes from home - worlds apart

I love not Man the less but Nature more

“ I love not Man the less but Nature more”. So true, especially given what we see on the daily news. But most of all, I love the interactions between man and nature. The many facets these interactions can take. the unexpected, the moments that touch our heart. Visual poetry with no author, haiku written by light and wind.

In Search of Wilderness

Exploring what it feels like to be wild, neither woman nor man, a creature of your own imagination. Being both hunter and prey. Wild and dark turning luminous then dark again. Not just being in the woods but of the nature. Acknowledging the wilderness within us and allowing it to be.

Muse/dancer/inspiration : Michal

“To be strong does not mean to sprout muscles and flex. It means meeting one’s own numinosity without fleeing, actively living with the wild nature in one’s own way. It means to be able to learn, to be able to stand what we know. It means to stand and live.”

— Clarissa Pinkola Estés, Women Who Run With the Wolves: Myths and Stories of the Wild Woman Archetype

“(Young girls) are taught to not see, and instead to “make pretty” all manner of grotesqueries whether they are lovely or not. This training is why the youngest sister can say, “Hmmm, his beard isn’t really that blue.” This early training to “be nice” causes women to override their intuitions. In that sense, they are actually purposefully taught to submit to the predator. Imagine a wolf mother teaching her young to “be nice” in the face of an angry ferret or a wily diamondback rattler.”

— Clarissa Pinkola Estés, Women Who Run With the Wolves: Myths and Stories of the Wild Woman Archetype

The night is all mine

Night walk, me & the monochrome camera. The beauty of minimal features and scintillating quality allows to chase the light. Be enticed by the shadow. Simply be

“The night is all mine

And I am a secret to myself

In the silence of the night”

“Life like dreams

Wild creatures of imaginations

Are storming

In my sleeping soul”

Fairy dust and broken molds

“Luck is what happens when preparations meets opportunity”. This quote, attributed to Roman philosopher Seneca is as true today as it ever was. A chance encounter with one of Israel’s preeminent sculptors Zvi Lachman brings me to a bronze foundry, half an hour driving distance from home. A world of dust, creativity, broken molds, smoke and fire. Amy with a camera in Wonderland ….

Homesick

Homesick for walking through forests, for the sound of water, for snow.

For the quiet filled with sounds of birds and branches swaying in the wind.

For filling the lungs with chilly, fragrant air.

Homesick for a time without masks, when we were free to travel and immerse ourselves in beauty rather than watching it on the screen. Yes, it came to that, I am sitting in front of the screen photographing nature documentaries on Yellowstone. If I can not go to the forests, at least I can bring the forest to me. Hopefully not for much longer.

Masks & prayers

Praying from the heart

Yom Kippur 2020. The most unusual of days in the most unusual of years. When social distancing is enforced by the law and we close ourselves behind walls to safeguard our health. When masks cover our mouth to keep us and others safe. Given the intolerance towards anyone who dares to think differently - I wonder if we should not wear masks that will make us think and empathize for a minute before we talk.

Yom Kippur 2020, I walk around the neighborhood with the iphone. I want to take the ‘real camera’ but am aware this will look too intrusive. Even the iphone, despite the lack of sound and light when photographing is noticed. A man wrapped in Tallit ( Jewish prayer shawl ) asks me “why do you photograph people praying?”. “Because it is truly beautiful” I answer. He can not see my face as I am wearing a mask, but my tone and the look in my eyes probably convince him, he places his hand on his heart , smiles and says ‘Please forgive me”. It is only then I realize he suspected I take pictures in order to show how the praying people break the social distancing laws. Nothing is further from my mind. I photograph because for the first time in my life I can see the miracle of Yom Kippur. Since it is not advised to congregate and pray indoors, people step outside the synagogue walls and prayers are for all to share, regardless of beliefs. Kids on bicycles and old man praying in one frame. I can’t avoid thinking that praying with the mask on adds a special intent to the prayer. People care about each other. Protect each other. For one day, the polarization, recrimination, hate, fake news and gossip move to the backstage side allowing for a moment of harmony. To me, this is a true miracle.

Praying

Yom Kippur 2020

Woven light

Cascades

One of my favorite weaving moments - when fiber, light and potential fill the loom. The moment before things come into being, when darkness and light are still intertwined. The moment plans are pushed to the background and instinct is allowed to take center stage, Yesterday, before starting to play with a woven transparency, the instinct had me reaching for the camera. Yarn & light. So simple, so beautiful.

The beauty of everyday life

“Night” handwoven cloth

The last few weeks I divided my time between Soetsu Yanagi’s book “The beauty of everyday things” and the loom. Few books have resonated with me as much, helping translate scattered thoughts into words and objects.

‘If it is our ideal to live in a world surrounded by beautiful things, in a virtual Kingdom of Beauty, then we must raise the ordinary things of our daily lives to a higher level” (quote from Soetsu Yanagi’s book)

The ordinary. The things we touch and use everyday.

“Utilitarian crafts have been looked down on as something of a lower rank. As a result, our aesthetic sense has been severely impaired owing to the fact that beauty and life are treated as separate realms of being. Beauty is no longer viewed as an indispensable part of our daily life” (quote from Soetsu Yanagi’s book)

Weaving allows me to do just that. put beauty back into everyday life. Who is to say that a tapestry hanging on the wall is more precious than a poncho that warms AND delights? Why should one be labeled as ‘art’ and ‘precious’ and the other referred to as ‘just clothes’? Why do we look at a piece of ‘art’ and ask ourselves what is the idea behind it and ignore the thoughts, wishes and symbols embedded in the simple things we use everyday. Granted, not all objects are worthy of this kind of attention. Some, maybe even most are just a reflection of market demand. Of the quick, the cheap and the popular. But handmade objects, the ceramic cups, the woven rug, the embroidered shirt. Why are they looked down upon as merely ‘crafts’? These are the objects we can enjoy every day with our morning coffee, sense against our skin each time we breathe. Does it make any sense to think any less of them because of that?

“Day and Night” handwoven poncho