New Mathematics 2024

I was strolling around the Shimogamo Shrine in Kyoto. It was a book market day.

I noticed a booklet with Japanese text and Western calculations. I loved the delicate paper, and as I leafed through it, I perceived how the two texts—worlds—became one.

I brought it home to Israel to use it for my art.

We are at war these days.

I am sitting at my safe kitchen table, thinking of the kidnapped people in tunnels, the soldiers, the Gazans, and how and where you can find shelter.

I dare to tear a few pages from the book.

I draw a boat carrying cypress trees with sharp pen lines and some gold on parchment cutting. I glue it as a blanket to the text.

Is it a hiding place?

I needed my artwork to feel safe and intact, so I sewed a black thread into the Japanese paper. I hear the injured holes and the hissing sound of flexible thread finding its way through them. 

I glue scientific data labels from my husband’s beetle collection to classify and organize my inner chaos.

It is useless, I know.

I desperately need to create some meaning.

I now need gold. Gold is the powerful color of gods, kings, death, and eternity.

Every Christian icon embraces a devastated Mary and her dead son. It is beautiful, but underneath lay deep sorrow.

Requiem in beautiful.