חיבוק

I have been contemplating my Jewish identity and what Judaism means to me both abstractly and as a part of a global community. As I have gone through my life, my identification with being Jewish has taken on different forms, and more recently I had lost sight of the importance of that part of my identity. While I have been reconciling with that feeling, I have also been reflecting on memories from my Jewish upbringing that not only shaped who I am but continue to stick with me. It is often the small moments that make the biggest impacts, and that is especially true when we’re children.

When I was a little kid, my parents would take my brothers and I with them to synagogue for the High Holidays. There is a lot of nuance to spirituality, religion, culture, Judaism, etc. but there is no denying that as a kid, synagogue can be boring. When I became squirmy and impatient, my dad, wearing his tallis (a traditional Jewish prayer shawl) would reach over with one arm, his siddur in his other hand, and wrap me in the fabric of the shawl. I remember so vividly how soft it was. I felt warm, close, and protected, tucked inside something that felt larger than myself. I would play with the tzitzit tied at the corners and my dad would look over, and seeing that I was finally entertained, give a small smile and return to his siddur.

This painting centers on a close view of moving fabric, white with a blue stripe that echoes a traditional tallis. The blurred surface reflects the tactile quality of memory and the close proximity is just as I remember it, being completely enveloped in the fabric. There are hand tied tzitzit coming from each of the four corners of the canvas. They hang down organically, a physical element that can be twirled and braided just as I did all those years ago. 

Rather than depicting the full scene, the work focuses on sensation and closeness. It holds onto warmth and texture, and treats memory as something carried through touch and gesture as much as through ritual or belief.