During my youth whilst serving in the army I was very fortunate
to sojourn on the beach of the Red Sea.
I have spent many hours contemplating and beholding the waves
breaking onto the rocks, the vast range of hues, the big blue and
the purple mountains far away in the horizons.
The sand spreading all along the shore treasured an endless quantity
of miniature creations that the sea has brought along during millions
and millions of years.
It turned into a habit. The eyes observing, the heart absorbing.
I am always scanning my surrounding looking for the details which compose it. The search, the capturing, the isolating of the fraction
all take form in my creations.
All along it is about constant searching.
The eye has been trained to detect fractions of form, outlines, contours
and to seek for a new frame. This precious knowledge would enable to assimilate the playful motion of light, the structure of color and reflection.
I recognize today a binding line passing throughout all my creations,
being loyal to this discipline of forms and endless curiosity, which I owe
to these wonderful days on the beach.
During my graphic design studies at Bezalel Academy of Arts and Design,
Jerusalem, I have discovered the paper workshop and it enchanted me.
Paper as a material, containing, disguising, absorbing contents and forms into it, matched the memory of my experience.
I have learned to stream with the fibers and the water, to dismantle and assemble, to reduce and give up, let go, to reveal and expose the micro out of the macro and to create new worlds.
I have started with the landscapes engraved so deeply in my mind
out of a strong need to give them formative and concrete expression.
I have touched words out of a request after meaning hidden in them,
in their letters and in their composition.
The habit or perhaps the need for probing made me notice one day
about six years ago how rich and wonderful was the material gathered
and accumulated in my laundry drier at home. I went back to collecting but this time instead of seashells I began to stock up fibers.
Available material, product of a daily Sisyphean process.
A microcosm, embodying the leftovers of our daily routine.
Threads unraveled, paper crumbs, tobacco crumbs, dark and bright hairs, diversifying colorfulness of fabric fibers.
Tiny pieces of life, telling the stories of the residents of the house.
Each circle of laundry and its treasures, most of them are grey.
I love the possibility which is hidden in that pile of fibers. It seems monotonous and tends to be invisible.
Today's world is crammed with details and information.
We tend to label as "beautiful" and "not beautiful", "interesting"
or "lacking interest". In "Circles of life" I have wished to present
the wealth of forms and contents of the world of the neglected,
of the grey, of the common.
I have wished to exploit the material which is usually being
referred to as redundant.