My current art series is called Desert, I m working on it in days of curfew and lockdown, there is a great gap between the outside world and what happens inside the studio. It is like the whole country became a great desert and the only oasis is in my studio, at least this is how I feel.
In the desert series, I try to capture the essence of emptiness. The desert is about 2 hours drive from my home, and it is a totally different world, it is like entering a secluded empty room in the midst of a party in a palace.
A desert is not only a geographical place it is a state of mind.
I was a deputy battalion commander during a period of terror attacks near the Egyptian border. My battalion was responsible for 40 border miles, each morning at dawn we used to open the route with a reconnaissance unit with Bedouin trackers, I m writing this story 30 years after but still remember the scent of fresh coffee beans broiling on the pan, we would not start before sipping the strong bitter Bedouin coffee. The reconnaissance commander was Attallah he belonged to the Tarabin tribe and was serving in the Israeli army for 25 years, this man had magical forces and insights, he could trace a change in the angel of a bush leaves and by that describe the person that was passing there with the exact time when he touched the bush. We became friends, Attallah invited me to his tent, his tribe resided near Beer Sheva, the city in southern Israel that was the gate to the Negev desert, I was treated like a royal visit, with special foods and warm welcoming, I met his 4 sons, he had 5 more daughters but they haven’t dined with us, he had then 2 wives one of them with her daughter were serving us when we had a moment alone I asked him how is it to live with 2 wives in such a tent with no privacy.
Attalah said: ‘when I seek privacy, I enter the desert, when I am at home I enjoy the togetherness’
I invited him to my place in Tel Aviv, he came on a Friday morning to my flat at Brandeis St. he came with his son that was then about 8, his son looked disturbed and very intimidated, he was like hiding behind his father. At the end of the visit, Attalah said that his son wants to ask me something, is it ok with me?
Sure, I said
His son asked, how do you know to navigate in the city because everything looks the same.
I mention this story often, this is not a story only about curiosity but about the reality perception that is so different in the city and in the desert. For this boy, the desert was his home he knew every hill, bush, and stone in his tribe territory, the city with its tall buildings was intimidating.
Back to the Desert series, I try to feel like Atallah’s son, to be part of the desert and not apart from it. I am trying to merge with the silence and wide landscape. I meditate before each painting session and imagine myself sitting alone on a mountain, there is not a living soul around, the nearest village is about an hour drive, my cellular phone is no use here because there isn’t any connection, I put aside my watch, my map and rifle, I look ahead, the mountains turn into hills and bushes, a herd of horses emerge from the ravine and disappear, an eagle encircles the mountain, its shade marks a camel on the green path in the wadi. It is hot but I feel a breeze, it is the eagle wings or the wind or both. I am not dwelling on the desert. I am not painting the desert I am not imagining the desert. I am the desert my colors are the eagle wings; my canvas has no boundaries.
