Just couldn’t help it…

Compliments, by nature are things thrown at you without any previous preparation. When on the receiving end, one should be able to accept, embrace and contain them, as it as compliment are in fact the most sincere form of human gift.

Two days ago, after having posted on my moving encounter with Glen Baxter, I was presented with such a gift, for which I hold a I tremendous esteem. It came from one of my better admired contemporary illustrators: Paul Slater .

As Facebook wall is suffering from an ephemeral quality, I’ve decided to put this rare and precious trophy on my digital mantelpiece. Thank you Paul.

A precious trophy from Paul Slater

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Happy new year 2013 with a culture of saftey at EDF

Here are two drawings I did for Vigilance, an internal publication concerning health and safety at EDF, the second largest French electricity company.

Bonne année EDF

A culture of safety

2 X Artzi

As I have shied away from my blog last week, I am here to pay my dues. Last week Artzi wrote about wondering and decision taking.

Amongst the themes he chose to bring about, is a translation to hebrew of the American poet Robert Frost’s (1874–1963) poem : The Road Not Taken. Here is a link to both the poem and an audio narration by the poet himself.

For my humble part, I’ve related to the concept of wondering for itself, inspired by both Artzi and Frost.

Wondering

This week Artzi’s writing is a collage of anecdotes, collected and delivered with his unmistakable, associative, sensitive and economical style. The title for his column this week was: Any resemblance reality, is entirely coincidental.

Any resemblance reality, is entirely coincidental.

Glen Baxter

Last Saturday I had an apparition. Driving through the Mare quarter in Paris, desperately trying to find a parking space, I caught in the corner of my eye, the unmistakable sight of Glen Baxter‘s work staring at me through the front window of the Galerie Martine et Thibault de la Châtre.

Baxter’s influence on me is of  immense dimension. His art, for my serves as the ultimate artistic licence for an unruly, nonsensical behaviour as an illustrator.

His subtle british humor draws its juices from the empire’s children books illustrations of the  1930s-1940s, with an intriguing caption at the bottom.

I stopped the car, and stormed in. Looked at his works, through a big smile that covered the better part of my face (we are talking square meters here not square centimeters). then, innocently, I’ve asked the Gallery’s owner if Mr. Baxter happened to be in town. His reply was : “…in fact, he’s right here beside me!” that’s when I got beside myself with joy.

I thanked Mr. Baxter (above, wearing the russian army’s fur hat) for all that I have borrowed from him without his knowledge, and wished him all the best in the world, got out to the street, got into the car and drove through Paris and through that great smile.

 

A date in the dark, Shlomo Artzi

This week I was particularly touched by  Artzi’s text. So, here is the paragraph that I’ve elected to relate to in my illustration:

A date in the dark, Shlomo Artzi

All Israeli journalists and commentators tried last week to capture the average Israeli soul in a single metaphor. It’s hard because the Israeli psyche consists of many metaphors such as courage and human anxiety, hysteria adaptability wisdom and emotional tenacity (I let you be the ones to judge). 

Here’s a short story about an emotional one.

The day after the bombing, I’ve met in my daughter’s kitchen with a family member, an Apache pilot who dropped by for a visit. He did not park the Apache in the house’s driveway, but rather comes on his Vespa.

“Say what’s up, how was it?” Said I in a Shalom Hanoch style.

At first, he had it hard to start, but slowly opened up and said he was working in the ‘cloud’ operation from dusk to dawn, shot and felt.

“You were shooting, it’s clear, but what did you feel”? I asked.

Here again he was struggling (a tough pilot, isn’t he just?) And finally he confessed that the thought thaא his bomb might have killed innocent people, would not let him rest at night . (He had a child recently).

  It is rather a cliché, dealing with ‘our boys’ shooting and crying, but he touched my heart, this pilot who had a date in the dark with the bombed targets and especially with his emotional conscience.

A new year

Another year. Hard to put an attributive adjective before the ‘new year’ this time around. Nevertheless, despite the grim outlook, the inevitable ‘happy’ must be added. We need it for the sake of a good tomorrow  So, without further ado, wishing you a happy one, inside and out.

Izhar

Happy new year 2013