An article published in Skeptic Magazine, dealing with the characteristics of of our time, the faith of truth, or the end of it.
I chose to illustrate the challenge of truth, along the lines of the claim: ‘one says its day, the other says its night’. I casted the most visibly light-responsive character: the sunflower, seen as it raises its head to follow the moon. In the other illustration, it lowers its head, when the interrogators are trying to extract the truth out of it.
On two occasions, between 2018 and 2019, I had the privilege of working on a series of etching at the The Gottesman Etching Center in Kabri, a kibbutz in the north of Israel.
There, together with a master printer, in two rounds of three days each, I have visited and explored the nature of intimacy – an uncontainable substance, shared between one and his very self, and with ones’ other.
In what I consider to be a daring exploration, I have commissioned myself this series of etching, not knowing the individual theme of each and every one of them, but the common one: intimacy.
The prints are on show until Saturday, 30th November, at the Jaffa Museum.
Tayelet Mifratz Shlomo 10. Jaffa-Tel Aviv.
Intimacy, Izhar Cohen Etching, 2018-19
In two days, us, Israelies will cast our vote, in yet again, decisive general elections. the results of which will shape the faith of this country between the great divides: secular and messianic religious, Arabs and Jews, rich and poor, and all other arenas in which the main stage is occupied by fierce inner conflict within the buoyant Israeli society.
To cite a conclusive phrase from a good friend of mine: Let’s hope for the best, yet prepare for the inevitable, hence the tissues.
It was when I finished and sent the illustration above, for Shlomo Artzi’s column, that I remembered a drawing I did for my dear friend, Amir way back in 2014, here below:
From Shlomo Artzi’s weekly column in Yedioth Acharonot.
From Shlomo Artzi’s weekly column. Yedioth Aharonot
By Michael Shermer on November 1, 2018, Scientific American
For a documentary on horror movies that seem cursed, I was recently asked to explain the allegedly spooky coincidences associated with some famous films. Months after the release of Poltergeist, for example, its 22-year-old star, Dominique Dunne, was murdered by her abusive ex-boyfriend; Julian Beck, who played the preacher “beast,” succumbed to stomach cancer before Poltergeist II‘s release; and 12-year-old Heather O’Rourke died months before the release of what would be her last starring role in Poltergeist III.
The Exorcist star Linda Blair hurt her back when she was thrown around on her bed when a piece of rigging broke; Ellen Burstyn was injured on the set when flung to the ground; and actors Jack MacGowran and Vasiliki Maliaros both died while the film was in postproduction (their characters died in the film). For the full text, click here
To all my friends who did not manage yet to see my exhibition: LICENCE ARTISTIQUE, here is a quick overview:
The exhibition will stay open until the beginning of December.
BIBLIOTHÈQUE GERMAINE TILLION
6, rue du Commandant Schloesing, Paris 16e
Métro : Trocadéro
There are no “day” people and pure “night” people. There is a tendency to be this way or another.
3/4 of the population tend to be ‘people of the day’ and a quarter tends to be ‘night people’.
The latter suffers most because the world is not adapted to the times when they are most creative and effective. There are also personal differences between ‘day people’ and night – often, the people of the night tends to be more negative, depressed, original and so on. I came across this topic through an article in G magazine, which I was invited to illustrate.
As far as I’m concerned, my choice and nature are clear: I’m a night person. My mind provides me with the greatest pleasure of using it when the day is gone. Also, unlike the article’s claim, I’m a happy man! So much for generalizations… (written at 01:00)
Florence, where every attempt to depict spring is doomed to live in the shadow of Botticelli’s Primavera, still managed to inspire me and drew me into drawing.
I always take a great pleasure in moistening good paper with the mixture of water and colours, with the permanent hope that the magic of watercolours painting will take place.
And so, here is the result of my latest attempt. As always, I am grateful for the return of the queen of seasons.
For ten years London was the place I called home. The city resides in my heart, wrapping it with a patchwork of a worn out upholstery fabric.
While my wife and daughter went hunting and gathering, I thought I’d go and visit my London friends, the ones hanging on the National Gallery’s walls.
It was a freezing, bright sunny day, and from Covent Gardens I walked briskly straight into the temple. The National Gallery, despite its majestic staircase, leaves a very brief moment of recovery from the contemporary sounds and sites of the street and the home of its time-rich treasures.
I knew my way notwithstanding the many years which passed since my last visit. My eyes were first seeking Piero Della Francesca’s The Baptism of Christ, then his Saint Michael and the Nativity. From there, to Ghirlandaio, Rosso Fiorentino, Michelangelo, the breathtaking Leonardo and so I ended up sitting in front of Bronzino’s Allegory with Venus and Cupid.
I took out my tiny sketchbook and started a quick study. As I was drawing, I heard a little voice calling in French: “Maman, maman, viens voir, c’est Venus!” – “mom, come and see, it is Venus!” Shortly after the sound, came the image of the back of a six years old girl who was pointing at the picture. Her two glittering eyes seemed to be pulling with invisible strings her mother who was trailing behind her, calling her to come and read the sign, only to acknowledge that indeed, she was right, it is Venus in the painting!
The flurry of questions the little one inundated her mother with, was intense and full of beauty and wit.
I couldn’t help myself and asked this little princess – how come she manage to recognise Venus from afar? without a hesitation, she replied:“ par sa beauté”– by her beauty! It was now I who was the target of the sweetest, most inquisitive set of questions she required answers to. her mom, standing next to us was smiling and asked if I was not too bothered by her daughter’s curiosity. When they were about to leave, the little girl looked at me and then gave me a big hug. Her mom said to me:” She will remember this”
I then Guaranteed her that I will not forget Bronzino’s Allegory with Venus and Cupid.
So, I came to London, visited my Italian heroes, and returned back home with a French gift.