I was born in Toronto, Canada in 1955, on what I suspect was a lovely late May day. I had two loving parents and did not suffer any abuse except the usual big brother on little brother stuff. From the time I can remember doing anything, I remember drawing and painting. Lying on floor trying to recreate things both in my mind and before my eyes.
I was into sports and building cities, often entitled “New Fox City” and variations on that theme.
At the end of High School, I got a passport and went to Israel. I was excited to experience kibbutz life, and tap into my spiritual Jewish core.
Israel was an eye opener, from the snow-covered mountains of the north to the dry desert, drenched in the sunshine of the south. A land dotted with structures and names associated with the Torah and my history. I was fascinated by the touch of stones carved some three thousand years ago, seeing how the hands of men had long ago set them in position, and how the light of the changing day filled their cracks, as the wind sang its song through the meandering tunnels of neighborhoods and desert caves.
After a year I traveled through Western Europe, Eastern Europe being behind the “Iron Curtain” at the time. It was remarkable for a boy from modern Toronto to see the grandeur of ancient Rome, the surrealist sorcery of Venice, and the beauty for the sake of beauty of Florence. Vienna was like a creamy covered dessert, while Paris was a breath of the romantic.
After growing up in the stark non-communicative architecture of Toronto, with its glass-faced skyscrapers and soulless buildings, Europe was intoxicating for a young artist. I wanted to paint the magnificence of human creation, sense the coolness of water on stone, and ponder the light and its accompanying shadows. Human beings became props in my plays, each painting theatre.
Later, in the 1980’s I began visiting the Far East, from Indonesia to Thailand, I tasted the spices and felt the humid jungle teeming with life, on my face.
My paintings became somewhat of a pictorial diary, collages of what I had seen, experienced and invented. I embrace my creative thoughts and use my brush and paints to trigger the imagination of the viewer, and to be playful, for as long as we are smiling we are that much more human.
On my last trip to Thailand, I met my Israeli wife. We fell in love and came to live with her in Israel. We live in the quaint town of Karkur, north of Tel Aviv near Caesarea, and I have two Israeli children. I have been blessed.
I began doing ketubot in the early 1980’s. I was interested in rediscovering one of the few Judaic art forms that encompassed painting, along with calligraphy. I have been producing ketubot that are new, joining in the renaissance of this Jewish art form.
It is nice to be a part of what is for many the most important days in their lives. That moment when two people have decided to live their lives together, and create a family. The thought of my ketubah, sharing the chuppah, and bringing joy to everyone involved is a true pleasure.
I was asked by an accountant, “So when are you going to retire? Before I could answer, he laughed and said,, “…Oh yes, you’re an artist, artists don’t retire”.
