My painting is motivated by the search for balance in chaos. Attempting to reorganize shapes, structures, and hues harmoniously, I try to balance between the past and the here-and-now. I work in layers, shifting from exposure of previous surfaces, as in an archeological excavation, to building an evidence file, bringing the findings together to form a complete picture. My paintings always contain a section intentionally unresolved. In some of the works I offer a broad perspective, as if I were looking at an site of antiquities from a satellite. In others, I delve into the DNA of the line and form. This search, between the micro and the macro, is manifested in paintings which are highly ornamental in some instances, and near-monochromatic in others. The focus on different points of view reflects different periods in my life. In my paintings, I often hint at a larger picture: larger both physically—namely, hinting that there is a continuation to this section, and metaphorically—hinting that the picture was previously different, enabling one to sense the passing time that changed the hues and textures, blurred the boundaries, destroyed some parts, and left holes. These "flaws," gaps, and patina added to the "segment" are essentially the subject of the painting.
My earliest childhood memories are of shades and textures. For as long as I can remember I have been preoccupied with the arrangement of forms and with color combinations. My long stay in Italy allowed me to experience beauty and aesthetics as an inexhaustible treasure trove. It was somewhat like "aesthetic meditation," which influenced and shaped my painterly style. Many of my
paintings call to mind textures and vibrations of peeling frescos or crumbling canvases. In the process of painting I peruse my range of sensory perceptions, articulating them in the composition via a spectrum of emotion-stimulating hues (various shades of red and gold), a set of lines, scratches, and prints that have become my distinct language. In addition, I draw most of my inspiration from the frescos of ancient Rome and Pompeii, but also from Abstract Expressionism (mainly Barnett Newman and Mark Rothko) and the study of ornaments from ancient cultures (jewelry, carpets and tapestries, calligraphy, Maiolica, etc.).
I usually paint in acrylic on canvas and paper. The relatively short time it takes for acrylic paints to dry enables me to work in layers, and move from one layer to another quickly. I enjoy the fact that the stain remains on the wall. A significant part of the process involves deciding how much to cover and how much to leave intact, blur, shift between the current state and the stain that preceded or the one to follow.
The line, etching, and "scratch" are fundamental to my work. Most often it is a decorative line. At times this line becomes the subject itself, growing into a stain; at others it is one in a disposition of signs. In some instances, the scratch-like engraving passes through all the layers, unearthing the past; in some cases, it is blurred like a scar, which can transform into a "character trait," a hallmark, but also a reminder of a painful, still pulsating occurrence.
In recent years I have been fascinated with frames: frame parts, sections of monumental frames, one frame inside another, like a Russian nesting doll (matryoshka). The frame elicits questions such as: What is present within the frame or what is absent; what is brought in and what is left outside.