Pesach 5786
Art by Fin
This Pesach collection moves between story, memory, and living symbol. I begin with Moshe, the reluctant liberator, because the Exodus is not just a tale we retell but a pattern we recognize—again and again—in our own lives; there are also four humorous scenes of Moshe reacting to his brother Aaron’s golden calf reminding us that even sacred stories have room for very human moments. (While Moshe coming down Mt. Sinai technically belongs to Shavuot, I couldn't help throwing it in there as a reminder of what the hardship of the wilderness ultimately led to.) The Exodus series concludes with the holy tabernacle. From there, the work turns intimate: a seder table shared with my husband Andy and our cats, a quiet declaration that this ancient ritual continues not in abstraction, but in the small, real spaces where love and belonging take root. And a seder with the Ziz, Behemoth, and Leviathan gathered at the table, because Pesach has always held room for both the grounded and the cosmic, the human and the unimaginable.
Alongside these scenes are celebrations of the calonit, Israel's national flower, blooming bright and defiant in red, and the sabra cactus, resilient and rooted, thorned on the outside and tender within. These stand on their own as symbols of endurance and identity.
The heart of the series, though, is the Negev in bloom. After rain, the desert erupts with life that seems impossible until it happens—a landscape of dryness transformed into color, softness, and abundance. I return to that image eighteen times, the number of life, as a meditation. The blooming Negev becomes a metaphor for liberation itself: not a single moment, but a process, fragile and recurring. Like the Israelites leaving Egypt and enduring the hardship of the wilderness before reaching the Promised Land, like anyone finding their way out of constriction and learning how to live again after tough times, the miracle is not just that life appears, but that it insists on returning.
Alongside these scenes are celebrations of the calonit, Israel's national flower, blooming bright and defiant in red, and the sabra cactus, resilient and rooted, thorned on the outside and tender within. These stand on their own as symbols of endurance and identity.
The heart of the series, though, is the Negev in bloom. After rain, the desert erupts with life that seems impossible until it happens—a landscape of dryness transformed into color, softness, and abundance. I return to that image eighteen times, the number of life, as a meditation. The blooming Negev becomes a metaphor for liberation itself: not a single moment, but a process, fragile and recurring. Like the Israelites leaving Egypt and enduring the hardship of the wilderness before reaching the Promised Land, like anyone finding their way out of constriction and learning how to live again after tough times, the miracle is not just that life appears, but that it insists on returning.
Art by Andy
My wonderful partner made these gifts for me for the holiday:
