The beauty of everyday life

“Night” handwoven cloth

The last few weeks I divided my time between Soetsu Yanagi’s book “The beauty of everyday things” and the loom. Few books have resonated with me as much, helping translate scattered thoughts into words and objects.

‘If it is our ideal to live in a world surrounded by beautiful things, in a virtual Kingdom of Beauty, then we must raise the ordinary things of our daily lives to a higher level” (quote from Soetsu Yanagi’s book)

The ordinary. The things we touch and use everyday.

“Utilitarian crafts have been looked down on as something of a lower rank. As a result, our aesthetic sense has been severely impaired owing to the fact that beauty and life are treated as separate realms of being. Beauty is no longer viewed as an indispensable part of our daily life” (quote from Soetsu Yanagi’s book)

Weaving allows me to do just that. put beauty back into everyday life. Who is to say that a tapestry hanging on the wall is more precious than a poncho that warms AND delights? Why should one be labeled as ‘art’ and ‘precious’ and the other referred to as ‘just clothes’? Why do we look at a piece of ‘art’ and ask ourselves what is the idea behind it and ignore the thoughts, wishes and symbols embedded in the simple things we use everyday. Granted, not all objects are worthy of this kind of attention. Some, maybe even most are just a reflection of market demand. Of the quick, the cheap and the popular. But handmade objects, the ceramic cups, the woven rug, the embroidered shirt. Why are they looked down upon as merely ‘crafts’? These are the objects we can enjoy every day with our morning coffee, sense against our skin each time we breathe. Does it make any sense to think any less of them because of that?

“Day and Night” handwoven poncho

Portrait of my father

Framed old photo taken at my father’s 70’s birthday

A portrait of my father in linen and wool.

Soft, muted colors inspired by a vest of his I still wear in the winter.

Browns and purples he loved to wear, green for the forests he liked to walk in. Bits of cognac … you can guess why.

Yellow and white for the warmth and memories he left behind.

Hills for calm and stability, bits of pink for his sense of humor, birds for things that are no more.

Empty warps, torn edges for the empty space and grief that never goes away.

A fringe of 182 warps. 73 pairs each one standing for a year of his life. 18 pairs, not knotted, frayed, one for every year that passed since his death.

No foreground or background, What was once tangible - becomes memories. Intangible words, jokes, his smile - are the only things left.

Tapestry hanging in the living room.

My father’s vest

73 knotted pairs of warp + 18

Green for the forests, browns and purple for the colors he loved, white and yellow for the warmth and memories he left behind

What remains

Perhaps it was because she had nothing whatever to do ...

It never used to be difficult to finish an image for a photographic project. Quite the contrary, if I liked what I saw - there was a sense of pride, sometimes a sense of wonder - did I really do this? If I did not like what I saw, the work ended up in the darkroom bin, or abandoned in the folder maze on my working drive. So, how to explain this feeling of loss at the end of a woven piece? Is it because the sheer amount of work filled such a big part of my time for months? Or because I can look at the finished piece and see how I changed during this time, can tell the point when I realized what I am doing: unconsciously translating the rhythms of birds song into bright colored hand-spun wool.

“Morning Song” is up on the living room wall, and me ….I miss the time working on it. Miss the process, feel the need to create. Listening to an interview with Connie Lippert led to a tiny weave that was instantly baptized “A really ugly thing” :). Then, without thinking too much, I pick up the small battered frame loom, the one with the crooked nails and a ball of hand-spun grey yarn which I had no idea what to do with (too itchy to make a wearable piece out of it) and started to improvise ‘a letter to myself’. How about adding a scrap of text? Out of the ‘papers to be used in the future’ box, a page captures my attention. On it, a line seems to be winking - “Perhaps it was because she had nothing whatever to do …..”. Maybe so …..

“Morning Song” rests on the wall in our living room

A letter to myself, May 12, 2020

A different world

A different world #1, Lumen print digitally enhanced

These past few weeks, living in the shadows of Covid-19 were easier on me than most. Spending time in the studio, gardening, reading and most importantly having all family members well and healthy - I really can’t complain. Most of the time I am at the loom, weaving. “Morning sounds”. Weaving while talking to the birds perching on the tree just outside the studio window. Weaving (or spinning for that matter) are just the thing for letting the mind wander. And wonder. How will our world change? Will this pandemic make us realize how connected are we to each other and to the other parts of nature? How a bat on one side of the world can change lives of millions of people on the other side. Will we find a different equilibrium between the physical and virtual world?

While “Morning Sounds” is off the loom, resting for a couple of days in the studio, I’m back to playing with Lumen prints. Combining physical and virtual reality in my own way. A different world.

“Morning Song” off the loom, resting on the table in my studio

Talking to the birds

All around us

A sunny winter day. A perfect time for a long overdue date with my camera. Not because I have an idea for a project, or because I “should make meaningful images”. Just to have fun, play hide and seek with the light ( the light does the hiding, I gladly do the seeking part). The arboretum it filled with families soaking in the sun, dogs enjoying their walk. A million birds, heard but not seen take care of the music. The wind and light paint fleeting art on the surface of the water. Everyday magic.

“Sometimes since I’ve been in the garden I’ve looked up through the trees at the sky and I have had a strange feeling of being happy as if something was pushing and drawing in my chest and making me breathe fast. Magic is always pushing and drawing and making things out of nothing. Everything is made out of magic, leaves and trees, flowers and birds, badgers and foxes and squirrels and people. So it must be all around us. In this garden - in all the places.”

— Frances Hodgson Burnett, The Secret Garden

Conversations with a stone

I read the poem “Conversations with a stone” years ago and loved it. Filed it in my ‘ideas’ folder where it patiently awaited nil now. A short trip to the desert, to Ramon crater in the south of Israel, a place renown for its colorful rocks, and yet all see are faces. Human forms carved in stone by heat, wind and water. Art created by nature.

“I knock at the stone’s front door.
It’s only me, let me come in.
I want to enter your insides,
have a look round,
breathe my fill of you.”

“Go away, ” says the stone.
“I’m shut tight.
Even if you break me to pieces,
we’ll all still be closed.
You can grind us to sand,
we still won’t let you in.”

“I knock at the stone’s front door.
“It’s only me, let me come in.”

“I don’t have a door, ” says the stone.”

Unlike the conversation in the poem , for a short while, thru the camera, I find the door.

Born in Paris

Nnam Yllas #1

“For more than a year, I have been waiting to see this exhibition, and here I am. So close to the art, I can almost touch it. Instead, I raise the camera and allow the artwork to touch me. The unimportant details take center stage while the actual art pieces recede into the background. After a while, the absurdity of the situation hits me. Why do I tune out the real objects in front of me actively searching for what I want to see?”

Nnam Yllas, a new body of work, born in Paris. A good place to be born in. At a fantastic exhibition at Jeux de Paume. Moments of wonder, awe and I confess, a few tears as well - I expected the experience to be overwhelming. What I did not expect was the urge to photograph. The instinct saying this is important even if I do not understand why. I wonder what the people around me thought of the crying woman with the camera who seemed to photograph the images in the worst possible way: too close, at a weird angle, without enough light, moving around the image with the camera glued to her face. If they only knew ….

To see the resulting body of work, go here.

In the city of lights, beauty and...rats

There is only one Paris

Charming and irresistible,

Filled with history, art, food

…. and a very french sense of humor ( Memoirs of a rat???)

Walking its street, is like stepping into a Dumas books, suddenly touching the house named after Henry the 3rd. Rendered speechless by Sally Mann’s exhibition at Jeux de Paume - which is the reason for being here.

There are many beautiful cities in the world, but only one Paris.

Moon over Paris

J‘aime la vie …. look carefully, notice anything unusual among the guests of this cafe?

Horses :)

Like stepping into a book

Deported. 1943

The one and only - Sally Mann - from her retrospective exhibition at Jeux de Paume

The guillotine, the rat version …

French humor???

I will be back

Revisiting childhood fairy tales

The dwarfs are working in the forest, as the only sound to be heard is that of the flowing river

Back to the greenest green. The green that never knew thirst. The green of fairy tales. The dwarfs’ little wooden house waiting for Snow White. The towers where the princess spins the endless fleece. The storks in their nest - have they already brought the babies to the waiting families?

I went to Romania, curious to see whether there are any strings left connecting my adult and child self. I expected to feel a sense of belonging; the food, the language. And I did. Eating mom’s food at a hotel’s breakfast, or at dinner, speaking the language I used to speak with grandma. But nothing prepared me for the sheer enchantment of the countryside, its pure and simple beauty. A place that ignores the modern show off and just lives its life. Where man lives within nature rather than fighting it. Where carts filled with hay or logs replace the horrible traffic jams we became so familiar with. The longing for a simpler life. Lacking in modern comforts but rich in space, fresh water and sweet smelling air. It stole my heart.

That’s who brings babies into the world, right? Complete with church’s blessings ;)

The hay is drying, almost ready for winter storage

Traffic. 2019 or 1919?

So simple - so beautiful hours and hours of driving through green fields dotted with hay stacks.

Waiting for the prince to climb up the wall and save the princess ….

Suddenly, the names of my two dolls came back : Ruth and Aviva ….

Looking at the East - Jerusalem Design Week 2019

A cup of Beduin tea at the tea ceremony. “Le Haiim” - to life!!!

"What is it we see when we look to the East? In western eyes, the East always represented the other, as mystery or as threat, and more often than not - both. But what we refer to as East, be it near, middle or far, doesn’t naturally exist.

It is in fact many things. It is the direction of the earth’s rotation and where the sun rises. It is the direction the wind takes in many cities in the world. It is a absolute direction on the compass. It is an unmarked borderline of cultural meeting points. It is alternative philosophies, ideologies, cultural habits. It is sometimes simply what is east of what we stand, and sometimes what we feel is ‘east’ of our point of view.

From a city which is in itself a junction between who oppositions, Jerusalem Design Week 2019 tackles the sensitive question of the East. it does so not by rotating the view eastward from a western vantage point, nor by looking at its past of cultural exchange and political conflict. In fact, it will not look TO the East, but AT the East - as a term, a direction, an absolute point of reference , and the set of relative relationships it generates. as future not folklore.” - excerpt from the Jerusalem Design Week 2019 publication

A day VERY well spent!!

Palestinian embroidery embedded in a designer lamp

Young Palestinian designer standing by her work

Calligraphy based on old manuscripts originating from Iraq, Yemen, Iran and Morocco

…when Siri is leading us in meditation …. :)

Kazuma - traditional Japanese Dying technique

“The common thread” - portraits of the Arab workers of Hansen House drawn with thread by a CNC machine!

CNC machine in action

Origami meets Ikebana meets the Jerusalem summer light

Written in stone (and plaster)

Alhambra. Thousands of words were written about it. Words that fail to express its power, its beauty. The spiritual experience of being enveloped in endless patterns. The feeling of awe when standing in the midst of one of the greatest human creations. A lesson in humility. A glimpse at what can be achieved when tolerance, cooperation, art and science come together as they did in Spain before 1482.

On the week when another architectural marvel, the Notre Dame in Paris was almost lost, I feel the need to look at these images again, share them as if sharing would safeguard them from harm. Keep them safe for generations to come. Allow it to radiate harmony, beauty and hope on our world.

Because we need it.

The colors of Black and White

After a few months of moving between the darkroom and the ‘wet studio’ - “Meeting Frida”, a new body of work is ready!

I wrote about the beginning of this work in a previous blog post http://www.amykankaphotography.com/blog/2018/11/7/frida-and-me

And here is a peek at the process of creating the images in this series. After the initial exposure and developer step in the darkroom, the wet image moves to a light filled studio where I paint chemicals on the light sensitive black and white paper, watching colors emerge. Despite the fact that I know the science behind it, still feeling I am witnessing magic. Painting with light …. there is nothing like it!!

You can see the full portfolio here: http://www.amykankaphotography.com/meeting-frida

Painting on Silver Gelatin paper - shades of gold, pink, amber and red slowly emerging

Is it done, shall I leave it longer? ….many prints are messed up before a good one emerges …

Looking great when wet, this one did not make it to the final images when dry :(

End of a working day, many failures, one success!!

When the world is ready

For the last year and a half, we drove by an open field peppered with what looked like sculptures, saying sometime we should go see what it there. Last Saturday, the first sunny winter day in a while, the three of us ( the dog was more than happy to join us) finally did it. I did not expect much, and maybe because of this the combination of the huge sculptures made of natural materials combined with the mid-day light filtered by the clouds took me by surprise. The world seemed ready for me to just click the shutter. And I did.

Same lights, a different point of view

A peek at the Ponevezh Yeshiva, Bnei Brak Israel

Less than 3o minutes driving distance and a world away. Bnei Brak. How often am I mad at the orthodox Jews infringing on what I feel is my right to live as I choose? Weekly (on a good week …). How often do I take the time to look at “their world” without judgment? I am ashamed to say this does not happen. This Hanukkah was an exception to the rule, and for a couple of hours we wondered through the poorest, and most populated city in Israel - Bnei Brak. The 8th night of Hanukkah and hundreds of Hanukkah menorahs lit the narrow streets. The traditional ones, with olive oil, not the convenient candles we use at home. Most menorahs are in a glass “house” - something I see for the first time. I walk on a main street in the very center of my country, and it feels as if I am on Mars. Shops for men only (have you ever seen a shop filled with black male shoes?). “Kosher” phones (no internet access), every street corner filled with donation boxes, our guide tells us that on Friday you can see packages left on street corners for needy people to take. The streets are dirty but on these streets, a mom can leave her toddler in a stroller unattended - without worrying. A sense of community I have not seen anywhere else. Walking through the winding alleys filled with people dressed in their own dress code, living by their own rules I am reminded of the words of the Baal Shem Tov, the founder of the Hasidic Judaism (many of the Hasidim live in Bnei Brak) about us judging others, and what does it say about us. “ …should you look upon your fellow man and see a blemish, it is your own imperfection you are encountering - you are being shown what it is you must correct within yourself”. Worth keeping in mind next time I judge others. Maybe some of the Hanukkah light penetrated deeper this year ….

Olive oil Hannuka menorah on a stone fence, Bnei Brak, Israel 2018

The poorest city in Israel bathed in Hanukkah lights

Black shoes for man only!

Every kid lights his menorah, the more light - the better

Frida and me

I try visiting a few art exhibits every month, usually I have a nice time and learn new things. Sometimes I am inspired. It is very seldom that art leaves me breathless. Last week was one of these times.

I heard about Frida Kahlo exhibition in Budapest from a friend 10 days before its closing. In an unusual spontaneous act, bought plane tickets, found a reasonable price hotel and five days later here I am, entering the exhibit in the National Gallery, Budapest. At the entrance, a larger than life photograph of Frida greets the visitors. Next to it a wall filled with historical photographs outlining her biographical timeline. I read the texts, moving along with the crowd who starts filling the room until I get to the end of the first room and literally stop breathing. On a narrow green wall, a single small-medium size painting. The broken column. I must have spent minutes in front of it, people went around me, moving on. I could not take my eyes of it. No photo will make it justice, but here is an iPhone image of the painting and the accompanying text.

I recently read about a Chinese teacher telling his student that “art does not have to be beautiful, it has to be honest”. I have never seen more honest art, raw pain painted on canvas in such an imaginative way. I came out of this exhibit changed. Something happened there, a surprising connection between Frida and me. To be continued….

Last words & video in the exhibit

Something borrowed

“why would you like to photograph me???”

I have a problem photographing strangers. I feel uncomfortable asking permission (I would not like strangers to photograph me …), and “stealing” an image without permission is a no-no. Treating others as ‘strange beings’ photographed like animals for a National Geographic features - also makes me cringe. So usually, when photographing on a trip, I stick to places and things. And yet, sometimes ….

September 2018, Greece. The mountainous part, small to tiny villages, some of them untouched by tourists yet. We are a small group travelling together for 10 days, sampling the tastes of rural Greece. It’s afternoon, we are on our way to the hotel, stopping for a short break at Kastoria, a village on the lake shore. We spend some time in an old house turned museum. Just next to the entrance, an older lady is knitting. She is just beautiful. Timeless. Untouched by the 5G antennas that no one knows how will they impact us, from the Supreme Court nominees. From the everyday noises that fill our lives. Every hour does seem to have 60 full minutes here, and she seems to make the best of each one of them. I want to take a picture of her, but there are 20 people with cameras around me, I am not going to turn her into a zoo animal. So I give up, and go into the house. When we come out of the museum, the knitting lady is not by herself, two other people joined her. They make such a beautiful picture. Temptation mounts. Our group starts walking down the alley. I stay behind. In a wordless pantomime, I ask them if I can take their picture. The woman nods, seems surprised by my question. I click the shutter then smile bowing my head, thanking them. “You don’t take a photograph. You ask quietly to borrow it.” So true.

Apeiron

In 2017 I started playing with Chemigrams. This was a natural part of a growing tendency toward abstraction coupled with an attraction to processes where the outcome can be directed but not controlled. Neither photographs nor drawings, Chemigrams inherit from both worlds. Created on black and white photographic paper, using traditional photographic chemicals, ingredients from the kitchen, art materials and light, the images are coerced into existence by painting, spraying and/or dipping the paper into the different solutions.

In 2018, as I started to prepare for a trip to Greece, I stumbled upon a lecture on Greek philosophy and encountered for the first time the notion of 'Apeiron' which resonated very strongly with the work I was doing in the studio. The result is my first Chemigram squence - 'Apeiron.'

Apeiron (ἄπειρον) is a Greek word meaning "(that which is) unlimited," "boundless," "infinite," or "indefinite." Anaximander, a 6th century BC Greek philosopher, believed the beginning or ultimate reality (arche) is eternal and infinite, or boundless (apeiron), subject to neither old age nor decay. As such, Apeiron can be understood as a sort of primal chaos out of which everything is created as well as the destination of everything once it ceases to exist. (Wikipedia, abbreviated)

See the complete 'Apeiron' sequence here

I miss you dad

Today is not his birthday, or the day he passed away. Just a regular day on the calendar, almost sixteen years after his body left this world. And yet, without thinking much, I create this Chemigram. I miss you dad.

Like a river

Five bottles and an arrangement of weeds

The very first image I created in the darkroom was a photogram (image created by placing objects directly on photographic paper - no camera involved). This was the winter semester at SMC (Santa Monica College) in 2016, and we spent the mornings, 3-4 days a week in the darkroom. I remember thinking I could play with photograms forever, but of course after one week we moved on and there was never time to go back and play. The second semester, in the advanced darkroom class I saw my first Lith print and it was love at first sight. The silent waiting for the image to emerge, watching the developer tray for 5, 10 minutes, sometimes more, not really knowing what will appear. The closest thing to magic I ever experienced.

When we returned to Israel, we improvised a home darkroom (my pedantic French professor from Photo 1 would kill me if he saw it ...). Part in the studio, part in the bathroom, moving between the rooms with prints in a light proof bag....unconventional - but it works. There was nothing preventing me from playing with photograms now ....but I didn't. Waiting for "interesting" ideas meant I was doing nothing. A few months ago I placed a few weeds collected on the morning walk in a set of 5 small glass bottle, and I remember thinking this may be nice to photograph. Yesterday, after finishing the initial Lith print tests of two new images, I grabbed the bottles and placed them under the enlarger. Why not try? And here it is, at long last, a Lith photogram. Unforced, unrestrained, unpredictable, unique. Reality as real as it gets, yet unrecognizable despite the fact we look at it daily. "The only journey is the one within" said Rilke long time ago, could this be the start of a new one for me?

The spirit of Avraham (Ofek)

Painting by Avraham Ofek

Saturday morning. Tel Aviv Museum of Art. "Body, Work" an exhibition of Avraham Ofek's work. His last body of work - left me speechless. Despite the impossibility to capture its feel through the reflections in the glass, I still photographed them. Raw feelings in pencil, watercolor and gouache. Here is how the curator introduced this body of work:

"Do you see what I see"