the human picture

Yesterday, my dear friend Tami bought a new green car. It isn't green because it runs on electricity, or because it uses less petrol. It just happens to be colored a rather shocking green. And in order to get the feel of this car, we decided to take it for a little drive. It's amazing, like most Jerusalemites, I find I don't go out of town much. It's not a principle. It's not anything I've decided. I suppose because everything I ever need seems to be in town. But when you have a nice comfortable and fast car at your hands, you don't even have to think about it much, and you find yourself out of town. We drove up to Mt Hertzel, and then down to the very colorful and delightful, Ein Kerem, a little half Christian half Jewish town on the edge of Jerusalem, occupied by a disproportionably large artists community because it's so beautiful, and then out into the hills surrounding Jerusalem.

It was a beautiful day. It had rained for a while before that, and the air was clean, and there were a few puddles here and there, but there was also sunlight and beautiful colors, and it was crisp and cool all around. Where we chose to go, there wasn't that much traffic, and so it was a pleasure to ride along the mountain roads, though there were cars here and there, and when we slowed down a bit, the more to appreciate the mountain scenery, we discovered that those drivers who were caught behind us were eager to get somewhere and had little patience for dallying. But that was no problem. We were in a good mood, and more than happy to drive off the road for a bit, so that anyone faster than us could get on with it.

After a relatively short ride, we found the Aminadav forest. And since that just happens to be the name of one of my grandchildren, it seemed like a good idea to take a walk there. Though the sun was still out, and giving a lot of color to the scenery, because of the mountain topography, we were often in the shade, and it was cooler there, and the colors were cooler too. You'll always find a slight bluish cast in the shadows. This can be corrected, of course, but it takes some doing.

It was such fun. We walked for more than an hour through the trees, and along a dry creek bed. There was a lot of wild Ivy around and the roots which hold on to tree branches and trunks made some interesting veils that were a pleasure to look at, and to look through as we gazed at the scenery.

I couldn't help thinking that though I take a walk almost every day, I don't really go out enough. For there are so many beautiful places not far from home that would be a pleasure to visit, and could provide fascinating walks that would be equal in exercise value, but so much more in the value of inspiration.

With all the contraptions we have, and modern technology, we save a lot of time. For years now, I've watched many new inventions come and take their place in our world, and time after time, they have been heralded as a 'great time saver'. The car, the telephone, the washing machine, the dish washer, the microwave oven. We are surrounded by these time savers. It makes you wonder sometimes, why we aren't spending most of our time leaning over a book and wondering what the role is of man in the universe. Oh yes, now I remember, the TV was also invented. I guess all the time that was saved by the car and the computer is now spent watching the TV… maybe while talking on the phone, and writing a fast SMS… Thank God for ads. Without them we wouldn't have the time to go to the bathroom or to make ourselves a snack in the kitchen. But this is just a joke. The truth is, that even if one doesn't spend any time opposite the TV, the modern man has very little time. He is usually trying to fit a lot of things into his day; take care of a lot of chores… and he or she is constantly on the run.

It could very well be that we have the illusion that we have more time than we actually have. Sometimes we think of going somewhere that seems just ten minutes away, but as a result of the traffic it takes half an hour or an hour! And what difference does it make anyway? There are only so many hours in the day, and what difference does it make if we spend it on one thing or another? As Dylan sings in one of his immortal songs, "If I can save you any time, give it to me, and I'll keep it with mine".

It's my belief that the proper handling of time is no less important than a proper diet. That one should not push one's self when one is tired, and that we all need quite a be of time to assimilate what we've experienced, what we've learned and what we've felt, and that a healthy person must make time for that too. Free time doesn't have to be spent in meditation, devoid of all activity. It can be used for sport, or for amusement, or any number of things. I often have some of my finer revelations while taking a shower. My daughter says that she is able to think about things while driving her car. I've had the experience of reading a book, and finding myself far from the book and into my most private thoughts.

I have always set aside a goodly amount of time for thinking and contemplation. Nowadays, I also enjoy that sort of activity when I'm walking, which I do every day.

When listening to music, I like to have a drink; like to have a smoke… often when with friends, I like to slip a word in here and there, or hear what my friends think, or how they react. And so I listen to recorded music, usually, in the comfort of my own home, or with friends. Sometimes at a Jazz club, 'cause I like listening to Jazz most. I actually enjoy it more that way. But sometimes I'll go to a recital, or a concert of chamber music. And then, there's something more. The notes seem more fragile… and sometimes more daring as I listen to the artist bring the those notes into the air of this world. Sometimes it is as if they were walking a tightrope high above. A misstep, and there would be a terrible fall. If the performance is good, I leave the concert hall with exhilaration, inspiration… and sometimes with a taste of emotional exhaustion.

the Artists House, outside

With works of art, paintings, drawings and photography, I have a similar problem. I am very attracted to visual art. But don't care much for museums. I don't like the rules. Don't like having to look at something intricate and deep, while standing up. Sometimes, there are works upon works, filling rooms and walls… and it is more than I can look at in a single day. I see two or three pictures; five pictures, ten pictures… and then I need some time to assimilate what I've seen, to think about it… to understand. Occasionally, I look at reproductions, but it isn't the same thing. The colors have changed, the dynamics of the picture. Even the size of a work of art is quite important. Sometimes, photographers aren't aware of this. They think you can give out the same picture as a postcard. Or blow up a fascinating picture that was close to perfect at 18x24 centimeters to the size of a wall, and it will be even better. But that isn't always true. Some pictures were made to be wall size. But each picture has the size that brings out its personality in just the right way.

the Artists House, inside

When I went to see the exhibition of paintings by Meir Appelfeld at the Artists House in Jerusalem, I was thinking of a previous series of his paintings that I had loved very much. I had been moved by his work; by the delicacy of his colors; by the solidity of the images… by the depth. It had been an experience like hiking to a mountain top. I had those images in my head as I went to this new exhibit.

painting by Meir Appelfeld

But this series was different. No less powerful. The colors were completely different. There was a series of still lifes. These included a few pictures that included his studio… with a peek out his window at the external environs. And a series of flowers in vases. And some landscapes of fields and gentle grounds. I was swept off my feet, as I stood before each picture, and swam into his world. Each image was completely new. Not because he had worked to make it seem so. It was new, the way that each time you turn your head in this world, you see something that is completely new, that is part of your world at this minute, but wasn't there just a minute ago, or an hour ago… or last year.

painting by Meir Appelfeld

There were moments there, when I was aware of the fact that he had used a knife to apply the paint, and others where I became conscious of his brush. But on the whole, I didn't think much of the technique, or the colors, or the shapes, just as listening to a violin play, I don't think of the finger pressed against the string on the fingerboard. He released me from all marginal considerations. The photos that I took, were not reproductions, but reminders that would help me as I returned to the memory of his art and contemplated it.

painting by Meir Appelfeld

It had been a great pleasure. And it is still with me. I'll have to go back and have another look.

I wrote about getting together with a friend last week, and visiting an art exhibition. I want to write about that one too. But haven't gotten around to it yet. Almost every day, there is something I want to write about… like the death of Claude Levi-Strauss at the age of 100! The French philosopher was considered the father of modern anthropology because of his revolutionary conclusion that so-called primitive societies did not differ greatly intellectually from modern ones. He died last week, and I was reminded of him and a colleague of his, Margaret Mead. She was also an important anthropologist, who attracted world wide interest after the publication of her book, 'Coming Of Age In Samoa', published in 1928. As a student I was very impressed both by Levi Strauss and Mead. And especially by a comment of Mead, in which she said, "Happy people have no history".

Is he blogging? Sitting at a café in downtown Jerusalem

The point was, that when you're lying on the beach, soaking up the sun and enjoying yourself, you feel no need to write it all down. And this is true on the personal level as well. If you're having a wonderful life, and all is going well, is there a need to write a journal and pour out your heart. As for myself, while not exceptionally happy, I seem to be quite busy. And so, though I do think of things all the time, that I'd like to share with my friends, I don't seem to find the time to sit down an write them down. I've tried to take advantage of technology in the past, dictating to a tape recorder and using the advantage of the blog, to give you just a taste… but it seems that nothing can take the place of sitting down and concentrating, and one needs a lot of determination for that.

in the middle of life, who wants to write about it?

Mead lived to age 77, and Levi-Strauss to 100. But both of them made their great discoveries when they were young, and had a great influence on the 20th century. Both of them studied many different disciplines, psychology, philosophy, education, and gender in order to better understand human beings.

my friend, Pesach. Why is he looking off? What is he contemplating?

Sometimes when sitting at a Café in town, I see people talking on the phone, or working on their laptops. I have a picture somewhere… I'll have to look for it, of two people sitting together at a table, and each one of them carrying on a conversation by cell phone with someone out of the picture. When sitting with a friend, I usually turn off my telephone, and don't put my computer on the table, but I enjoy watching others take advantage of these new toys. They fascinate me.

The weather moved from late summer to fall last week. We had some rain. And rain is something we like here in Israel. The ground is aching for water. And most of the population too. We are paying an extra drought tax this year, because the water level has kept dropping wherever water is found in our fair country. But that is another story. I suspect that the drought tax is just another excuse to gouge us in any case. And what I wonder about, is why I started feeling so sad, for quite a few days.

Tziona blowing across her soup to cool it down a bit, at our soup fest in honor of the first serious rain in Jerusalem.

It got cold too. Usually, I don't mind the heat, no matter how hot it gets. I used to joke about it with my friends, when they asked me if the heat didn't bother me. I'd say I'm practicing up for hell. But the cold… that does get to me. It doesn't have to be very cold, and then no matter how much clothing I put on, it is still there with me. After a couple of days we started lighting the heater.

And in those same days, there were a couple of stories in the news that influenced me too. A story of man who was terribly provoked and lost all judgment and temperance, and did some things that he will be sorry for, no doubt, all his life. And another story, of a man who was fired from his job and killed off the whole family of his employer, including. I suppose that people who follow the news run into such stories all the time. But maybe because I don't watch the news so much in this period of my life… or maybe because these stories were exceptional in our little country, they had a strong effect on me, and added to this general sadness that overcame me.

Now that I'm feeling a little better, I can't help but wonder if I'm not being obsessively rational about this desire to know the reason why. What difference does it make, whether it was the rain and the dark days, or the cold, or the stories I heard at the same time? But there is that feeling too, that if I only knew what it was that was getting to me, I would be able to prevent it or curb its effect on me.

The rain passed, though the radio says it's on it's way back in a couple of days. The sun was out yesterday, and I took a walk in the center of town, with a friend of mine. We went to see an exhibition of some very beautiful paintings in the 'Artists House'. And then had coffee at an outdoor café. I watched a couple of guys working on laptops. It's getting warmer, and I'm feeling better.