Two of Alan Falk’s biblical paintings immediately assault us aesthetically and thematically. Isaac Blessing Jacob (2009) and The Cry of Esau (2010) document the famous stolen blessing of Beraishis 27 and its consequences. The ancient Isaac is clad in a white nightshirt, raising his bony hands in blessing over his two sons. In one, Jacob has donned a curly-haired brown Afro deceitfully offering his blind father food, while in the other, Isaac’s trembling hands attempt to bless the hysterical Esau at his feet. The cartoonish figures are caught in a melodrama of high-keyed color and exaggerated gesture that casts the biblical tale into an unfamiliar and strange realm.
Alan Falk’s long and fruitful career has taken a complex course over the past 55 years in his search for the best way to comment on the endlessly fascinating human condition. His earlier paintings, probing the complexities of human interactions, were engaged with literal descriptions of various scenes of figures set alongside suburban swimming pools and bucolic seasides. Over time he became dissatisfied with the beautiful technique he developed because he felt it got in the way of the essence of what he was trying to express. Much experimentation ensued, in many different mediums, until over the last ten years, he developed a unique approach utilizing the Biblical narrative to fully explore not only the complexities of the human condition, but also the ramifications of spirituality implicit in a Jewish life.
The Binding of Isaac (2002) showcases Falk’s new style of simple bright color with pronounced outlines to present the startling image of the heavenly angel being simply another aspect of Abraham’s personality halting the sacrifice. The artist’s take on this archetypical story is not merely psychological; it also posits that it is the Divine aspect of Abraham who acts, pointing to the Heavens for authority and confirmation.
Returning to the paintings we first encountered, we can understand Falk’s use of contemporary dress and comic book inspired sequential scenes to explore Isaac’s dilemma. In the first painting the intense red behind Isaac is his thought of Esau slaughtering his favorite meal while in the second painting the same intense red of Esau expresses not only his violent nature but also his devotion to his father. Isaac in these paintings seems to be caught in a surreal universe of deception and betrayal that he has no power over. His shaking hands and eyes rolled heavenward are perhaps the only rational response, far from a cartoonish fantasy. While we normally consider this episode as the stolen blessing, Falk’s paintings dramatically reorient us to understand that this is actually Isaac’s last test.
An artist’s job is to ask questions, questions that will startle and gnaw at our complacency. That is the role in Falk’s art, a kind of anti-aesthetic drawn from comics, popular film and anime illustration. He is looking to highjack our sensibilities into asking uncomfortable questions about our Jewish lives. Our discomfort is a measure of his success that is much to our benefit.
Richard McBee is a painter and writer on Jewish Art. Contact him at firstname.lastname@example.org
About the Author: Richard McBee is a painter and writer on Jewish Art. Contact him at email@example.com
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