Meir Panim implements programs that serve Israel’s neediest populations with respect and dignity. Meir Panim also coordinated care packages for families in the South during the Gaza War.
Amid the rising action in Disney’s “The Lion King,” Simba – already a dashing mature lion – follows the monkey, Rafiki, through marshland, until arriving at a loch. There, he discovers a vision of his dead father, Mufasa. An exchange follows and Rafiki strikes Simba, but rather than apologizing when Simba expresses pain, Rafiki assures him that it has passed. “Yeah, but it still hurts,” insists Simba. “Oh yes, the past can hurt,” Rafiki says. “But the way I see it, you can either run from it, or learn from it.”
Inez Storer, a Santa Monica born painter, opted for the latter part of Rafiki’s advice. Storer was raised Catholic, only to learn in 1999 – well into her adult years – that she was Jewish. She somehow found a way to turn a potential identity crisis into an incredibly fertile aesthetic output.
Inez’s mother, a dancer/actress who fled the Holocaust with her Catholic husband (an aviator, who later became art director at Paramount), chose to hide both Inez’s Jewish identity and knowledge about her 29 Jewish relatives living nearby.
Upon her deathbed, Inez’s mother finally confirmed what her daughter had suspected since age 13 ? that she was Jewish. Storer explores this bizarre life story with an iconic language that just begs pigeonholing. The marks recall Wassily Kandinsky (1866-1944), Paul Klee (1879-1940) and 1980′s American graffiti artist Jean-Michel Basquiat (1960-88). The naiveté recalls Henri Rousseau’s (1844-1910) figures. Gravity-defying forms recall Chagall’s formal acrobatics, and the dreamy atmospheric temperature recalls Salvador Dali’s (1904-89) Surrealism.
“I am fascinated by process,” Storer muses. “I usually start my work by marking the surface of the painting, adding more and more, then peeling away the surface to come back to the first marks. It seems a metaphor of one’s own life, as the future becomes enmeshed in the past.”
This game of hide-and-seek, of merging past and future, serves to allow Storer’s form to follow the content. As the artist discovers herself, the materials themselves play copycat. Her exhibit, “Theatrical Realism” thus fits the National Museum of American Jewish History (NMAJH) in Philadelphia like a glove. The museum is undergoing a tremendous makeover to the order of a new 80,000 square foot, five story glass and stone structure, designed by James Polshek (American Museum of Natural History Rose Center for Earth and Space in Manhattan, Smithsonian Institution National Museum of the American Indian, Clinton Presidential Center). Both museum and artist are striving to adapt to new selves.
Storer’s new self did not catch her completely off guard. “I never felt comfortable with Catholicism,” she says. “In a way, I was trying to create my own history through the craft that I knew, working with collage and old letters and photographs. My work was about trying to uncover secrets.”
To uncover these secrets, Storer employs collage. She has collected so much stuff and hoarded it in her studio that she calls the selection process “going shopping.” “I am a blotter, absorbing all the different aspects of what I experience.”
Surprisingly, Storer sees something destructive in her collages, claiming that “there is usually an underlying possibility of danger ? either physical danger such as falling, drowning or unbalance, or emotional precariousness.”
“Histories” (1996) shows the artist kneeling in Catholic fashion, encircled by a variety of objects including flowers, what appear to be shoes, place settings, and finally a menorah in the middle of the foreground. Storer thus combines Catholic symbols with the Jewish, all the while negotiating a space where objects seem to float. “Histories” represents “the first time I painted a menorah. It is very autobiographical. I knew that I was Jewish, just not the details of who or what.”
Once she discovered she was Jewish, Storer had to grapple with her identity. “It’s about borderless people who are shoved from one country to another, always leaving things behind,” she says. “I felt completely dispossessed.” Split into a red zone with embedded drain-like circles and a yellow zone, “Allotment” (2000) shows a table with utensils on it, bearing the words, “We were only allowed eight spoons, knives and forks with us.” I wondered what it could mean and whether she had discovered any of the incredibly positive aspects of Judaism. “Journey” (2000) shows a green suitcase, marked “A Journey,” and also conveys displacement.
At this point, it seems rather clear that Storer’s work explores identity while navigating the world of dreams. Is an occasional menorah, titles like “Seven Days To Make the World” (2001) and a Jewish mother enough to make a Jewish painter?
In a sense, Storer does achieve a Jewish aesthetic. In her study of dislodgment and paralysis, Storer finds that, “The everyday world is often less poetic than our inner world, which can become anything that we make of it – it creates open-ended questions.” Thus, when she talks of forms passing from one reality to the next, she is using her art to form dream worlds, which present a space in which identity can find reconciliation, a safe space, where poetic, associative logic can straighten out a newfound Jewess. This space shares much with the Midrashic arena where the laws of nature and linear though often give way to the absurd. In that space, Storer can join Abraham and many others who realized their spiritual connections even very late in life.
By infusing her history, past and future, with many appropriated forms, Storer manages to paint her way out of a diasporic life and to create a safe space to grapple with her newfound identity as a Jewish woman artist. Through her work, we are witness to a miracle of modern times: the rebirth of a Jewish person.
Theatrical Realism: The Art of Inez Storer – March 14 – September 6, 2004 – National Museum of American Jewish History, Philadelphia. (215) 923-3811, http://www.nmajh.org
Forthcoming at the NMAJH: Sting Like a Maccabee: The Golden Age of the American Jewish Boxer. Opening on November 21st
Menachem Wecker edits the Arts and Culture Section of the Yeshiva University Commentator. As an artist, he has trained at the Massachusetts College of Art. Menachem may be contacted at: firstname.lastname@example.org.
About the Author: Menachem Wecker, who blogs on faith and art for the Houston Chronicle at http://blogs.chron.com/iconia, welcomes comments at email@example.com.
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This past summer was a powerful one for the Jewish people. I will always remember where I was on June 12th when I found out that Gilad, Eyal and Naftali were kidnapped. I will always remember the look on my sister’s face on June 30th when she told me that they were found. I will […]
Avromi often put other people’s interests before his own: he would not defend people whom he believed were guilty (even if they were willing to pay him a lot of money).
How can I help my wife learn to say “no,” and understand that her first priority must be her husband and family?
My eyes skimmed an article on page 1A. I was flabbergasted. I read the title again. Could it be? It had good news for the Miami Jewish community.
Students in early childhood, elementary, and middle school were treated to an array of hands-on projects to create sukkah decorations such as wind chimes, velvet posters, sand art, paper chains, and more.
Each student received a brachah and a handshake.
It is important for a therapist to focus on a person’s strengths as a way of overcoming his or her difficulties.
Sadly, there are mothers who, due to severe depression are unable or unwilling to prepare nourishing food for their children.
Michal had never been away from home. And now, she was going so far away, for so long – an entire year!
The exhibit, according to a statement from guest curator Michele Waalkes which is posted on the museum website, “examines how faith can inform and inspire artists in their work, whether their work is symbolic, pictorial, or textual in nature. It further explores how present-day artwork can lead audiences to ponder God, religious themes, venerated traditions, or spiritual insights.”
It all started at an art and education conference at the Yeshiva University Museum. When one of the speakers misidentified a Goya painting at the Frick Collection, both the gentleman sitting next to me and I turned to each other and corrected the error simultaneously.
One of my favorite places when I was growing up in Boston was the used bookstore on Beacon and St. Mary’s streets. Boston Book Annex could play a used bookshop on television; it was dimly lit and cavernous, crawling with cats, and packed with a dizzying array of books, many of which sold three for a dollar. But used bookstores of this sort, however picturesque and inviting, are a relatively modern phenomena. In the Middle Ages, for example, I would never have been able to afford even a single used book unless I had been born into an aristocratic family. (Full disclosure, I was not.)
Jewish medals, several with Hebrew inscriptions and provocative imagery, were among the gems at The European Art Fair (TEFAF) in Maastricht, Netherlands, as I wrote in these pages two weeks ago. Another mini-trend at the fair, which will interest Jewish art aficionados, was an abundance of works by Marc Chagall.
It’s virtually impossible to ignore the financial aspects of TEFAF Maastricht, the annual arts and antiques fair in the historic city about two hours south of Amsterdam. More than 250 dealers from nearly 20 countries sell their wares—which span from Greek and Roman antiquities to contemporary sculptures—in the halls of the Maastricht Exhibition and Congress Centre, whose corridors are adorned by nearly 65,000 tulips.
Max Ferguson’s 1993 painting Katz’s may be the second most iconic representation of the kosher-style delicatessen after the 1989 Billy Crystal and Meg Ryan film, When Harry Met Sally. Ferguson’s photorealistic painting depicts the deli from an interesting perspective, which is simultaneously inviting and hostile—in short, the dichotomy of deli culture.
The whole idea of an artful pushka (tzeddakah or charity box) is almost a tease, if not an outright mockery. Isn’t there something pretty backward about investing time and money in an ornate container to hold alms for the poor?
Located about nine miles north of Madrid, the Palacio Real de El Pardo (Pardo Palace) dates back to the early 15th century. Devastated by a March 13, 1604 fire that claimed many works from its priceless art collection, the Pardo Palace and its vast gardens were used as a hunting ground by the Spanish monarchs.
Printed from: http://www.jewishpress.com/sections/amnesia-in-color-and-line-inez-storers-identity-paintings/2004/09/15/
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