“The biggest restriction isn’t really from Judaism itself but from the Orthodox Jewish community.”

April 15th, 2008 by Menachem Wecker

Leora Wenger is a Highland Park, NJ-based artist, who blogs at Here in HP. She designs, develops, and builds websites (sample here). Some of her paintings (including the self portrait below) can be seen here. Leora discusses religious symbolism in her work, which often reminds her of her mother, and some of the challenges of being a religious artist.

MW: Do you consider yourself a Jewish painter? Why or why not?

LW: Definitely. Being Jewish is part of me. Family is an important part of being Jewish. My subject matter often is my children, whom I watch grow and absorb the world around them. I am drawn into the natural world as well; my middle son’s bar-mitzvah parsha will be Breishit, Genesis, with all the wonders of creation. I garden and I paint and I photograph my garden. There’s a connection to my mother, z”l (may her memory be a blessing), in all this, as she painted and loved gardens. In the artwork upon which you chose to focus the Jewish subject matter may be more apparent. But I didn’t set out to do “Jewish” subject matter. They were exercises in learning some aspect of painting, and the Jewish subject matter arose subconsciously. As I work on the art, it becomes more conscious.

MW: You describe the Havdallah painting as “Rembrandtesque.” Is there something about Rembrandt’s style that is particularly useful for religious subjects?

LW: A tradition of visual arts in Jewish history is limited, unlike, say, poetry. You have mosaics from ancient synagogues, haggadahs with birds’ heads, but much was borrowed from the surrounding cultures. Rembrandt seems like a good style to emulate, as 1) he did many Biblical subjects, and some of his models were Jews of Holland; 2) the Dutch in general were the first to break away from the Church art and paint still lifes and home scenes, genre scenes; and 3) the lights and darks, chiaroscuro as it is called by artists, create an ambiance that can be quite powerful. In this particular painting, I was trying to break away from my usual colorful, impressionistic style. It’s good for an artist to choose purposely to break out of one’s style at times.

MW: Did you paint that scene on a Saturday night from a still life, set it up a different time, or is it from your head?

LW: This painting started out as an exercise in learning to paint liquid. Somehow havdalah popped into my head. I photographed a series of scenes with a cup, candle, matches, grape juice. I also looked at my havdalah candle at the time. For the cloves, I had two cloves right next to me. The cup looks sort of like the one my son uses for Kiddush on Friday night. But artists can embellish and change, and no one knows! (except I just told)

MW: “Four Cups” becomes like a Where’s Waldo hunt for religious content. Where did the idea come for that come from? Where else do you focus on alienation in your work? Why is that such a regular theme?

LW: I was learning to paint glass. The wine glasses in the studio I was in at the time reminded me of Pesach [Passover]. So I painted four. The cloth under the glasses came out looking like matzah; that was one of those subconscious touches, not intentional.

Alienation is one of my life themes. I have often felt like I don’t fit in. In my adult life I’ve discovered other adults that feel that way, too. I wrote a poem years ago with a character called The Alienation Beast. More recently, I wrote a blog post about the alienation beast. I have a feeling this will come out more, as I’m ready.

MW: What are some of the restrictions that Judaism places on art making? How do you relate to them?

LW: The biggest restriction isn’t really from Judaism itself but from the Orthodox Jewish community. There is a lot of pressure to work, work, work to pay for all the day school tuition. And summer camp prices. I have a friend (who is also an artist) who is learning (Talmud) full-time. People have a hard time relating to that, too. I always have to go outside the Orthodox Jewish community to find other serious artists. Years ago, when I was doing pottery, someone remarked, “that’s a very expensive hobby.” I’m sure she didn’t mean it to be painful, but it hurt A LOT. Like what I was doing wasn’t worth the money. Sometimes I call doing art the “creativity curse” instead of a talent to be enjoyed. Some of my artist friends here say this is true in the “general” population as well, that people have a hard time relating to the time, energy and money that artists put into their work. I find a lot of emphasis on practicality in the Modern Orthodox Jewish world. I wish people would learn more about emotional health and the role art can play in increasing emotional well-being.

MW: “Candles” (above) does look pretty monumental, or “Greek” as you point out. How does the experience of painting religious utensils compare with using them for prayer or religious service?

LW: Let’s compare painting candles with lighting the candles before Shabbat. The common thread, for me, is connection to my mother. My mother painted, my mother lit candles. The contrasts are more striking. Painting is about digging inside of me and coming up with some visual creation that needs to get unto the paper (or canvas or clay). It’s internal and inner-driven. If there’s connection, it’s between other artists and me. Actually, my father did remark that he liked this painting. I don’t often get a comment from him about my paintings. Lighting Shabbat candles … why does family responsibility come to mind? Like I am the one responsible for bringing in the Shabbat for my family. There’s certainly connection to other Jewish women around the world doing the same mitzvah. Lighting the candles doesn’t have a burden feeling to it, the way cleaning for Pesach does for most Jewish women. My mother, z”l, used to pray for the young women in her cancer support group as she lit the candles.

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