Artist Statement

Who, if I cried out, would hear me among the Angels’

Orders? and even if one of them pressed me

suddenly to his heart: I’d be consumed

in his more potent being. For beauty is nothing

but the beginning of terror, which we can still barely endure,

and while we stand in wonder it coolly disdains

to destroy us. Every Angel is terrifying.

The title of my exhibition borrows from the poem “The First Elegy” by Rainer Maria Rilke. I was drawn to this poem because of how it uses the angel as a catalyst to intertwine beauty and terror. This exhibition examines and postulates the visual experience of metaphysical beings and states. It confuses the distinction between beauty and terror, and in some moments, eradicates it altogether. The world in which this work exists is a world where things can mutate between the ordinary and the otherworldly, the human and the nonhuman.

In my work, I’m often drawn towards imagery which some might find disturbing or horrific. Blood and entrails are one example in this project. I’ve never felt that the purpose of this imagery was to disturb or upset, and I’ve struggled with discovering why I am drawn to making things of this sort. The idea of the angel has helped me understand what I might hope to communicate. Confrontation with an angel, no matter how terrifying, is a moment of awakening or enlightenment. Through shock and horror, one might be able to grasp a sense of the divine. 

The two largest canvases in this exhibition deal with the subject of seraphim, six winged angels covered in eyes originating in the Torah. In Jewish mysticism, seraphim are thought to burn up upon the realization of their distance from the higher divine realm of Atziluth. The two seraph paintings depict the entities in different states of falling; one hovers bleeding betwixt heaven and earth, while the other has burnt up and lies crumpled and fallen. Even having collapsed, there is a promise of rebirth and ascension once again, only to repeat the cycle. 

Every Angel is Terrifying treats the canvas as a sculptural object. With my material experimentation in this work, including use of leaves, straw, paper pulp, string and debris, I hope to disrupt and complicate our notion of the singular image. Revealing hidden layers of the work and recording a history of marks and processes, these materials can open a window through the painting. Occasionally obliterating the figurative subjects of the painting, this work alludes to Jewish “aniconism” - the prohibition of representing God, human subjects, or any concrete form. Even though there is an iconographic impulse in my work, I’d like to question how spiritual painting is transformed in a world where this law asserts its power.

I was raised as a practicing Jew and remember learning of the seraphim in synagogue, while reading the Book of Isaiah. They seemed so majestic and powerful to me then, I would never have pictured them in any state of suffering or ruin. During my process, the image of the vulnerable and fallen angel has taken on resonance with the unfolding violence in Gaza. I’ve found the seraph’s cycle of descent to be representative of my identity as it is wound up in the actions of a corruptible Jewish state. This will remain a potent symbol for me while I reckon with the ongoing conflict. 

Special thanks to:

Tanya Marcuse

James, Jacob and Abby Romm

Rebecca Morgan

Marko Shuhan

Lisa Sanditz

Julianne Swartz

Daniella Dooling

Nayland Blake

Alex Kitnick