cremains: (always rain)
A dream about abusing H. horribly, a dream about being a Nazi counterintelligence agent, a dream about immersion in a miqwah in a rat-infested hotel room in Frankfurt, a dream about Yishmael, a dream about naming the kid.

Quick rooster I drew for the ruling member of the community "olders' home" - working at the daycare in Jerusalem taught me how to draw animals in five minutes or less that are just decent enough not to be insulting on a thank you card:

cremains: (always rain)
Reading part of Yehezqeil, this particular part which is read yearly. To me it is one of the most depressing passages of the Bible, where the long train of exiles leaving the land is imperceptibly -- except to narrator--overtaken by another train of exiles, God's court as refugee camp, on its way--well, to where? And the courtiers are not at all what was expected, animal, but somehow recognisable, part person; the prophet finds number and gender impossible either to use or ignore. In one casual aside, we notice that the creatures are actually upside down; in another, that they breathe outside their actual bodies. Does Yehezqeil see God? He starts to look up and is hurled to the ground so hard he does not actually remember his descent, only being roughly lifted up by the wind of their departure.

put in English )


Aug. 14th, 2012 10:12 pm
cremains: (Spock)
Without a yeshivah to be in, people to stand for and open doors for and people I can comfortably interrupt, defined arenas of argument and the negotiation of reality, I find myself at a loss. There is not much to do about it except learn alone and try to concentrate.

I have time for drawing as well, for the moment. This picture was made with a pleasing array of blacks: lamp black, ivory black, mars black. Unfortunately, I don't have access to a scanner, and took a photo of it. You can see that the lighting of the actual room worked all too well with the lighting of the painted room. It's for the sixth pereq of Daniel, when he is a little older is once more temporarily ascendant in the king's court, and just about to fall again, and hard, into harm's way. There's nothing very gory or upsetting in this picture; although I wanted to suggest a parallel between prayer and vomiting it just didn't end up coming through. So instead there are some nice fabric patterns.

Incidentally, it's from the sixth pereq that it's learnt that it is forbidden to pray in a room without windows, since Daniel waits until they are installed or opened to use the attic for prayer. It mentions that he faces out a window towards Jerusalem, but the way I drew it we don't see those and do see one behind him, in order to give a sense of a push forwards.

the picture )
cremains: (Spock)
Life continues to degrade in ways predictable and unexpected.

I studied the work of a particular Darda'i sofer, Moshe Tsarum, and picked up parts of his writing which I liked. This is from the fourth correct mezuzah I wrote since I've been here (and the final one required for the flat).

Another illustration for the book of Daniel )
cremains: (ד"ר פראנק נ פורטר)
About half an hour of my time each day is made up by kids at work requesting that I draw them something. This one was "prince and a princess having a wedding," my least favourite yet most popular assignment. However, I'm posting it because it came out pretty well for something done 100% with blocky kindergarten markers, without forethought or erasure. For dimmer colours I had to draw on my finger, then put the finger on the page. The requester kid coloured in their clothes.

cremains: (Default)
my mind is a new knife
dropped from anvil to water bucket:

quaking, cooling, hardening,
subject to rituals of purity and loss,
waiting for a thief's hand
to turn it in a lock, or heart.

I want to turn in yours.
I want to force open your smile,
cut out your sideways glance,
break your generous hand.

I had no masters when we met.
by the hissing riverbank
my veins robbed my heart of blood
my hands robbed your mouth of speech.


Feb. 4th, 2012 10:06 pm
cremains: (always rain)
There are some shitty poems about Ein Dor, such as Rudyard Kipling's:

Oh the road to En-dor is the oldest road
And the craziest road of all
Straight it runs to the Witch’s abode,
As it did in the days of Saul

I guess this actually does qualify as "the craziest road of all"

However, there are also some good ones. This is my translation of the poem In Ein Dor by Shaul Tchernikhovsky, on whose street I used to live. What I like about his retelling is how it turns Shemuel's question ("why did you disturb me") on its head, and how Shaul's military suicide grows long, dark roots.

dark form and shadow unhinge )


cremains: (Default)
this hill is far enough

February 2017



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