The ever-changing life of the land inspires me, particularly that of Israel, where I was born, and that of my present home in Northern California. As an immigrant, I search for connection between the land and my internal landscape of memory. These landscapes, simultaneously intimate and vast, come together in my work.

 

I spent my childhood in Holon, a city located on the central coastal strip of Israel, south of Tel Aviv. The name Holon reflects the sand dunes on which it was built: hol, in Hebrew, means sand. Today most of the dunes have been replaced by buildings. But I remember the feeling of the sand in my hands, accumulating in my shoes, getting in my hair, my eyes, my mouth. This was an integral part of my childhood experience and scenery. Now I work with silica, a basic element of glass, connecting these early memories of these disappearing dunes to the present.

 

Growing up in a war-torn country and now witnessing the dissension within America and around the world, I think about synthesis, about finding commonalities among perceived differences. With a background in Psychology, I examine the human condition, utilizing glass as an analogy while challenging the material in different ways. 

 

Since 2014, I have worked with Pâte de Verre, developing a method of casting without traditional plaster silica molds. Focusing on my and others’ immigrant experiences, I explore the concept of identity, striving to create intimate spaces that speak of our emotional existence and life’s ephemeral journey, telling a story of fragility and strength, vulnerability, and resilience.