So what is this?

Hi Substack, welcome to my newsletter.

I have had the deepest fears of beginning to write, and finally ran out of terrible Netflix shows and all other pathetic reasons to procrastinate.

Why am I here? I’ve recently rebooted my website drordesigns.com and the youngsters are telling me that Substack is the place to be.

I found myself here a few months ago and felt like I was meeting an old friend. An analog-friendly corner of the internet not ruled by outrage. How quaint.

I am an “art person”. I have felt like an “art person” as long as I can remember. When I walked into kindergarten and saw the drawing table with markers and paper, I knew that was the place for me.

When I walked up the staircase of the Metropolitan Museum of Art as a tiny child with tired legs, I knew that was the place for me.

When I saw the colossal steel toruses by Richard Serra in high school, my heart did cartwheels in my chest, my mind changed forever, and I knew that was the place for me.

Art is my forever-home.

The roots of my practice come from a few places, but none as dominant as the Bible. I’m not a dogmatic person, but I come from a religious and observant Jewish home. The screen upon which my consciousness is projected is the screen of scripture and Talmud. The images spring from the beginning of Genesis, when the Lord separates light from darkness. When God speaks to Abraham about his children being as numerous as the stars in the sky, I feel compelled to paint. Am I not one of those stars that Abraham envisioned? When Joseph is forgotten in jail and tastes bitter despair, I’m drawn to the canvas. Have I not dwelt in irrelevance and darkness? The story begins in scripture, but it echoes to my modern life and back and forth in a feedback loop.

Choni the circle-maker plants the carob trees whose fruit he will never see. Reish Lakish is rescued from a river and a life as a bandit and transformed into a scholar. Rabbi Akiva sees the impression made by dripping water on a rock and is inspired to learn the alphabet at age 40. Like the rock, my heart is hard but flexible.

Why do I put these marks on the paper? I do not make any money from this at the moment, I have no boss, I have no reason. Why did Mallory climb Everest? Why did prehistoric humans record their lives in the caves at Lascaux? Why did the Paper Brigade of the Vilna Ghetto save books and Torah scrolls even though they knew they would likely be murdered? Because we are here. Because we want the world to know we were here. Because art gives us the chance to make a mark on the universe and share the very fact of our existence.

Because heartbreak is still real. Because our ex broke up with us after 6 months in a text message and we want to die. Because we love our child so much that our heart feels physical pain at its vastness. Because our youngest learned to speak his own name and joined Adam in the pantheon of people who name things. Because our friend died and we cannot conceive of a world without them in it. Because war is here. Because death is near. Because time is short. Because beauty cuts to the quick of who we are, because not a solitary soul can (or should) be immune to it.

As the great Rabbi Abraham J. Heschel said:

“Confined in our own study rooms, we may entertain any idea that comes to our minds. Under such circumstances it is even plausible to say that the world is worthless and all meaning a dream or fiction. And yet, no one can sneer at the stars, mock the dawn, ridicule the outburst of the spring, or scoff at the totality of being. Away from the immense, cloistered in our own concepts, we may scorn and revile everything. But standing between heaven and earth, we are silenced.”1

I plan to share experiences, art, influences, poems, or anything else that seems to inspire wonder. Join me.

Check out my updated website at drordesigns.com: Jewish Art, Calligraphy, and Design from Israel