Threatened Beauty

Threatened Beauty

Works by Andi Arnovitz

L.A. Mayer Museum for Islamic Art, Jerusalem

March 16, 2015 through May 15, 2015

Like a flying carpet, Andi Arnovitz’ latest works transport us to a world of gem-like color, where aesthetics and destruction meet in a deceptively beautiful dystopia.  Her current show, “Threatened Beauty,” which opened March 16, 2015 at the L.A. Mayer Museum for Islamic Art in Jerusalem, contains some thirty works that deal directly or indirectly with subjects on the world’s mind right now, a nuclear Iran and the reign of terror and destruction by ISIS. Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu’s recent controversial speech in Congress focused the world’s attention on the threat posed by Iran’s thrust towards nuclear power, yet also referenced that civilization’s glorious past.

Arnovitz has taken one aspect of that past, Iran’s rich artistic heritage, and, with watercolor and collage, used the intricate and colorful motifs of traditional Persian and Oriental art—rugs and miniatures—to portray both the fear and dissonance of life led in Israel, which borders on Syria, where ISIS operatives are fighting, and which is within missile range of an Iran that is at most three years away from the uranium bomb by their own admission and that calls Israel a festering Zionist tumor. In the words of the artist:

“These new creative works reflect this tension-  the majestic beauty- the riot of color, the magnificent decoration, the meticulous craftsmanship of these arts which I so love on the one hand, and the potential for disaster and my own personal fears on the other.”

The works depict both the prelude to potential destruction—as in “Facing Jerusalem” or “Fordow Underground” (one of the underground reactors hidden from inspectors until 2009) and some of the imagined results of destruction, but in a deceptively beautiful way.  The fish floating in “Heavy Water II” could be part of a royal aquarium or fountain, so life-like and tranquil, if not for the realization that they have the glassy and vacant eyes of dead creatures.

"Heavy Water II"

“Heavy Water II”

“Mutant Flora and Fauna,” takes traditional Persian artistic motifs and turns them into new and strange creations; “Displaced” shows endless rows of individuals, both adults and children, moving to unknown destinations in the wake of destruction. In “The Tipping Point”—black iridescent Iranian oil flows underground, but at any given moment it could be ignited to unleash an inferno. What might bring that moment on?

"The Tipping Point"

“The Tipping Point”

The work “Thirteen Boys,” deals with 13 teenagers who were summarily executed by ISIS for watching the Asian Cup soccer game on television in Mosul in January 2015.

"Thirteen Boys"

“Thirteen Boys”

Words do not do justice to these works, which are at once both visually pleasing and deeply disturbing.  How  can this tension be sustained?  Could the heirs of such a rich and aesthetic civilization unleash destruction?  One’s answer may depend on where one sits. Let us hope that these works will not be prophetic, but only serve as a cautionary tale, a kind of “Thousandth and Second Night”  that will remain in the realm of the imaginary.

Arnovitz is a prolific and versatile artist, working in many media, from textiles to ceramics, in black and white and in color. Her themes include the plight of the Agunah, the delicate balance between Jewish law and Jewish life, and the anxieties of life in general and particularly of living in the Middle East:  suicide bombings and a nuclear Iran. This show offers an opportunity to see another facet of the artist’s fascinating body of work. The L. A. Mayer Museum for Islamic Art  is to be commended for exhibiting these works and confronting the questions raised by “Threatened Beauty.”




Daniel Silva, Gabriel Allon and the Birth of Israeli Art

What makes a work of art or literature memorable is not only the craft involved, but its
truth. A work doesn’t have to depict “real” events to ring true. Just recently, an
example came up when I read a book by Daniel Silva, the bestselling writer
of a series of thrillers based around a fictional Mossad agent and art restorer, Gabriel
Allon. In Silva’s “The English Girl,” a minor and authentic detail from the book offers
a hint to the beginnings of Israeli art. A walk in downtown
Jerusalem brings you to the street of the purported home of art restorer
and Mossad agent Gabriel Allon, Silva’s protagonist and hero of many of his novels.
Silva, in his afterward, makes a point of mentioning that the Mossad never used that
apartment and that the connection is purely fictional. In “The English Girl,” Allon’s
apartment is set in a building at 16 Narkiss Street – which as of this
writing doesn’t exist. However, besides that clever touch, it is not by coincidence
that Silva placed Allon’s home on “the quiet leafy lane” known as Narkiss Street.
Narkiss is Hebrew for narcissus, however the street is not named for the flower.
The placement of Allon’s apartment on this street, as many
of the references in the book, was not chosen by chance. As Silva himself writes, the
apartment’s location is very close to the Bezalel Academy of Arts and Design,
where Silva’s hero Allon studied, and in fact, the original Bezalel building is located
around the corner on today’s Shmuel HaNagid Street. The Bezalel school was founded in
1906 by a Lithuanian Jewish sculptor named Boris Schatz (1866-1932). Schatz, the
epitome of a peripatetic Jew, studied in Russia and Paris. His sculpture of Mattathias,
the father of the Maccabees, made a strong impression on the Prince of Bulgaria when
he saw it in Paris in 1895. Bulgaria had become independent only in 1878 and was in
the process of defining itself as a nation. The Prince invited Schatz to come and
establish a school of national art there. Schatz’ mission in Bulgaria held within it the
seeds of personal tragedy—his wife ran off with one of his students, taking their
daughter with her. However, his time in Bulgaria also held within it the seeds of his
future. In 1903, Schatz would convince Theodor Herzl, father of the Zionist
movement, that the new Jewish homeland needed an art school. And so in 1906.
Schatz set off for Jerusalem with a few teachers, his experience in Bulgaria, and a
dream. Schatz saw himself as part prophet, part adventurer rolled into one – and was
often seen dressed in the incongruous combination of a long white jallabia and a pith
helmet. Ever cognizant of the importance of symbols, Schatz chose to name the
school after the Biblical Bezalel ben Uri, the first Jewish artist, who built the
Tabernacle (Exodus 31:1-5). The school moved to it historic building in 1908.


Schatz established over 30 departments there — many of which taught crafts,
such as rug-making and basketry, to help the Jews of Jerusalem become financially
self-sufficient. In addition, Schatz began to collect art and archaeological artifacts, as
well as plants and animals, both alive and stuffed, so that the students could draw
inspiration from their surroundings and incorporate the local flora and fauna in their
works. This collection was formalized into a museum in 1925 under the curatorship
of Mordechai Narkiss (1898-1957). Narkiss was from Poland, and like many of the
early Zionists, took on a Hebrew name–in this case the name of a fragrant flower,
appropriate for one who made art his life’s work. This humble museum’s art and
ethnography collections later formed the kernel of today’s Israel Museum, established
in 1965. Schatz was an indefatigable promoter of Bezalel, and traveled endlessly to
sell Bezalel wares and raise money. My family owns a spice box made in the Mandate years
at Bezalel that was probably purchased by my grandparents at one such sale.
The shape of this olive wood spice box is clearly based on Absalom’s
Pillar, a first century BCE funerary monument located at the foot of the Mount of


Items such as these made their way into many Jewish homes of the
pre-State period, offering tangible anchors to the Land of Israel and the Zionist
enterprise. Schatz had mixed his own finances with that of the school and this
disorder ultimately resulted in the school’s bankruptcy and closure in 1929. Schatz did not give
up, however, and while making a last ditch effort to raise funds in order to reopen the
school under his stewardship, he died in Denver, Colorado. It took six months to raise
the money to bring his body back to Jerusalem. Schatz’ final resting place is located
on the Mount of Olives, near the Ben Yehuda family.


Part of his epitaph reads: “Here lies, until the end of days, Professor Boris Schatz,
the creator of Hebrew art in its homeland, for which he went through the crucible of
suffering and fell, far from the Jerusalem he loved.” Fortunately, the story of Bezalel
did not end with Schatz’ death. The Bezalel Academy reopened in 1935 in the format of a
more modern art school, and continues to thrive to this very day. In the early 1980’s,
the school relocated to the rebuilt campus of the Hebrew University at Mount Scopus,
which had been forced to close in 1948. Today, the wheel turns again, and Bezalel is in the process
of moving back to downtown Jerusalem. The Architecture Department has already returned
to one of the original buildings. To bring us back to the “house” of Gabriel Allon:
the streets of Jerusalem are named by a committee, often choosing a theme for a specific locale.
It is therefore no surprise that the street next to the old art school building is Bezalel Street,
nor that the one leading up to the Bezalel building from King George Street is named after Schatz,
or that the street around the corner is named for his devoted assistant, Mordechai Narkiss.


Schatz’ dream of art in Jerusalem ultimately came true-the Jewish people
became artists again in their land. Some of these also became reluctant warriors, as
did Silva’s protagonist. So should you visit Jerusalem, take a walk downtown to the
old Bezalel Building which now houses Jerusalem’s Artist’s House and a restaurant,
and think of the visionary Schatz, his assistant Narkiss, and…Gabriel Allon.