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Writer's pictureRivka

On My Identity.

There was me. There was my upbringing.

There was art. There was Judaism.

There was my soul. There was my religion.

One being. Divied. Always on either sides of a wall.


I grew up drawing. Anyone who knew me also knew I loved art.

I didn't know what art was.

All I knew about art was that it was my safe space, the place my soul sung, the place I hid. I hid. I hid myself.

I thought it was strange. I thought to fit the box better, I should be more ordinary.


I grew up as an orthodox/religious Jew.

A world that taught me how to be, how to express.

how to express.

guidelines how to live.

Why did my soul have so much to say outside lines, outside all the lines.

Why did my soul have so much, but feel so stuck?

Lines.

The circle around my being.


Back then my bedroom was my haven, I would sit up all night and paint. draw. That was my perception of art, and all that other stuff out there, wasn't something I went to seek out, art was just a world that existed in my own mind.

That was enough for me.

It was never really enough for me.

I was never me enough for me.

I never knew me.


One day I was going to study art. Learn how to paint better. Those abstract paintings, I didn't think I knew how to do those. I wanted to take classes, have someone tell me about all those wonderful things out there. Teach me skill, teach me to loosen my way out of my mind.


I didn't. I worked a job. It was a good job. I should have been happy. I was helping people. I wasn't happy. Living day to day wasn't enough for me. I quit my job. I applied for a foundation course. Fine-Art. I brought my paintings. He told me that isn't what they did there. They take cardboard boxes and make sculptures, scraps, they do all these other stuffs. I am here to do that. I am hungry to learn. You have to lose things the old to make room for the new,

I still thought I was going to learn to paint better. different.

but I will paint better.

I didn't learn to paint.

I didn't learn anything I was seeking to learn.

I learnt everything. I learnt everything. I opened the world to myself. This incredible wide world of art. I learnt how to see, I learnt how to use stuff to say stuff. To communicate. To speak with objects.

I used to try use paint to create the world as it existed in my mind. A flat space of mind.

I am not a painter anymore.


And then University.

I spend my days surrounded by what makes me unbelievably happy. It fills my soul.

I changed.

Every step, moving from one person towards two. To widen the gap in my persona. The artist. Jew?

A step away from how you want me to be. Why does walking away feel like coming home? Like I am finally living my truth. That finally spirituality is my own. That belief is my soul telling me something real. That I don't believe less, I just believe different.

I changed to a person who values everything,

on two sides of a wall.

I wanted validation for who I am.

I wanted to be a Jewish artist? I thought I would find a place where you could accept me, show you I can do what you do, and then widen the walls. Open the vision. Show the beauty I have found.

You don't get it.

and I am lying to myself.

I am not a painter anymore. I won't paint anymore to make you know I can. I am not here to make you believe.

Two halves of one soul.

I am just an artist.

I am just an artist.

That is all I am.

I want to make stuff. Stuffs. Weird stuffs. stuff that makes me feel alive.

I won't compromise that anymore.

I won't tell you my story anymore.

I am just an artist. a plain artist.

who believes in lots of magical things.

I only ever came home.


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