Welcome!
If you’re new to our newsletter, I’d like to extend a warm welcome. If you’ve been with us from the start, welcome back. We’re so glad you’re enjoying these musings.—David Moss
Museum Moments
I wanted to let you know about a nice program I’m part of.
One of our Tree of Life Shtenders was donated to the museum at Temple Israel in Detroit. They’ve put together a professional on-line video program called Museum Moments that my partner in the project, Noah Greenberg, and I participated in. It was quite nostalgic to reminisce about the artistic process and international adventures this decades-long major Judaica project involved. I think you’ll find it interesting.
It’s available at https://www.temple-israel.org/event/virtual-museum-moments
Pre-Chanukah Greetings To You, My Dear Community
My heartfelt thanks to you for your continued interest and support during these difficult times. Esther recently told me how many of you actually read these blogs and I was frankly stunned—as well as honored and so appreciative.
So I’m wondering how you are all doing? Would you let me know how you’re getting along during this plague? Have you found any positive, creative ways of coping that you’d be willing to share with me and perhaps with this list? Maybe how you’re processing all this? How it’s changing you or your world view? Meaningful or amusing stories?
Lilach Schrag interviewed 16 working Jewish artists about how the epidemic is effecting us and our work. She then curated and created the remarkable series of Studio Stories 2020 for Kol Haot. I was the final artist in the series: https://spark.adobe.com/page/sxovjBosgAYEK/
She also did two live zooms with artists during Sukkot where we shared our thoughts and were each asked to imagine one person from Jewish history to invite into our Sukkah. I chose my father, Jack Moss. That segment of the video is at 52:15 here: https://drive.google.com/file/d/1Jz52JOQo19ZdvBi7BeRQ6hCdm_Wz1lEt/view
May the light and joy of Chanukah enlighten your life during these dark times.
Kibbutz Galuyot—The Ingathering Of Some Rather Eccentric Exiles
As someone with a fairly quixotic life project (giving creative visual expression to a highly verbal culture) I’ve always been interested in other examples of how people transform offbeat personal passions into reality. Roz and I devoted a nice part of our 49th anniversary long weekend getaway in Caesarea to exploring a few such visions. We found two of them on one of our favorite travel websites: Atlas Obscura—Curious and Wondrous Travel Destinations.
Did You Know?
Little-Known Tidbits About The Moss Haggadah
The original, hand-done, commissioned Haggadah on real parchment was not intended to be printed when it was created. That's why David included elements such as real gold leaf, papercuts, inserted mirrors, turning cup, and tipped-in little book.
- The original was projected to take one year but ended up requiring three years of full-time work. It has been exhibited only once. The most definitive exhibit on the Hebrew book ever assembled opened at the New York Public Library in 1988. Of the thirteen most important and beautiful Haggadah manuscripts shown, only one was created after 1717: The original Moss Haggadah.
- The creation of the perfect, limited-edition facsimile took about a year and half to produce in Verona, Italy. Daniel Boorstin, the former Librarian of the United States Congress, called it the tour de force printing of the twentieth century.
- The facsimile has been purchased by the rare book rooms of major libraries, museums, and institutions such as Princeton, Yale, Duke, Harvard, and Stanford University libraries, the New York Public Library, the British Library, the Getty Museum, the Yeshivah University Museum, the Jewish Theological Seminary, and the Hebrew Union College libraries.
Imagine 127 Lands
It all began on the unimaginably lush, gorgeous, and fascinating island of Bali. I was first on this tiny Hindu island plunked in the center of the world’s largest Muslim nation of Indonesia around 1990. I was there on a quixotic quest to find a shop that could perfectly copy the many intricate carved pieces my talented artistic collaborator, Noah Greenberg, and I had designed. My idea had been to create a work of art based on the simple, practical Jewish study/prayer stand known in Yiddish as a Shtender. I envisioned a wooden Shtender that would function as a little treasure chest to house all the Jewish ritual objects of daily, weekly, and annual use. I had approached Noah, a very talented wood artist, to partner with me on this multi-decade project. (You can learn more about it here.) We worked through the set, object by object, and Noah hand-carved exquisite prototypes of each piece. After eight years of work, the time had at last come to figure out if, how, and where these pieces could be reproduced. It was obvious that it had to be in a region rich in delicate hand wood carving traditions. We set out first in Europe and then in Asia in search of carvers. Noah headed to Taiwan and I was assigned to explore Bali. I did find extremely talented carvers and ultimately Bali was one of the two contenders for our project. But apart from my work assignment, Bali itself intrigued and captivated me. I had so many fascinating experiences and encounters—a few even Jewish-related.
The social structure of Balinese society was highly hierarchic and ritualistic. Palaces, princes, courts, celebrations, and banquets were intimately woven into the structure of their lives. As viewed through my Jewish lens, it brought to mind the Book of Esther. A somewhat bizarre notion occurred to me—what might the Esther story have looked like if it had been played out right here in Bali?
The natural beauty I saw in Bali was reflected in the artistic beauty of virtually everything this exceptional people turned their hands to, whether agriculture, architecture, music, drama, sculpture, or painting. As an illuminator, I was particularly taken by the extremely delicate, detailed miniature paintings that the artists were creating.
So Thankful
A True Story of Love, Surprises, and Masks in Honor of Purim
by Roz Moss
David and I recently returned from a working trip to Seattle. David was brought for Limmud, was sponsored by the Samis Foundation, and worked in five Jewish day schools where he taught, lectured and ran workshops intensely for nine days…except for one, intentionally not scheduled: our mutual birthday.
We spent a beautiful day on Bainbridge Island, concluding with an unforgettable repast back in Seattle at Harvest Beat, a vegan restaurant which offers a fixed menu of five courses with either wine or elixir pairings. The experience was wonderful: visually, physically, and socially. There were two other birthday celebrants in the section where we dined, which was also sweet. We concluded David's next and last day of intense work with a late-in-the-day visit to the Chihuly Garden and Glass Museum in Seattle.
Through the many galleries and lush outdoor garden of glass, one gets a comprehensive look at the inspiration and influences that have informed the career of Dale Chihuly. This includes his collection of Native American baskets, blankets, weavings, and reproductions of Edward Curtis sepia photographs. Then we flew to LA to spend the long weekend with our California kids. I was looking forward to the warmth of family and LA weather after January in wintry Seattle (weather-wise, that is; the people were warm and welcoming). Soon after we arrived, our daughter Ariella asked David and me to sit down, as her kids wanted to do something. They all began singing "happy birthday" to us. Midway through, our other three kids, from Israel and Chicago, appeared one by one. I was overwhelmed, gasping with surprise! After hugs, tears, and astonishment, my dear childhood friend Helen, from New Jersey, walked down the stairs. More astonishment and joy! This was one of the highlights of my life. And it wasn’t over yet.
Reunion and Realization
It was begun about one hundred fifty years ago. I glimpsed it about sixty-five years ago but never forgot it. And now, suddenly, it was in my hands.
I remember as a young child being at a boring family event, when some relative pulled out a small handwritten book. At that point I didn’t know what it was, where it came from, or who had written it, though I was told it had been in the family a long time. Yet mysteriously, some very deep, powerful memory of that few-seconds glimpse stayed with me and haunted me ever since.
Later I learned whose book it had been. I’m a fifth-generation Ohioan. My great-great grandparents, Israel Marcus Schlesinger and Eva Lobenberg Schlesinger, came to Columbus from small towns in southern Germany, probably in the 1850s, and were among the founders of that now-thriving Jewish community. I.M. Schlesinger (as he was known) was the secretary of the community. He was also the Mohel and it was his ledger recording the circumcisions he had performed that I had glimpsed. I always wondered what had happened to it.
This month I have a Chanukah treat for you: An article by a guest blogger, Saskia Swenson Moss, who, aside from being a talented writer, happens to be my wonderful daughter-in-law.
Don’t let the light go out: Growing up Jewish in northern Vermont
What makes Jewish identity stick?
In Johnson, the small Vermont town that I grew up in, there were hardly any Jews. None of our neighbors was Jewish. There was no synagogue, no Jewish community center, no Jewish summer camp. Even Chabad had not made it to where we lived, off a dirt road surrounded by smooth, blue mountains and up the hill from a decrepit farm where cold cows shivered out the winters up to their ankles in manure.
My Dad’s grandparents had been Swedish Lutherans. He had met my mom at Oberlin. When they got engaged, my mother’s grandmother quizzed him on whether he might be willing to change religions. Knowing she was strong in Chicago’s Reform movement, my dad joked with her. “Gram-Gram,” he said, “the day that you keep kosher is the day I’ll convert.” Everyone had a good laugh and the question of my Dad’s religious preference was dropped.
It's the Magic
People often ask what led me from doing art to also teaching Jewish values through art. It’s the magic.
The magic that happens in the moment. You can see it in this photo of Haredi kids listening with rapt
attention as I show them the art in my Haggadah and talk about its meaning. When I realized that reaction is constant regardless of the audience, I knew I had to share it. And that led me to my work in education.
"When one teaches, two learn"
Robert Heinlein (American science-fiction writer,1907-1988)
(thanks to Avraham Roos for this quote?)
MiKol Milamdai Hiskalti (from all who have taught me, I have learned)
Mishlei (Book of Proverbs)
IT'S A MIRACLE
Virtually every year for decades now, I work with a small group of campers at Camp Ramah in Ojai on an art project. Rosalyn helps me with these intense workshops and ourprocedure is unique, for we have absolutely no idea what the project will be, coming in.
Our first stage is to simply listen carefully to the campers and find out what's on their mind—what's an important issue at camp or in their lives that they want to address by making a permanent artwork for camp. We then take these young people through the entire process of how real
artistic creation happens as we define our problem and apply principles to come up with a fresh, unique solution. Then we design, scrounge materials, build, and present the project to the whole camp.
4/1/18—Counting years and counting days….
I guess it was an exciting time for my parents when they moved from our tiny house in the old neighborhood of Dayton View to their suburban dream house. It was 1958 and my dad got to pour his overflowing creativity into this new house. Workshops upstairs and downstairs; radiant heating in the floors; low-voltage wiring so he could start my mom’s coffee in the kitchen from their bed at the other end of the house.
But as a shy, awkward twelve-year-old, all I knew was that I was leaving everything familiar and venturing into a frightening unknown.
A Touching Reunion
I recently reunited with a dear, old, and intimate friend—my Haggadah. I was artist-in-residence at Bnai Torah Congregation in Boca Raton, Florida. It was a wonderful four-day residency, kicked off by my introductory slide talk at an elegant reception at the Boca Raton Museum of Art. I worked with all sectors of this community: pre-school teachers and staff, teens to seniors.
2/1/18—Origins of the Moss Haggadah: It Happened In Verona
Many of you have asked me over the years about the origins of the Moss Haggadah you enjoy using every Pesach. Well, gather round and I’ll tell you a story.
12/1/17—Behind the Scenes Glimpses
A wonderfully meaningful Ketubah for my granddaughter, Hallel
Almost 40 years ago, I started the contemporary revival of the old, lost tradition of creating custom-designed Ketubot of beauty and meaning for individual couples. I’ve now even done a few third-generation Ketubot—yes, Ketubot for the grandchildren of my earliest customers. Oh, did someone ask what a Ketubah is? It’s a Jewish marriage contract. One of my personally most significant Ketubot was my wife Rosalyn’s. I was also privileged to create Ketubot for all four of our children.
My Doors Are Open
Next time you’re in Jerusalem, please visit my studio in Chutzot HaYotzer, the artists’ lane behind the King David Hotel.
Personal Website—www.davidmoss.com
Publisher's website—www.bet-alpha-editions.com
Shtender website—www.bezalel-editions.net
Kol Haot website—www.kolhaot.com
A Little Video—http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8eq-uHWxjXU
The Man Who Planted Trees
By Jean Giono
Translation from French by Peter Doyle
In order for the character of a human being to reveal truly exceptional qualities, we must have the good fortune to observe its action over a long period of years. If this action is devoid of all selfishness, if the idea that directs it is one of unqualified generosity, if it is absolutely certain that it has not sought recompense anywhere, and if moreover it has left visible marks on the world, then we are unquestionably dealing with an unforgettable character.
About forty years ago I went on a long hike, through hills absolutely unknown to tourists, in that very old region where the Alps penetrate into Provence.