On my last morning in Klein Warnow I entered the forest for the last time. But this time was different.
I didn’t enter through the normal entrance; I didn’t walk in the familiar section in circles, and I didn’t greet the trees.
For three weeks I went to the forest every day. After the morning work session, after yoga and lunch with Amir, I would go into the forest alone and say thank you to the trees, the leaves, the sky, the clouds, the branches, the red fruits, the sun’s rays. At first, the feeling was that air had entered and there was room for silence. As the days passed, I felt that the cells in my body were healing.
Throughout the whole period the forest took care of me, and I didn’t stop to ask why it was there or who does it belong to? Who put down the green bench? Who built the pool with the water flowers and put a sign that it is a private area and entry to it is prohibited? Who gave me the right to believe that all of this is mine just by standing there.
One day I was walking in the forest, and I saw in front of me Margarita walking on the path and playing the flute. That was the moment I realized that I was standing in front of my vision. or its metaphor. Here is the image of the inspiration that comes when I am there.
In the first week I would take my notebook to the forest and write about nature. observe and draw it not through the mediation of a screen. It didn’t change the nature of the images, but it changed my consciousness. I wanted to be present as much as I could.
There are so few people in this village. And so much silence. Sometimes I went for a walk and met neighbors. I’m sure I looked like a stranger to them and yet they greeted me so warmly that it made me keep smiling long after they were out of my sight.
Sometimes Amir would come back from a walk and bring some ears of corn from the field. Sometimes we picked purple plums or apples that looked beautiful but were sour.
In the evening, I would pick zucchini, basil and sage for dinner.
Over time the place stopped being a concrete place. Everything felt out of the world, out of time. As if we were never there or would never leave.
The day after we arrived in the village my wristwatch stopped.
When I returned to Israel, after 32 days, I went to the counter to change the battery. She opened the watch said the battery was full and the watch continued to work as if it hadn’t been a month since it stopped. I left the store in the busy Tel Aviv street and said to myself: Do you have it in the most metaphorical way?
Sometimes Amir would come back from a walk and bring some ears of corn from the field. Sometimes we picked purple plums or apples that looked beautiful but were sour.
In the evening, I would pick zucchini, basil and sage for dinner.
Over time the place stopped being a concrete place. Everything felt out of the world, out of time. As if we were never there or would never leave.
On my last morning in Klein Warnow entered the forest for the last time. I planned to come to separate but because it was the last day, I changed the route and entered the forest from a different side. There was a truck there that loaded the logs that had been piled up. The smell of the cut pines was strong and pleasant and made me think of winter.
I started walking inside. Maybe it was the adventurousness that marked my readiness for the next stage of the trip. The path was not marked, it was a different road, full of tree stumps. I had no idea where I was going but I had confidence in my path. As I progressed deeper into the forest the road became more difficult to walk, and the sights became less pleasant. The felled tree stumps on the ground that were not piled up for shipping left a sense of destruction. What amazed me was how I avoided walking in this section for the entire period. How I chose to walk every day in the beautiful, blooming and green forest. How I did not see, did not want or could not see the destruction by human hands.
I kept walking and turned right in a direction I didn’t know where it would lead me. A day later I woke up in another city.
During the three weeks of the residency in the village I completed a book of 88 drawings.
Erstellt am Dezember 13, 2024 von AdminKuba2020
Merav Shinn Ben-Alon
August 2024
https://www.meravshinn.com/
On my last morning in Klein Warnow I entered the forest for the last time. But this time was different.
I didn’t enter through the normal entrance; I didn’t walk in the familiar section in circles, and I didn’t greet the trees.
For three weeks I went to the forest every day. After the morning work session, after yoga and lunch with Amir, I would go into the forest alone and say thank you to the trees, the leaves, the sky, the clouds, the branches, the red fruits, the sun’s rays. At first, the feeling was that air had entered and there was room for silence. As the days passed, I felt that the cells in my body were healing.
Throughout the whole period the forest took care of me, and I didn’t stop to ask why it was there or who does it belong to? Who put down the green bench? Who built the pool with the water flowers and put a sign that it is a private area and entry to it is prohibited? Who gave me the right to believe that all of this is mine just by standing there.
One day I was walking in the forest, and I saw in front of me Margarita walking on the path and playing the flute. That was the moment I realized that I was standing in front of my vision. or its metaphor. Here is the image of the inspiration that comes when I am there.
In the first week I would take my notebook to the forest and write about nature. observe and draw it not through the mediation of a screen. It didn’t change the nature of the images, but it changed my consciousness. I wanted to be present as much as I could.
There are so few people in this village. And so much silence. Sometimes I went for a walk and met neighbors. I’m sure I looked like a stranger to them and yet they greeted me so warmly that it made me keep smiling long after they were out of my sight.
Sometimes Amir would come back from a walk and bring some ears of corn from the field. Sometimes we picked purple plums or apples that looked beautiful but were sour.
In the evening, I would pick zucchini, basil and sage for dinner.
Over time the place stopped being a concrete place. Everything felt out of the world, out of time. As if we were never there or would never leave.
The day after we arrived in the village my wristwatch stopped.
When I returned to Israel, after 32 days, I went to the counter to change the battery. She opened the watch said the battery was full and the watch continued to work as if it hadn’t been a month since it stopped. I left the store in the busy Tel Aviv street and said to myself: Do you have it in the most metaphorical way?
Sometimes Amir would come back from a walk and bring some ears of corn from the field. Sometimes we picked purple plums or apples that looked beautiful but were sour.
In the evening, I would pick zucchini, basil and sage for dinner.
Over time the place stopped being a concrete place. Everything felt out of the world, out of time. As if we were never there or would never leave.
On my last morning in Klein Warnow entered the forest for the last time. I planned to come to separate but because it was the last day, I changed the route and entered the forest from a different side. There was a truck there that loaded the logs that had been piled up. The smell of the cut pines was strong and pleasant and made me think of winter.
I started walking inside. Maybe it was the adventurousness that marked my readiness for the next stage of the trip. The path was not marked, it was a different road, full of tree stumps. I had no idea where I was going but I had confidence in my path. As I progressed deeper into the forest the road became more difficult to walk, and the sights became less pleasant. The felled tree stumps on the ground that were not piled up for shipping left a sense of destruction. What amazed me was how I avoided walking in this section for the entire period. How I chose to walk every day in the beautiful, blooming and green forest. How I did not see, did not want or could not see the destruction by human hands.
I kept walking and turned right in a direction I didn’t know where it would lead me. A day later I woke up in another city.
During the three weeks of the residency in the village I completed a book of 88 drawings.
A personal Note
Kategorie: artists