Samuel Abelow, photographed in painting studio (Connecticut), at the end of summer (2023). Shot by David Abelow.
One hot June day, walking up the block to 770 Synagogue in Crown Heights, Brooklyn for morning prayers, I jotted in my notes:
The Fruition painting series is a window into the mystical Jewish perspective that all of history is a preparation for an era in which the feminine archetype will become the crown of all creation. So I must paint, as I always have, the woman; to represent her substance, beauty, and complexity.
That morning was my last davening (prayers) at 770 before retreating to Connecticut for the summer. Away from all the bustle of New York City, I was faced with a moment: to connect to my soul, attune to nature, and bring that energy into canvas.
Now that summer is over, it’s time for a re-cap.
The Studios
I began the summer painting season (June 21) with a succession of varied works on paper: my princess, a metaphor for the soul, in a state of gem-like regal serenity. I slashed away at old canvases with oil sticks, inspired by Spencer Lewis Russel and Oscar Murillo paintings.
What did these two disparate interests have in common? (That is, the Princess-Soul, and these rugged modern painters) The Feminine Archetype, of course.
According to the model of psychologist C.G. Jung, as well as Jewish Mystical thought (Chassidut), the feminine is symbolized by earth. Painting utilizes earthly substances – oils and pigment. [Note from Johaness, editor: Heidegger speaks of painting as “earth”/”dirt”.] Therefore painting is an investigation of the feminine domain – an expression of the uniting of the intellectual & physical, the spiritual & material…
A Uniting of Heaven & Earth, of the Masculine & Feminine.
Late June, a Midsummer Night’s Dream
My pure princess
My curving line
Drawing in charcoal and pastel
Wetted in watercolor
My soul, as a woman, hiking in the forest. She turns towards me, quite dramatically, but with such poise, and relaxed confidence, even cheer, “I am here to inspire, animate, bring out life in you!”
I awake. Fresh air is in my lungs. My feet in the grass.
I left the party
The nonsense
To find you
Emotional wounds
Filled with poisons
I wouldn't consume
The first painting of the summer: My Princess, hiking in nature, with eyes like a bird.
Divergent Interests
Music that I recorded while still at yeshiva (jewish learning institute in Crown Heights, Brooklyn), coalesces into an album quite rapidly. I call it “One People.” Music inspires my art, but it also communicates to a broad audience – it carries my hope to make an impact in the world for the good.
Cutting-edge AI art software gets a lot of hype. I start messing around with it. I quickly notice how superficial it feels; how my soul seems to evaporate the more I use it. Philosopher, Johannes Bockmann notes that it takes my artwork and turns it all into some sort of Disney garbage.
A friend from yeshiva comes out to Connecticut for the Sabbath. We dine on meat and drink sweet wine. On Sunday morning we hike to a freshwater lake and waterfall, taking a mivkeh (ritual bath for purification).
Painting Processes
Three 72-inch canvases now overwhelm the main area of my painting studio. In the central zone, there is an image of a Jewish mystic. A self-portrait? In a fit of mad love, and exaltation, listening to mixes for my album, I freestyle curvilinear lines: Picasso’s deranged late whorehouse collides with gentle imagery of birds. A sheet is thrown over the painting so that when my friend, who is an influencer, walks through the painting studio on the way to record, he won’t livestream my most intimate visualizations.
In a single session: I put color onto the canvas. It’s nearly finished (July 11). An acrylic study hangs nearby.
I’m unhappy with the posture designed on another large canvas: “Self Portrait Imagined as Sarah (My Princess)”. Not until modest fashion influencer Shira Adarr posts a highly curated pose in a white dress, do I find the final gesture and posture for my composition. I labor in charcoal.
Meanwhile, I woke up one morning from a dream: The legendary Queen Sheba has appeared in royal attire, orbited by shimmering gold. The AI renditions are unsatisfactory. I go to the studio. I listen repeatedly to Shanseea, whose rootsy reggae music is flavored with glammy pop trap. I study the singer’s face. I wrestle against the wall, on the floor, with a medium size canvas. I draw fiercly on a 72-inch canvas, with the same freedom as a 6-inch piece of paper: “Sheba in the Ocean”. (July 18)
Ocean, Paint & White Clothes
On July 21, I traveled to Brooklyn Heights to stay for Shabbat at the legendary Rabbi Aaron L. Raskin’s townhouse. After the Saturday morning services, I was enjoying kiddush (snacks and chatting).
A conversation began with a Haitian woman who is a part of the synagogue there. She has a strong knowledge of hidden spiritual practices. She recommended that I retreat between my Solar (Roman Calendar) and Lunar (Jewish Calendar Birthday). That would be approximately three days, between July 26 and July 29th. I took her advice. I needed to connect more fully to my deepest purpose; to my internal world; to the vision of my life, and how to bring that into the world.
The total immersion in solitude was effective: the silence allowed for my highest self to speak. This is a quiet and subtle voice that offers insights and motivation: a hope for a refined state of the world, belief in meaning and purpose, and lastly, the inspiration to bring about the union of Heaven & Earth (spiritual & sensual, masculine & feminine).
After the Sabbath, I attended an all-white rooftop party: I wear my tzitzit (ritual garment), and yet I dance; I live in the world.
I returned to Connecticut that evening; the next morning (August 2): I go to the beach early. I take a mikveh there. In the car home, I say out loud:
“I want to paint water as if I am the ocean;
I want to paint with the same exuberance of a maiden.”
Heavy and rich oil paint is dashed onto canvas: Dolphins plunge in and out of the ocean, a white dress is indicated, and her face is delicately touched up. I was surprised by my own fluidity, thinking: my body knows what to do.
Last Marks
My album “One People,” was released (Aug 21). That day I improvised a portrait of the pop singer, 24kGoldn (who has a Jewish mother). This is painting. It’s rugged, about surface and expression.
That same day, I riffed to my own music with the brush: “She Dances with Fire & Water.” The thick and dripping paint necessitated a transfer out of the basement, into the naturally lit upstairs, in order to dry. I won’t give away my secrets, my techniques; but I know the symbol of redness is earth; and earth is of course the feminine. [See C.G. Jung on the Reddening, Rubedo] She beckons me to live; to dance; even if it’s painful.
I pushed ahead in my music. The album came out, but I continue to record more. Friends help funnel my mystical mind into a music marketing lingo. We’ll see the result.
The summer was coming to a close. Late August: I do all I can to soak in the ocean, extend my limbs, and lay in the grass. One last painting: “My Princess, in Fruition,” inspired by a modest fashion influencer with glorious curation. What is this? A bird by her head. I throw it on the lawn to get some sunlight, to dry. Maybe I can finish it before I head back to New York?
Sheba reappears in my soul. I paint a small canvas. I paint a large canvas. It’s nearly finished. A week passes. I collect myself, and detach from outside distractions; I go to the ocean. When I return, I listen to Bob Marley. I paint, “Sheba in an Ocean Bath.”
That’s a wrap on the summer painting retreat.
I think to get photographed in my studio. I recorded several more freestyles. I mix and master them in series. I head back to Crown Heights. A rock n roll chassid. A man with an inner woman who seems to want to hug the entire earth.
The summer season was fruitful. And yet, my purpose pushes me ever forward: Where in NYC will this work truly take fruition?
