In the Garden of Memory

Poetry by Vera Schwarcz
Images by Chava Pressburger

See also some sample pages from Bridge Across Broken Time
     

Poetry Meets Painting
by Alexandra Lane - March 13, 2003

One wouldn't think that Israeli art and Chinese poetry have much in common. At least not until one saw a new exhibit at the Chase/Freedman Gallery, entitled In the Garden of Memory. The exhibit bridges two artists from different worlds on a common path of exploration. The artists, Chava Pressburger and Vera Schwarcz, encountered one another in Israel and felt a connection immediately. Pressburger is a Czech Republic native who immigrated to Israel where she studied print- and paper-making. Best known for her oil painting, Pressburger moved into handmade paper and prints in the last decade. The paper is unique in that Pressburger collects the different plants and raw materials needed to make it. When Vera Schwarcz saw her work in Israel, she was affected not only by its precise quality, but by its ability to portray the heart and soul of the artist in a way that technical devices cannot.

Schwarcz felt the need to respond to Pressburger's work through poetry. In addition, Schwarcz's encounters with the daily terror of life in Israel led her to explore themes she saw evidenced in Pressburger's work. Though Schwarcz has a very different background, she understands the beauty and dedication of her collaborator's work. A professor of Chinese history at Wesleyan, Schwarcz writes in Chinese on themes of loss and disaster. The theme of historical trauma runs through both artists' works, as does their shared love of words, plants and silence.

Where Azure Reigned
after Yi Huan (1840 - 1891)

Pure light no longer flows here, only
                fading lotus flowers.
                A crowd of trees harbors
                remnants of heavy rain,
                on distant hills some
                gold fleeced clouds,
                frogs croak, cicadas join
                as if they understood a thing.

Lonely
the Letter
and the Scar

an amber cemetery
wakes on this paper

its ashen guardian
the Frankfurt cathedral

where a window should be
a scar

instead of a bell tower
winged grass

in the blind sky
a single Hebrew letter

Hear Israel

Imagine three fingers, a seal
protecting your eyes from the thorn of
fear.  Remember the child
you were and the Shema your mother
placed in your mouth, a pearl
of light against the night.  She knew
the dark would come.

 

Now, you load burning memories into a golden
galleon which carries them across an ocean of
buried grasses. Cracked windows gape
in the prayers of your youth.  Smoke rubs out words
you once held dear.  Silence, the sole captain
on the shattered vessel of your dreams.

Above the frozen ship,
a gray day yawns
a murky sieve to hold
the charred remains of grief.
and still,

One Hebrew letter is enough
to start an alphabet of hope.