Image of the Week: Woodland Menorah
© D. Yael Bernhard
There's no end to the designs that can be made of menorahs. I've made a few paper maché ones with various bits of metal hardware for candleholders, mostly while working with kids. But without the tools of a potter or a metalsmith, it's an exercise in frustration. A painted menorah, however, while it cannot be lit with real candles, need not be fireproof or even structurally sound. I find it quite enjoyable just to work with the basic concept and design.
A menorah itself is a type of candelabrum – a candle lantern, the most famous of which is the seven-branched menorah that represents the state of Israel, as well as the Jewish faith. The special menorah lit on the eight nights of Chanukah is known as a chanukiyah. It has eight candles plus one that lights all the others, the shamash or "servant," usually in the center. Still, most Americans use the word menorah.
Chanukiyot (plural) are as beautiful and varied as the many cultures into which Jewish people have assimilated over the centuries. The Jewish Museum in New York and the Israel Museum in Jerusalem both have amazing collections in all materials, shapes, and sizes. Two examples that struck me were a 17th century Algerian menorah cast in bronze and plated in gold, depicting a shepherd and flock behind nine little cups for burning oil; and an American immigrant's menorah with candleholders fashioned as nine tiny Statues of Liberty, with Lady Liberty holding aloft nine little torches! The sky's the limit when it comes to innovating this structured tree of life.
Woodland Menorah is version one of a painting I did two years ago. Version two, titled Winter Menorah, appeared in my Jewish Eye Calendar last year:
The concept is the same in both versions – a winter menorah fashioned as a tree, with animals of the forest hibernating among its roots. In the first version, the tree is made of wood, with only a suggestion of snow coating its branches. The background is a dark winter sky. In the second version, the tree is rendered in stylized black lines like cast iron, with a pure white background and blended snowy hues reminiscent of stain glass. These options for executing the idea were so different, I had to test them all. I face many such "decision trees" in my work (no pun intended).
Both chanukiyot have an aperture in the center that parts the curtain of winter to reveal what will follow: the warm skies, blooming flowers, and buzzing bees of spring. The winter tree stands in its place in the cycle of time, kindling the fires of spirit that carry us through the long season of darkness, holding the animals of the forest in deep sleep, and carrying the promise of renewed life.
Historically, the first Chanukah in the second century BCE brought the return of light to the center of spiritual life in Jerusalem. It was hammered of pure gold and fashioned after an almond tree (see Exodus 25: 31-40). Here in the Diaspora, Chanukah is associated with Solstice and the North American winter. My menorah brings the two themes together – a tree of life that touches both earth and sky, rooted below and shining above.
Most Jewish holidays connect to nature in some way. As a rural mountain-dwelling Jewish artist, I'm naturally inclined to express these connections in my art – for art is a bridge that brings culture and nature together. I love exploring these dichotomies in my work, and weaving together the tensions and polarities of our lives.
Chanukah begins tomorrow night (December 18) at sundown. To all my Jewish readers, Chanukah Sameach! – Happy Chanukah, and a good week to all!
D Yael Bernhard