This project was designed to spread over four spaces, taking the viewer for a gradual journey of the soul upward, through the chambers and space. The viewer will undergo a similar experience to that portrayed by the show.

The project as a whole is composed of 4 rooms installation depicting the process of the soul's rising during Tikun (in Judaism: inner repair, reform, amendment, correction; returning the divine spark to it's origin, merging with divinity.) and the quest for redemption. The first and second, lowest chambers represents chaos, but also a potential for creation. The third, middle chamber, chamber of the heart, represents the expansion of awareness. The forth, topmost chamber, chamber of fire and light, may represent both the return to chaos - the burning fire and the blinding light (overreaching), or the possibly of rebirth and the reaching of a higher level of awareness (touching the divine light).

Thus, the project as a whole can be seen as cyclical (from chaos to chaos), yet also progressive (from chaos to divine abundance). Going up and down again may imply a return to the same point of departure, yet after completing the journey upward, the descent is not a fall, but more like the descent of divine abundance to earth. The movement up is a transition from chaos to divine awareness; from darkness to light; from chill to warmth. The viewer is "reborn" as it were, descending with the divine abundance of the earth. A rise to higher spheres in order to absorb the wealth and plenty, and then a descent back, bringing the light, the Tikun, to those left down.

All four chambers embed all three elements of creation, maintenance and destruction, rendering a very fragile situation.

She would do all things in haste, always eating, dropping, burning,
painting, breaking smearing, smearing falling, spilling, breaking, covering
the ceaselessly opening holes between the rows of the unstitched sweater.
Briskly sealing the holes of pain and fear   clinging to the images on the
TV screen       to the gold accumulating on the tar. Looking in, she would
lose contact with the eluding entities. Afraid to sleep, afraid to see,
unable to look at empty things like her dried out soul
withered roses
magical hearts
placed in a sugar bowl instead of sugar or sweets.

Slowly she began to realize that her life is like blue notebook lines that
she must fill with new letters day in, day out      so they can be read
so she can read them over and over again rather than spit her lifetime like
sunflower-seed shells onto a disappearing pile of filth.

To unite with her dead body and stop streaming her blood to other bodies.
To gather her poured body and pour it back into herself.

She knows her end. They won't let her disappear, even if they don't want her
with them.
They will tie her up with her leg to a rope that once flew a kite.
She will fly over the house, a pendulum wrapped in straw and rags, lost,
abandoned in distant airports. When they remember her they will pull the end
of the rope tied to the chair that stands in the corner of the dining room.
She will feel the rope on her ankle
and remember she is still with them, still theirs.