|
|
|
In loving memory of Shlomo Tsafrir-
an artist, a friend, a wonderful man,
who embodies the spirit of Old Jaffa.
Shlomo has left and it's strange to think about it.
The door of his apartment is closed, but it looks like he left for just a moment,
maybe he's gone to the square, to chat with friends over a cup of hot coffee.
Actually, he is always here with us, because we see him in everyday things,
we love him and we don't speak about him in the Past.
I want to tell you his stories. I feel that this is the true way to remember him.
|
|
Story #1. SAINT SHLOMO.
Shlomo lives in the Old City. He moved here from his comfortable Tel-Aviv
apartment a long time before Old Jaffa became a haven for tourists.
He spends the majority of his time in his atelier, which is full of unusual and distinctive objects
d'art.
But this is not the point of our story today.
Let me first introduce you:
Shlomo is an artist; much of his professional career was spent as a set designer for theatre and cinema,
but now he's at home more: he paints, teaches occasionally and meets people (one of his major interests).
He likes to make changes to the interior of his house - to move things around and to change their purpose.
He has a collection of hats, vicar's uniform, a wooden toilet from the Austrian Army
(a beautiful piece of wood crafted in the eighteen hundreds), pictures, books,
an enormous number of different pens and pencils and mountains of colorful junk that only Shlomo knows how to use.
Each item is used and has it's own optimal place in this home.
Sometimes Shlomo returns to very old technique in his works.
It comes from traditional icons. He paints with tempera and use pages of real gold for details.
One of Shlomo's self-portraits, painted in this way, hangs on the kitchen wall.
Skeptic eyes look over the glasses; hands are crossed over the chest,
he is dressed completely in white with a big gold halo radiating light around his head.
The impression given is a caricature of a dignitary and the whole picture is spiced with black humor.
Below the picture is a large low table littered with strings of dried garlic, bouquets of celery,
small plastic nick-knacks, glasses, maps, and more…
You catch a glimpse of this table the moment that you open the door of the studio.
I already mentioned, that Shlomo continuously changes the dynamics of the space around him.
On this particular day, candles were burning brightly on the table. The door to the studio was opened
as it was a hot afternoon. Shlomo was at home; he'd only came back from the bazaar and got rest on the moment that he felt
somebody's presents there.
A group of pilgrims streamed to the kitchen, kneeled and prayed. They were in religion ecstasy in this really special historical place and
didn't look properly where
they were going. They prayed near Shlomo's portrait and all the while, he looked at them, wide eyed and kept silent.
They finished and went away.
>> Up to table of content
Story #2. THE BIG HOUSE.
We had been friendly with him for more than two years before we entered his
"Big House" for the first time.
We spoke about it a lot, knew family legends, and were introduced to his dog that lives alone in
"The Big House",
but we never visited there.
One day Shlomo told us about it:" Never been?
Unbelievable!"
Then, he picked up a heavy bunch of keys and we went across the street
where a new aspect of his world was opened up to us.
A blue metal lattice fence, a heavy wooden door beyond, everything opened with big old-fashioned keys
and suddenly we were taking the first step into the patio with ancient walls surrounding us.
A metal lamp which pigeons had made their home, curved steps to the second floor supported by a shaky hand-rail,
some trailing plants, an uninvited cat eyeing us with disdain and blue quadrate of sky in place of a ceiling.
"Just a moment" - Shlomo is trying in vain to tidy the empty house,
but we've already fallen in love with this place. It's an antiquated building, were grapevines grow up the wall,
rooms are small but the ceilings are high, and the kitchen houses a shamefully ordinary refrigerator -
every detail has its own place.
We go up the steps to the second floor and over to the summer washroom
" just like my parent's home in Greece",
the bedrooms "filled with too many memories", Shlomo sighs. We exit onto the roof, where you can see the sea.
The Sea is in everywhere in Jaffa - the smells spirits and echoes mingle together.
Shlomo lives on the seashore, above the sea but not with it.
He doesn't paint pictures of the sea, doesn't speak about it; the sea is just a background detail, and no more than that.
It has historical reasons in his biography and I shall speak about it in
"The Sea Wolf" story.
But for now we leave this Big House, and come back to the Studio, "My
Fazenda", as Shlomo calls it -
a true sense of camaraderie has begun.
>> Up to table of content
Story #3. THE BALCONY.
The best element of Slomo's atelier is the balcony.
It's half-round small balcony sticks out of the building with a metal fence around it.
It's weak and you feel like you're going to fly immediately. The building goes down to the sea.
It's feeling of privacy of part of sky, materiality of time - time begins to be thick and static, it's only you
and your coffee who are here.
You can sea Andromeda's Rock, where, according to Greek Mythology things,
Andromeda - the beautiful daughter of Cepheus, king of Jaffa and his lovely wife Cassiopeia
was tied to a rock facing the city of Jaffa as a sacrifice to a sea monster,
in the hope of appeasing Poseidon, the sea god. Sure, the story has a happy end:
Perseus, son of Zeus saved her by beheading the monster, and married her in a splendid wedding.
You can hear and breath the Mediterranean laziness in the air, bells,
melancholy crying of the muezzin, pieces of conversations in different languages, mixed with the smell of fried fish,
cawing of sea-gulls and silence of stones.
>> Up to table of content
Story #4. THE CLUB.
Israel is a young country witch was built by immigrants from the entire world.
Different cultures were mixed and faired in the hot Mediterranean sun. First Israeli songs
were born in kibbutzim, where most of the pioneers came from Russia and East Europe
after World War 2. The music that they created was very similar to Russian music of this period.
Some songs were translated into Hebrew so successfully, that subsequent generations
thought that the music originated in Israel.
In the early 60-s the wave of modern music from the all over the world came in strongly.
Israeli music was displaced and marginalized by these popular rhythms and it was
hardly saved in suburbs.
Shlomo decided to bring
"native" music to Tel Aviv. He established the club which provided live performances and called it after
Persian poet and philosopher Omar Khayam. The club was located on the ground
floor of a large Jaffa building. "Omar Khayam"
instantly became home away from home for local bohemians because sparkling and
creative atmosphere. Many famed musicians begun there their career.
"Omar Khayam" succeeded during almost 30 years and
was managed by the same director. Then the business weakened, which eventually
forced to close. The club was divided with one part attached to the house. The other part of the club was sealed up
and blocked off. The part attached to the house contained a long dark room with
a fireplace. It has a big hall with high ceiling,
two arched doors and uneven floors. It
was recently used as a studio - Shlomo occasionally taught there.
A bed and radio are in the far corner, near the big fireplace, witch
protrudes from the wall like a dying volcano in which could be seen dimly
flickering candles producing a slow torrent of cascading wax. Green lamps, made from
carefully cut bottles, are hanging from a wood ceiling. The light they emit is round and soft.
There are numerous useful and apparently useless things placed in all sorts
of niches; various pieces of furniture that are set on small wheels for easy moving;
a familiar Austrian Army's polished wood toilet that was used as a coffee-table; easel, and one more easel, and the third portable easel;
and again niches and small benches on wills, and boxes with painter's brushes and
sculptor's tools, and various
papers... Also had some minor pictures on the walls and many assorted lamps - strong for work and weak for intimate conversation.
We enter the room with Shlomo to take some items to the studio.
When we are exiting the club Shlomo is jingling with a key chain. He closes the door to the patio,
followed by a heavy wooden outer door, and finally by a metal blue lattice.
We are going to his light Studio which has a breathtaking balcony that hangs above The
Sea: to drink tea from big transparent glasses
and talk, and discuss, and listen to his infinite stories and simple to be there.
>> Up to table of content
Story #5. WINDFALL.
We climb to the second floor by the narrow steps, over a small passage full of plants and sculptures
and get to a miniature kitchen, where a white round breast of big modern refrigerator projects.
"You won't believe what I found!" - Shlomo says proudly.
He is opening the door of the deep freezer and takes out something flat with rattle nylon.
He is unpacking the pocket carefully and presents us with an embroidered cassock.
"Look at it! It's such a beautiful piece! Unbelievable that they threw it out
- it's only a little moth-eaten,
so I shall put it in freezer" - his eyes bright.
>> Up to table of content
Story #6. THE CZECH ANGEL.
He looked for a homemaker and he arrived to one of the Tel-Aviv hostels.
There are many young and adults from hostels usually happy to catch a temporary job.
He chatted with two Czech girls, who came to Israel for a couple weeks as tourists and they agree for his purpose.
A continues of the story was expectable : one of the girls was sweeter and more approachable than her friend.
The sweetheart begun to model him and it was easier than cleaning. Their trio became to be less and less comfortable
and the second girl, who was "worse", leaved. The sweetheart stayed there simple, without difficulties and complicated feelings.
She was high, thin and blond. She had soft and calm character and behaved very natural. She
didn't afraid from his pungency,
or didn't show the scare. She was a lesbian, but she lived with him their short family life
- some weeks only.
She brought to his life her youngling and naivety, she brought Muse with her
- Shlomo draw and made photos, and maade collages - he became younger and happier. It was kind of
Faust's story: "I want to stop this moment".
The holiday finished and she came back home.
Winter begun. We didn't meet some months when I called him to ask about his deals.
He was busy with preparing and surprised me with his news.
- I'll fly tomorrow - he told.
-...Tomorrow? Wow! Where are you going?
>
- I fly to Prague to meet her.
He understood that he couldn't continue this story - the difference in ages, in location;
actually difference in everything was too visible. But he wanted to refresh the feelings, to get a big breath of love;
and, after it everybody of them could continue to live an own private life. -
It's the things that he though about.
I knew, that she called him occasionally and they didn't cut this romance, but his decision to visit Prague looked
very dramatically and serious. As his friend I was warred about his winter traveling: about the weather, about the flying,
and more about his expectations. His girlfriend was in her early twenties, she was a student, and sure she had her private life
there: her friends, her parents, her memories and her duties for Christmas holidays.
He arrived to Prague. He stayed in hotel. He waited, he tried to call
- nobody answered him. She wasn't with him anymore.
We are sitting on the sofa in his studio and over the album. The Czech Angel performs here in every possible poses and lightings
and she's beautiful and natural. There are she seats near the window; her eyes close-up; her back; she is as a part of his picture;
she is as a model and we can see a drawing as a background; her clothes; her heir; she smiles; she is serious.
Shlomo got it stoically. Her body and her face continued to appear in his works, it made him sad, but not angry.
Possible, he knew, that the world is round and life is going in cycles; so early or later he may meet her in the next round.
And for now, he's happy to smile when he remember her and continue, continue to draw.
>> Up to table of content
The same story. THE CZECH ANGEL - Version 2.
I wrote it twice. Is it because this story too private or because I looked for special worlds to tell about
it... Anyway I'll try now to tell it by his way.
We didn't meet some months, when I called him that we are coming at Saturday.
Shlomo waited us already. He made coffee and reported his news. We set comfortably and he told with very ordinary intonation:
- I have some story here... Didn't I tell yyou?...Ah, yes, we weren't in tough this time. You know, I have somebody beautiful!
Look!" - and he begun to bring up new pictures. There were many pictures with the same
model - a new one.
- Ah! Good for you! - I replied through oveer the pictures.
- She is really beautiful, ha? - Shlomo conntinued, - She's from Czech Republic.
- Yes? Where from did you find her?
- I looked for a home keeper - I usually assk in Tel-Aviv hostels, hostel guests often want temporary works.
I did it before already. I met two Czech students there, that come to Israel for a holiday and they agreed.
So... they begun as cleaners here, and they moved to live in the Big Home - it's empty, you know.
And later, when we more recognize each other, I requested her to be my model - the same money.
It was good for her. She agreed. And only look! She's so natural, so sweet! I really enjoy it!
- And what about the second girl? - I askedd.
- She left. She visits us here frequently.<
- Wow! Really nice news! We are happy for yyou, Shlomo!
A bit of time later we met again. Shlomo created. His studio was full with photos and sketches.
He worked about some pictures similarly; he made collages and changed it immediately. He showed us photo-album full with
her pictures and commented that he had had a lot of material for work now. It was autumn already.
The summer holiday was finished and she returned back home. I expect him to be upset about it, but he was cool
- he painted and continued to live it like it was not finished. She called and they had long conversations by phone.
Every our contact he added more details. We learned that she's only first year student and her family live out of Prague.
He told about her days in his place, actually about their days together. Shlomo
didn't expect this connection would be continued - the reality was good enough.
Once I called him to approve our visit there in close weekend. He was busy with packing and told that he fly
to Prague...tomorrow.
- Yes, I go to meet her - I just want refreesh the feelings, anything more. - He looked energetic and busy.
He came back not upset, but surprised - she didn't arrive to Prague.
>> Up to table of content
Story #7. SEA WOLF.
- Shlomo, are you going? - The instructor aasked.
- Yes. Buy, everybody!
- Bye!
- Bye-bye, Shlomo!
- See you!
Shlomo is jumping off and feeling his heart stopped. He convulsively threshes with hands and legs and shakes
whole his body. The water frames him with smooth and moving mass and there is no up and no down already.
He chokes and feels strong pain because water witch entered to his ears and nose. Deep darkness suddenly is ruined with
strong light and he hears voices call him. He foggily sees worried faces turn down above him. Crying pay in whole body leaves
gradually and the weak possibility to breathe became. One more petite portion of air, and the next one
Miracle hasn't happened - he didn't swim to the shot like his friends did, but went down like a stone.
He simple had begun to sink. And he would sink, if his friends, who were witnesses of his shame, didn't help him.
It was the end. Youth motion, the sea, attachment to something great - everything was erased at one moment.
Grandiose scandal at home waits for him. He heard angry and upset voices of parents and feeling of unhappiness and unfair
overfilled him.
His family moved from Saloniki, Greece and located in Tel Aviv when Shlomo was 3
yeas old. Tel-Aviv in 20th of the 20th century was a
town-port with traditional colonial architecture. The harbor grown up and the
city had great difficulty finding dockworkers. The founders of the city searched
the world over and finally found that Saloniki, Greece was the only port in the
entire world where there were Jewish dockworkers. Workers from Saloniki were
encouraged to come to Israel, and they established their own neighborhood
community in Tel Aviv. Even their family comes with this emigration wave, father
of Shlomo was not a
dockworkers, but he was a clerk with pretty successful carrier. He kept and managed the family.
The mother wasn't healthy woman, the birth of the youngest son finally knocked her down
and she hardly had cared to house-works. This family kept strong traditions and
children grown up in atmosphere of severity. At weekends family
often went to the seashore. Small Shlomo, controlled by adults, could go
to water till the knives, no deeper. They wet him with warm seawater; the sun
was reflected in every drop of water, hot sand burned his feet and personages
looked glowed in air, vibrate from hottest. During all his life ignorance of
swimming upset him, but the most hard he felt his in teenage.
At that time many teenagers got part in youth motions.
Sea-Scouts was the most popular moving in coastal Tel Aviv. Teenagers learned all sea operations
here: to knit units,
to sail, to repair equipment and etc. All those activities were easily spaced with ideology souse,
but generally they provided the good feeling of attachment to something great and true:
to collective deal, to sea, to shining sun and to this land.
Sure that Shlomo had to be one of these super-creatures and that his solid parents never would allow it.
However everything was going right, if not necessity to jump off to water and to swim, swim home through
all this huge bright sea. They always did it, these sunburnt children. The boats came back to the harbor;
but the scouts , everyone opposite to his house, got down to the sea and swam home. It made the way shorter, but it was
more for cool and was symbol of self-control and power. Shlomo skillfully avoided it for a long time, using
various explanations as a new shirt, illness, business in the South part of the city... but the moment had came
when he didn't have more reasons to stay in the boat. The delay came to its end. He was staying on the board of a shaking boat,
the sea was bright and vast and instructor was asking him: "Shlomo, are you going?"
" Yes." He saw only water around and hoped that that the miracle will come to pass: he'll jump off and swim easy and fast,
like all of them, sniff from salt water getting into his eyes, nose and mouth.
-...Buy, everybody!
- Bye!
- Bye-bye, Shlomo!
- See you!
>> Up to table of content
Story #8. VANDAM IS HERE.
We accompany him to The House. Entering preludes with a traditional keys- jingling and then with short pause
(it's like stopping breath for a moment). The massive wood door is opened and we come into the patio. Here connection returns
to be regular again.
- Vandam visited here at the last week - nootify Shlomo with very ordinary tone.
- ????? - We surprised with eyebrows movingg.
- Yea, what's his name? Jan Clod Vandam...HHe's an actor...people say he's a famous
one...(You never know if he is serious or ironical now.)
- Yes, sure we know him - we begun to interract after a short shock. - But what did he do here? Do you know him?
- Yes, I do. I mean, now I know him. He askked to visit a WC here, and he comes with all his security guards.
So poor,- Shlomo is upset for Vandam. - Ever piss he couldn't alone! But he's a very cultured person, - Shlomo forgives him again.
- He was very respectable and told to the ppoint. They make a movie in Jaffa now. Need I stop to use my WC now?
May be I'll put a table "J.C.Vandam pissed here" on the door?
>> Up to table of content
Story #9. KIDS.
* All names were changed
Shlomo is "a lonely wolf". He doesn't believe in family connection. He speaks about casualness of birth as a result of careless of couple.
He loves only by choice and never by necessity. He was married once, but he became a companion of his ex-wife only after divorce.
He has 2 adult children and his relation with them absolutely various.
He is a not a pleasant person in it's common cense. He is bitter and a spaced one. His skepticism is on the border with cynicism.
He resists to every subject. He is a rebel.
All his life he "collects" people. Various characters, strange stories...He opens the door and transfers gadgets.
So, his world is full with adopted "children" and I guess that we are part of it too. I had a occasion to meet some of his "kids";
I know stories of many others. His old dog, who lived along in the big home was more his partner than a pet; assembly cats come for food;
various characters income to the open door - some ones stay for years, others left, but everyone was archived in his memory.
Miki was a troublemaker from poor neighborhood. He often visited Shlomo's studio and sometimes stayed there for long hours.
He studied to draw, but more then arts he got in the studio the taste of the "different life". The teenager absorbed heart hotness and a strange philosophy of Master,
he eat and frequently slept there. This house was a center of bohemian life. Miki has not became a painter, but he found his way.
He works in carpentry workshop, and he's a strong professional. His life is going as well and Shlomo speaks about him proudly.
I try don't be pathetic here, but Shlomo was for him as the father, or may be more. Miki knows to continue along now.
Gabriel is a quiet guy with kind eyes. I think he hardly learned in the school, but he is interesting in every new subject.
We met him when we draw our first Jaffa scape. It was time of autumn holidays and we spent long hours painting in the central square.
We set near the kiosk where he had worked. Some days Gabriel only kept track with the progress from the distance, but at last his interest won his shame
and he told to us. He is a type that surprised with every thing that he meets; he's full with respect and sympathy to surrounding world.
Once the business weakened and Gabriel was fired. He felt lost and abandoned with his unemployment. He got occasional works,
and then he get a great step in his life - he begun to learn computer-oriented professional course.
First in his life he gets a chance to change his life, to be one of these clever, successful people that know where and why they are going.
Sure that learning was heavy to him. But even the chance to over into profession in the future was close to zero,
the only fact of effort was the most important here. How Shlomo was happy for him! How he interested about the details of program,
helped him with buying equipment and doing the home works! It's the same Gabriel that was rented for small house works,
the same guy that cleaned tables in street cafe. The same one with surprised eyes that used to hear other's stories and never catch attention.
One day Shlomo found us on the central square, where we used to paint.
He had begun with asking to see "...what colleagues were doing?", than, after short conversation, we were invited to his atelier for cup of coffee.
We found ourselves staying there forever. At the beginning he just learned us - we were for him more "exotic fruits" than friends.
Frequently he "labeled" us with wrong ideas and opinions and became irritated when we didn't agree with it because it "beaked the performance".
Later, our connection deepened, the necessity to impress became smaller. It never disappeared totally -
element of playing was a natural part of our relations, it made it "spiced" and extraordinary;
but our relation was managed with this special clearness and familiarity, with so much attention that only Shlomo knew to give.
We have to went to his studio after paint-marathon to warm and to eat with him; we conversed long hours about ever subject; we stay on the famous
"flying balcony" with cup of hottest coffee in the hand; we kept silent together; he showed his new works and spoke about planned pieces;
we knew his stories and we liked it; sure, that we got a part of more practical things, but it was not a focus of relationship with Shlomo.
Now, one year after his death I see myself begun to speak about him in The Past.
I begin to realize that all stock of emotions attached to him never would be renovated again.
After his last story will be told he would really leave and turn out to be a memory. Don't worry, there are many-many stories to tell,
and may be I'll stop with it and save some of them only in my heart.
There are only 3 sketches about his "kids" - there were many people that got his help and warm.
I don't pretend to be objective because we love him. But I believe that his innocence and assistance made a bright print
in hearts of people that met him.
>> Up to table of content
Story #10. PARTY.
* All names were changed
Once I organized the birthday party in Shlomo's place. I wanted it exceptional: unusual place, exclusive catering
and such special guests – my lovely friends. Shlomo was a little nervous about upcoming relocation of all his staff and, I guess,
from so many strange people to divide me with them. Besides, he agreed to provide me the first ground – there were the club in past.
I begun a preparation in advanced : Andre and me came in the weekend to pack and move his stuff, clean and design the place for
the party – Shlomo used it as the second workshop.
Shlomo watched over the process and commented:" You clean all history dust!" "...Where from are these "Polish" napkins?"
"...Why do you need so many plates?" Bit by bit he became to get it constructive:"...O, it's a good chance to change the interior!"
"It's a time to send this picture to the store..."
We modified a wooden army's toilet to the table; put a Bedouin carpets with various sized pillows on the floor
and organized many small sitting-corners decorated with red candles. The long work table became a buffet-place.
I brought my lovely CD's – Shlomo told that he: "forgave me these ugly "Polish" napkins only because a music". I prevent from
gastronomic excurse - believe me that it was delicious and prepared by the best way. I desired to make this evening unforgettable
for everybody. I care to invite people that would be interesting each other, to make the atmosphere warmth and relaxing,
to serve the best food and wines and, the most important to share with them an miracle of Jaffa.
I really think that my friends are very special. I can tell hours about everybody of them. But the reason
of these stories is to talk about Shlomo, so I'd speak only about his experience with some of my guests. Shlomo is a forceful
person, he contacts with many different people, but usually he chooses them. I guess he was a little confused with the fact that
so many strangers that weren't choused by him personally would fill his house. To be a guest and not an owner was not an ordinary
task for him. But finally the petite discomfort was won by his curiosity – Shlomo never missed a chance to discover something or
somebody.
The guests were arriving. Shlomo was very nice with everybody, he chatted and joked and helped me a lot.
I saw that he "taste" at everyone – there were some people that he was only pleasant with them, and there were others that he
contacted again and again. After some minute conversation with Maria he was very impressed. He came to ask me: "Who is it?"
"We are friends for a long time"- I answered, "It was the family that absorbed us in our first days in the country. We had met
some times before emigration, but we became friends only here. They are like relatives for me. Why?"
"She is so..."- he looked for a word, - "...innocent, so sheer! I have not met so dreamy women for years!"
During all evening he approached her: he show her his kingdom, he explained things, he told compliments. The impossibility
to continue to meet her was clear (at list for me, because I know her for a long time) but not for him. He missed her and he
didn't want to believe me that it was no chance from the beginning. How many "chili paper" and skepticism were in his personality
and how soft and naïve was his "another side". He believed that all people are kind and interesting always.
He had treasons heavy; he was gloomy to meet the foolishness; he expected miracles and he prepared them with medical accuracy
when they came.
Some of my friends came to the party earlier to help me with last preparations.
One of my lovely people “my dear uncle Luke” stayed at our home those days and sure he got a part in the party.
We worked as a real kitchen team – systematic and quickly, when Shlomo appeared in the door. Shlomo had heard from me about
"uncle Luke" and was a little skeptic about these relative relationships. As I already mentioned Shlomo didn't believe in family
connection. The fact that Luke was called "uncle" swath on "the red light" for him. Didn't matter that I explained in details
that Luke is not the real uncle, but he had been our diving instructor. We became to be very good friends and called him "uncle"
at the beginning as a joke, and later as a habit. Shlomo felt a "competitor" and he didn't like it. Luke, oppositely, had not
known anything about Shlomo except of short information that Shlomo is an artist, a very special person and a friend that gave me
a place for party. Luke is a very cool person. He knows to get a life as is, include all good and bad surprises. He laughs about
his troubles. He looks as a sea God Poseidon – ball with beard and laughing eyes. He always full with jokes and funny stories.
It was funny to see them together: Luke was very impressed with Slomo's young look, with this old building, with furniture that
had small wheels for easy moving. Shlomo was inquisitive but remembered to keep a pose. Their conversation changed directions and
phases fast and ingenuously. I love both my uncles and I was happy to see them together.
Now, when I try to deliver you these scenes, I fill that I have not enough words and actions to tell about it.
Things happened in soul level: sounds of conversations were mixing with sounds of music; smell of candles united with smell of
food, perfume was combined with sea breath. I was so pleasured to see my friends comfy, being together! I'm thankful to my dear
Shlomo for this special evening. He too was very glad with this good experience: the "sleeping" Club was again full with people
like in nostalgic 60-ties and he was in the center of this mess. Shlomo brought big piece of paper and ask everybody write or draw
congratulation. Then he got us to his studio – to make a coffee and to show his works.
Later, when we cleaned the place after the party he ask-answered: "Would you come here tomorrow again, wouldn't you?”
“Yes, we stay here forever”- I smiled.
“What a strange party, - he joked - nobody grown up to the bedrooms! Do you want a keys?” – his eyes were laughing.
“No, dear the next time” – I answered. We were tired. We leaved the place for being there tomorrow again.
>> Up to table of content
Story #11. THE LAST SUPPER STORY.
At 1999 Shlomo did a personal exhibition in Tel Aviv. All exposed works were united with the same idea
and most of them were painted at the last year. As a set designer Shlomo thought about viewing of the exposition: the very big
picture composed as well-known "Last Supper" of Leonardo da Vichy was the "cherry" of the exhibition. Dictators of all nations
and all times set near long table. Napoleon and Hitler, and other famous trash had a family supper there.
Kadishman, who knows Shlomo for decades, couldn't be in the exhibition and he saw this picture later as a
reproduction. He liked it very much and immediately decided to work for getting it to Tel-Aviv museum which manager was his old
friend. One day Shlomo got a telephone from the museum – they asked him to prepare photos and full description of this paint.
Shlomo wasn't too amazed with such a great opportunity, but it made him very busy. Over some short days the preparations were
finished and material was sent to the museum. Suddenly became silence. Shlomo patiently waited for an answer during two weeks
and then decided to check what was going wrong.
The answer was really surprising. They wrote him something like that:
"Dear Artist! We a really like your work and we want to show it in our museum. Unfortunately we have not
possibility to save this picture in archive (after the exposition would be changed in the future) because such a big size.
If you have other paint, which size is standard, we would be happy to include it to our exposition.
Certainly your.
Management of Tel-Aviv Museum"
Now you tell me: isn't an absurd story?
>> Up to table of content
Story #12.THEFT.
Shlomo used to visit the city garbage dump - he found many antique items there.
Once he came there and saw amazing scene: thousands of dollars were flying in the air. It was very impressive.
Sure there were fake dollars. That's interesting, that there were the same stocks of money that were stolen from his house.
Once thieves cracked Shlomo’s house. Shlomo liked to save memories. Unlucky thieves get the “money” which was printed for movie.
>> Up to table of content
|
| |
