Delicate sadness, autumnal melancholy, Hannah Nave's monastic palette, an exhibition at the Culture House in Rehovot

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The quiet sadness of things, the hand of time deepened their meaning and gave them a beautiful melancholy on the verge of withering, summed up in one word - sabi. "A term in Japanese art and aesthetics that gathers the melancholy of the night or the sadness of autumn or the grayness of a rainy day. They are, Sabi. "

 

This attitude, regardless of Japanese art, is given by Hana Naveh, a resident of the moshav Aseret, to an exhibition at the Culture House in Rehovot. Naveh chooses shadows whose elucidation makes it possible to reveal things that can not be exposed by other means: anxieties, fears, silences between words, longing or yearning for something, perhaps defined, perhaps not.

Birds in metamorphosis. The landscapes are those landscapes near the house, sometimes the forgotten landscapes of childhood. The trees age. Flowers in the stages of withering with hints of a more glorious past become a gradual transition from picture to picture to shadows, and at the height of their withering they turn into birds. ("But my birds do not fly," says Naveh). The images sometimes have the appearance of birds of prey, sometimes nestled in an empty nest, there are birds whose silhouettes are more beautiful than themselves.

 

A series of "stalks" - long lines that aspire to reach the light, but never reach it, breaking the composition, with images of the bird protruding between its parts.

There is a sense of sadness in the gallery hall, whose walls are covered with gray and black. A kind of intimate exposure of the dark side of the heart, which pains but does not scream, only displays a delicate, thin and sensitive sadness, and gives a feeling of fall. A season with longing and sorrow, and what makes us end the summer in the heart, so does the exhibition.

 

The paintings are made of mixed technique, mainly oil and panda, on thin rice paper that is stabilized by gluing to another paper. "I chose this paper because of its absorptive capacity," she says, "and because of its ability to wrinkle and" age "almost under my hand, this paper allows me to work with it, not just on it." Go, see, be impressed and look again. A lot of things are revealed only in a second glance.

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Shula Frumer, "Birds Not Flying", Yediot Rehovot, 1990