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Day 1 in Situ

After multiple visits, explorations and sketches, today is the day.

I was yet sure if the choice of wall was finalized, what to bring, if there would be storage, and if I would be able to start to work, but I knew I wanted to try.

I arrived at HaMiffal ladened with bags full of the basic supplies from a quick stop at Max Stock: a table cloth to serve as dropcloth, basic paint rollers, gouache, charcoal. I also brought some of my big brushes from my previous mural projects.

These will not be the final supplies. I will make a studio run for high quality acrylics and my sketchbook. Once we're set on the colors, I'll make an order. But today, I just want to get started.

Guasch, cheap and erasable, is a non-intimidating ease-in.

And there is something intimidating about a wall, laden with history.

Netta is encouraging and helpful. While he thinks the entrance hall is more imposing, he is happy for us to make the final decision.


I stand beside the walls we have chosen, taking in the details. Unlike the relatively untouched wall on the second story, this one has had multiple artistic interventions, as per the Miffal's commitment to an ongoing, developing art site.


Someone had added in plaster cornices.



On the other side of the door niche, one of the Miffal artist had created small butterflies by excavating the wall's crumbling paint and plaster.




There is also an old public phone, and a handmade plaster tile that Netta says we can leave or incorporate as wanted.

On the other side of the doorway is Nomi Bruckman's lovely fresco-like mural:



The site we have chosen will deal not only with the history of the building, but also with its current use as an ongoing piece of art. How to work with and integrate the various art pieces in situ?


I admit to feeling a little intimidated and terrified.

I decide to begin as I began the mockup--with the decorative patterns that are visible throughout the house. This would also echo Nomi's piece. By running the pattern over the door, I created a visual link between the two sides (of course, the water based guasch will not last on the metal door. I will need to think about what paint to ultimately use...)



Now that I had some color and pattern, I felt less frozen.

The three plaster rosettes would serve as the top of the bride's veil from the historic photo of the Sarraphine wedding. This would also establish our first level of history, depicting the original owners of the house.


The dark line of the doorpost would serve as the edge of the body of the groom, Albert.




With these anchors in place, I can enter into a Leonardo Da Vince like contemplation of the wall. And it is incredibly beautiful. The layers of color. The textures. The patterns. The ridges.




I begin to see patterns in the exposed stones and layers of plaster--Art Nouvea curves that echo, but are more beautiful, than the original patterns I painted.

I take a little of gold paint on my fingers and rub it the ridges and crevices, emphasizing its sculptural quality:



Before I leave, I develop the image of the Sarraphine wedding a little more--

repaint the flowers in Clair's arms to echo the shapes of the wall paintings:



Incorporate the faces of some of the children:



I add a little boy onto the door, even though I know the paint won't last--might not even make it to my next visit. I just need to see the linkage to the broader space.



As always, the hardest part is leaving the piece for Julia's intervention. Our method of working is a kind of call and response. But I have no way of knowing what her answer will be. It can be that I will come back to find little remains of my vision. It is both the most difficult and most exciting aspect of this process.

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