MIchael Argov, "The Artist Table", oil on canvas, 1950.
I have taken a trip to Israel; to see the family, to get some sun and to look at some of my father's art work which I haven't touched before. It is not the easiest thing in the world to look at the work of someone who had died 28 years ago, and of whom I remember just as a little girl, sitting at his laps.
My father was a serious artist who struggled with recognition and with the search after colors, shapes and meaning. He moved in a systematic way from figurative painting into abstract. On the way he did some photography. Almost every decade he changed his style, so that it looked as it was done by another artist.
Going through his stuff I run into interviews, articles, letters, catalogs and many many old photos. I'm confronted of how rich he was and of how much I didn't know him. I'm honored to be his daughter and to have inherited his artistic talent. In one of his letters from 1974 he explains his work at the "Tel Hashomer" hospital in Tel-Aviv, where he designed a mural for the reeducation pavilion. "The problem was to create a space which gives a feelings of happiness and hope for the patients who are handicapped, having lost their limbs". You see, we are talking about Israel, a country which is constantly suffering from war. So the hospital decides to put something nice, artistic for the uplift of it's residents. Mostly young people who had lost their limbs in the war.
My father was born in Vienna in 1920. In 1933, due to the upcoming events, his family left to Palestine.He grew up in Israel, studied art between 1942-1947 in the "Studia" of two "giants" in the Israeli art history, and in 1947, when the war in Europe was over, he went to Paris and stayed there till 1959, except of one year (47-48) where he came back to Israel to fight the independent war. Life in Paris was good. He was described as an upcoming star, participated in many shows and his paintings were bought. He lived a typical artist life. One room, toilette outside and in order to complete his income he had to work as a driver. From photos of that time I see my father as a young man, good looking, very proud of his success, nice women around (never the same woman in each photo).
A photo of Paris taken by him.
In 1956 he came to Israel and met my mom. They got married after only one month and returned together to Paris. My sister was born in Paris and when she was 10 month old my mom took her to Israel and my father joined them few month later. The return to Israel was not easy for him after the softness of Paris and of being "only an artist." Being a family man and having other responsibilities changed also the style of his work. There was no more figurative paintings but strong, sharp shapes, influenced among other things by the bright sun and the roof tops of Tel-Aviv.
A painting of my mom, oil on canvas, as she was seen by him in 1956. Private Collection
"Composition" oil on plywood, 1960, from the Haifa Museum Collection.
Towards the end the 60's he developed his "Geometric Style," of which he became very identified for.
In those years he started his "love affair" with architecture, and started to apply his work in buildings and murals (like the one mentioned earlier). He was well established as an artist, participating in many exhibitions around the world like New York, Copenhagen, Zurich and Geneva. In 1970 he exhibit in the Israeli Pavillion in the Venice Biennale. The late 70's was his final search. I don't know if he knew that but in his work he came to a very high degree of minimalism, almost zen. He took a canvas, wrinkled it and sprayed it. Later he stretched it on a wooden frame so that the wrinkles were visible but you couldn't feel them. I remember him working in his studio on these paintings. He was always very patient when I asked questions and he seemed to love my interest. My favorite game was to lay down in those huge wooden boxes which were built to transport paintings to galleries and museums around the world. As a child I loved it that my father did something special and I loved to see him loving his work. But I guess that his work also came first and for that we might have suffered. When I was born he was already 50 and went joking around saying that "I made my own grand-daughter." He was very sweet and loving with me. But for my sister and my brother he was more of an artist engaged in his work rather then a father.
The memory he left behind was of someone who loved his work. Going through his stuff is quite something since he created a lot. His search after expression in all kinds of forms is touching. 28 years later and he still can talk to me and radiating his presence from everything he touched. The way he looked at things from his photos and the way he felt things from his paintings. I feel lucky that by looking at his art I can still feel his love, and for that I'm forever grateful.
beautiful. and you're the culmination of his work - his loveliest, most intricate, expressive, colourful creation. Soft brush-strokes and hard angles and moving abstracts, and a mind like fire burning in the centre of it all.
I love you and miss you, sweet sister.
Posted by: Vistara | 03/27/2010 at 07:29 PM
We have just read your beautiful post. We purchased several of your father,s art while we were living in Israel We also have the geometric piece that you exhibit in your post. If you wish to see other pieces we would be more than pleased to send you a photograph of them. We distinctly remember meeting your father and how impressed we were with his talent. We live in Toronto canada.
Posted by: Edie Arbib | 10/06/2014 at 03:03 AM