The Art Institute in Chicago is one of my favorite places on earth. I had the great fortune of getting to spend many delicious hours there on a recent trip to Chicago to finish up the last seminar of my two year Jewish educational leadership fellowship (MTEI).
I should dedicate an entire post at least to MTEI and to the gift I gave myself of dedicating the time and space to be fully present at the last seminar by doing it from downtown Chicago, even though the conference was virtual. Suffice it to say, it was a wonderful experience being in a city I love, learning with inspiring teachers and colleagues and getting time for myself and connecting with friends. The reverberations have been even more long lasting than from my last trip!
Anyway, back to The Art Institute. I decided to take a day for myself after the seminar was over, and my last day in Chicago was perfect for a day in the museum. I have many memories of taking the train up there from my parents’ home in the suburbs with friends and heading right for the Impressionists. But that doesn’t mean I also didn’t love the Chagalls, Picassos, Rothkos, O’Keefes and much more. It is quite an impressive place, and I couldn’t stop myself from taking a hundred pics of all the works I loved.
Among the many famous pieces, there is a famous one called A Sunday Afternoon on the Island of La Grande Jatte by Georges Seurat. It is painting in the pointillist technique on a huge canvas that takes up the entire wall. It is so striking, and I can’t help but be drawn into it the way Cameron does in the 80s film, Ferris Bueller’s Day Off. The painting is just right for that because of the style, because of its size and the way the subjects are positioned. None of the figures are exactly front and center, though the woman and child stand in the middle of the scene, farther back. In the movie, Cameron fixates on the little girl and zooms in so much that she practically disappears.
The painting is so masterful in the way it offers these perspectives of how to view it. It also allows the viewer to choose where to put their gaze, to take time and wonder about each person, who they are, what might they be doing there, what they are thinking about.
Perhaps in this way, the painting is a like a text and our wonderings about them are the fodder for midrash, the interpretations of Torah that work to fill in our gaps in understanding from a Torah text that uses as few words as it can. Midrash refers to a specific body of ancient work developed by the same cadre of Rabbis who contributed to the Talmud. Fortunately, midrashic understandings have continued through time by scholars and writers, many of them women in the modern age.
I recently attended a zoom class for women put on by HerTorah/Sviva that delved into a modern day midrashic interpretation of the biblical character of Lot’s wife, who not only does not possess a name in the text, but is noticeably silent during the famous scene when Lot offers up their daughters to the mob of Sodom rather than allow them to harm the special guests (angels) that have arrived at his door. Led by author and scholar, Dr Michal Lemberger, we turned our attention away from the action in the foreground of the story in order to shift the spotlight to someone else, someone who is there but is silent.
She reminded us about the power of our own stories and how important it is to realize that just because someone is not being highlighted does not mean they are not a full person with their own story. When it comes to ancient scripture, it is not surprising that women are not depicted as full human beings as their agency was more limited. But today, we are empowered to turn our focus toward those figures and shine a light on who they were. Michal said something so cool: the text is like a brick and sometimes the mortar all around it needs to be replaced over time as it gets old and crumbly. Our interpretations of the Biblical text is like that mortar, and thank goodness women are now part of this holy conversation.
I learned that one of Frida Kahlo‘s later self portraits, Diego y yo, was sold for nearly $35 million, the highest amount of money ever paid for a painting by Latin American artist. It was a self portrait with Diego on her fore head and three tears coming from her eyes. I think of all that she was trying to share about her life, her pain and the role of women in society.
So, how do we turn the light upon ourselves, shining the light on our own stories? How do we make sure that those who often make up the background are noticed, understood and appreciated? How do we recognize those around us for who they are striving to be? This is a beautiful example.
-Barbara Kruger
I suggest thinking like an artist, a midrashist, a femininist. Where are the missing voices? Ask the questions and allow them to lead you to fill in the gaps. Mortar needs replacing sometimes; let’s replace it with something even stronger.