A mound – Adi Hilbuch-Tamir

When she passed away, we lost ourselves in her art room.

Piles of drawings and paintings heaped on top of each other

Of all sizes and widths:

Charcoal drawings,

Watercolors and oil paintings

Pencil sketches –

Lying on the shelves

Framed and stacked

Waiting for someone to look at them

And give them the place they deserve.

I stood in the dark room

Trying to soak in more of the richness before me.

Grandma – we called her Tata – discovered painting and drawing late in her life, after her husband died. While my grandfather was alive, she devoted much of her time to social gatherings. Her loss left a vacuum she struggled to fill. All this was long before I was born. For me, Tata was always an artist – I didn’t know her any other way.

One time I asked her to let me paint with her, like her. She put a huge book on my lap, put paper and charcoal on top, sat next to me, and got ready to draw with charcoal herself.

On the couch opposite us, there was a cushion with an embroidered elephant. I looked at it for a few minutes. “Tata, how do you draw an elephant?” She smiled at me kindly, took the charcoal in her hand, squinted her eyes, and said: “You have to look only at the elephant. Follow its movement with your eye and draw without looking at the paper.” I looked at her as her hand holding the charcoal made relaxed movements, her bracelets dancing and rustling. I smiled. I turned back to my own blank sheet, raised my head, and tried to draw without looking at the paper.

The charcoal in my hand stained my fingers black. As the charcoal touched the paper it disintegrated, making a squeaking noise until it found the right angle and began to slide over the paper, responding to my movements and following the path I set with my eyes. As the line extended, I felt as though I was riding a wave from the elephant’s tail to its trunk. The wave freed me and I laughed out loud. My glance met Tata’s glance for an instant. I couldn’t resist and looked down at the sheet of paper. Before me stood the most beautiful elephant I had ever seen.

As I sit in the dimly-lit room

Feeling sheets of paper

Touching lines and paint stains

I listen to the grown-ups whispering behind me

Discussing what to do with this unending collection

That has now been left an orphan.

Maybe they should donate it.

But to whom?

And where?

Adi Hibuch Tamir, art therapist  

adi.hilbuch@gmail.com