What Makes Art Jewish?

Our intrepid reporter asks the tough questions at an art festival

Richard Abowitz

Things were bustling at the Suncoast casino on a recent Sunday for the 5th Annual Festival of Jewish Arts. "We hope to have between 400-1,000 people walking through these doors," says Eric Goldstein, executive director of the Jewish Community Center of Southern Nevada.


Las Vegas has among the fastest-growing Jewish communities in the nation. Quite recently Jews for Jesus even targeted the city for a proselytizing campaign—a dubious distinction, perhaps—but organizers for that group cited the exploding number of Jews here as their reason for selecting the city.


How many Jewish people actually live here though is a complex issue. "The last study was a decade ago and it was about 75,000 Jews," Goldstein says. "We are doing another demographic study now and they are estimating anywhere from 85,000-120,000 Jewish people living here: reformed, conservative or orthodox. They say about 600 Jewish people move here every month."


Asked to describe the state of Jewish art in Las Vegas, Goldstein chooses to suggest that I look around. "It is Jewish artists and artwork that is being presented here today," he offers. The website is slightly more specific: "Featuring art, photography, sculpture, glass works and Judaica ... This event is not to be missed."


But touring the room had the feeling of going to an ethnic- themed crafts show. Much of it didn't seem particularly Jewish-themed at all. Costume jewelry, rings, toys and cheap T-shirts seemed more like the sort of vendors who set up at swap meets and malls. The art that clearly had Jewish themes also mostly landed on the crafts side. Lots of things decorated with Israeli flags and "Shalom" written onto a variety of homey objects that could be hung on a wall. There was nothing anyone would confuse with Julian Schnabel, Lee Krasner or, for that matter Roy Lichtenstein. This was mostly the sort of art that Jewish grandmothers decorate their houses with.


Michal Weitman is probably too young to be a grandmom. But her art epitomized the work for sale. Weitman moved to America from Israel two years ago. "This is the aluminum, and this is wood," she says, pointing to the various objects she has handmade. "Everything is decoupage. The style is from Israel: menorah and mezuzahs and everything." And she means everything, no matter the form or function; all of her items are encrusted with various religious and Israeli symbols. Even the roosters and roses on gigantic aluminum plates seem to relate to and draw attention to the massive illustrations of Old Testament scenes with passages in biblical Hebrew. Not the gory stories though, more the finding baby Moses sort of thing.


I ask her why she has picked exclusively Jewish and Israeli themes for her work, and she seems taken aback by the question.


"Why Jewish? What you mean?"


So I begin to ask her again but before I finish she cuts me off—"Because I am Jewish, this is the reason," she says. The interview was suddenly over. She turned away to speak to another person.


I was surprised at her irritation but I had yet to meet Fredrick Kahler, whose display was in a relatively secluded corner of the room. "I have been in Las Vegas five years and I am not happy with what I see out there. A lot of it is this safe, naïve Israeli art. It is fine. But I am an artist and I have things to say and I don't want to go the easy rout." Menorahs are also a recurring symbol in the acrylics of Frederick Kahler, but there are also a series of works on Anne Frank ("I guess I have a bit of a child in me," he says of this subject).


Certainly his work was unique at the Suncoast. "Kahler describes his acrylics as "Yiddish Surrealism." And, while Kahler also says that being Jewish is his primary motivation for the themes of his work, he adds, "(The Las Vegas art) is unsophisticated. I want something edgier. I am an artist and art is edgy."


Perhaps the edgiest by far is a yellow star with "Jude" written in black at its center, directly and unmistakably recalling the Holocaust. Kahler had that out when he first set up but quickly tucked it out of view.


"Some of the vendors were upset so I moved it away," he says. "This is my first show."

  • Get More Stories from Thu, Jan 19, 2006
Top of Story