The Never Ending Horror Story
This is the story of a picture born out of turmoil – a picture of an issue that has haunted me for years. It is my protest against human cruelty - against never-ending wars, against executions in the name of some faith or ideology - with concern for the fate of our lives and the lives of future generations as free people on this wonderful planet, our only home.
I am not the only artist to protest against the human evil accompanying our lives since the birth of Man. In this picture, I have shared Picasso's protest against the destruction of Guernica - the horror of executions painted by Goya – The Scream by Munch - famous photos depicting endless horror. The cries of victims - animals and humans alike.
I hope that my work of protest will reach the very core of the spectator’s mind, open his eyes – allow him to understand just how fragile world peace is today – a world contracted by advanced world technology to the dimension of one small village - all of us in the same boat, tossing about on a dangerous and stormy sea.
You are invited to enter the picture, to linger over a particular subject - to enlarge and discover details of the unique technique of capturing art with fabric - and listen to the words of my explanation. The painting is more than five meters long, and one meter forty high.
On the left is the image of a contemporary terrorist sowing indiscriminate death. Above this is heard the Scream by Munch and, above this, is the figure of the bull from Picasso's Guernica.
In the sky, between the bull and Picasso’s anguished horse – hovers a helicopter – a war machine that appears to terrify the shrieking horse. Under the shoe of the horse I drew a flower - the flower painted by Picasso beside the broken sword to symbolize hope for a new life. Under the horseshoe – because the symbolic flower might be trampled if we are unable to maintain our sanity.
The sky, covered by clouds of smoke from bombs – to the right of the horse's head, is a wounded dove of peace lying on its back, from its beak falls an olive branch - a symbol of peace – its leaves falling like tears and drops of blood.
From beneath the dove appears a hand with a revolver that fires on an unknown man executed in the street. His face is erased - because it symbolizes all the victims indiscriminately shot to death without a trial.
The shot man's head; the home of a woman crying out from Picasso's Guernica bursts into flames; and the sky above them both is on fire. A sky that is reminiscent of the mushrooming smoke above Nagasaki and Hiroshima.
To the right of the screaming woman is the mother cradling her dead son - from the Guernica – a mother symbolizing the eyes of all bereaved mothers - her cry is theirs.
Lying at the foot of the bereaved mother is a dead soldier from the Guernica, a broken sword in his hand. Above him, lying in a pool of blood, the farmer from the execution by Goya. Identical victims from different periods of history.
Above him, a farmer raises his hands in surrender - his body slightly turned away - a moment later he drops dead.
Between the yielding farmer and the group of shooters - hovers the figure of a Jewish child from the Warsaw ghetto - I drew him as a ghost - a symbol of all the children murdered in wars who pay with their young lives the price of adults’ evil.
To the right of the child is the soldier who shoots the farmer – he wears the uniform of his times, as painted by Goya. I drew the other soldiers in varying uniforms – as the only difference in executions over the centuries, finds expression solely in uniform and weapons.
Two Nazi soldiers in their uniform look at the spectator – their faces blank – on their caps the sign of the swastika.
To the right I drew the horror of our times – an ISIS executioner. His face is skull-like – symbolizing I believe the angel of death – his victim – faceless – symbolizes people who have been eliminated – past and probably future victims – if this dormant world doesn’t wake up and stop the madness.
Above them fly a squadron of war planes that look like evil birds of prey, giving one a sense that at any moment they will sow the ground with bombs and destruction.