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Drawing as memory

Judith Kitzes

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September 23rd, 2014 - 01:54 AM

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Drawing as memory

Many years ago, I did a large drawing of my grandmother and her three sisters. It's oil pastel on paper, and hangs on a wall in my living room. Three of them were born in Ukraine, on a Jewish Shtetl near where Chernobyl stands. One, Hannah, the youngest, was born in the USA. They were strong, hard women who had lived through pogroms, and very harsh conditions. Warm would not be used to describe their personalities.

The drawing is from a moment of joy, a celebration. I think a wedding. They stand together, stiff and proud. Mouths red with lipstick, in pinched almost-smiles. I chose soft colors for their dresses, but it doesn't offset their stiff dignity. When I look at the drawing, I remember the smell of my grandmother's house. The delicious aroma of strawberry jam cooking on the stove, or the rich smell of hearty soup. The rich sweet scent of sweet and sour chicken wings. All because I chose blue for her dress. Drawing as memory.

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