Musical Havdala
There are some memories that make you happy just by thinking about them.
Let me invite you into one such memory.
It takes place in a dimly lit room where shadows dance with the flickering candlelight, casting a warm golden glow that gently illuminates the space. As the crowd in this modest Jerusalem apartment thickens, the music begins.
The hosting family sit in the corner with their eyes closed in concentration, their instruments rising and falling like waves upon a tranquil sea. Each member of the family contributes their own signature sounds to the farewell of the Shabbos queen.
The music flits between hope, longing, and connection. It's emotional, powerful, and sweet. When I close my eyes I'm transported back in time to the Leviim playing on the steps of the Holy Temple.
As the final chords echo softly, a bittersweet farewell is sung. The audience, united in faith and love, gently bid adieu to the Shabbos queen, carrying her spirit forward ino the coming week.
This painting is that memory solidified. It is the musical havdalos I experienced in the Attias home both while in seminary and three years later when my husband and I spent a sabbatical in Har Nof. I hope that this piece allows you to taste this memory as well and to feel the serene beauty I attempted to represent.
There are some memories that make you happy just by thinking about them.
Let me invite you into one such memory.
It takes place in a dimly lit room where shadows dance with the flickering candlelight, casting a warm golden glow that gently illuminates the space. As the crowd in this modest Jerusalem apartment thickens, the music begins.
The hosting family sit in the corner with their eyes closed in concentration, their instruments rising and falling like waves upon a tranquil sea. Each member of the family contributes their own signature sounds to the farewell of the Shabbos queen.
The music flits between hope, longing, and connection. It's emotional, powerful, and sweet. When I close my eyes I'm transported back in time to the Leviim playing on the steps of the Holy Temple.
As the final chords echo softly, a bittersweet farewell is sung. The audience, united in faith and love, gently bid adieu to the Shabbos queen, carrying her spirit forward ino the coming week.
This painting is that memory solidified. It is the musical havdalos I experienced in the Attias home both while in seminary and three years later when my husband and I spent a sabbatical in Har Nof. I hope that this piece allows you to taste this memory as well and to feel the serene beauty I attempted to represent.
There are some memories that make you happy just by thinking about them.
Let me invite you into one such memory.
It takes place in a dimly lit room where shadows dance with the flickering candlelight, casting a warm golden glow that gently illuminates the space. As the crowd in this modest Jerusalem apartment thickens, the music begins.
The hosting family sit in the corner with their eyes closed in concentration, their instruments rising and falling like waves upon a tranquil sea. Each member of the family contributes their own signature sounds to the farewell of the Shabbos queen.
The music flits between hope, longing, and connection. It's emotional, powerful, and sweet. When I close my eyes I'm transported back in time to the Leviim playing on the steps of the Holy Temple.
As the final chords echo softly, a bittersweet farewell is sung. The audience, united in faith and love, gently bid adieu to the Shabbos queen, carrying her spirit forward ino the coming week.
This painting is that memory solidified. It is the musical havdalos I experienced in the Attias home both while in seminary and three years later when my husband and I spent a sabbatical in Har Nof. I hope that this piece allows you to taste this memory as well and to feel the serene beauty I attempted to represent.