About the Immersion Series and Book of Yona
Immersions
The Immersion Series is my exploration of the Jewish custom of immersing oneself in water, and was started in the late 1990’s when I first started taking up a serious study of Jewish texts.
Ritual immersion is the total submersion of the body in a pool of water. This ancient act of purification, holds deep resonance in Jewish tradition, signifying transformation, and the intimate connection between body and soul. It is part of a traditional procedure for conversion to Judaism. It signifies the transition from non-Jew to Jew. Other immersion ceremonies may center on lifetime events such as married life, major holidays, birthdays, etc.
The immersion in water is not just a physical act; it is a journey from one state of being to another. My paintings aim to convey this transformative experience, focusing on the serenity, bliss and strength inherent in the ritual. I strive to illuminate the fluidity of the woman’s form, and the profound connection between the two, symbolizing spiritual rebirth and the power of faith.
In my work, water becomes a metaphor for both life and purification—flowing, cleansing, and renewing. I explore themes of vulnerability and strength, the sacredness of ritual, and the timeless connection to Jewish heritage and spirituality. In the solitude of the mikvah, a woman emerges not only purified but spiritually uplifted.
The act of immersion is deeply personal yet universal, and through my paintings, I aim to create a space for reflection and connection, inviting viewers to contemplate the power of purification, renewal, and the intimate relationship between tradition, water, and womanhood.
Holy Waters are a response to the atrocities committed against Jewish women on October 7, 2023. Created for the 2024 Jerusalem Biennale, the works portray women encased in a womb-like bubble, they symbolize rebirth and separation from the mundane. Rather than presenting ritual as an escape from trauma, I propose immersion as a counterbalance: a reclamation of the self and the sacred, in the wake of violation. Throughout Jewish history, water has carried multiple symbolic meanings: creation, renewal, boundary, and transition. In this piece, water serves as witness, acknowledging suffering while offering the possibility of spiritual reorientation. I do not propose that the ritual heals or redeems the violence endured. Instead, the mikvah becomes a site of quiet defiance: a place where the desecrated body may encounter continuity, where dignity may be preserved.
2. Book of Yona
As a New York City–based artist named Yona (Jonah), and as someone who immigrated from Europe, I create work that reimagines the ancient prophet’s story through the lens of personal mythology, cultural transition, and urban dislocation. My paintings explore the tension between flight and return, isolation and transformation; universal themes that resonate more sharply when you’ve crossed an ocean and reshaped your life.
In Jonah, I see a figure perpetually suspended between resistance and redemption, fleeing destiny only to find that the path circles back, inward. My paintings use this archetype as a mirror, reflecting the complexities of self-exile, return, and transformation in a contemporary world.
In my visual retelling, the Mediterranean becomes the East River—a body of water still and surging, dividing boroughs like it divides destinies. Jonah’s whale is no longer a sea creature, but a silent submarine: a man-made vessel of containment, descent, and introspection. These substitutions aren't just symbolic; they reframe the myth within the language of the modern world, where the sacred often hides in steel and glass, and where calling and crisis are woven into the urban fabric.
My process is rooted in layering—both conceptually and materially; the images collapse time and place. Biblical narrative meets city infrastructure. Sacred texts overlap subway maps. Prophecy is cast in neon. The result is a hybrid space where personal identity, spiritual inquiry, and cityscape coalesce.
Naming myself through Jonah invites a constant wrestling; with legacy, with language, with the act of telling the story differently. This body of work is about being inside the questions. What does it mean to be swallowed whole? To be spat out and begin again? And how do those acts play out not in a desert or ancient port, but under scaffolding, in apartment stairwells, or at the river’s edge?
This is the Jonah I know: one who runs through New York City, dives into metaphors, and surfaces—changed, but still asking.