Yehudit Sasportas: Seven Winters
יA forest, swamps, a piano; closed blinds and bits of vegetation; magnets, a boat;
panels and sticks – all of these are swept together in Seven Winters. Walking
though the installation is like drifting along a stream of consciousness, an
associative journey among objects and images, a repository of times and places.
Some of the times are personal, as with the cradle that Yehudit Sasportas
created more than twenty years ago, and the works mark different chapters in
her artistic biography. The latest chapter stands outside time, conjuring up a
primeval world, the aftermath of a great flood or ice age. The installation also
has its own private geography, from the artist's studio in Berlin to her father's
carpentry workshop in Ashdod; from a marshy landscape in northwest Germany
to a mental landscape of consciousness, memory, and oblivion.
And in all of these, lines and circles. Circular forms appear again and again:
ripples in the water, shock waves, the pupil of an eye, the grooves in an old vinyl
record. Some of the lines stand upright like stalactites; others lean to one side,
lie on the ground, like needles or an abandoned game of pick-up sticks. There
are lines that recall seismographic charts, pipes, bar codes, wind chimes. Or
just lines, the most basic element of drawing.
The voyage culminates in a new video work, Vortex of Separation, a digital
rendering of the space that unleashes an alternate realm of possibility.
Drawings and sculptures from the exhibition float weightlessly in the air, while
walls recede and a subterranean reality – both physical and metaphorical –
comes to the surface. With no anchor in time or place, this filmic perception
of the installation has a hallucinatory quality, and the vortex it portrays is a
black hole which threatens to engulf everything.
As in all of her work, in Seven Winters Yehudit Sasportas draws the viewer into
a highly personal yet enigmatic reality, simultaneously revealing and concealing.
Nothing, she says, is as it appears on the surface. Sasportas hints at what lies
behind the wall, deep in the ground, or hidden in the mind, but in the end
accepts that our understanding can never be complete.
Born in 1969, Yehudit Sasportas lives and works in Tel Aviv and Berlin.