Neta Harari, February 2012
Like a set of Russian Matriushka dolls – so are our homes, private and national, built into each other; so is our ravaged soul, residing in the burning flesh of our bodies. In my work, I wish to depict those forces of rupture, this destruction and tear.
I wish to convey the moment of an invasion, the physical contact; the foray of the destructor as it penetrates reality. The arena of confrontation is also one of passion, comprising of force, movement, transformation and ruin.
Like the breached floodgates of selfhood, so is the house in my paintings – falling apart; realism is torn apart by the abstract. This violence requires physical touch, not least with the canvas.
I am the force mercilessly demanding that this house be evacuated from all its occupants. I am the witch – scheming, concocting and changing realities.
A Witch Run-Out of Horse, as the title of a poem by Raquel Chalfi, is the name given to a series of works depicting the breaking of a structure, of a house – my house.