FLYING COLORS “People hear my story and they say should I leave my job? But I can’t tell people how to conduct their finances. What I can tell people is to take the time to think. I think that some people live mediocre lives because they’re so busy that they don’t take the time and space to reflect. A lack of satisfaction an inner void are telling you something. Explore that mysterious space inside you”

It started as an escape route from the kitchen. Succos preparations were in full swing when Yaeli Vogel decided to abandon menus and clothes shopping, and paint something to grace the walls of her succah. She settled on the Shivas Haminim; vibrant paintings of dates, grapes, and figs.

“I thought they were pretty good, but when people walked into the succah, their eyes popped out of their heads. They were like, ‘You should sell these.’ ”

Yaeli mentally filed away the idea and continued with regular life, teaching special ed and raising her children. “But I didn’t feel satisfied. One day, I walked into the classroom and said, ‘Does anyone here want to do something more?’ They looked at me blankly. ‘We’re doing everything we can.’ ”

By the end of that year, matters reached a head: The Board of Ed informed Yaeli that they had no cases for her. “My husband told me that it was the best thing that ever happened to me. It was time to make the leap.”

The year before she left her job, Yaeli had divided up her day: the morning was spent in the classroom, the afternoon was spent studying technique and exploring different mediums.

“I learned everything. Oils, figure drawing, abstract.” At the time, Yaeli wasn’t planning for a future in art — but an inner drive pushed her to dive into that world and develop her own style. Eventually, Yaeli settled on acrylic paints, which allow her to introduce streams of light and shade into her work, ideal for the many dancing figures she creates, leaping toward the light.

Ironically, it wasn’t the first time Yaeli had studied art. She’d taken a college class, years before, in which she had been told to divide the canvas into grids, and copy the picture, box by box.

“I hated it. It was so mathematical. I had zero interest. Even when people told me that I should go get an art degree, I fought it. I was totally not doing this.”

When it comes to art, it’s all about practice: teaching the hand to reflect what the eyes see, teaching the eye to look. Practice doesn’t mean half an hour a week, Yaeli explains. It means at least two hours a day. And that’s just for a beginner.

Even with the prior preparation, the first year dedicated to painting was “brutal.” Yaeli recalls: “We had a little financial leeway, but I had been bringing in a salary and suddenly, nothing. I was trying to establish myself and I had to constantly draw on my emunah and bitachon — that Hashem would provide for us. That He was there for us.”

Yaeli used the Internet to market her finished products — and was surprised and thrilled by the interest she received. “I’m naturally a confident person, I was always confident — I think that’s what got me through life and some tough struggles. I therefore didn’t mind sharing my paintings and setting up an online platform. But when I heard people’s reactions, I realized that part of my confidence, then, had been sheer determination. And suddenly, I had something different — the feeling that others believed in me and appreciated my work.”

Yaeli works on large canvases, enjoying the opportunity it gives her to move. But when it comes to applying the paint, she often has no idea where each stroke will lead. “Sometimes I have a distinct idea — I want to draw a landscape of Yerushalayim, for example. But often, especially when I’m feeling very emotional, I have no idea where the picture will lead.”

Yael doesn’t do preliminary sketches; instead, “I take anything that’s on the brush and do a few strokes. I force myself not to be specific.” Colors and shapes form slowly, as if on their own. Yaeli covers the entire canvas, and then goes back and adds more details — layer after layer after layer.

Yaeli muses, “It’s a great metaphor for life — that as people, we’re all made up of so many layers.”

And the process works both ways — painting forces Yaeli to uncover the hidden layers of her own soul. “Painting arouses a lot of emotions, good and bad. It’s the best therapy — I think about everything when I paint. But I like to think that all of this, all of the crazy, complex things called life, is something that doesn’t happen to you, but for you. To help you bring something out of yourself.”

The paintings of Jerusalem and Tzfas are beautiful expressions of this idea. Tzfas — with its tiny alleyways that lead you deeper and deeper into yourself and the mystical blue tones of the Ari shul. Jerusalem — with its cornucopia of people all seeking something more. It was the streets of Jerusalem that provided the inspiration for a series of four huge paintings, entitled Soulful Jerusalem. Each painting depicts a musician — a chassid, a young boy, a bohemian, and a Breslover — against a backdrop of a Jerusalem street. It’s a series that celebrates melody and unity.

Yaeli’s childhood experiences, including her parents’ divorce, feed into her exploration of the canvas. “Just like art has to be released, so also your emotions and experiences. There was a lot going on inside, and I think that made me into a kli for the creative gifts Hashem gave me.”

Yaeli makes a conscious effort to fill the canvas with light. “We all have stuff. But we’re here, we’ve been put into this world, and that’s the greatest gift of all. I want people to be inspired by that.”

Yaeli’s pictures are filled with joy — a direct reflection of how she paints. “I stand in front of a huge canvas. I put on music. I dance, paint, dance a few steps more. I’m totally absorbed in this deep well of creativity. And I think that comes out in my paintings.”

Paintings of dancing chassidim are popular among Yaeli’s clientele. “People ask me if I’m chassidish and I laugh. I’m not. But I just love painting them — it’s everything I want in a painting. Life and color and joy.”

Wedding pictures are also a big part of Yaeli’s collection. What draws her to this scene, again and again? “Chuppahs are that moment when everything stops. The whole world. It’s like a moment of creation. And that has a special power.”

Yaeli reflects further, wondering if the images are particularly potent to her, as a child of divorce. “Definitely my marriage is the most important thing to me. One of the weddings I painted started as a completely abstract piece. When I stood back afterward, I saw the chassan and kallah, so I added in a few more details. It was one of my most successful pieces.”

Most of the people in Yaeli’s pictures are without facial features. “I like the sense of mystery that it portrays,” Yaeli explains. “It gives the viewer a chance to imagine anyone they’d like to in place of that person. I find that it’s very forgiving, more mysterious, and very much what art should be.”

The role of mystery in art is profound, and Yaeli taps into it often. One prime example is in this picture depicting the menorah in the Beis Hamikdash. “I painted this during Chanukah. The colors are the story.” The painting — all blues and depths of darkness — seem to hint to another realm, and it was this that Yaeli reached toward as she put brush to canvas.

That mystery comes to the fore through self-reflection, Yaeli believes. “People hear my story and they say, should I leave my job? But I can’t tell people how to conduct their finances. What I can tell people is to take the time to think. I think that some people live mediocre lives because they’re so busy that they don’t take the time and space to reflect. A lack of satisfaction, an inner void, are telling you something. Explore that mysterious space inside you.”

(Originally featured in Family First, Issue 554)