Ittai Bar-Joseph
איתי בר-יוסף
גַּן הַתַּעֲנוּגוֹת הָאַרְצִיִּים
גַּן הַתַּעֲנוּגוֹת הָאַרְצִיִּים (מתוך שְׁאֵרִים), 2023-4
קולאז' דיגיטלי, 400 ס"מ על 224.5 ס"מ
The Garden of Earthly Delights
The Garden of Earthly Delights (from Leftovers), 2023-4
Digital Collage, 400 cm x 224.5 cm
גַּן הַתַּעֲנוּגוֹת הָאַרְצִיִּים היא מסע אל תוך שכבות הזמן, הרס וחיים, תל ארכיאולוגי של זיכרון אנושי. טריפטיך רחב-ממדים המתכתב עם יצירתו המונומנטלית של הירונימוס בוש, אך במקום גן עדן, עולם ארצי וגיהנום, הוא מציע נוף של קריסות – עולמות שנבנו, נחרבו, ונבנו מחדש, עד שהפכו לרבדים אינסופיים של סיפורים ושברי זיכרון.
הפנל השמאלי מספר על עולם המבקש לעצור את הזמן, לעטוף את הכאב בקרח, להקפיא פצע שאינו מגליד. השלג הבוהק, כמעט ראשוני בטוהרתו, נושא עמו רמז ללידה או לבריאה חדשה, בעוד מתחתיו נושמת אדמה כבדה, הריסות חנוקות תחת מעטה לבן שאין בכוחו להעלים את מה שהרסו בני האדם.
בפנל המרכזי, לב העבודה, ההריסות מתפשטות כמו כאוס בלתי נגמר. ערים שהתמוטטו, נדחסו זו אל זו, עד שלא נותר בהן מקום לנשום – תל בלתי נגמר של חיים, נפילות ותקומות, החוזרות חלילה. מוטיב היער, בו עוסק בר-יוסף ברבות מיצירותיו, חוזר גם כאן – עדות להתעקשותו של הטבע לגבור על החורבן – לכסות את ערוותם הגלויה של חטאי בני האדם.
בפנל הימני, המתכתב במישרין עם הגהינום של בוש, החושך עוטף את הנוף, הופך הריסות לצללים. דווקא כאן מנצנצים אורות קטנים – עששיות, פנסים, או ניצוצות זיכרון – רמזים לחיים, לעקשנות האנושית שמסרבת להיכחד. אלה הם קולות דקים בלילה, שירה אילמת של מה שנותר, רמזים לתרבות חדשה שעשויה להיוולד מתוך החורבות.
עבודתו של בוש תיארה עולמות שופעי דמיון: התפרצויות של תאווה, פחד וגאולה, בתנועה מתמדת בין קודש לחול. בעבודתו, מבקש בר-יוסף לאייר את מה שנותר אחרי שכל התנועה הזו דעכה. במקום גן של תענוגות – אנחנו מקבלים כאן תל ארכיאולוגי בו זיכרון וחורבן מתערבבים, נשזרים זה בתוך זה, עד שהגבול בין קיום להיעדר הולך ונעלם.
The Garden of Earthly Delights is a journey through layers of time, destruction, and life—a figurative archaeological mound of human memory. This expansive triptych engages with the monumental work of Hieronymus Bosch, but instead of paradise, an earthly realm, and hell, it offers a landscape of collapses—worlds built, destroyed, and rebuilt, until they become infinite strata of stories and fragments of memory.
The left panel tells of a world seeking to freeze its wounds, to encase its pain in ice, to suspend a scar that refuses to heal. The glistening snow, almost primordial in its purity, carries a faint hint of birth or creation. Yet beneath it breathes a heavy earth, suffocating ruins trapped beneath a white shroud that cannot conceal the devastation wrought by human hands.
In the central panel, the heart of the work, the ruins unfold like unending chaos. Cities that collapsed and compressed into each other, leaving no room to breathe—a mound of life, collapses, and rebirths, endlessly repeating. The motif of the forest, recurring throughout Bar-Joseph’s work, reappears here—testimony to nature’s persistent triumph over human destruction, as it seeks to cover the exposed shame of human transgressions.
The right panel, directly corresponding to Bosch’s vision of hell, is cloaked in darkness, transforming the ruins into shadows. Yet, within this darkness, faint lights begin to glimmer—lanterns, torches, or sparks of memory—hints of life, of humanity’s unyielding tenacity to endure. These are faint voices in the night, a silent song of what remains, whispering of a new culture that might emerge from the rubble.
Bosch’s work depicted worlds rich with imagination—eruptions of desire, fear, and salvation, in constant motion between the sacred and the profane. In his work, Bar-Joseph seeks to illustrate what lingers after all that movement subsides. Instead of a garden of earthly delights, we are presented with an archaeological mound where memory and ruin intermingle, woven together until the boundary between existence and absence begins to blur.
The Garden of Earthly Delights is a journey through layers of time, destruction, and life—a figurative archaeological mound of human memory. This expansive triptych engages with the monumental work of Hieronymus Bosch, but instead of paradise, an earthly realm, and hell, it offers a landscape of collapses—worlds built, destroyed, and rebuilt, until they become infinite strata of stories and fragments of memory.
The left panel tells of a world seeking to freeze its wounds, to encase its pain in ice, to suspend a scar that refuses to heal. The glistening snow, almost primordial in its purity, carries a faint hint of birth or creation. Yet beneath it breathes a heavy earth, suffocating ruins trapped beneath a white shroud that cannot conceal the devastation wrought by human hands.
In the central panel, the heart of the work, the ruins unfold like unending chaos. Cities that collapsed and compressed into each other, leaving no room to breathe—a mound of life, collapses, and rebirths, endlessly repeating. The motif of the forest, recurring throughout Bar-Joseph’s work, reappears here—testimony to nature’s persistent triumph over human destruction, as it seeks to cover the exposed shame of human transgressions.
The right panel, directly corresponding to Bosch’s vision of hell, is cloaked in darkness, transforming the ruins into shadows. Yet, within this darkness, faint lights begin to glimmer—lanterns, torches, or sparks of memory—hints of life, of humanity’s unyielding tenacity to endure. These are faint voices in the night, a silent song of what remains, whispering of a new culture that might emerge from the rubble.
Bosch’s work depicted worlds rich with imagination—eruptions of desire, fear, and salvation, in constant motion between the sacred and the profane. In his work, Bar-Joseph seeks to illustrate what lingers after all that movement subsides. Instead of a garden of earthly delights, we are presented with an archaeological mound where memory and ruin intermingle, woven together until the boundary between existence and absence begins to blur.
The Garden of Earthly Delights is a journey through layers of time, destruction, and life—a figurative archaeological mound of human memory. This expansive triptych engages with the monumental work of Hieronymus Bosch, but instead of paradise, an earthly realm, and hell, it offers a landscape of collapses—worlds built, destroyed, and rebuilt, until they become infinite strata of stories and fragments of memory.
The left panel tells of a world seeking to freeze its wounds, to encase its pain in ice, to suspend a scar that refuses to heal. The glistening snow, almost primordial in its purity, carries a faint hint of birth or creation. Yet beneath it breathes a heavy earth, suffocating ruins trapped beneath a white shroud that cannot conceal the devastation wrought by human hands.
In the central panel, the heart of the work, the ruins unfold like unending chaos. Cities that collapsed and compressed into each other, leaving no room to breathe—a mound of life, collapses, and rebirths, endlessly repeating. The motif of the forest, recurring throughout Bar-Joseph’s work, reappears here—testimony to nature’s persistent triumph over human destruction, as it seeks to cover the exposed shame of human transgressions.
The right panel, directly corresponding to Bosch’s vision of hell, is cloaked in darkness, transforming the ruins into shadows. Yet, within this darkness, faint lights begin to glimmer—lanterns, torches, or sparks of memory—hints of life, of humanity’s unyielding tenacity to endure. These are faint voices in the night, a silent song of what remains, whispering of a new culture that might emerge from the rubble.
Bosch’s work depicted worlds rich with imagination—eruptions of desire, fear, and salvation, in constant motion between the sacred and the profane. In his work, Bar-Joseph seeks to illustrate what lingers after all that movement subsides. Instead of a garden of earthly delights, we are presented with an archaeological mound where memory and ruin intermingle, woven together until the boundary between existence and absence begins to blur.
The Garden of Earthly Delights is a journey through layers of time, destruction, and life—a figurative archaeological mound of human memory. This expansive triptych engages with the monumental work of Hieronymus Bosch, but instead of paradise, an earthly realm, and hell, it offers a landscape of collapses—worlds built, destroyed, and rebuilt, until they become infinite strata of stories and fragments of memory.
The left panel tells of a world seeking to freeze its wounds, to encase its pain in ice, to suspend a scar that refuses to heal. The glistening snow, almost primordial in its purity, carries a faint hint of birth or creation. Yet beneath it breathes a heavy earth, suffocating ruins trapped beneath a white shroud that cannot conceal the devastation wrought by human hands.
In the central panel, the heart of the work, the ruins unfold like unending chaos. Cities that collapsed and compressed into each other, leaving no room to breathe—a mound of life, collapses, and rebirths, endlessly repeating. The motif of the forest, recurring throughout Bar-Joseph’s work, reappears here—testimony to nature’s persistent triumph over human destruction, as it seeks to cover the exposed shame of human transgressions.
The right panel, directly corresponding to Bosch’s vision of hell, is cloaked in darkness, transforming the ruins into shadows. Yet, within this darkness, faint lights begin to glimmer—lanterns, torches, or sparks of memory—hints of life, of humanity’s unyielding tenacity to endure. These are faint voices in the night, a silent song of what remains, whispering of a new culture that might emerge from the rubble.
Bosch’s work depicted worlds rich with imagination—eruptions of desire, fear, and salvation, in constant motion between the sacred and the profane. In his work, Bar-Joseph seeks to illustrate what lingers after all that movement subsides. Instead of a garden of earthly delights, we are presented with an archaeological mound where memory and ruin intermingle, woven together until the boundary between existence and absence begins to blur.
The Garden of Earthly Delights is a journey through layers of time, destruction, and life—a figurative archaeological mound of human memory. This expansive triptych engages with the monumental work of Hieronymus Bosch, but instead of paradise, an earthly realm, and hell, it offers a landscape of collapses—worlds built, destroyed, and rebuilt, until they become infinite strata of stories and fragments of memory.
The left panel tells of a world seeking to freeze its wounds, to encase its pain in ice, to suspend a scar that refuses to heal. The glistening snow, almost primordial in its purity, carries a faint hint of birth or creation. Yet beneath it breathes a heavy earth, suffocating ruins trapped beneath a white shroud that cannot conceal the devastation wrought by human hands.
In the central panel, the heart of the work, the ruins unfold like unending chaos. Cities that collapsed and compressed into each other, leaving no room to breathe—a mound of life, collapses, and rebirths, endlessly repeating. The motif of the forest, recurring throughout Bar-Joseph’s work, reappears here—testimony to nature’s persistent triumph over human destruction, as it seeks to cover the exposed shame of human transgressions.
The right panel, directly corresponding to Bosch’s vision of hell, is cloaked in darkness, transforming the ruins into shadows. Yet, within this darkness, faint lights begin to glimmer—lanterns, torches, or sparks of memory—hints of life, of humanity’s unyielding tenacity to endure. These are faint voices in the night, a silent song of what remains, whispering of a new culture that might emerge from the rubble.
Bosch’s work depicted worlds rich with imagination—eruptions of desire, fear, and salvation, in constant motion between the sacred and the profane. In his work, Bar-Joseph seeks to illustrate what lingers after all that movement subsides. Instead of a garden of earthly delights, we are presented with an archaeological mound where memory and ruin intermingle, woven together until the boundary between existence and absence begins to blur.
The Garden of Earthly Delights is a journey through layers of time, destruction, and life—a figurative archaeological mound of human memory. This expansive triptych engages with the monumental work of Hieronymus Bosch, but instead of paradise, an earthly realm, and hell, it offers a landscape of collapses—worlds built, destroyed, and rebuilt, until they become infinite strata of stories and fragments of memory.
The left panel tells of a world seeking to freeze its wounds, to encase its pain in ice, to suspend a scar that refuses to heal. The glistening snow, almost primordial in its purity, carries a faint hint of birth or creation. Yet beneath it breathes a heavy earth, suffocating ruins trapped beneath a white shroud that cannot conceal the devastation wrought by human hands.
In the central panel, the heart of the work, the ruins unfold like unending chaos. Cities that collapsed and compressed into each other, leaving no room to breathe—a mound of life, collapses, and rebirths, endlessly repeating. The motif of the forest, recurring throughout Bar-Joseph’s work, reappears here—testimony to nature’s persistent triumph over human destruction, as it seeks to cover the exposed shame of human transgressions.
The right panel, directly corresponding to Bosch’s vision of hell, is cloaked in darkness, transforming the ruins into shadows. Yet, within this darkness, faint lights begin to glimmer—lanterns, torches, or sparks of memory—hints of life, of humanity’s unyielding tenacity to endure. These are faint voices in the night, a silent song of what remains, whispering of a new culture that might emerge from the rubble.
Bosch’s work depicted worlds rich with imagination—eruptions of desire, fear, and salvation, in constant motion between the sacred and the profane. In his work, Bar-Joseph seeks to illustrate what lingers after all that movement subsides. Instead of a garden of earthly delights, we are presented with an archaeological mound where memory and ruin intermingle, woven together until the boundary between existence and absence begins to blur.
The Garden of Earthly Delights is a journey through layers of time, destruction, and life—a figurative archaeological mound of human memory. This expansive triptych engages with the monumental work of Hieronymus Bosch, but instead of paradise, an earthly realm, and hell, it offers a landscape of collapses—worlds built, destroyed, and rebuilt, until they become infinite strata of stories and fragments of memory.
The left panel tells of a world seeking to freeze its wounds, to encase its pain in ice, to suspend a scar that refuses to heal. The glistening snow, almost primordial in its purity, carries a faint hint of birth or creation. Yet beneath it breathes a heavy earth, suffocating ruins trapped beneath a white shroud that cannot conceal the devastation wrought by human hands.
In the central panel, the heart of the work, the ruins unfold like unending chaos. Cities that collapsed and compressed into each other, leaving no room to breathe—a mound of life, collapses, and rebirths, endlessly repeating. The motif of the forest, recurring throughout Bar-Joseph’s work, reappears here—testimony to nature’s persistent triumph over human destruction, as it seeks to cover the exposed shame of human transgressions.
The right panel, directly corresponding to Bosch’s vision of hell, is cloaked in darkness, transforming the ruins into shadows. Yet, within this darkness, faint lights begin to glimmer—lanterns, torches, or sparks of memory—hints of life, of humanity’s unyielding tenacity to endure. These are faint voices in the night, a silent song of what remains, whispering of a new culture that might emerge from the rubble.
Bosch’s work depicted worlds rich with imagination—eruptions of desire, fear, and salvation, in constant motion between the sacred and the profane. In his work, Bar-Joseph seeks to illustrate what lingers after all that movement subsides. Instead of a garden of earthly delights, we are presented with an archaeological mound where memory and ruin intermingle, woven together until the boundary between existence and absence begins to blur.