By Dorit Kedar
The Old Testament commands us to create neither sculpted or
painted images, for man should not reconstruct his own image. Doing so would
abolish the natural prohibition into which he was born, that he might see
himself only through his fellow man, or as an adverse reflection in a mirror, an
image which is necessarily shatterable, a symbol perhaps of an elusive
existence. The act of sculpting is a sort of challenge, the will to reshape the
“I”, to save it from the imprisonment of its body. Sculpture is a trial, essaying
to break through the barriers of unperceived the self. It is reasonable; therefore,
that man should represent his gods in imitation of his own traits or of any
other familiar aspect of his life. Dealing with the known reduces the fright of
the transcendental and eases the act of worship. Sonia Natra, in the clay
sculptures, returns to the primordial, to the beginning. By touching earth she
aims to reproduce the human, his physical members and vital essences, his
determination and hardships, the vulnerability of his skin and the curse of
being afflicted by the erosion of Time. The human body is a formal entity
anchored in a central, axis, and the source from which all members harmoniously
derive. Confronting the plastic formation of the body requires a purely
rational mode of thinking, aware of the necessity of observing the scene, while
simultaneously considering the geometrical and abstract factors, as well as the
figurative and temporary gestures. These later serve to cancel the innate
regularity, albeit only apparently. The human being will detain, within his
materiality, the vital substance, the sadness and limpness of his members, the
alert tension which precedes satisfaction, and the tension already resolved: the
quietude of hopelessness or the dark vacuity of vanished yearnings. The various
postures of the clay sculptures concentrate upon both the facial and bodily
expressions. The face, like the body, is suspended on a central and inflexible
axis, unable to counteract the wrinkles of events which mark disastrous
conduits in it, stains which are determined to fight the primordial order and
reach that nothingness foreseen by Chaos. Unlike mythological, ideal Greek gods,
man of flesh is sacrificed to the will of Time; chaotic representatives penetrate
into his being, perforating its surface, atrophying its skin and implanting
turbulent tumours which will slowly turn him into a field laid bare to the
deeds of Life. Natra assaults the clay man, piercing his exterior and
infiltrating deep into his inner aspects. At times she prefers to conceal the
concrete limbs in order to strengthen his essentials. To do this she
concentrates on the being psychologically, and only then summarizes its parts
in the material formally. Looking at the sculptures demands an observation
versatile enough to reveal the spirit inhabiting the clay, the battles between
regularity and spontaneity, indeed, the tension which often pulses between the
abstract and the figurative.
Dorit Kedar Art critic of the daily socialist newspaper “Al Hamishmar”. Art editor of the monthly literary brochure “Yton 77”. Philosophy of Art lecturer in the Extra Mural Studies Department – Tel Aviv University. Modern and Israeli Art lecturer in the Academy of Art – Beit Berl. writer and poet.
Kedar, Dorit. “Human Fragments.” In Sonia Natra - Human Fragments . Paris, 1988.
A face on the threshold of life, somewhere between youth and overmaturity, between introvision and awareness of the fact that fruit will not always be reaped.
The non-existence of the
head, neck and arms, the brutal mutilation of the entire torso – all these are
proof positive that vitality strikes every corner of the body. So long as
tension pervades each fervent muscle and each straightened finger, so long as the
mast of the body is as clean of superfluous flesh as stone – then life indeed
still inhabits this manly body.
This time the jumper will
attain the goal, his back muscles marked in channels of energy, arms leading
the vital marrow directly to the decisive facial expression. This time the
jumper has even forgotten that his feet are missing.
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