There is no need to make a separation between beauty and truth. Both can simply be understood as harmonious in some sense.
When searching for the beautiful or for the truth, we may very well be using similar tools. Some truths are better off grasped intuitively without becoming subjective. Some beauty may be calculated without becoming superficial. It is because truth and beauty are two representations of an inherent order in reality.
That order, balance, or what I like to call FLOW, seems to be present in everything. It is present in the seasons, intimate relationships, math, and in philosophical theories. It is there in a good speech, good food, and good poetry. But it is not “good” in the moral sense of the word. A well functioning gas chamber and a wildfire can carry the same order and balance as a good hug or the last chords of a well written symphony. Rather than that, the word “good”, in this context, is to be understood as “aligned with that inner flow of the universe”. Listening to that inner flow and trying to swim in its stream is what creates the opportunity to express the particular.
This general order connects what is big and what is small. It connects what is shallow and what is deep in a way, not unlike genetics, that connects the partial and the whole. The whole is represented in the partial and in turn is built from numerous of partial units.
It follows that we can try to find the inner flow of the universe in any part of it, in any of the appearances of general coherence that manifests in our reality. It is God in its form of Memale Kol Almin, but it could just as well be in Tao or with the Buddha. Surely, it has as many other names in as many other faiths and spiritual disciplines.
In my art, I try to tap into that very flow that is all around me and within me. I want to swim in the river of my reality. When swimming in a river, it is best to take the current into account. When sailing, you can sail against the wind, but you should better know exactly which direction the wind blows. When painting/drawing, the same principles apply.
My tool is the Hebrew alphabet. It would be wrong to claim I chose it and it would be nonsensical to say that it chose me. But it is the “boat” that takes me on the endless river. It is the door to that omnipresent heartbeat of what surrounds me. To be frank: I could probably be painting trees, just as well, if I was a tree person. Or write music. All the disciplines are points of access to the same underground canalisation of inner harmony that manifests itself in our reality. It is also a system that has been used by quite a few generations for just that, as presumptuous as it might sound, an attempt to unearth the secrets of the universe. It seems to be an excellent tool for me as I continue this tradition more than any other new tool. It suits me well. Just like a shoe that has been worn for a while will fit well on one’s foot.
I’m not a mystic in the common sense of the word. I’m not consulting gematria to forecast the outcome of some elections, or what AI has in store for humanity. I also don’t wear a Hamsa around my neck to protect me from evil. Still, Hebrew letters feel like “digging in my own garden” just as speaking my native language. Having been important identifiers for many generations of my forefathers, they have left marks on my soul. It often feels like what I’ve been doing since I was 5 years old, and will likely be doing for the rest of my life, is finding each little one of those marks and examine it as closely as possible, looking for hidden doors and holes in the walls through which I can draw myself a little further into places with a slightly different horizon.