Interview with Ori Aviram
1. Please tell us something about your background and your art journey so far.
As a child, I wasn't that interested in art, I was more involved in sports.
After high school, I lived in London for a while and visited the National Gallery a lot, I mostly looked at paintings and even read Gombrich's history of art at that time. And yet it was a natural curiosity without a thought that I would turn to this world.
During my military service, I began to sculpt in clay and cast the sculptures in plaster, the strong experience of sculpting aroused in me the desire to be an artist and to engage in sculpture.
Naturally, this desire was accompanied by internal fears and external objections.
And indeed, it took a long time until I gathered the courage and decided to dedicate my life to art. This happened at the age of 34, after a career as an advertising producer and editor on commercial television.
I did two exhibitions as a sculptor and then I fell in love with painting, and especially with oil paints. Oil paints gave me the opportunity to continue sculpting, to play with the material, and gave me the colors. This happened in 2000, and I haven't stopped painting since.
2. Describe what a normal day looks like as an artist.
And yet I will try to describe such a day, a day during which I work on a large painting that requires repeating many steps over and over again.
Such a day begins, of course, with black coffee. While drinking it, I go through the news, emails, or any new information that the phone provides. Second black coffee, second cigarette.
Drive to the studio, find parking, go up to the studio, open some windows for ventilation. Make coffee again. Adjust the easel to the right height, set up the work chair. Put on some music. Take the relevant paint for the stage I am in, open it, take the appropriate brush, sit down, take some paint directly from the tube, and start working.
Since this is a repetitive painting and I do not need to think or invent, the work flows for several hours without interruption, except for coffee/cigarette/change of music.
When I finish working, I wash the brush, close the windows, lock it, and drive home.
That was a schematic description of an uneventful, "boring" day.
There are other days, much more turbulent. And as I said at the beginning, no two days are the same.
3. Tell us about your best experience in the art world so far.
One of my highlights in the "art world" is undoubtedly visiting the "Prado" museum in Madrid and viewing the works of Velázquez.
I discovered Diego Velázquez at a fairly late stage. I read an art book dedicated to Velázquez and the editor began the introduction with the words "Spain's number one painter stands alone". I was surprised, what about Goya, Picasso, Dali, Miró? Really?
And to my surprise, the more I learned and delved into his paintings, the more I agreed with that editor. There is no doubt, in my opinion, that Velázquez is the best, wisest, and most humane of all Spanish painters, and perhaps the best painter who ever lived in Western culture, if there is any meaning or place for such statements.
And I arrived in Spain after looking at all his works, more than once or twice.
The physical encounter with him, with his pictures, was a powerful elation, I felt a real levitation as I wandered among his works. It was powerfull.
4. Share your worst experience in the art world.
One of the most difficult experiences I had was a meeting with a so-called "art consultant". I was advised to contact a certain woman who was described as one of the most important promoters of artists.
I initiated the meeting, paid for it, and was left feeling hurt and insecure for a little while.
She introduced herself as an art curator, but during the meeting she behaved arrogantly, disdainfully, and showed no real love for art. She was full of criticism, of my painting, of the photographs of the works, of my studio, and of my approach in general.
It was a very difficult experience and it took me a few days to recover from it.
You should be careful with people when it comes to your heart.
5. Is the artist life lonely? Please share your thoughts and experiences.
Yes, absolutely. The life of a painter is a life of solitude.
First and foremost, this solitude is physical.Most of the day and work hours are spent in the studio and you are alone. Even if friends or colleagues visit you, even if you participate in an exhibition, meet with curators - at the end of the day, these are rare encounters.
Many people do come to the openings of exhibitions, and there is human warmth, and there is encouragement, but these are only few hours and it passes.
Painting is work that is done in severe solitude, compared to arts such as theater, cinema, music and dance that are done in a group.
There is another layer to loneliness. Few people are interested in painting and over time you may develop a feeling that you are not needed, that you are irrelevant. Not easy feelings. Over the years, you learn to deal with them too.
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