Ron Geva

“Taninim” (Alligators), is named after a text I wrote some time ago about my morning train of thoughts on a typical day (linked here).

This is a pen drawing, composed of nine Bristol boards, which were scanned and printed as a single large-format piece measuring 100 × 150 cm.

The drawings were made with a 0.4 pen, in a high level of detail. The center of the work is a crocodile and its reflection in the water. From this core image, associative twisting lines branch out in all directions—an abundance of images, symbols, and textures. The drawing functions like a visual riddle, drawing the viewer inward to examine its details from shifting perspectives and within changing contexts.

The piece was created over the course of six months, in a kind of stream of consciousness—images emerging in response to lived experiences, emotions, and memories during times of horrible war. I found myself drawing cruel monsters alongside childlike innocence, helplessness confronted with forces of magic, words, symbols, and icons—all crowded together in one space, sturggling to connect and redraw, fight and accept each other with compassion.

The relationships that formed between these elements led to a kind of integration between good and evil: the monsters lost some of their power, the angels brought light—but without erasing the darkness. In this state, of acknowledging pain while also recognizing the good, there lies HOPE.