Those who have been following my work for a longer time know that I have been creating contemplative, experimental avant-garde films for years. For more than a decade, I also worked as a documentary photographer, and I experimented extensively with low-light photography, even using my mobile phone. At the beginning of this year, an inner impulse led me toward new artistic forms. Without any formal training or prior experience, I began to paint.
I do not follow conventional, academic painting methods. I do not possess the technical talent required for classical portraiture, still life, or landscape painting, and this was never my intention. I paint in the same way I create my contemplative films: free from dogma, minimal in tools, guided by intuition, and attuned to the rhythms of the unconscious and the Universe.
When I make films, I first allow instinct to guide me toward locations. Observation follows. There is no prewritten script. The process is based on synchronization: when the moment arrives, filming begins naturally.
My painting process follows a similar principle, with one important difference. Before painting, I practice a meditative yogic breathing technique (alternate nostril breathing) mixed zen meditation techniques accompanied by a short prayer in Hebrew, intended to establish a connection with the eternal Universe.
Only later did I realize that this approach corresponds to what art history describes as Surrealist automatism a method of accessing the subconscious directly. Artists such as André Masson, Joan Miró, Salvador Dalí, Jean Arp, André Breton, and Freddy Flores Knistoff explored similar processes.
The results surprised me. Manifestations of the subconscious began to appear on paper in abstract form. The painting titled “Christ” is the only one I named and only after it was completed. It was created on acrylic painting paper rather than canvas.
After breathing, prayer, and meditation, I asked a single question:
“Who are you? Reveal yourself.”
What followed was an intense, almost ecstatic act of painting, using only my hands. The colors were chosen randomly.
The outcome was both astonishing and unsettling: the image of a suffering Christ emerged a head portrait on the cross, slightly turned to the right, with a crown of thorns.
Although I am not Christian and do not believe that Yeshua bar Yosef “Jesus, son of Joseph” was bodily elevated to heaven as God’s only son, the figure was unmistakably recognizable to me.
A few months later, I painted a female portrait that can be interpreted as Mary, positioned symbolically above the “Christ” painting.
The works are palm-sized and require slow, patient observation to reveal their details inch by inch, millimeter by millimeter. For those lacking patience, a subtle guide may help: the woman’s face appears in the corner of the composition. She holds her child with her left hand. The child’s head appears disproportionately large, even slightly Asian in appearance, while the mother’s face carries European features and a pale complexion.
Reading Isaiah chapter 53 whether in the Hebrew Bible (Tanakh) or in the Christian Old Testament continues to raise unresolved questions. Does the “Suffering Servant” represent the Jewish nation, as Orthodox rabbinic tradition teaches, or does it refer to a messianic prophecy fulfilled in Jesus, as Christian theology claims?
Personally, I find myself closer to the interpretations of James D. Tabor, whose book The Jesus Dynasty offers valuable insight into first-century Judaism, the apocalyptic movements surrounding John the Baptist and Jesus, early Christianity, and the archaeological findings associated with the Talpiot tomb.
All four paintings “Mary with the Buddha-faced baby Jesus,” “Christ,” “John the Baptist,” and the most recent “Abraham” were created using the same method.
In my daily life, I frequently experience synchronicities: repeating numbers on clocks, mirrored or reversed digits, and moments when words I am reading are spoken aloud simultaneously on television. I also observe cloud formations that resemble angels, infant faces, human or animal figures, sometimes photographing them with my phone.
Psychology and neuroscience would likely describe these phenomena as pareidolia or visual projection. I do not reject this explanation outright. However, I believe that human perception is not merely a biological mechanism but also a conscious and emotional participation. Not everyone sees the same things, nor perceives them in the same way.
It is important to clarify that, in my view, the Shroud of Turin is a human-made artifact. I do not consider it acheiropoieton not an image created without human hands, nor the result of a supernatural process. This position does not diminish its historical or cultural significance; rather, it shifts the focus toward the creative, symbolic, and meaning-making capacities of human consciousness.
I approach cloud formations in a similar way. I do not claim they are supernatural in origin, yet I believe they become “readable” only to those who devote time, attention, and inner stillness to observation. Some things remain invisible to the eye, yet perceptible to the heart.
I believe in God as the Creator of the Universe, or as the Universe itself as a creative, conscious principle: breathing, hearing, healing, creating, and protecting. One does not need to be religious to experience wonder. Empathy, patience, honesty, respect, and the recognition of human dignity are sufficient foundations. Charity, kindness, and constructive thinking are essential elements in shaping a better world. Meditation, stillness, breathing techniques, qigong, tai chi, yoga, or prayer can all serve as bridges if practiced with understanding.
It is not the mind that should rule the heart, but the heart that must guide the mind. The mind is merely an antenna a transmitter between ourselves and the Universe. We are capable of manifesting both constructive and destructive realities, but the world can only become a better place if the majority aligns toward creation rather than destruction.
We are all familiar with the Ten Commandments a set of moral imperatives given to Moses on Mount Sinai. But what if these principles resonate with quantum reality more deeply than we assume? Quantum theory relies on probability; religion relies on faith. Perhaps they are not opposites.
I am not the one to prove or disprove the existence of God. Yet I ask: could the voice that spoke to Moses “I am that I am” be the same living, breathing, hearing, healing Universe itself?
Is time truly real, or merely an illusion? Is it a dimension? Are human beings fundamentally composed of energy?
Perhaps science and spirituality meet precisely where questions matter more than answers.
(Jerusalem AD 70)
"Enlarge and observe the photos below.
None of them were manipulated, only a bit color corrected the tone and increased the contrast "
The face of a child, etc...
The face
The face (picture enlarged below)
Enlarge the upper left side of this picture.
You will recognize the image zoomed above.
The face
Enlarge the upper cloud on this picture.
You will recognize the image zoomed above.
looks like 2 early human or prehistoric man face.
Enlarge the darker part at the middle of this picture.
You will recognize the image zoomed above.
Left profile picture of God
Surrealist automatism is a method of art-making in which the artist suppresses conscious control over the making process, allowing the unconscious mind to have great sway. Early 20th-century Dadaists, such as Hans Arp, made some use of this method through chance operations. Surrealist artists, most notably André Masson, adapted to art the automatic writing method of André Breton and Philippe Soupault who composed with it Les Champs Magnétiques (The Magnetic Fields) in 1919.[1] The Automatic Message (1933) was one of Breton's significant theoretical works about automatism.
Automatic drawing and painting
Automatic drawing was pioneered by the English artist Austin Osman Spare who wrote a chapter, Automatic Drawing as a Means to Art, in his book, The Book of Pleasure (1913). Other artists who also practised automatic drawing were Hilma af Klint, André Masson, Joan Miró, Salvador Dalí, Jean Arp, André Breton and Freddy Flores Knistoff.
The technique of automatic drawing was transferred to painting (as seen in Miró's paintings which often started out as automatic drawings), and has been adapted to other media; there have even been automatic "drawings" in computer graphics. Pablo Picasso was also thought to have expressed a type of automatic drawing in his later work, and particularly in his etchings and lithographic suites of the 1960s.
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Surrealist_automatism
Automatic drawing and painting
Automatic drawing was pioneered by the English artist Austin Osman Spare who wrote a chapter, Automatic Drawing as a Means to Art, in his book, The Book of Pleasure (1913). Other artists who also practised automatic drawing were Hilma af Klint, André Masson, Joan Miró, Salvador Dalí, Jean Arp, André Breton and Freddy Flores Knistoff.
The technique of automatic drawing was transferred to painting (as seen in Miró's paintings which often started out as automatic drawings), and has been adapted to other media; there have even been automatic "drawings" in computer graphics. Pablo Picasso was also thought to have expressed a type of automatic drawing in his later work, and particularly in his etchings and lithographic suites of the 1960s.
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Surrealist_automatism












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