In These Post-October 7 Times of Disillusion (III) / D'var for Shabbat Parah (2024)

In these Post-October 7 Times of Disiluusion (II) / Reflections on b'Shalach (2024)

As Time Goes By (2024)

I Weave. Why Write? (2024)

"Ashirah" – I Will Indeed Sing! (2024)

In These Post-October 7 Times of Disillusion (I) / Reflections on Miketz (2024)

A Norwegian Jew Walks Into a Blues Bar . . . (2023)

Kaddish in December (2023)

Dead Sea Jars and Spools of Yarn (2023)

Creating the Artists' Haggadah (2022)

In 2022, after fifteen years of weaving “Weft and D’rash” tapestries, I felt a need to tie up the loose ends (in terms of reflections and experiences cluttering my brain) before weaving the final stretch. No better way to do it than in writing. 

As a child and into my twenties, I loved writing letters to friends and family, offering my opinions on cultural issues, and describing my life and physical surroundings. Carefully, I stored the many letters I rrecieved as a result in an old suitcase and placed it in the attic. And forgot about them. Then, in my fifties, my mom had passed away, and my dad was moving, leaving the apartment I grew up in. I helped him empty it. Delighted to find my suitcase, I took it with me on a train ride, looking forward to reading every single letter from years ago. I boarded the train in my hometown, Oslo, and when I arrived in Trondheim eight hours later, I was still reading. . .

In the spring of 2023, I returned to writing. I want to expand on my weaving project beyond the notes that accompany the series and tapestries. These essays reflect how my life’s stories influence my current work and vice versa. 

Starting to write essays helped clear my head for completing "A Thousand Jewish Tapestries." It has turned into an estimated quarter-century. project, and a few years of weaving still remain.