2023: MISHKAN

Mishkan presents a modern take on the tabernacle, with a shape and scale approximating that of the Jewish people’s temporary spiritual home in the desert. 

Drawing inspiration from the artists of the Light and Space movement, Mishkan bathes the visitor in monochromatic yellow. The color is both a tool to separate and sanctify the space, and a nod to the artist’s yellow childhood blanket, a safe space in its own right. The hue serves to orient and disorient, leaving the visitor’s eye with a momentarily altered tonal sense when exiting Mishkan. The focal point of the installation is an oculus—in the same location that would have held the Holy of Holies of the original Mishkan—that brings the clouds to eye level with the help of a hidden mirror array. The reflected ellipse of light travels throughout the day, marking the passage of time.

Mishkan fuses themes of reflection with an ode to God in the form of the utterly romantic Lecha Eli, authored by the medieval poet Rabbi Avraham Ibn Ezra. The piyyut—half poem, half prayer, is written on a large bed of mylar that reflects the sky.


2022: SKY SUKKAH

Sky Sukkah explores the Seven Levels of Heaven, a concept found in the Talmud. Our tradition teaches that each of these realms holds different components of God’s skies. This Sukkah, a 15-foot tall septagon, represents visually these Seven Levels on each of its seven sides, as described in more detail below. The crown, which wraps all the way around, contains the name of each level, and is adorned with passages from various books of the Bible, each quote referencing the heavens.

Sky Sukkah is my most thoroughly researched project yet. It led me through many books of the Bible, and to texts beyond, including the Talmud. The curiosities about the Seven Levels were endless—including the fact that the Hebrew word for heaven, שׁמים, occurs only in plural. According to one legend, the Israelites who assembled at Mount Sinai to receive the

Torah were treated to a glimpse of all seven heavens opened up above them. The Jewish mystics who contemplated a multi-level heaven were also influenced by the verse in Song of Songs 1:4: "The King [i.e. God] has brought me into his chambers," a verse which had already been interpreted allegorically by Rabbi Akiva, the most renowned Talmudic mystic. Who knew that being in “seventh heaven” was a Jewish idea all along?

On a more personal level, this Sukkah connects many dots of my own life. The sky has always held a particular fascination for me—my favorite moment of any flight is seeing the plane puncture the final layer of clouds and emerge into a perfect sea of blue. My childhood room, at my request, was blue and white. It was also important to me that the “DNA” of my previous Sukkahs be present in Sky Sukkah. If you look closely, you’ll notice stars and flower outlines from the past making a reappearance. Also included are a translated poem by the Persian poet Hafez, photos from Sukkahs of my childhood, and clippings from my garden.

It is no accident that Sky Sukkah is also created directly by its subject—the sun. The fabrics that drape the Sukkah’s structure are large-scale cyanotypes: essentially, giant photographic prints that come to life when the fabrics are exposed to the sun’s UV light. Cyanotype is an early photographic process which was discovered in 1842 by Sir John Herschel, a British Jew. 

To create each of the textile panels you see covering the Sukkah requires a multi-step process. First, raw cotton fabric is bathed in a solution of two chemicals, potassium ferricyanide and ferric ammonium citrate. Once combined, these chemicals react to create a semi-stable photo-sensitive surface. In a dark space (my garage was converted to a light- proof darkroom for the duration of this project), objects, text transparencies, and plants are arranged on the fabric, atop a 5x5 foot plank of wood. Once the composition is complete, each panel is carried outside into direct sunlight and exposed for 15-25 minutes, depending on the position and intensity of the sun. Finally, to affix the chemical print and stop the fabric from further developing, the exposed panels are washed four times each to remove all the remaining chemical from the surface. Once dried, they are attached to the Sukkah. Sky Sukkah contains 525 square feet of cyanotype. In Jewish numerology (gematria), the number 525 equates to ה' צבאות, or “Lord of Hosts”.


2021: MEY CHAYIM

This sukkah incorporates new elements: water, Kabbalah, Jewish numerology, and a “garden” of flowers. Why cantilever a Sukkah over a pool? The answer lies in the roof, which is composed of the 72 Names of God, a powerful code from the Kabbalist tradition. The names are derived by combining corresponding letters from the Book of Exodus, Chapter 14, Verses 19, 20 & 21. Each verse contains exactly 72 letters. They tell the story of God’s parting of the Red Sea, as the Israelites were chased down by the Egyptian army. So too, this Sukkah encoded with biblical meaning “parts” the water to symbolize the freedom that lays in front of us, if only we are ready to seize it.

Each of the 72 Names holds a divine power. Some invoke healing, others attract miracles. There are names for sparking passion and for suppressing ego. And in a timely twist, there is even a name for eradicating plague. I hope you’ll find one that means something special to you. As an ode to nature, surrounding the Sukkah are 432 flowers, 72 for each of the Sukkah’s 6 faces. They are machined from wood and painted in ten colors inspired by my garden. Together, the two walls create a balance of positive and negative, light and darkness, form and void, a key duality from the Kabbalah. The reverse side of this final wall is left unpainted, a nod to the fact that, like all of us, the Sukkah remains a perpetual work in progress.


2019: BAYIT

Sukkot is a holiday that celebrates and consecrates places of home, both physical and divine. Bayit was designed and built from 126 wood panels, a special number for the York Family. The use of a single material—raw plywood—is intended to evoke themes of refuge. Just as the sukkot built in the desert provided shelter to the Jews on their journey to Israel, the aesthetic uniformity of Bayit offers a break from the tangle of competing forms and patterns of our day-to-day life. Excerpts from the Book of Psalms and the Yom Kippur liturgy line the walls, translated in English, Hebrew and Persian. A constellation of stars completes the design—a contemporary twist on the halachic requirement that one be able to see the night sky through the roof of the sukkah.