“My grandfather's closet was always full of surprises – just like him. Between his designer clothes, shoes and accessories, a full palette of colors unfolded. A lawyer, he was known for his love of high fashion, which disrupted the otherwise monochromatic halls of his guild headquarters.
Born in Tel Aviv in 1933, he lost his father at the age of 13 and was left to care for a grieving mother and a little brother. The realities of the Middle East shaped his daily life, however his Irish mother’s nostalgia for the British Empire seeped into his world. His suits distinguished him. The jewelry he wore and the ever-present cane made a bold fashion statement.
As his oldest granddaughter, I was often his companion. He took me to museums, concerts, and taught me etiquette. Our conversations were never casual, they were monologues - lectures on Napoleon, Lord Byron and the Ballet Russes. Spending time with him, as adventurous as it was, was not easy. A former military officer, he could lash out without warning.
My grandfather passed away ten years ago. It took me a long time to find the courage to look at the items I received from my grandmother after his death, not only as relics of him but also as artifacts in their own right. His jackets are both, his armor and his essence. They embody the paradox of the outsider and the socialite, the eccentric and the patriarch. Only now do I recognize how radical his aesthetic was – like a peacock against the dusty backdrop of the desert.
The title Ripped hints at our relationship – the complicated role he played in my life being both a creative force and an intense presence. In my work, I explore different textures of his personality and how they relate to the woman I became - my own need for emancipation, my moments of rapture and vulnerability.
